The Debt & the Doormat (33 page)

‘Shit, Pops!  Stop him,’ Lilly screams.

‘I’m calling the police!’ Glenda screams.

‘Let’s all just calm down, shall we?’ I hear Neville say.  He’s so British.  He’ll be telling us to have a cup of tea next.

I jump in front of Ryan, above the man’s battered face, holding my hands up to him in defence.  I’m not sure if he’ll even notice and end up knocking me out too.  When I open my eyes he’s stopped and is getting up.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, looking around embarrassed.

He turns and storms out of the bakery.

‘Glenda, I’m so sorry.’

There’s blood all over her floor.

‘Don't worry darling.  You go after your man,’ she smiles.

‘Actually, I’m her boyfriend,’ Neville says.

‘Shut up Neville,’ Lilly snaps.  ‘Pops, I’ll see you back at work.’

I nod and run after him, but I can barely keep up, still out of breath from the drama.  When I catch up with him we walk for a few minutes in complete silence. 

‘Well, that was scary,’ I eventually spit out, sick of the silence.

He ignores me and carries on walking, his face hostile.

‘How’s your eye?’ I ask, trying to touch it with my hand.  He knocks my hand away angrily.

‘I don't know why you’re being so mean to me!  I wasn’t the one you were having a fight with!’ I shout feeling hurt.

‘No.  You were the one that got me into the fight in the first place,’ he says, hostility still in his eyes.  ‘You and your stupid friends.’

‘Hey!  They’re not stupid!  I’m...sorry.  But I mean...you didn’t have to fight him,’ I try to reason.

‘Didn’t I Poppy?  That's the difference with men and women.  Women can go around starting fights with men but they’ll never get punched.  But the minute a guy is around they’ll always get into a fight.’

‘Well, that's wrong straight away.  Jazz got punched in the face by some guy in a Uni bar.  Look, that's not the point.  I said I’m sorry, but I don't know why you fought him anyway.  You could have just left it.’

‘What?  And let him insult you?’ he spits, his face still tense.

‘Yeah.  I don't care!’

‘Well maybe you should.’

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, confused.

‘Nothing.  I’m just pissed off.  Now I have to go to a meeting with a black eye,’ he says, staring at himself in a shop window.  ‘How the hell am I going to explain this?’

‘Err...you could say that you stopped an old lady getting mugged?’ I offer.

‘Well thanks for everything,’ he fumes sarcastically.  ‘I’ll see you later.’

Oh my God.  Have I really just ruined everything?

I think it's safe to say that I’m not fabulous Poppy today.  I wouldn’t even say I’m the joke Poppy.  I’d say I’ve been promoted to disaster zone Poppy.

‘I have to leave!  Bye!’ Victor shouts, running out of the office.

I breathe a sigh of relief, pleased that this afternoon will be a bit more chilled out without him.  Hang on a minute.  He’s gone and his Chinese visa hasn’t arrived yet.  He’s flying tomorrow afternoon.  Shit.  OK, don't panic.  I’ll just call the visa people and check that it's on its way.

‘Hello, Visa Application.  How may I help you?’

‘Hi.  I’m expecting my boss’s Chinese visa back today and I still haven’t received it.  He’s flying tomorrow lunchtime and I’m getting a bit nervous.  His name is Victor Darlington, order number 073843.’

‘OK.  Let me just check for you.’

I drum my fingers impatiently on the table.  God, I need a manicure. 

‘It says here that it's due to be delivered to you around 6.30pm.  Will that be OK?’

‘Not really.  We’ll have closed by then.  Can we change delivery address?’

‘Yes, that shouldn’t be a problem.’

Great.  I’ll just get it couriered back to the house.  That way I’ll have it in my hands and won't be panicking all night.  I give her my address and let her assure me for the third time that it’ll be OK.  I’m sure it will be.  Of course.

*
                            *                            *

Well, I obviously didn’t bank on there being train delays, did I? 

‘Please, if you could go as fast as you can,’ I say to the taxi driver as he turns the corner into our road.

I’ve already rung the courier company three times to explain that if I’m not in they could leave it with a neighbour or post it through the door, but you can't trust these courier people can you?  A load of jobs worth’s. 

As we turn the corner I see him.  Red and yellow uniform heading back towards his car.

‘WAIT!’ I scream out of the window.

I throw the money at the taxi driver and run towards him.

‘WAIT!’

He hasn’t heard me.  He’s closing the door.  Why is he doing this to me?  Why is he out to ruin my life?

I run faster.

‘WAIT!  WAIT!’

I can hear the engine starting.  Please God no.  Please fucking God, don't do this to me.

I run to his window, music blaring from it and practically throw myself against it.

‘WAIT!’ I wail.

