Crazygirl Falls in Love (36 page)

It was one of those awesome imagination-stretchy
conversations, brainstorming new ideas about life and what it all
means. Good stuff, bad stuff, and everything in between. Also, and
quite randomly, the conversation drifted into the realm of
conspiracy theories and I guess that’s when I must have drifted
off. Last thing I remember Blue was insisting 9/11 was an inside
job.

I stand from the couch and stretch my legs, happy that my foot
feels so much better. I’m surprised when I notice my head isn’t
sore from last night, although my tummy feels queasy.

I spot my old Gribbles compendium on the coffee table, with a
note scribbled on the top sheet of the pad. I lean down to read it
and see it’s from Blue,

‘Morning my little Peanut, meet me at the Loft tonight at
8pm. Also, it’s time we exchanged numbers, 07 474 964
7557

I smile and pick up my phone to save his number, and can’t
believe my eyes. Seven messages and eleven missed calls, but not
from scary work people, but from my mates. There’s Mags with five
(!) missed calls and a few Whatsapps explaining she was at an
Amnesty International seminar last night and couldn’t answer, but I
should call her back because she has news. There’s Emma with a long
voicemail saying how worried she’s been, and did I really do that
to He Who Shall Not Be Named, and that she’d been out rock climbing
and hadn’t seen my messages until later but to call her first
chance I got. Stalker’s tried calling, and there’s messages from
Maya, Arianna and even Juan (don’t remember texting him, I guess
Arianna or Emma must have said something).

And there’s Chloe,

I can’t believe you resigned, that is immense! I’m sorry too
about the other day too

There’s also a frantically worded email from my parents
calling me a lunatic for resigning like that and that I must Skype
them immediately.

I want to call everyone at once. I sit back down on the sofa,
drape the soft duvet around my shoulders and call Emma.

“Hey sis,” she answers, managing to sound concerned and pissed
off at the same time.

“Hey Em. Look , before you say anything I need to tell you how
sorry I am for what I said on Sunday. I am so, so sorry, I don’t
think any of those things about you, I said them because I was hurt
and angry and you were an easy target.”

“It’s okay. You’re delivery needs a little work but the
message was right.”

“No no no, I was wrong, completely wrong. I take you for
granted and worse I think because we’re family and we know far, far
too much about each other, it’s hard to find a comfortable
distance. I’m going to respect you and treasure you and never take
you for granted again.”

“Thanks sis,” the tone of pissed-off-ness has dissipated, “but
you weren’t wrong. I delved a little further and found out that
Dublin has two kids he somehow neglected to mention. Two little
girls.”

“Oh Em, I’m so sorry. Will you keep seeing him?”

“No, I told him it was off as soon as he told me. He broke my
trust and there’s no going back from that. He told me he’d fallen
in love and wanted to start a life with me, but two kids... Kids
should come first, shouldn’t they?”

“Yeah, they should. I just want to put it out there, I think
what you’ve done is really mature. I do know how much you liked
him.”

“I did, I think, but it wasn’t right from the start and I felt
that whenever we were together. The fancy dinners were nice
though.”

I laugh. It’s my first since... Gosh, I can’t even remember.
The courtesy laughs I was giving PJ Staples don’t count. We talk
for a bit more before she needs to get back to work. I call my
parents next even though it’s 11 p.m. in Melbourne and I know
they’ll be sleeping. They answer with drowsy voices, but when they
register it’s me are suddenly fully alert and telling me off for
worrying them so much. I tell them to chill out, that everything is
okay and I’ll call them tonight when it’s morning in
Aussie-land.

Next, I dial Chloe.

“Hi Pen.”

“Hey, do you have a second?”

“Sure, I’m in a meeting room. Everyone just left.”

“Great. Chlo, I’m so sorry for everything, I know that sounds
like a blanket cop out apology but there are so many things I’ve
done in the last few weeks, months, that I’ve regretted. So many
it’s like they’re merging into one monsoon of regret. I never
wanted to hurt you.”

