'Nice ankles, ' he said suddenly.
'Thanks. ' I gave him a sideways look. 'I hope they make up for the fact that my hair's "mad". '
'I didn't offend you did I?'
'Yes, you did actually' He blushed. 'But I'm used to your Northern forthrightness now. '
'Sorry. I think I was a bit scared of you. '
'Oh, I see. And are you still?'
He looked at me. 'No, ' he said. 'I'm not. ' I flicked the channel over to
Newsnight. 'l
like watching telly in black and white, ' Theo added after a moment. 'It reminds me of being a student. '
'I'll have to get used to it again, ' I said dismally. 'I won't be able to afford a new TV after what's happened this week. ' I suddenly imagined myself becoming like Serena, with holes in my roof and a threadbare coat and an expression of neurotic stoicism on my face.
'Don't fret, ' Theo said, soothingly. 'I'm sure you'll find something else. ' He laid his hand on mine for a moment, then withdrew it.
'Yes, ' I sighed, 'I probably will. But it won't be as interesting or nearly as well paid. I'm overstretched as it is so I'll probably have to sell this place and get a flat. '
'Really?' A look of regret crossed his face.
'Yes. I won't be able to afford it. '
'Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, ' he said. I smiled at his friendly, brotherly, use of the first person plural.
'Yes, ' I smiled. 'We will. '
Now, as I stared at the screen, exhausted, my brain began to buzz and my eyes started to close and I could feel my chin begin to drop towards my chest.
'Hey. ' I felt a gentle jab in the ribs. 'Hey. You. '
'What?'
'The phone's ringing. '
'Oh. ' I padded into the hall and wearily reached for the receiver. 'Hello, ' I said. 'Hello?' I was suddenly jerked back into consciousness. For once again I could hear loud, deliberate, heavy breathing—it was stertorous, male, and slow. I'd been working for twelve hours. I was all in. I'd had it. Stuff what the people at the phone company say.
'Fuck OFF!' I shouted, then I slammed down the handset. I pressed 1471—number withheld.
'Who were you swearing at?' asked Theo casually as I stomped back into the living room, radioactive with indignation.
'My nuisance caller. Colin Twisk. '
'Colin Twisk?'
'Yes. Colin Twisk, ' I repeated as Jeremy Paxman curled his lip at some cabinet minister. 'I wrote to him recently letting him know that I knew he'd been ringing me at home and he wrote back denying it. He claimed not even to have my number, but he clearly does because he's at it again. '
'But I know Colin Twisk, ' said Theo. My gaze swept from Paxman's equine profile to Theo's boyish one.
'You
what
?'
'I know Colin Twisk. ' I felt my eyes widen and my mouth go slack. 'He works at Compu-Force. He's a systems analyst— he's a bit of an oddball, but I'd say he's quite harmless. You think
he's
been making these calls?'
'I do. '
'But
why
?'
'Because I once wrote him an encouraging letter about his lack of a girlfriend and it seemed to, I don't know, set him off! He kept on writing back to me, telling me how marvellous and special I was and sending me this weird Confettimail stuff on Valentine's Day. '
'Really?'
'Yes, these tiny bits of paper with a text message printed on them—"Can't Stop Thinking About You". There were hundreds of them; they got everywhere. It was extremely annoying. '
'How strange. '
'And then he started suggesting that we meet up and—oh!' Of course! 'That's how he got this number!' I exclaimed. 'Because of
you
. He knows you live with me because you've obviously talked about me to your colleagues, and you've given my number to your personnel people, in case of emergency, and Colin's read it on an internal list. '
Theo shook his head. 'Sorry, Rose. Wrong on both counts. For starters I've never mentioned you to
anyone
at work. '
'Haven't you?'
'No. '
'What, never?' I felt oddly disappointed.
'I don't talk about my private life. I sit quietly at my desk, pretending to do my spreadsheets whilst actually thinking about the Big Bang. Nor have I
ever
given out your home number, I only use my mobile. '
'Oh. I see. '
'I really don't think it is him, ' said Theo judiciously. 'In fact, now I come to think of it, he's got this new girlfriend, Penelope Boink. She came in last week, and he was proudly introducing her to us all: apparently they met on some assertiveness course. It seems she's had lifelong confidence problems on account of her silly name. No, I very much doubt it's Colin, ' he said confidently. 'He's much too happy. '
'Oh. Well, then who
is
it?'
