Always Something There to Remind Me (6 page)

I raced back to my desk, grabbed my files and knocked on Liz’s door just as the church clock across the street struck eleven. True to form, she glanced at her watch as I entered, but finding that I was on time she turned her attention to me instead. Her icy gaze swept over me and I was glad that I’d chosen my smartest suit for the occasion. I knew I looked very professional and efficient so I managed a smile.

‘Good morning, Lydia,’ she said. ‘Take a seat … but I suggest you adjust your appearance first.’ She seemed to be staring at my legs. I wanted to die as I looked down and realised that my speedy exit from the ladies room meant that part of my skirt was caught up in my knickers and I hadn’t even felt a draught! In my haste to rectify the situation I dropped the ring binder I was holding. It sprung open and all my neatly sorted files spilled out in confusion. I rearranged my skirt, scooped up the papers and shoved them back into the folder, mumbling an apology as I finally sat down facing the Ice Queen. She peered at me over the top of her reading glasses.

‘As you know, there is a set format for these interviews. I shall be making notes and writing it up later on for the records. You will be asked to sign the document before it’s added to your personnel file. You will also have the opportunity to add any comments you wish to make.’

I wondered how often people dared to add a comment. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t and we hadn’t even started yet. Liz tapped my ring binder, which was now perched on the edge of her desk. ‘I don’t suppose you have a copy of your last PM review in there somewhere?’

‘Er … no.’ Damn it! I knew I’d forget something vital.

‘I thought not,’ she said, passing me a brown folder containing a copy of my last review, details of the procedure for today’s meeting and a proforma for the feedback.

‘As you can see, our first task today is to review your progress against the targets set last time …’

‘Right …’ I glanced at the targets and winced. I knew what was coming up next.

‘You were going to increase the number of complaints resolved by decreasing the time spent in telephone discussion with the tenants.’

‘That was the idea, yes.’

‘It hasn’t exactly been a roaring success, has it? Your call log indicates that just last week you spent a total of ninety-four minutes on three phone calls to one particular tenant.’

‘That would be Mrs Radcliff; she’s 92, you know, and hasn’t got any family …’

‘I don’t need to know the details and neither do you. You’re a housing officer not a social worker, Lydia. You’re not meant to spend all day making conversation with the clients.’

‘Her cat had just died, and she …’

‘That’s not our problem. You should have dealt with the complaint about her faulty boiler and hung up. Instead the recordings show that you spent a considerable amount of time just allowing the client to ramble on about her cat.’

‘But I …’

‘No buts, Lydia. That’s the way it is.’

The meeting lasted for forty-five minutes and consisted largely of Liz asking impossible questions to which I responded with answers that amounted to committing professional suicide. My brain knew what I was supposed to say, but my mouth had other ideas. I can’t help myself when I hear some poor old dear who just needs someone to talk to. What harm does it do if I spend a little too long on the call so that she feels someone cares about her problem? Liz thought this attitude was unprofessional. The truth is, I just never got the hang of jargon – so when it comes to thinking outside the box, I can’t handle it and just want to crawl back inside. I tried to stifle a yawn as Liz finally put her pen down.

‘Well, I think we’re finished here,’ she said. ‘I’ll get this typed up and emailed to you by the end of the day. If you could print it out and sign a copy for me that would be great.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I replied and hurried out of her office, clutching my ruined files and the dregs of my ‘career’. At least she hadn’t asked for my resignation or given me a month’s notice.

I was glad to escape from the office to meet Trudi for lunch.

* * * * *

‘So you haven’t got the sack then?’

‘Not so far, but I haven’t seen the feedback yet.’ I sought comfort in my coronation chicken ciabatta. ‘I hate performance management!’

‘And how’s the preparation for the other performance going?’

‘Quite well, I think. Des seems pleased enough.’

‘Not as if he’s biased or anything …’ Trudi winked. ‘I mean, he hasn’t got another agenda going on, has he?’

‘Of course he hasn’t. That’s all done and dusted. We’re back to working on my list and he’s helping me rehearse. He’s quite musical, you know.’

‘So, you could say he’s “managing your performance”.’

We both laughed at that and I headed back to the office feeling a bit more cheerful.

