A Day at the Office Read online

  She'd wanted to tell him he was a great kisser. To let him know that, under different circumstances, she might have encouraged him further. And maybe if he'd have pressed her, perhaps even asked her out, she'd have found out if he was as good at the rest of 'it' – God knows, she'd spent the whole night after the party lying awake wondering exactly that - but since then, Mark hadn't said anything further, and as far as Julie knew, hadn't mentioned it to anyone else, which (she'd reluctantly concluded) was probably for the best. She certainly didn't want that kind of reputation at the office.

  Speaking of which, she didn't want a reputation for being late either, and unless she left in the next ten minutes, she'd miss her usual tube. She finished dressing, checked her watch, and then – careful not to wake Philip, her husband, who was snoring loudly in the next room – Julie let herself quietly out of her front door, walked down the steps to the pavement, and made her way towards Gunnersbury station.

  Chapter 2

  Sophie Jones clutched her bag tightly as she hurried along Frith Street, though more to protect its precious cargo of the Valentine's card she'd bought for Nathan than because she feared getting mugged. She loved being in this part of town; not simply the West End, but Soho. Her mum had been concerned when she'd told her parents where she'd be working, and although her dad had raised his eyebrows too, she'd managed to reassure them that the area didn't deserve that reputation any more. Well, not as much as it used to, she thought, as she nodded hello to the shivering, scantily-dressed girls having a cigarette outside Spank-o-rama, the hostess club (or 'titty-bar', to give it its proper title, at least as far as the guys in the office were concerned) round the corner from the office.

  She turned into Bateman Street, passed the pub on the corner, and made her way towards number sixteen. Seek Software had the lease on a grey, three-story building on the short stretch between Frith Street and Greek Street, and while it was a little cramped for the twenty-six employees who worked there, and the air-conditioning couldn't cope on the one or two days a year London actually had anything resembling a summer, no-one could moan about the location.

  She retrieved her key-card from her purse and swiped her way inside, then crept quietly down the stairs and peered into the tech support room on the lower ground floor. Nathan wasn't in yet, and Sophie wondered if he had some last-minute organisation to do for tonight's Anti-Valentine's event, which she'd resisted signing up for, mainly because she didn't want anyone in the office to think she was that desperate. In truth, she was a little disappointed not to see him, but she supposed it was better this way. It gave her a few precious minutes to come up with something witty to write in his card.

  For a moment, she started to doubt the wisdom of what she was doing, sending a Valentine's card to the man who organised an evening that was anti the whole concept, but then it occurred to her that the fact he did would suggest he was single, and looking for a reason not to be alone on Valentine's night. And if that was the case, then Sophie would do her best to give him one.

  She blushed at the phrase, and decided not to write that in the card. Nor, she realised, should she make any reference to what he did for a living, particularly with the words 'hardware' and 'software'. And while she was used to writing short, snappy pieces of copy for the company's marketing material, the computing clichés that kept popping into her head were sadly inappropriate where romance was concerned.

  Or were they? Maybe Nathan might appreciate some clever technological reference, perhaps a poem that rhymed 'heart' with, say, 're-start', or 'cute' with 're-boot', or 'USB' with 'you and me'. Trouble was, no matter how hard she thought about it, Sophie couldn't come up with one that didn't sound either particularly lame or overly suggestive, and mentioning anything about a hard disk would just be asking for trouble.

  The sound of the front door opening startled her, and Sophie sprinted back up the stairs, relieved when she saw it was just Mia-Rose, Seek's receptionist, barrelling in through the doorway, a Starbucks cup in one hand, and a Krispy Kreme bag in the other.

  'Morning, Sophie,' said Mia-Rose, through a mouthful of donut.

  'Hi, Mia.' Sophie nodded towards the bag of donuts. 'Miss breakfast this morning?'

