Lyre (3 page)

She’d been so intent on watching Mrs. Chibison that she hadn’t realised anyone was behind her until it was too late.

‘So you’re the new girl then?’

Yuri’s whole body jerked in surprise and she spun round.  Sitting on the rim of the skip, swinging his legs, was a boy with sandy hair.  He grinned at her.

‘Hajimemashite,’ he said, solemnly.  It’s nice to meet you.

Yuri stared at him, her eyes narrowing.  ‘You speak Japanese.’

He jumped off the skip and stood in front of her, sticking his hand out.  Yuri looked at his outstretched palm as if it were some kind of alien object.

‘Nah,’ he answered with an easy grace.  ‘I saw it in a film once.  I’m Ozzy.’

She wondered how rude she would have to be for him to leave her alone.  After a moment or two, when he realised she wasn’t going to shake his hand, he withdrew it and stuck it into one of his pockets.  His gaze didn’t flicker.

‘That’s a stupid name,’ she said finally.

‘Yeah, I know.  But it’s better than the alternative.’

He raised his eyebrows at her.  Yuri didn’t take the bait.  Instead, she picked her bag up and began to turn away.

‘I have to go to class now,’ she muttered.

‘See you around.’  His tone remained cheerful.

Yuri didn’t respond.

She saw him again, later, on the bus on the way home.  She’d been staring out the window at the occasional flickers of blue indicating their proximity to the sea.  Every time she caught one, a cold shiver ran down her spine, and yet she found she couldn’t pull her eyes away.  House. House. House. Man with dog.  Sea.  House.  Sea.  When the bus eventually pulled further into the town and away from the glimpses of glittering blue, she became abruptly aware of the raucous noise from the back of the bus.  She should have kept her eyes resolutely looking straight ahead.  That’s what she would have done if the singing hadn’t started.

To begin with, it was a girl.  She had a reedy voice which grated ever so slightly.  But then after a few beats, another voice joined in, one which was male, with an immature edge but also the hint of a rasp.  The whole bus fell abruptly silent and the other kids packing the seats around her began to crane their necks back to see.  The girl faltered, but the other voice kept going.

Soul, thought Yuri suddenly, that voice has got soul.  And then she turned around and recognised him straight away.  He had gotten to his feet, his arms outstretched wide in both directions.  Yuri hadn’t heard the song before – she’d given up on attempting to keep up with popular music after her Milli Vanilli efforts – but she could still hear how he manipulated the melody, adapting it to suit his voice.  His friends at the back began to click their fingers in time to the beat, and the two girls in front of Yuri nudged each other with breathless giggles.

Buoyed by the positive reaction of his captive audience, Ozzy took a shuffling step forward, then bounced back.  He twisted his body round, leaping to the side down the aisle, then taking dancing little steps first to his right, then his left. 

‘Swing those sexy hips!’ yelled out a shiny blonde haired girl. 

A few nearby boys shushed her in irritation.  As if through some silent telepathic communication, all the kids who had left their bags in the aisle began hurriedly scooping them up to clear the way.  Ozzy carried on his dance, spinning down the jiggling bus aisle, his voice growing in volume.  Yuri caught her fingers drumming along to match his rhythm and forced them to still.  The bus driver roared something out from the front, but no-one, least of all Ozzy, paid him any attention.  He continued to sing, and to dance, edging his way towards the front of the bus. 

He was just finishing the second chorus when he reached Yuri.  At first she thought he’d not seen her – and for that she was thankful.  He twisted past her, deepening his voice to create a more complicated harmony.  Then he suddenly turned around and looked right at her.  He winked, and she felt her whole body stiffen in response.

The driver slammed on the brakes and the bus came to an abrupt, juddering halt.  He came storming out of his seat.

‘You kids need to stay in your goddamn seats!  I’ll throw you off if you can’t sit still!’

Ozzy let his voice die away, as if the song was reaching its natural end.  He turned back to address the driver.  Annoyed boos and catcalls arose from the other passengers but he silenced them with a flick of his hands.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, sounding genuine, and dipping into a bow.  ‘Safety first.’