Chapter 11: Shopping Trip

Am I the only woman in the world who hates shopping for clothes? It was Saturday morning, with a week to go before the audition; Des was still talking about creating the right image. He wanted to go through my wardrobe to help me find something suitable to wear for the occasion. I was a bit uneasy at first about allowing him into my bedroom, but by taking all the clothes out and throwing them onto the bed we soon managed to cover the ‘scene of the crime’ and put it behind us.

‘Do we need to go to this much trouble?’ I moaned. ‘It’s not like the celebrity judges will be there.’ The regional auditions would be judged by a panel of nobodies from the Beeb’s local studio. They weren’t even using a proper theatre, just a conference centre with no stage or lights or anything. ‘I could probably go as I am and not worry about my “image” unless I get through.’

Des shook his head slowly. ‘What are you like? You never get a second chance to make a first impression.’

‘Listen to the Cliché King! So should we be looking for a sparkly evening gown and a tiara? ‘Cos if that’s the case I can guarantee you won’t find one in there.’

The walk-in wardrobe was almost empty now and Des stepped right inside to look at the last few items.

‘Hey, Lyd! It’s snowing in here,’ he called. ‘I think I’ve found Narnia. Come and see.’

‘If you think for one minute I’m going to get into a dark, confined space with you…’

‘It’s OK, I was mistaken.’ He came out holding a black jacket I hadn’t worn for ten years or more. ‘I guess the white flecks must be dandruff.’

I did what any self-respecting woman would do given the circumstances – I picked up a pillow and threw it at him. ‘Dandruff? It must be yours then. Now stay out of my wardrobe and stop polluting it!’ Des ducked to avoid the flying pillow and overbalanced, ending up on his hands and knees on the floor. I put out my hands to help him up and he tugged, pulling me down on top of him. We were both laughing like kids when the doorbell rang. I raced downstairs.

‘What on earth have you been doing? You’re out of breath.’ Trudi shook the raindrops from her umbrella and put it down. She was taking off her coat as Des appeared on the stairs. Her face was a picture! ‘Oh Lord! Shall I come back later?’

‘No, really, it’s OK. We were just … sorting out my clothes.’ I could see that she wasn’t convinced as she looked at Des. He flashed a smile and extended his hand.

‘Desmond Ryan,’ he said, ‘and you must be Trudi. I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘Likewise.’ Trudi shook hands with him. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ Her expression was difficult to read, but the overall impression wasn’t good. Des had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

‘Lyd, why don’t I go and make coffee and you can tell Trudi all about our plans?’

‘What plans?’ I asked, but he’d already disappeared into the kitchen. Trudi and I made ourselves comfortable in the living room and I told her what Des and I had been doing all morning.

‘What are these plans he mentioned?’

‘I’m glad you asked,’ said Des, returning with the drinks. ‘In fact, I’m glad you’re here because I’ve a feeling we may need you.’

‘Stop talking in riddles and try telling both of us what you’re talking about,’ I said.

‘We’re going shopping,’ he announced. ‘You have to buy a new dress and we’re going to help you, aren’t we, Trudi?’ At this, Trudi’s eyes lit up.

‘Dress shopping? My favourite occupation! I can’t say the same for Lydia, though. She thinks clothes were only invented to preserve her modesty and keep out the cold. So, when are we going?’

‘As soon as we’ve finished our coffee, if that’s OK with you?’

Trudi was nodding enthusiastically. ‘Perfect!’

‘Do I get a vote at all?’ I asked. They both looked at me and shook their heads.

‘Not a chance,’ said Des. ‘Now drink up like a good girl; we’re gonna shop ‘til we drop.’

Three hours later, I tried on yet another dress. I could hear Trudi and Des bickering as they waited for me to emerge from the changing room. Their ideas about what suited me in the clothing department were diametrically opposite. My opinion didn’t enter into it, but why should it? Trudi was right when she said I didn’t care about clothes. The latest dress was her choice. It was loose-fitting and floaty, falling to mid-calf length. The fabric had a swirly pattern in three shades of blue. I liked the colours, but was unsure about the style. I decided to face the jury; after all, what did I know?

‘Oh, that’s gorgeous!’ Trudi said as I presented myself for inspection. ‘Don’t you think so, Des?’

‘It’s a bit shapeless.’ Des was clearly irritated. ‘And it’s too long.’