  'No. Why?' Mia-Rose set the cup down on her desk. 'Though I'm thinking of making these my breakfast every morning. They're delish!' She broke into a broad grin, and Sophie couldn't help but do the same She liked Mia-Rose - a beautiful Nigerian girl with the most infectious laugh, and though she was somewhat full-figured, Mia-Rose didn't seem to be at all hung-up about her weight. Unlike most of the other girls in the office - Sophie included - were.

  'Want one?' said Mia-Rose, offering her a donut, but Sophie shook her head.

  'I'd better not.'

  'Watching your figure?'

  'Not really. I'm just...'

  'Hoping someone else is?'

  Sophie blushed, and tried to think of an appropriate answer, but fortunately the postman chose that moment to arrive, so she just smiled, then made her way out of reception. The office was starting to fill up, and she realised she needed a bit of privacy to write Nathan's card. Taking the stairs to the first floor two at a time, Sophie nipped into her office, grabbed a pen from her desk, and made her way into the toilets.

  Nathan Field piloted his Vespa along Oxford Street, gritting his teeth against the cold air that was turning the tip of his nose numb. Sure, he was a little exposed to the elements on the bike, but at least he didn't get stuck in traffic jams, or have to cram himself onto the tube along with the millions of commuters that had to make a miserable, stuffy subterranean journey into town every day. On his bike he was king of the road, able to dodge through gaps, accelerate round taxis, leave buses trailing in his... A figure darted out in front of him, and he slammed his brakes on and screeched to a halt, cursing under his breath as he fought to keep from somersaulting over the handlebars. Why didn't people look when they crossed the road? He beeped his horn and pointed to his eyes, indicating the offending pedestrian should consider using theirs, but when he looked closer and saw it was Julie Marshall, Nathan changed the gesture into a friendly wave instead.

  'Morning,' he said cheerily, pulling his bike over to where she was standing on the pavement.

  Julie took a mouthful of coffee from the Starbucks cup she was clutching. 'What's so good about it?'

  'Er...'

  Nathan shrugged, and she smiled apologetically. 'Sorry,' she said, stepping back to let a delivery man carrying a huge bouquet of roses pass. 'It's just, you know...'

  Nathan rolled his eyes. He did know. 'Will we be seeing you later?'

  'Later?'

  'Anti-Valentine's.'

  Julie frowned. 'What on earth is that?'

  'Sorry, I forgot you were the new girl.' He grinned. 'It's kind of become an office tradition. A night out. Tonight.'

  'What sort of night out?'

  'One for anyone who doesn't fancy spending tonight in.' Nathan nodded towards the heart-shaped-balloon-filled shop window behind them. 'And about as far away from all this rubbish as you can get.'

  Julie turned to look at the gaudy window display, then she shook her head. 'I'm not sure. What does it involve, exactly?'

  'We're going bowling.'

  'Bowling?' She raised the back of her hand to her forehead melodramatically. 'Be still my beating heart.'

  'And there'll be cocktails. Which I seem to remember you being quite partial to at the Christmas party.'

  Julie fought hard to stop herself from blushing - hopefully that was the only thing Nathan knew she'd been partial to that night - though she was surprised to find her next reaction was to ask whether Mark would be going, and she fought hard to stop herself doing that as well. 'I don't know...'

  'Come on,' said Nathan. 'It'll be a laugh.'

  Julie stared at the window display as she considered her alternative - another night at home ignoring Philip's efforts to ignore her - and realised that, actually, a laugh was something she could really do with. '
Okay. You've talked me into it.'

  'Great. Cheers.' Nathan grinned again, then nosed the Vespa's front wheel back out into the traffic. 'I'll mail you the details,' he said, accelerating out just in front of a taxi before she could change her mind.