'I haven't a clue. But why don't you just bar the calls and be done with it?'
'Because in order to do that you have to know what the number is first—don't you?'
'I'm not sure—you should ring up the phone people and check. Doesn't this person ever speak to you?'
'Never. It's just this heavy breathing. It's sick. '
'Then change your number. '
'No I won't, because then they'd have won. I've had to change it three times in the last year as it is, what with all my marital upheavals, so I'm
not
going to do it again. ' As the
News-night
credits rolled I pushed myself up off the sofa and stifled a yawn. 'Anyway, I'm shattered. '
'Me too. Let's turn in. ' Theo switched out the lights, checked the back door, and put the chain on the front one, and now we found ourselves going upstairs, together, to bed. It was funny hearing our combined tread on the creaking steps. But I was too exhausted to feel self-conscious at this sudden intimacy—in fact it felt rather friendly and nice. I had a sudden image of us actually lying
in
bed, together—in a platonic way of course—happily reading our books. A Stephen Hawking for him and a Ruth Rendell for me. I like crime fiction. The more red herrings the better. I can usually work out what's really going on, because, as I say, I can read between the lines.
'Night then, Rose, ' said Theo politely as I paused by my bedroom door.
'Good night. Oh, by the way, how did Bev get on today?' I asked him. 'I was too frantic to return her call. '
'Well, I spoke to her this morning and she seemed a bit low. She said she'd much rather be helping you. '
'Really?' I said, as I turned my door handle.
'Yes. '
'I wish she
had
been helping me, ' I said wearily. 'I could have done with someone like her. In fact I… oh! What a
brilliant
idea!' Then, in an access of sudden happiness and relief, I did this peculiar thing. I stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. I couldn't help it. 'You're a genius, Theo! Good night. '
'I'd love to help, ' said Bev the next morning, 'but what would the bosses say?'
'I've just cleared it with Linda and I couldn't give a damn what Ricky thinks. I'm so snowed under, but I feel that as long as people are writing to me, personally, then I have a duty to write back. And I'm getting a lot more letters because of the Electra business, so I have to answer all those ones as well. '
'Right then, ' I heard Beverley say. 'I'm on my way. I'm the Hope Street temp, ' she added with a laugh.
'And how was Bea yesterday?' I asked.
'Oh… fine, ' Bev said noncommittally though I detected a slight edge to her voice. Bea must have been insensitive to her, in some way, without realising it. I didn't probe.
'How did she seem when she came back from her lunch with Henry?'
'Well… pretty happy, I'd say. '
'Really? And how did Henry look when he came to pick her up?'
'He looked… pretty happy too. He was smiling a lot, put it that way. '
'Oh, that's interesting. Maybe things are working out after all. '
By lunchtime, I knew that they weren't.
'I just bottled out, ' said Henry when he phoned me from his mobile in the Army and Navy lingerie department where he was buying a corset. 'I was going to tell her, but she was yakking away the whole time about the party and about how cross she is with her sister for going skiing and about what an idiot the new boyfriend is, and about what a brilliant help Beverley's been.
'So you couldn't find the right moment. '
'No. And I'm definitely expected at the opening, so it's going to be very hard not to go. No, it's not for my wife, it's for my mother, ' I heard him say to an assistant. 'Yes, that's right—my
mother
. No, she likes marabou trim. '
'Well you'll have to think of some subtle way of telling Bea, ' I said. 'If you don't she'll continue to hope, and hope's a killer. '
'I know. Yes, yes,
very
young at heart. Sixty-eight next May. You're right, Rose, I'll do it soon. Well if Joan Collins can, why can't she… ?'
'Henry and I had a super lunch, ' said Bea happily ten minutes later. 'It went really well. He seemed a bit strained at first, but we were soon chatting away. He's definitely coming to the party, so that's a good sign isn't it?'
'Er, yes, ' I said. 'It is. '
'You
do
think he likes me, don't you?' she said anxiously. 'Maybe he's said something… ?'