There wasn’t even the slightest hint of mockery in his tone, but Yuri still had the impression he was managing to get one over on the busdriver for being a jobsworth.  He didn’t look at her again, merely returned to his seat against a rising tide of applause. 

‘What I wouldn’t give…’ sighed one of the girls in front of her.

‘Yeah,’ her friend agreed.

Yuri hugged her arms around herself and returned to looking out of the window.

Yuri sat at her desk chewing absentmindedly on a pen.  This month’s edition of
Yell
had just been put to bed.  Already there was a flurry of activity as the writing staff rushed to put in their bids for articles for the February edition, now only three months away.  December and January were set in stone.  Yuri’s contribution for January was a fluff piece about New Year’s resolutions.  December was even worse; she’d been allotted three paragraphs on where to buy fabulous accessories for party dresses.  She wouldn’t have minded really, after all she was fully aware what kind of magazine
Yell
was and who it catered for.  But the writing had involved nothing more than describing what was available at the most generous stores.  Most generous as in the ones who ‘donated’ the most fashion to
Yell
’s extensive wardrobe.  It was really nothing more than over-hyped advertising.

She bit down on the pen.  There was the opportunity to submit articles with more gravitas. 
Yell
liked to think of itself as THE magazine for young professional women so the powers-that-be did allow for the occasional submission which delved beyond the surface areas of fashion, sex and relationships.  The trouble was that for a relatively newcomer like Yuri, it was virtually impossible to gain one of those precious slots.  She frowned to herself.  She just had to think more creatively and re-frame her ideas into something a bit more becoming to
Yell
’s style.  Perhaps if she aimed for inclusion in the slightly less pedantic
Yell
website first, then she’d have more opportunity to be included in the magazine’s hardcopy. 

Making a few more notes on the dog-eared notepad in front of her, Yuri decisively underlined a few key words and straightened her shoulders.  She knew she had the skills to pull off the article.  She just had to persuade everyone else of those skills first.

Cam leaned over her flimsy workspace divider.  ‘Morning, darling,’ he drawled.

She raised her eyebrows at him.  ‘You’re wearing that to the sub meeting?’

‘Givenchy.’  He touched the multi-coloured scarf at his neck.

‘It’s not,’ she coughed slightly, ‘not exactly your usual style.’

Cam grimaced.  ‘Yeah, I know.  But I’m trying to look more gay.’

‘Cam, I hate to break it to you, but you are gay.’

‘Yes.  But I don’t look gay.  I’m not camp.  I need to, well, advertise myself a bit more.’

Yuri frowned at him.  ‘I don’t get it.’

He shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

‘Is this because of the guy over in accounting?’

He shook his head.  Then a thought occurred to Yuri and she gaped at him.  ‘No!’

He blushed slightly.

‘Cam, you’re surely not trying to look more gay so you’ll have more chance of getting a good submission in for February?’

‘I’m playing the game.  This is a women’s magazine and I’m trying to look the part of someone who should be writing full page spreads for that magazine.’  He gave her an arch look.  ‘It’s all about fitting in.’

‘Jesus,’ she muttered.  She picked up her notepad and stood up.

‘Hey!’

‘What?’

‘A touch of the pot and the kettle, me thinks.’  He flicked a finger towards her shirt.

‘This? I’ve had it for years!’

‘Bullshit.’

Yuri deflated slightly.  ‘Okay, I borrowed it from Sibyl.’

‘I knew it!  And you thought
I
was the shallow manipulative one.’

‘It’s not that far off my usual style.’

‘Sequins?’

Yuri looked away for a moment.  ‘Yeah,’ she eventually admitted, ‘I’m trying to play the game too.’

At that particular moment Judy, one of the more senior staff, floated past them in a cloud of Chanel.  She was wearing a floaty vintage summer dress.  That in itself wouldn’t be odd, but it was soggy grey November and her attire never normally strayed from ubiquitous black trousers and white shirt.  Cam and Yuri looked at each other and simultaneously burst out laughing.  Judy turned to them and gave them a dirty look.