  He watched Julie in his rear-view mirror as he thrummed towards Oxford Circus, wondering why she'd seemed so negative. Maybe he'd just caught her off-guard. More likely, he guessed, and probably like so many people this morning, her Valentine's Day hadn't quite started the way she wanted. But it was hard to tell with Julie. She was a bit of a dark horse, and nobody at the office really knew that much about her - though she had only been working for Seek for a few months. And while there had been some rumours going round about her going home with someone Nathan suspected might have been Mark after the Christmas party, he didn't think there was any truth in them, especially since Mark hadn't mentioned anything about it, and because he and Julie had virtually ignored each other since then. Mind you, Nathan reconsidered, as he rode into Soho Square, maybe that was the proof.

  She was 'fit', he had to concede, and in both senses of the word - he'd seen her out running once or twice after work, and Nathan suspected he'd have struggled to keep up - even on his bike. He'd overheard the girls in the office say she was training for the marathon, but fortunately, Julie didn't seem to be one of those people who shove a sponsorship form under your nose for some obscure charity that's probably just their holiday fund, or direct you to a Just Giving page with a picture of some emaciated rescue animal on it. No, she appeared to be running the marathon for herself. Which Nathan thought probably said an awful lot about her.

  He steered his bike into a nearby parking space and hauled it up onto its stand, then carefully secured the lock, just in case he had to leave it there overnight. Not for that reason – he was bound to have a few drinks later, and depending on how soon Ellie came up in conversation, it could well be a fair few. Nathan wasn't the type to drink and drive – in fact, he wasn't the type to do anything that meant he might lose control. Not any more, anyway.

  He strolled down Greek Street, then called in as usual at Poles Apart, the Polish café on the corner, and ordered himself a latte to go from the pretty girl behind the counter, skimming through the new messages on his phone while he waited for her to make it. He wondered whether he should text Mark to tell him Julie would be going this evening, but Nathan decided he'd keep that particular snippet of information for when he saw him. That kind of good news was best delivered in person.

  'Here.'

  At the sound of the heavily accented word, Nathan realised his latte was ready. 'Thanks, he said distractedly, still staring at his phone.

  The girl handed him his coffee, and as she clicked a plastic lid onto his cup, he noticed she'd drawn a little heart in the froth on the top, and when he looked up in surprise, their eyes met. Instinctively he averted his gaze. Why did this kind of thing make him feel guilty? Nathan knew the answer to that, of course. Had Ellie said 'yes', they'd have been married by now, and this kind of behaviour would have been, well, if not illegal, then certainly frowned upon.

  But Ellie hadn't said yes, so surely he was free to smile at whoever he wanted? Flirt, even. Ask them out, if he fancied. And he'd have to be blind not to fancy... Kasia. That was it. At least, that was what he'd heard some of the other regulars call her, and he'd made a point of trying to remember it. Kasia the cashier. Okay, so that wasn't strictly her job, but Nathan wasn't very good at remembering names, and the one tip he'd been given that seemed to make a difference was to associate them with what the person did. So Kasia the cashier she'd become.

  For a second, and to his surprise, he toyed with the idea of asking Kasia out. Maybe she was free this evening? She could come along to Anti-Valentine's, and... He stopped himself, wondering who he was trying to kid. A girl as attractive as her probably had a boyfriend, and anyway, inviting someone along to an event like that on a first date probably wasn't the best idea. Besides, all he knew about Kasia was her name, that she was from Poland, and what she did for a living, and while he liked her – and coffee - who knew if they'd even be the slightest bit compatible?

  And that, Nathan understood, was his problem. He'd gone out with Ellie for the best part of three years before he'd popped the question, and thought he'd known every little thing about her, from her favourite song to her first pet's name, her Facebook password (luckily for him, those last two things had been the same), and her favourite sexual position – although that had actually turned out to be underneath someone else. But there were so many elements that made up a person, was so much you had to learn or know or understand about them, and then even when you thought you knew it all, the fact that all that effort could still suddenly come to nothing... For Nathan, it made starting again with someone new just so, well, hard.

  With a sigh, he paid for his coffee, mumbled an embarrassed 'thanks', and made his way out through the door.

