Celestial Land and Sea (2 page)

"Thank you, Andy."

James hiccoughed.

"Fran, there are one or two things I'd like you to work on today, but I'll discuss those with you in my office later on." Neither Andy nor James, nor Grace looked up from the table; they all knew what this meant, and chose to ignore it. Fran simply nodded at the boss. "In the meantime, I'd like you to continue with the piece on winter footwear you've been doing."

James hiccoughed again.

"And James—"

Hiccough.

"—will you stop making that stupid noise?!"

"Sorry, sir," he managed, before forcing another one back down his throat.

"You'll continue investigating any breaking news stories, yes?"

"Of course, Mr Barrie."

"And Grace, just keep doing what you usually do. Right! So if everybody knows what they've been assigned, best get on with it then." Mr Barrie hauled his weight out of the tiny chair. The meeting had been exactly the same as it always was. He'd checked to see that everybody knew what he was supposed to be doing, handed out a few instructions, and then told them to go back to their desks. Nobody really knew why they needed to shift the furniture each morning for the sake of a couple of minutes of unneeded instruction, but they were pretty sure it had something to do with Mr Barrie's need for domination. There was nothing they could do about it except rearrange the tables and chairs then shuffle back to their desks to begin yet another day that promised to be identical to the last.

 

The computer groaned at Grace, once again rebelling against her request. She'd never known a machine to be so averse to sending emails. If only Mr Barrie would update the systems in the office, then perhaps she'd be able to perform her work more efficiently. Finally, the computer informed her that the email had been sent.

She glanced around the office. Everybody seemed hard at work as they typed away, not appearing to be affected by the heavy air that engulfed the room and smothered Grace's good cheer. The clock that hung above the water cooler crawled its way toward the final hour of the work day, and Grace could think of nothing as satisfying as the thought that it was almost time to go home.

The rest of the Anchor team seemed to be of a similar opinion as they rushed to finish their tasks for the day so they could do whatever it was they particularly enjoyed doing outside of work. Grace didn't have any particular plans for the evening, the calendar sitting on her desk informing her that November was as depressingly empty as October had been for her, but anything was better than being stuck inside prison walls. The room was dense with monotony.

She was twiddling her thumbs when Andy walked past, carrying an empty mug in the direction of the kettle in the corner of the room. "Powering through this last article, then I'm off!" he said as he stopped next to her. Andy had already been working for the web site when Grace had joined the team three years ago. In charge of Anchor's sports section, he spent most of his time on location, interviewing young champions or covering the unveiling of new sports centres and academies across London. He enjoyed his job, he would never deny that, but Andy had always hoped he would have moved on from the company to higher positions elsewhere by this stage in his life. He had been in the same role for the same web site for over a decade, having landed his first proper job there once he had graduated from university. By some miracle the bleak office hadn't dampened his ambitions though; he still dreamed of breaking free and climbing higher up the career ladder someday. There were only a certain number of school sports days he could cover before beginning to rethink his entire existence, and that was enough to keep his dream ignited.

"Anything exciting been happening today?" Grace wasn't really into sports, but she always enjoyed talking to Andy regardless of what they were discussing.

"Not particularly. I spent the morning watching a junior cricket match. There were actually some really talented youngsters playing today. I bet they could go far if they chose to. I can only imagine how good they'll be when they hit secondary school. I'm just about finished writing the article." He looked at the mug he was carrying. "One last top-up to help me power through... The sooner we finish the better, eh?"

They exchanged smiles before Andy continued to the kettle. Once he was out of sight Grace allowed her eyes to glance over the rest of the room before they landed on James. As the newest Anchor employee, sitting in front of Andy's desk, he had joined the team six months ago as a Journalism graduate. Barely into his twenties, he still reeked of optimism. Grace was sure working at Anchor would soon suck that zest for life out of him. It was only a matter of time.