Cam pointed to his garish scarf and Yuri gestured towards her sequined blouse.  Judy glared at the pair of them for a heartbeat, then grinned.

‘Hey, we do what we can, right?’

They nodded.  ‘Right.’

*

They took their places around the large walnut table in the conference room.  Everyone in Yuri’s team was designated by
Yell
as a floater.  Despite the unpleasant connotations of the word, it was, in Yuri’s opinion, by far the best situation to be in.  It meant she wasn’t tied solely to fashion or to celebs or to romance and relationships, but rather that she had the opportunity to write across a range of topics in order to pick up any slack.

‘So,’ said Don, the subeditor, leaning across the table, ‘what do we have then?’

Judy began.  ‘Cybercrime.  It’s a growing problem and something which our readers are becoming increasingly concerned about.  There’s an entire thread on
Yell.co.uk
devoted to it.  I’ve been compiling some data, and I think there’s enough for a serious article.  You know, where the danger areas are, what ordinary people can do to protect themselves.’

‘Didn’t we just do that piece on identity theft a few months ago?’

Judy’s face grew more earnest.  ‘And it was incredibly popular.  We had a lot of letters in response so I think it’s time we did a follow-up.’

‘I like it,’ nodded Don.  ‘See if you can get some of those original responders included.  It’ll make it more authentic.  Send me a draft mock-up by the end of next week.’

Judy grinned.

‘We also have a holiday slot we’ve been asked to fill.’

One of the other staffers groaned.  ‘Already?’

Don shrugged.  ‘Hey, it’s for February.  People are stuck in freezing cold Blighty and starting to think of ways to escape.  I was thinking along the lines of how you can still visit European countries who’ve been dogged by economy problems and have a great time.’

Several pairs of eyes around the table lit up. ‘Social conscience and a suntan,’ piped up Cam.

Don smiled.  ‘Exactly.’

‘Suck up,’ Yuri hissed to her friend. 

He kicked her ankle under the table, forcing her to smother a short yelp of pain.  Don glanced at her expectantly.

‘Yuri, did you have something to add?’

‘Er, no.  It’s a great idea, Don.’

Cam leaned over and whispered in her ear.  ‘Suck up.’

She kicked him back.

‘Greece seems like the perfect location,’ Don continued.  ‘Flailing economy, a massive debt burden, pretty beaches…’

‘And ouzo!’ someone else finished.

‘Indeed.’  He beamed.  ‘Who’s interested?’

Almost at once, virtually every single hand around the table shot up.  This kind of research based article would require a visit to Greece itself. 
Yell
was pretty good about those kinds of things, encouraging its writers to experience their subjects first-hand rather than simply getting information from the internet.  Regardless, it had been a while since any of them had been offered an all expenses paid research trip abroad. The look of satisfaction on Don’s face proved that he’d known exactly how much they would all be slathering at the mouth to sign up.  All of them apart from Yuri, that was.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ whispered Cam, nudging her sharply in her ribs.  ‘Put your hand up!’

‘I’m saving my big guns for later,’ she responded.

‘Against a freaking trip to Greece?’

She shrugged and looked down at the table.  The last place on Earth Yuri wanted to be in was Greece.

‘Cam, I think it’s about time we let you off the leash,’ said Don, smiling at him.

He almost leapt out of his chair in puppy dog like excitement while everyone else deflated.  ‘Really?  Really?’

‘Really.  Do some location research and come back to me with a few ideas.’

He bounced up and down on his chair like a giddy schoolchild.  ‘Certainly, sir!  I mean, Don!  Thanks!’

Yuri grinned at him.  As much as she was glad she’d not be picked for this one, she was thrilled for her friend.

‘Yuri, do you have an idea you wish to submit?  You usually do.’

What remained unspoken was that her ideas also usually remained firmly in this room.  She’d not had one get past Don yet.