Trudi glared at him. ‘The loose fit hides a multitude of sins, and the length’s fashionable. I think it’s perfect.’

‘She doesn’t need to hide in a bloody tent!’ Des snapped. I looked from one to the other, my two best friends arguing about what I should wear, and I almost wanted to cry.

‘I didn’t say she needed to hide. It’s just that loose dresses are more flattering to the fuller figure. You’re a man, so what would you know about it anyway?’

‘I know what I like to look at,’ Des replied. He grabbed a long blue scarf from the display counter and, before I knew what was going on, wrapped it tightly around my midriff and tucked the ends in. The sales assistant and Trudi watched in amazement as he stood back and smiled at me. ‘You have great … curves, Lyd. You should show them off a bit.’ He turned me around to face my reflection and I saw at once that he was right. Suddenly my whole appearance was more … feminine somehow, and it felt good. But he hadn’t finished yet. He reached around from behind me and gently raised the hem of the dress until it was just above my knees.

‘Des, what are you doing?’ I protested.

‘Just showing you how much better you look in a shorter skirt. You have the legs for it.’ Again he was right. His impromptu adjustments had transformed the dress. I nodded and turned to the sales assistant who was now smiling at us.

‘Do you have anything the same shape as this?’ I asked.

‘I’ll see what I can find, madam,’ she said. As I returned to the changing room, I heard Trudi ask Des where he’d learned so much about women’s clothes.

‘I didn’t learn it anywhere,’ he said. ‘I just know that a beautiful woman shouldn’t cover up her best features.’

Chapter 12: Time Out

I booked Friday as a day’s holiday from work. It would give me a bit of peace and quiet before the audition and a temporary release from the constant monitoring I’d been subjected to at work since my PM review. Des took the day off too. He seemed to think my relaxation needed supervision.

‘I thought you might just sit here getting wound up and nervous if you were on your own.’ It was eleven o’clock and he’d shown up, unannounced, on the doorstep.

‘Well, actually, I hadn’t even thought about tomorrow until you arrived.’

‘Shall I go away again?’ He clearly had no intention of doing anything of the sort and headed straight for the sofa.

‘Make yourself at home, why don’t you?’ I handed him the TV remote control. ‘I was about to take a bath.’

‘Don’t let me stop you. Cleanliness is next to godliness. I’ll just sit here and play with your buttons.’ His eyes were full of mischief. ‘Then I’ll take you out for lunch.’

Lunch consisted of pre-packed sandwiches bought from the supermarket and eaten in the park. It was a brisk day, late in November, but it was dry and Des thought the fresh air would do us good. It seemed he’d planned the rest of the day. Not that I minded at all; he was good company and we were having fun. We walked through the kids’ play area, deserted on a school day, and I stopped by the swings.

‘I haven’t been on one of these for years,’ I said.

‘Now, there’s a surprise!’ Des looked around to see if anyone was watching. ‘Go on then, I’ll give you a push.’

‘Not too hard, though.’ I wriggled onto the most grown-up of the swings and clutched the chains. Des stood behind me, put his arms around my waist and took a few steps backwards before releasing his hold and giving me a gentle push. Once I’d got the momentum going and was controlling my own movement, Des climbed onto the swing next to me and stood up. Bending his knees, he pushed forward and soon he was swinging so high I was afraid he would go right over the top. I stopped moving and slid off the seat to watch him for a moment.

‘You’re such a show-off.’ I picked up my bag from where I’d left it on the ground. Des slowed down, jumped off the swing and landed beside me, laughing.

‘That was fun,’ he said. ‘Now I have to ask you a very serious question.’

Uh-oh! What’s going on?

‘Go on then. But I’m not promising you an answer.’ I couldn’t read his expression.

‘Well … Lyd… it’s a bit tricky.’

‘Spit it out!’

‘OK then.’ There was an agonising pause. ‘Your place or mine?’

‘What?’ I was stunned.

‘Are we going to your place or mine for a cuppa?’

In the end he came back to mine. We were watching reruns of
Friends
when Des suddenly picked up the remote and turned off the TV.

‘I need to ask your advice,’ he said. I could see that this time he was serious. ‘I have to make a decision and I don’t know where to start. I was hoping I could talk it through with you.’