The poor man jumps out of his skin, probably thinking I’ve just been murdered and rolls down his window slowly.

‘You alright love?’

‘Yes!’ I say, panting.  ‘I just want my package.’

‘I posted it through the door darlin’ no probs.’

Oh thank you God.  Someone in the universe is rooting for me. 

‘Brilliant!  Thanks so much.’

‘No probs.  That's what we at E & L do best.  Get packages to people.’

‘OK great.’

What a weirdo.  He drives off and I take a deep breath, smiling to myself.  See Poppy, when things are stressful, there's no need to fret.  Things always work out in the end.

I open the door and what I find sends a chill down my spine.

Toffee is here.  She has the package in her mouth.  Her drool is dangling down it.  Dear God, if that drool leaks through and runs the ink of his passport.  No wait, if she rips it apart with her bare teeth.  If she poos on it.  For the love of Lassie, there are so many terrifying possibilities.

‘Toffee,’ I say carefully, edging slowly towards her.

No quick movements.  I don't want to scare her off.

‘Why don't you give me the package?  Hmm?’  I smile sweetly. 

Dogs can see when you smile, right?  I know they can't see black and white, or was it colours?  Anyway, I’m sure they can see smiling, or just catch the general vibe.

She looks up at me and smiles.  Maybe she remembers that I rescued her that day.

‘There we go.’ 

I reach for the envelope in front of her, now released from her jaws, edging my fingers slowly closer to it.  It's nearly within my grasp, when she jumps and picks it up again.

Shit.

I knew dogs were evil.  Especially this one, she’s got that crazed look in her eye.

I grab hold of the envelope and try and pull it from her.  She pulls back just as hard.  Jesus, if she pulls too hard it will just be ripped apart. 

‘Give it to me,’ I almost sing, hoping to lull her into a false sense of security. 

But this bitch isn’t going to give up.  She yanks it away, harder this time.

‘I said give it to me!’ I shout, scaring myself a little bit.

She hardly flinches.  I try to touch her mouth to de-clench her teeth from it, but they’re too gross.  We go back and forth, while I begin to sweat profusely.

‘Poppy?  What are you doing?’ Ryan asks, popping his head around the corner, his eye now completely back.

Well, I must look ridiculous.

‘I need my package!  Please, just tell her to give it to me, will you?’

He raises his eyebrow and smirks.

‘Toffee.  Treat time,’ he calls, pulling a treat from his jeans pocket.

Just like that Toffee drops the envelope and runs towards him.  Thank Jesus.

I grab the package and run into the kitchen, trying to remove the slobber from it.  It is pretty crumpled and she’s even ripped a corner, but I’m still holding out hope that it's not ruined.  I carefully remove the documents, my heart racing. 

If his passport is ripped I’ll literally kill myself.  Izzy will find me hanging in the bathroom.  Mind you, I’d hate for Izzy to have to find me.  She might be completely traumatised and need counselling for years.  Maybe I’ll jump off a bridge.  But then what if I cause a massive traffic hold up with that?  Hmm, I’ll have to think about it.

I remove the papers and it's a miracle!  They’re not ripped!  They’re totally intact!  I’m so elated I actually do a little spin round.  I better just check that everything is ok.  I fumble inside the envelope to find his passport.  Where is it?  Where’s his passport?

I scan the first page of the document.  KIP Solicitors?  This isn’t visa documents.

‘Dear Miss Windsor,

It has been brought to my attention that my client, Mr Ryan Smith, has received several letters and presents from you and your Mother, Meryl Windsor.  My client denies having a relationship with you and questions your mental health.  It is therefore with regret that I have to tell you to stop harassing Mr Smith or we will have to get an injunction against you’

Oh.  My.  God. 

What the hell has Mum done? 

And more importantly, where the hell is the visa? 

‘Everything alright?’ Ryan asks.

I’d completely forgotten anyone else was here.  This is a disaster.  A total fucking disaster.

I take out my phone and ring E & L, but it says that their offices are now closed.  I dial the visa centre, but their offices are closed too.  Why!?  Dear God, why!?

‘Where’s our sharpest knife?’

‘Err, why?’ he asks, bemused.

‘I just need to stab myself with it.  Or even better, you could stab me.’  I look up at him, hopeful, but he just seems scared.

‘You want me…to stab you?’

‘Yes.  Just a little bit.  Just enough so that I’ll be in hospital for a few days and I can escape this nightmare.’

‘I’m not going to stab you,’ he says, eyeing me suspiciously. 

‘Well, you don't have to actually do it.  You could just hold the knife and then I could run into – ‘

‘Poppy!  Stop this.  It's not funny.  What the hell is wrong?’

God, he’s a drama queen.  One little stab, is that really too much to ask?