Still, she couldn't envy him too much. James was rarely given the chance to parade himself around in public; he was required to spend most of his time stuck in the office. He was responsible for covering all the latest news stories, and always without leaving his desk. He seemed to enjoy working there though. It was all new and exciting to him, his first proper job in the real world, and it did mean he was able to spend a lot of time talking on the phone. He certainly wasn't shy of making a sly personal phone call or two at work either. He had become expert at changing his boyish giggles into a stern offer manner whenever the boss walked into the office. Although he'd frequently come close to it, he'd yet to be caught in the act.

With nothing else to do for the rest of the afternoon, Grace turned away from James and stretched her attention to the far end of the office. Seated at the desk furthest away from Grace was Fran Taylor. Fran was occupying herself by twisting a bottle of clear nail varnish around in one hand, and twirling a strand of her hair with a finger on the other. She had tousled her red hair—dyed, of course—onto the top of her head, leaving a few strands hanging loose by her face to shape her cheekbones. She always wore her hair up, Grace noticed. Why wouldn't she when it made it easier to leave her chest exposed for the world to see? Fran was quite short in height, but curved and relatively busty. Grace couldn't avoid noting that Fran's blouse was stretched across her chest, the maroon silk fabric pulling at the top button, threatening to pop off at any moment. Grace was sure she'd end up taking a button to the eye one of these days, especially with the way Fran spent more time than necessary leaning over desks and forcing her breasts forward. She always liked to keep her legs on display too, dressing them in a pair of flimsy tights and pairing them with nude shoes in an attempt to lengthen their appearance. On more occasions than she could count, Grace had caught Mr Barrie staring at Fran's shapely legs as they stretched out from under her tiny skirts.

More like belts,
Grace caught herself thinking as she spotted the size of Fran's skirt of choice that day. She didn't know why she even bothered wearing them; they barely covered anything.

It hadn't come as any surprise to Grace when she learned that Fran was in charge of writing about the latest fashion and beauty news. Although she avoided conversations with Fran at all costs, Grace had to admit that she admired Fran's ability to write extensively about celebrity faux pas. Grace simply didn't care about the latest must-have handbag, or which shade of denim goes best with green eyes. She never understood the vast desperation for fashion, and she didn't really wish to either.

Just as she was stifling a yawn, Grace noticed out of the corner of her eye that an email had popped up on the screen. She dragged her body around to face the machine, trying to feign an interest. It was probably just another offer for Fran to test out some new cosmetics line. It was never anything for Grace.

She was certain she wasn't in the position she had originally applied for at Anchor, but however it had happened, she now found herself responding to all of the emails that were received. She found no satisfaction in the mind-numbing repetition of clicking and forwarding. Her thoughts even started to echo the low drone of the machines that filled the air around her, anything to occupy the vacant space that increasingly grew inside her head with each tediously dull moment. And, as the online news site wasn't exactly popular, very few people ever had a need to email with general enquires for Grace to answer. On the rare occasion that they did, it was usually with a question that had already been answered on the site's designated section for Frequently Asked Questions. Copying and pasting answers wasn't exactly what Grace had dreamed of doing all her life.

Maybe, if she was completely honest, she envied the rest of the team. A tiny part of her was even jealous of Fran, but she would never admit that to her face. The rest were always hard at work on their projects within their own specialties, and here she was about to read yet another email that was going to offer absolutely no fulfillment to her.

"So much excitement I can barely contain myself," she sighed as she faced the monitor.

She recognised the name instantly. To her surprise the email
was
for her. However, when she read the subject line, she almost wished it wasn't. She opened the email:

 

Gracey, darling!

 

How are you? I'm hosting a lingerie party tomorrow at my place for all my girlfriends. You absolutely must come! You still have my address don't you? I'll see you tomorrow around 7. Oh, and do bring Harriet—there'll be plenty of nibbles for everybody!

 

Love Caroline xxx

 

She decided that no email would definitely have been better than this. She'd completely forgotten that Caroline even knew her work email. It had been so long since she'd heard from her. She was obviously struggling to make up numbers for the party otherwise there was no way Grace would have been invited.