“I know. Apology accepted and I’m sorry too, I was a right
bitch the other day. Anyway enough about that, so you quit your
job? It all sounded a bit... dramatic.”

We speak for over an hour, with me relating everything from
the Incident (which she fully approved of and patted me on the back
for), to the resignation, to PJ Staples, to the note from Blue. She
asks whether I’ll go to Loft and I tell her that the plan is yes,
but that I want to see her tonight too. She says she’s got dinner
plans but we could meet up for drinks afterwards. I yell, “Yes yes
yes!” into my receiver, probably deafening my friend but I can’t
help it because I am so happy it’s all okay between us again. I ask
her who she’s having dinner with and choke on the green tea I’ve
made,

“Majnoon.”

A cough, gasp and green-tea-splutter later, I apologise and
say,

“I beg your pardon?”

“There are two philosophies in life we should all apply more
often, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and revenge
is a dish best served cold.”

“You’re plotting revenge on Majnoon?”

“Absolutely. He and his girlfriend split over the weekend and
he’s already been asking around the office to see if I’m available.
Talk about getting back on the horse. Anyway, I’ve accepted, it
might give me the goods I need for ultimate sabotage.”

“
You know Chlo, the best revenge is living a good, fulfilling
life.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“True,” I reply, laughing.

“Maybe we can plot together. I want blood, Pen!”

Here we go again
, I
smile to myself. We arrange to meet at 10:00 p.m. for drinks near
Loft, after I’m done seeing Blue and she’s done luring Majnoon into
a false sense of security. I do wonder what she’s got in store for
him. Chloe is very clever, she’ll use any personal information he
offers to her advantage. Guess he should have thought of that
before planting typos in her work.

I call Mags next,

“Oh my gosh Penny, are you okay?”

I go over what happened yesterday and last night, thanking her
for her concern,

“Of course I was worried, no one knew where you’d gone. I’m so
glad you’re safe.”

“Thanks baby.”

“Before I go, Sam asked me to pass on a message.”

“Oh my, I’m not sure I want to hear it!”

What if Gribbles are working on a case to deport me? Can’t I
live in blissful ignorance for one more day before the world caves
in on me?

“He told me to tell you that your manager is in trouble. She’s
being investigated for workplace bullying. A few people in your
team lodged complaints against her after you left.”

“Maybe they were inspired by that disgraceful resignation
letter?” I say.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad?”

“Define ‘bad’?”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty, she sounds like something straight
out of that Horrible Bosses movie. Sam also said she’s in trouble
for ‘writing on’ your Lloyds hours? I’m sorry I don’t know what
that means, but I hope it helps?”

“Oh wow. Yeah it does Mags, thanks for that. Tell Sam I said
thanks too.”

We arrange a Penny Mags Retro Movie date for this Sunday to
catch up properly. Before she goes back to her class a thought
strikes me. If I’m going to turn over a new leaf and be a better
person, I should try cooking something she’d fancy for brunch. I
ask her what her favourite breakfast is. When she replies with
porridge, berries and honey, I’m thrown. Here we’ve been all these
years, me cooking her English fry ups because I thought she liked
them, when in actuality she would have preferred something
completely different, all because I never bothered to ask. I tell
Mags I’ll cook porridge for her this Sunday. And it’ll be good
porridge too, not the mushy boarding school stuff.

I’ve been talking for hours. I place my phone down and head to
the kitchen to make another cuppa, pondering Stalker’s information
as I prepare. I can’t believe Angrypants was stupid enough to write
on so many hours.

You see, Partners have carte blanche to alter timesheets as
they see fit. Mostly it’s to write off, or decrease, the hours a
consultant has put on a timesheet. There’s nothing a client hates
more than seeing fifty hours charged to a job when it should have
taken half that time or less.

Writing
on
is done if a Partner thinks they can get away with
it. If there’s an efficient consultant who is churning out heaps of
work at a fraction of the budget, that’s not necessarily a good
thing. Too few hours means that next time the client asks for the
same work they’ll want it cheaper, because they know it can be done
quicker. So a Partner will write on hours to prove to the client
they need that amount of dosh and not a penny less. Ethical,
huh?