‘Yes,’ she said firmly, standing up, then changing her mind and sitting back down again.  ‘Yes.  I want to target an article specifically at our working professionals.  There are many women who go about their daily lives at work, dealing with customers or clients or such-like and putting on happy smiles, when their home lives are being wrecked from marital problems, family issues, that kind of thing.  We could do a case study.  Take someone from a well-known profession like, say, teaching, and look at how they balance the stresses of their job with the stress of home.’

Don frowned.  ‘You mean a self-help piece?’

‘Er, sort of.  It’s not something people talk about much.  Balancing home problems while putting on a brave face at work.  I think it could lead to some really interesting feedback from our readers.

‘Hm.’

Judy shot Yuri a sympathetic look. A ‘hm’ from Don was never optimistic.

‘It doesn’t just have to be teachers,’ Yuri said hastily, ‘we could look at women from all walks of life.’

‘Yeah,’ interjected Sam from across the table, snapping her fingers.  ‘There’s that politician, the one with the son who’s just been done for drugs.  She got that bill passed at the same time - the one about domestic violence.’

‘The model who’s got depression.  You know, she tried to commit suicide last year right after she’d won the Leef contract…’ added someone else.

Yuri felt a sliver of hope rise up.

Another person spoke up excitedly. ‘Cleaners!  How do cleaners keep their own houses clean when they’re knackered from cleaning other people’s places all day long?’

‘Hm,’ Don repeated.  ‘It’s the February issue.  People need spring time and happiness.  Daffodils, bunnies, that kind of thing.  Not mops and dust cloths.’

‘You don’t get spring with lambs and flowers and bunnies till March, really,’ said Yuri, trying to keep her tone light.

‘Exactly.  That’s why people need them in February.  They need to read about positive things, not issues that will put them in the doldrums and remind them it’s still weeks to go until they’ll see even a glimmer of proper sunshine.’

‘Except when it’s March, Yell will be full of summery things because we’ll focusing on May and June coming,’ said Yuri in a small voice.

‘Hm.’

‘The article will be positive.  It’ll be how people – women – manage it.  How they do manage to cope in the face of extraordinary adversity.’

‘I’m not sure that cleaning your house counts as extraordinary adversity.’

‘Well, that wasn’t my example,’ said Yuri through gritted teeth.

‘Hm,’ Don repeated yet again.  ‘I’m sorry, Yuri.  I don’t think it’ll fit this time around.  Maybe for April?’

Cam squeezed her arm.  She took a deep breath and forced herself to smile.  ‘Sure.  Maybe April.  Thanks Dom.’

*

‘It’s not fair!’ Yuri raged to her housemate, Sibyl, later that evening.  ‘It wasn’t that crazy an idea.  It’s not like I was trying to write about serious politics or economics or anything that would turn off our readers.  And it is still a real issue!  Women would be interested!’

‘I can talk to my great-aunt, if you want,’ Sibyl offered, ‘she can perhaps persuade this Don to look upon your ideas more favourably.’

‘Your great-aunt is supposed to be keeping a low profile,’ Yuri pointed out, calming down somewhat.  ‘As are you.’

Sibyl pasted on an innocent look.  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘The website?’

She blinked.  ‘For a human you manage to find out a hell of a lot.’

‘I’m a journalist.’

Sibyl arched her eyebrow.

‘Okay.  I’m not really a journalist,’ Yuri amended.  ‘I am trying though.’

‘It’s only a silly fortune telling site, anyway.  No-one takes those things seriously.’

‘How much money are you charging?’

Sibyl shrugged.

‘And how much money have you made, more to the point?’

She grinned in answer. 

Yuri rolled her eyes.  ‘Judy’s writing an article about internet scams.  I should pass along your details.’

Sibyl looked hurt.  ‘It’s not a scam.’

‘Which is why it’s so dangerous.’

Her housemate dismissed her concerns.  ‘As if the bloody gods at Olympus would bother keeping up with the internet.  They still think they’re living in the Dark Ages.  Even if they did see the site, there’s no way they could trace it back to me.’  Her eyes took on a dangerous gleam. ‘You know I can still do a divination for you.  It’s not like it’s a life or death thing, Yuri.  I could just cast to find out whether you should stay at
Yell
or find another job where you’ll be more successful.’