‘Oh God, it's just work.  It's just Venomous Victor ruining my life again.  And your little dog didn’t help.’

‘Hey!  Leave off Toffee.’

‘Sorry.’

I sigh heavily and try to compose myself.  This is not the end of the world, remember that.

‘Wine?’

‘Love one!  But I can't get too pissed.  I’ve got that date with Teddy’s Grandson.’

He ignores me and starts filling up my glass.

Three glasses later and I’m feeling quite pissed and generally better about the whole thing.  I’ve sent Victor an e-mail explaining that I’ll get it sorted out tomorrow.  Ryan’s told me how he did lie to his work and claimed to have saved an old lady from a mugging. 

My phone rings, making me jump.  Maybe I’m not as relaxed as I thought I was.

‘Hello?’

‘Poppy, it's Victor,’ he says, his voice tired sounding.

‘Hi.’

‘Well it never rains, it pours doesn’t it!’ he shrieks.

‘Yep, pretty much,’ I slur.

Compose yourself Poppy.  You cannot be drunk while speaking to your boss. 

‘I need you to sort out these flights as well.  I need them changed.  I have my hair booked in at 2pm so I can only make after around 5pm.’

‘Oh.  Well, couldn’t you move your appointment?’

You’re feeling brave Pops.

‘Move my appointment?  Are you insane?  I’ve been waiting months for this appointment at Red and Go.  Sting goes there!’

‘Oh, well OK.  I suppose that's worth it.’

‘Exactly!  Anyway, just
fix it
, will you.’

‘Ok, I’ll e-mail you tomorrow.’

‘Yes, look Poppy, I have to go.’

The line goes dead.

How can he do that?  Ring me at 7.30pm and then make out that I’m the pain in the arse.  That I called him or something?

‘Problems?’ Ryan asks.

‘Nothing I can't fix with a bit of this.’

I reach for the bottle and pour it into the glass, to the very top.  I take a slurp, the cool bubbles fizzing down my throat.  See, this is why I work.  So that I can afford wine.

‘Why do you let everyone boss you around so much?’ he asks.

‘I don't,’ I say, offended.  ‘The person you’re talking about is actually my boss.  He’s meant to boss people around.’

‘Yeah, but to the point of you worrying about it every night?  Is it really worth it?’

‘Well...yes.  It's a job, isn’t it?’

‘Really?  Are you on great money then?’

Well, no actually.  I’m on shit money, far too little for a PA in the City.  I found out what a few friends are on and I’m way below the average, but I’m not going to tell Mr Swarmy pants that, am I.

‘I do....OK.’

He raises his eyebrows in surprise.  ‘Really?  I didn’t realise you were so comfortable.’

Oh God, now he thinks I’m a frigging millionaire. 

‘I’m OK.  I wouldn’t say I was comfortable.’

‘And do you love it?  Do you love what you do?’

‘Well, nobody loves their job, do they?’

‘I love my job,’ he says seriously.

I think about it for a second.  Do I?  Do I love it?  The crazy thing is that I do quite like my job.  I love the buzz and the fast paced days, but I just hate Victor.  He makes my life hell. 

‘I do like my job.  Just not Victor.  But sometimes I think maybe its better the devil you know and all that.’

‘That's why you’re staying in your job?  Because you think you might find a worse job?’

‘Well...yeah, kind of.  And I love Lilly.’

‘Yeah, but what if Lilly left for bigger and better things?  What would you do then?’

Oh my God, what would I do then?  She’s my lifeline.  Without her I’d probably be found in a corner rocking back and forth whilst foaming from the mouth.

‘I don't know.  Look, just stop bothering me, OK?’

‘Why?  Because you don't want to face up to reality?  When are you going to stop being such a doormat?’

He’s really starting to bug me now.  Why can't he just leave me alone?  It's none of his business anyway. 

‘Well?’

‘Oh just fuck off Ryan.  It's none of your business.’

He stares back at me, seeming angry and hurt.  Maybe I was a bit mean. 

‘You’re right.  It's none of my business.  Get walked all over as much as you like.  You’ll be late for your date.’  He turns on his heel and leaves, leaving me feeling like a giant bitch. 

*                            *                            *

When I arrive at the bar I catch myself in a mirror and almost purr back at myself.  I look amazing if I do say so myself.  I’ve done my eyeliner to look like a cat, with lashings of mascara and I’m wearing a strapless top, which shows of my shoulders amazingly, with jeans and high heels.  It might help that I am slightly tipsy, but still.

I’ve just ordered myself a vodka when a man with spiky brown hair and trendy glasses taps me on the shoulder.

‘Are you Poppy?’ he asks smiling, exposing perfect teeth.

‘Yeah, how did you know?’ I ask taken aback.