Caroline Abbott had been on Grace's course at university, and they'd ended up being paired together for various projects. It wasn't that Grace didn't like Caroline. She just found her hard to handle. It didn't help that Caroline was now working for a much more acclaimed company than Grace was—at least Caroline's work made it to print every week. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she was lively and full of character, and not actually a lot to do with her writing ability. Regardless of whether or not Grace was bitter, sometimes Caroline was just too full-on for Grace's liking.

If she didn't go to the party though, she'd never hear the end of it. Sometimes it was easier to give in to Caroline than to try and avoid her.

"Anything for a peaceful life," she muttered as she typed out a quick reply to Caroline. "At least it'll get me out of the house for a few hours, I suppose–even if it
is
to a lingerie party." It wasn't usually her scene, but it had to be better than spending another night in front of the TV nursing an oversized cup of hot chocolate. Her Saturdays were starting to become entirely too routine.

She had just responded to the email when Mr Barrie's office door swung open. He stormed out with a piece of paper in his hand and headed toward Andy's desk.

Once he had finished with Andy—Grace had tried to eavesdrop but his tone was too low—he turned his attention to her as she tried to avoid his stare.

"Working hard, are we, Grace?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, you've still got another ten minutes to get everything finished for today. You can leave when the clock hits five. And not a minute sooner," he ordered before making his way to a bag of mini cupcakes next to the kettle that Andy had brought in from the supermarket at lunch time. He grabbed one with lemon icing and stuffed a bite into his mouth. Crumbs flaked down his shirt. He patted at it with a meaty hand, trying not to smear icing over the taut fabric. He shuffled back to his office, smiling at the cupcake.

Grace spent the final ten minutes staring at the clock. She had to resist the temptation to cheer when the second hand crawled up to the final ten seconds before the top of the hour, fighting the urge to commence a full countdown. She shut down her computer and stood, sliding her arms into her coat at the same time. "See you on Monday, Andy."

"See you," he replied as he shut off his machine. No matter how busy they had been in the minutes leading up to the end of the day, nobody ever chose to stay longer than they had to.

"Bye, James."

Grace picked up her bag and headed out the door. She made her way down the stairs, a journey much less exhausting and much more exciting than the ascent, and turned to exit the building.

Fran stood in the doorway, holding a cigarette loosely between two fingers. Grace tried to ignore her as she stopped to button her coat.

"You know, if you made more of an effort, then he might let you do more," Fran smirked as she blew smoke in front of her. The chill of the wind didn't seem to bother her as she stood there in her skimpy outfit, her legs and chest exposed.

"Sorry?" Grace responded, confused. She hadn't expected Fran to say anything to her. They rarely spoke to each other, engaging in conversation only when it was necessary.

"Look at you, Grace." Fran gestured toward Grace's outfit with her cigarette. Grace was aware that her grey trousers were a little plain, and her woolly coat was perhaps a little oversized, but it had been on sale when she bought it. Besides, she had never considered her wardrobe to be a problem.

"Don't think I haven't noticed you in there," Fran continued. "I've overheard your conversations with Andy. I know you don't feel challenged enough. Am I right?"

"Well, maybe..." Grace wasn't sure where Fran was going with this. She had never cared about her feelings before. Why was she taking an interest now?

"I know Arthur, Grace..." Grace shuddered at the sound of Mr Barrie's first name. It made him human, which of course was impossible. "...and I also know he's not going to consider your talents as a writer if you don't start making more of an effort with your appearance. I mean, take me, for example." Fran flicked the ash from her cigarette onto the floor. "He's given me more creative freedom than I could ever have asked for. Just last week I attended a press event for a boutique in Kensington. They loved me so much that they gave me this expensive dress with the most gorgeous little straps as a gift to say thank you for writing about them. Seriously, ditch this little girl look and try something a bit more womanly. It's the only way you're ever going to get anywhere in life." Fran stubbed out the end of her cigarette against the wall and threw the butt onto the floor. 'See you next week,' she grinned as she turned back into the building.