  Calum Irwin sat on the bus and stared anxiously at his mobile, unsure how to play things from here on in. Under the circumstances, he didn't know what the etiquette was for sending Valentine's Day greetings to someone you hadn't actually met.

  He glanced into his briefcase, checking his rose hadn't been squashed in the crush when he'd changed buses at Clapham Common. Hopefully Emma would appreciate the low-key gesture - he'd feared a whole bouquet of flowers might be over the top, and buying her a box of chocolates would have been a risky strategy, as he was so nervous he was likely to eat them himself over the course of the day. Calum hadn't known what else might be appropriate - certainly not lingerie, as he didn't know her size, and to try and guess opened up a whole world of potential pitfalls. Besides, he didn't want her to think he was making assumptions.

  Of course, as well as wishing Emma a happy Valentine's Day, Calum had an ulterior motive for getting in touch; to check she was still planning to turn up this evening. He had her email address, her contact details on LondonDate, and her mobile number, which she'd sent him last night just in case he was running late this evening (though Calum had assured her there was absolutely no chance of that), and was tempted to use all three just to make sure she got his message, but he didn't want to appear desperate. Even though that was exactly how he was feeling.

  He began composing a quick text, then hit 'delete', telling himself to relax. Maybe he'd just send her an email from the office when he got there. Besides, he reminded himself, Emma had made the first move, and suggested they meet up this evening, so in actual fact, she should be more worried that he wouldn't turn up.

  Calum let out a short laugh, the words 'yeah' and 'right' forming a sentence in his head, and as the woman he was sitting next to edged away from him, he mumbled an embarrassed apology. It was a funny concept, this internet dating, he thought. That you could get to know someone, find out all about them, have long, late night 'conversations' online before actually having physically met them struck him as odd. It was the opposite of what would happen in a pub or a club. There it was all about attraction, or alcohol, and Calum wasn't good at either of those things - especially the alcohol. Ironically, given his size, just a few pints could transform him into a drooling wreck, and in fact, the pub was the only place he'd ever heard himself described as a 'lightweight' – something he'd have found funny if he wasn't so sensitive about his waistline.

  He'd already made a mental note not to drink this evening, knowing that had been part of his problem in the past. Girls always wanted to go out for a drink, and he'd often get to the bar early, then be unable to stop himself having one or two before they'd arrive just to calm his nerves. Trouble was, Calum's nerves took a lot of calming, which usually resulted in him having three or four, then getting drunk and embarrassing himself, meaning any first date had almost always been the last date too.

  But he hadn't embarrassed himself with Emma – not yet, and not on LondonDate, at least. There, he could string a sentence together, had been told he was funny – 'quick-witted', in fact - though
that was perhaps because his combination of good grammar and an ability to touch-type meant his responses pinged back faster and more coherently than the text-speaking LOL-ers he was up against. But that kind of thing counted in your favour when you were trying to romance someone via the medium of live chat.

  Live chat. It sounded seedy to him, like a premium-rate phone service you'd see advertised on one of those cards which were stuck up in almost every telephone box around Soho, featuring photos of topless, huge-breasted women with bright yellow stars photo-shopped over their nipples. 'Live typing' would be better - and more accurate. Let your fingers do the talking. Calum just hoped Emma wouldn't set eyes on him later, and show him two – or one - of hers.

  He wiped the condensation from the inside of the bus window and peered out through the gap, still feeling guilty about lying about his height. It wasn't that he was short, but most women seemed to insist on a six-foot minimum, and Calum had feared if he'd been honest, he'd have been dismissed out of hand. Not that he could never understand why that seventy-two-inch cut-off was so important - in his experience, women averaged around five foot three; even allowing for heels, they'd still only come up to his shoulder. Was kissing fun when it gave you a crick in the neck, or was that what women meant when they said they wanted a man they could look up to? Calum didn't have a clue.