Page 111 of Falling for You
‘It’s really exciting about your plans to go travelling,’ I say to Rodney. His whole face lights up.
‘I can’t believe we’re actually going,’ he beams. ‘It’s something we’ve spoken about for years, but I always thought it was just a pipe dream, you know?’
My chest aches. ‘Yeah,’ I say quietly. ‘I know the feeling.’
‘Right,’ Rodney says, taking his cue from Pam picking up the phone. He doffs an imaginary hat at me and gives Pama peck on the cheek. But she’s in work mode now, her eyes squarely fixed on her screen. She does give a non-committal pout in his direction but doesn’t dare break her staring contest with her inbox. Rodney steps into the lift and I sit down. As soon as I see him disappear behind the lift doors my heart rate picks up.
‘So,’ Pam says when she looks up from her screen. ‘Why are you staring at me? Everything all right?’
‘I’d like to take up your offer and be CEO,’ I say. And although I’d practised saying this in my head my entire journey here and had every intention of sounding cool, calm and professional, it comes out more like: I’dliketotakeupyourofferandbeceo.
Thankfully, Pam and I have worked together long enough. She’s seen me in every state: nervous, excitable, stressed, anxious.
She turns to face me, spinning round and leaning back into her office chair. ‘Really?’
I nod, trying to ignore the anxiety that’s bubbling under my skin.
This is the right decision. This is the right decision.
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘I love this job, and I think I’m quite good at it—’
‘You’re very good at it.’
‘And I think it would be a good decision for me.’
Pam takes me in for a moment, before pulling out a packet of cigarettes from her breast pocket and sticking one in her mouth. She turns the packet towards me and I shake my head, before noticing that she’s flicked open a lighter.
‘Pam!’ I cry. ‘The fire alarms!’
She waves an arm at me, the glittering flame licking the end of the cigarette. ‘I turned them off,’ she mumbles, pausing to take a long drag. ‘It’s raining.’
I open my mouth to reply and decide against it. She’s lit up now – what can I do about it?
‘You look different today.’
I look down at myself. ‘Ah,’ I say. ‘Yes. I did a wardrobe clear-out at the weekend.’
She raises her eyebrows. ‘Why’s that?’
‘I’m going to be moving soon,’ I say lamely. ‘I probably won’t get a wardrobe as big as mine, so I thought it would be a good time to sort everything out.’
I actually felt a bit disgusted at the sight of my bright, optimistic clothes when I woke up yesterday morning. It felt like they were all laughing at me, sniggering at how I’d fallen for their whimsical charm all these years and skipped through life thinking that everything would just fall into place. My stupid notebook was open on my desk. Half the page was filled with delicate strokes and details on Stevie’s outfit, the other side with scribbles of how I could make my business work if I did it full-time.
I threw it all in the bin.
‘Did you sell them?’
I frown. ‘Sell what?’
‘Your clothes.’ She takes a long drag and releases the smoke into the air in a slow, steady stream.
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘No. I just gave them to charity. Or I’m going to. I haven’t got round to it yet.’
She knits her brow. ‘Why aren’t you selling them?’ Shesays it deadpan, like I’ve just tried to tell her that the sky isn’t blue.
‘Nobody would want my stuff,’ I laugh.
‘People buy your clothes all the time.’