But to write on thirty hours is insane. Maybe it was a typo
and she only wanted to write on three. Maybe she was confused
because Stalker and I were both supposed to be working on Lloyds
that week. Maybe Tesco were pressuring her to bill less, whilst the
Lloyds budget was so bloated she thought she could steal a week or
two with no one the wiser. Or maybe it was just a brain fart.
Happens to the best of us.

Regardless, it’s nice to know I can move on with a clear name,
and even nicer to see that Angrypants wasn’t such a perfect
consultant after all.

It’s lunchtime so I decide to visit Sainsbury’s to restock.
After hitting the fruits and yogurts and wholemeal breads (soy and
linseed all the way!), I scour the place for their nicest oats and
honey. I’ll get the berries over the weekend so they’re fresh. Then
I start wracking my brain for the ingredients Blue liked in his
sandwich. The very least I can do is make him one, after all he’s
done for me. What were they again? There were heaps of meats in it
but I can’t remember which ones so I end up buying them all –
smoked ham, honey glazed ham, prosciutto, roast beef, pepperoni,
bresaola, salami, turkey breast, chicken breast. He had mentioned
lettuce and tomato, of that I’m sure, but he wanted extra of one of
them and I can’t remember which. So I buy extra of both. I guess
he’d like cheddar, everyone likes cheddar, even the cheese snobs
who won’t admit to it, but I can’t remember if he mentioned any
other cheeses specifically. So I buy most of those too, from Gouda
to gorgonzola to everything in between. And I think he may have
mentioned avocado, so I grab one of those before I check
out.

I end up with ten heavy shopping bags. By the time I’m back
home I’m hot, sweaty and out of breath, my hands sore from the
plastic bag handles digging into my palms. But I’m
happy.

I dump the food in the kitchen and take our Blue’s sandwich
ingredients, arranging them neatly on the counter. It’s a mountain
of gastronomic joy and goodness. Look at how much cheese there is!
I take a photo and send it to the number he wrote down on the pad,
with the caption,

I.O.U. one Epic Sandwich. Signed, Penny

Before filling the fridge with all the yummy things I take out
that bottom tray with the dried syrup puddle and scrub it senseless
under hot water. No more expired olives, no more liquid lunches, no
more biscuit binges, no more take out six nights a week, and I will
never, ever eat tray-syrup again.

As I clean I hear my phone. It’s Blue,

OH MY GOD! It’s a meat tornado, a sandwich to rule all
sandwiches! How are you feeling today? Looking forward to seeing
you tonight.

While I’m replying my phone starts ringing with a number I
don’t recognise. I hesitate for a moment. Have I got the balls to
take this call? It could be anyone. I manage to put my fears aside
and swipe the green dot. If it’s someone nasty I’ll simply hang up
on them. Gribbles don’t own me anymore. I am free.

“Hello?”

“Hello Penny, this is Gerald Winterbottom from
Lloyds.”

Oh no.

“Hello there...” I venture.

“Hello. Miss Jones, let’s make one thing clear from the
outset. I owe you an apology for yesterday.”

Come again?

“No way sir, the apology is all mine. There was no excuse for
my behaviour and you didn’t deserve it.”

“Not entirely true, and I’m man enough to know when I’ve
wronged a person and I do believe I wronged you.”

“I think I wronged you more. I acted childishly, abused you
and your staff in your own office then accused you of being a
chauvinist. In my defence, I think yesterday may have been an
overdue psychotic episode.”

“Perhaps, but your outburst caused a chain reaction that
revealed a great deal about your former fiancé. I am not sure if
you’ve been told yet, but there have been allegations of insider
trading around this transaction. We were led to believe that you
may have been the source, but after your, how did you put it,
psychotic episode, which questioned his character, we undertook a
background search. I am afraid to say, he was the culprit, trading
stocks to his advantage.”