'Ooh no, we haven't discussed you at all. But I'm sure he… does. Er, actually, Bea, I can't talk because Bev's arriving in a minute. Now that you don't need her she's helping me for a few days. '
'You too! She's awfully good. I really liked her, ' Bea added warmly, 'and Trevor's divine. Henry seemed very taken with him: I do like a man who's fond of animals don't you?'
I thought of Ricky. 'Hmmm. It all depends. '
'Anyway, I'd better crack on, Rose. See you at the party. '
Ten minutes later Beverley was installed at Serena's desk, with Trevor, as I showed her the ropes.
'Here's the log-book for the letters, and the keys to the filing cabinet, and here, in this file down here are the various leaflets I send out. This is the Health Address Book—that's our Bible—which lists the different support groups. The job's not hard, ' I added, 'it's just rather involved, and I hope you can bear all the noise. '
'Bear it?' she repeated wonderingly. 'I
like
it!' She looked around at the frenetic activity in the newsroom. 'In fact I
love
it!' She shook her head in happy disbelief. 'I'm in an office, Rose. There are all these
people
—it's… great!' And I thought regretfully, yes, it is. It is great, and I'm really going to miss it. A wave of panic and sadness swept over me as I got back to work.
Within an hour Beverley was getting the hang of everything and my workload had suddenly halved. I didn't even have to answer the phone—I heard her fielding enquiries with discreet aplomb. Trevor, wearing his red Helping Paw coat, lay quietly by the side of her wheelchair contentedly sucking the head of his toy gorilla. It's his stress-busting executive toy.
'I like the little pocket in his coat, ' I said to Bev. 'I hadn't noticed that before. '
'Yes, it's useful for putting things in. I think he's going to get some good material for his column this week, ' she added as yet another person stopped by to stroke his ears. 'Anyway, back to work. ' Beverley logged all the new letters, an expression of intense and sympathetic interest on her face. 'It's fascinating, ' she breathed.
'What have we got today?'
'Alzheimer's, bedwetting, contraception, depression, missing persons, kleptomania and stress. '
'Okay then, I'd better make a start. '
'And here's a woman with SCI. '
'What's that?'
'Oh sorry, Spinal Cord Injury—she was paralysed from the waist down in a hit and run. She's twenty-nine, distraught, her boyfriend's left her and she's suicidal. God, ' she sighed, shaking her head. 'I know
exactly
how she feels. '
'Then you answer that one. '
'What?'
'You write back to her. '
'Really?'
'Yes. I'll have to sign it of course, because she's written to me, but why don't you do the draft?'
'Well, because I'm not an agony aunt, Rose. '
'No, but you'd do a better reply than I ever could. '
Beverley smiled. 'Well… okay. If you're sure then. I'll give it a shot. ' She picked up her pad and began making notes; and we worked in companionable silence for a while, when I suddenly remembered. I'd been too overwhelmed with work to think of it before.
'Beverley, the other day you said there was something you wanted to tell me. '
'Oh. Ye-es, ' she shifted slightly in her wheelchair and her neck reddened. 'Yes, that's right. Well, it might not be relevant after all, so then I wasn't sure whether or not to say anything about it to you… '
'About what?'
'About the fact that… Well… you see. It's quite an
awkward
situation, potentially, although, as I say, it might be all right, because, erm… ' What on earth was she talking about?
'Is it about you?' I asked. She shook her head.
'Is it about me?'
'Sort of. Well, yes. It is about you actually. Or, to be more precise, it's about Ed.
'What the
hell's
Bella
thinking
of?' I asked Bea five minutes later. 'She's completely lost it this time. ' I lowered my voice—I didn't want the whole office to hear. 'I mean it's one thing to go off on a skiing holiday ten days before you open, it's quite another to invite my soon-to-be-ex-husband to the bloody launch. '
'Oh God, ' Bea gasped. 'She hasn't has she?'
'Yes, she has. Bev's just told me. She was going through the RSVPs and she went down Bella's list ticking them off and suddenly saw "Ed Wright". She agonised about whether or not to tell me, because she knew I'd be furious, but she felt that I ought to know. '
'And has he replied yet?'
'Apparently not—which is why Bev hesitated about telling me. '
'Well it's highly unlikely that he'll come.
'I hope you're right, because if he does, then I can't. '
'But that's not on—you're our closest friend! I'm sure he won't accept, ' she reiterated.