Page 271 of Hell Hath No Fury
“George, I don’t have a one o’clock, and please, for the love of Saint Nick, call me Sam.” I’m the least formal person working here, I know; still, it’s a daily effort to get the young lad to relax around me. I swear he looks set to bow or bend the knee most of the time.
“Sorry, Mrs. Sinclair, Sam. I know there is nothing in the diary only she’s quite insistent.”
“Hello, Miss Fancy-pants-solicitor-I-have-a-sexy-assistant-to-gatekeep-my-gorgeous-arse-and-keep-out-the-trolls.” Mary pushes past an affronted looking George and barges into my office. I signal the okay to George, and he backs out of the door, closing it behind him. Mary is like a scatter-brained whirlwind in a Parker. She is only five foot nothing, and she seems to fill the room with her energetic presence. I think it’s her theatricalbackground. I warmed to her on day one of pre-school, when we were both late and were the only ones standing at the wrong entrance to the school, both bemused, stressed, and wondering if we’d gotten the right day. She’s my lifeline to all things school-related, and I’m her escape from single parenthood, always ready with a chilled glass of wine and an inappropriate joke.
“Mary, what are you doing here? Did you run out of batteries for your morning ‘me’ time?” My teasing, sleazy smirk makes her snort.
“Oh, god, that’s hilarious…but no, I wanted to check you were okay?”
“I am, only now I’m wondering why you would think I wasn’t?”
“The letter. You got the letter from St. Michael’s today, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. I left early so I don’t know. Have you got yours? Did Petal get in?” I rush the questions. My chest feels suddenly tight, even if I can see the answer written all over my friend’s face before she gushes.
“She did.” She claps her hands together, bouncing like a ‘roo on speed.
“Oh, my god, yes! That’s fantastic, Mary. I’m so happy.” I find myself bouncing up and down to match her; we’re like a pair of giddy schoolgirls. I’m not so sure if my excitement is justified and not a little premature.
“I am, too. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? It’s just a primary school, and Petal doesn’t care where she goes as long as Roman is there.” Mary beams. Her daughter and Roman are inseparable. They fight like brother and sister, but try and separate them, and there is a world of trouble that’s just not worth it.
“Oh, god. I want to know. You think they’d tell me if I called?” I reach for the phone on my desk and catch Mary’s sceptical brow raised to the ceiling. St. Michael’s is a stickler forprivacy and rules. There’s no way they would give that kind of information out over the phone. “Yeah, maybe not. Okay, I’ve got to go home.” I grab my briefcase, my bag and coat. Mary is hot on my Jimmy Choos.
“George, I’m done for the day. I’ll still be able to take calls, but I need to go home.” I wrestle into my coat, all the while moving toward the hallway.
“Very good. Is everything all right? Can I do anything?”
“How old are you, George?” Mary leans one hand on George’s desk, drops her chin, and flutters her lashes. It would be comical at any other time.
“Mary…” I warn, and she mouths her mock outrage.
“What?”
“You can stay here if you prefer and could perhaps give George some ideas for his boyfriend’s twenty-first birthday next month.”
“I’m good, thanks. I’ll come with you.” She practically leaps across the room, catching up with me at the elevator.
“Moral support?” I ask.
She nudges me and then pulls me into a comforting sideways hug. I tower above her in my heels, and the reassurance of the hug is appreciated. “Stop. You won’t need it. Roman’s a lovely little boy. Smart, too. And you saw for yourself on that taster day how he charmed the teachers. They all loved him.”
“He gets that from his father; me, not so much.” I let out a humourless snort.
“You’re charming, in your own way,” Mary counters, and I dismiss her attempt to humour me. It’s well-meant and totally unnecessary.
“Mary, it’s fine. I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, and it’s super lucky I don’t give a flying fuck.”
“It’s why I love you. You do and say all the things I daren’t.”
“Oh, come on, Mary. You’re telling me you don’t tell it like it is now and then? You can’t keep all that shit inside and be nice all the time. It’s not healthy.”
“It’s sort of my nature, but there are a few people that do press my buttons, and not in a good way. And you’ve seen me when I’ve had a few; I don’t have a filter then.”
“Oh, lord, Mary, if that’s you with no filter, you really need to get out more.”
“Amen to that. Do you know any single men that aren’t arseholes.”
“I don’t tend to know many men at all anymore.”
