Swan (17 page)

The medium shook his head, slumped back in his
chair. The connection to the astral plane was apparently broken.

‘I’m sorry Maddy, my angel has told me not to tell
you. If I do, he says that it could affect the outcome, and he doesn’t want
that. Remember, I only predict the future - I can’t change it.’

‘Please!’

‘Sorry, I can’t. And that’s final.’

I pulled a sour face, admitting defeat. I picked up
my bag, pulled on my coat. My fingers were trembling as I did up the buttons.

‘Try not to worry too much. It’ll work out all right
in the end, I promise.’

I made for the door.

‘Oh, by the way, aren’t we forgetting something?’

‘What?’

A mischievous smile spread across Gerry’s patchy
face. ‘Cross my palm with silver, Madame.’

‘Oh sorry, of course. Your money.’ I fished out
thirty quid from my wallet and paid him.

Later that night, eating dinner alone in the
kitchen, I reflected on everything. I put down my fork, gazed at the speckles
of rain on the window. There was a rumble of thunder, a flash of lightening. A
storm was brewing. I stood up, went to the fridge and took out a carton of
fresh orange juice. Poured myself a glass.

Then, as I closed the fridge door, my eyes fell on
David’s postcard. I picked it up, turned it over and studied it. I must have
read it a hundred times over, scrutinised the picture of the Eiffel Tower, but
today something stood out at me. Something that hadn’t occurred to me before.
David’s handwriting – there was a something very familiar about it which
gave me an odd sense of déjà-vu. Not so much the heavily sloped lettering. No,
it was the signature itself. A heart entwined with a smiley face underscored
‘Love David’. I squinted at it. Now, where had I seen something like that
before?

Suddenly, it hit me.

Taking the card into my bedroom, I frantically
rummaged through my drawers, looking for my Chet Vincent memorabilia. Over the
years, I had built up quite a collection of autographs, the most recent being a
signed photo he had given to a fan in Cannes, which I’d bought on eBay.

In no time at all I found what I was looking for
– a sealed off plastic folder. Hastily, I tore it open and lay out all
the scraps of paper on the carpet. At first glance, there were no striking
resemblances between Chet’s handwriting and David’s. But on the autograph from
Cannes, Chet had drawn a smiley face at the bottom of his signature in almost
exactly the same way as on David’s postcard.

I caught my breath. Gazed up at the ceiling. What
the hell did this all mean? Then eventually it hit me, clear as crystal. This
was life’s way of telling me that David was the one. It was preordained in the
stars. We were destined to be together. No matter what it took; no matter what
struggles I faced,
I would have David
Powell
.

Chapter
Thirteen

When I walked into William’s office I could
immediately sense his hostility. He wasn’t smiling, and the sight of my
personnel file on his desk filled me with dread.

‘Please take a seat, Maddy,’ he said quietly.

Hesitantly, I sat down in front of him. I didn’t
know what this meeting was about but I could tell from his tone that it wasn’t
something good. A customer complaint perhaps? If that was the case, then I had
a couple of hunches about where they might have hailed from. It hadn’t been a
good week at the call centre.

There were certain times of year when being issued
with a parking ticket seemed to grate with the public more than others.
November was one of them. In the lead up to Christmas, people started counting
the pennies, trying to save up for presents and the last thing they needed was
a fifty quid parking ticket. That week alone, I had had a total of five
customers hang up on me because that didn’t like the answers I was giving them.
Couldn’t I just cancel the ticket over the phone? Couldn’t I offer them a
reduced fee? I’d heard it all before.

‘Right,’ William continued, ‘I guess you’re
wondering why I’ve called this meeting today?’

‘Yes, I am.’

He paused, flicked through a couple of pages of my
personnel file, and then locked eyes with me. His face was grim, mirthless. In
his youth, William must have been quite dashing, but now that he was crowding
fifty, he had the sodden expression and wide girth of man who had seen too many
late nights and drunk too many bottles of whisky.

‘Before I get to the crux of it, I’d like to start
by asking about your well-being. How is your health these days?’

‘Fine, thanks.’

‘It’s just that you’ve had an awful lot of sick
leave recently, and I wondered if perhaps this was an on-going problem. You
used to have an impeccable attendance record, Maddy. But recently, that’s all
gone down the drain. Is there something going on outside of work?’

I stared at him blankly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You’ve seemed so distracted lately. You’re not as
punctual as you used to be, and your stats have dropped drastically. This isn’t
the Maddy I know.’

I shrugged. ‘Everything’s fine, William.’

He looked at me shrewdly. Then he took a report out
of my personnel file and slid it across the desk to me. ‘Does that customer’s
name ring a bell?’

I glanced briefly at the name and shook my head.
‘No. I don’t recall speaking to Abigail White.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Positive.’

William let out an exasperated sigh and walked over
to his office window. He opened the blinds to let some light into the dingy
room. ‘Well Maddy, I can tell you that you did speak to Miss White. We’ve got a
tape recording of the conversation you had with her two weeks ago.’

‘Right. Okay, let’s say I did. What’s the problem?’

He turned and looked at me, an expression of
disappointment on his craggy features. ‘You went against the procedure and
cancelled Miss White’s parking ticket without her submitting a formal appeal.
You know you’re not supposed to do that, Maddy.’

I bit down on my lip.
Oh shit.
Now I remembered who he was talking about. Miss White
– the single mother of three from Tottenham who was having trouble making
ends meet. We’d issued her with a parking ticket while she’d gone into a
chemist to get cough mixture for her sick child. She’d been on the phone to me
for over an hour crying about the amount of debt she was in and how she
couldn’t possibly afford to pay the fifty-pound fine. Normally, this kind of a
ploy didn’t wash, but for some reason, something about Miss White’s plight had
struck a cord with me. Perhaps it was the shared grief of having to live with a
mountain of debt that I sympathised with. Or perhaps it was her complaints of
loneliness, being stuck at home with no man and three children. Who knows?
Either way, she had persuaded me to do something very foolish. She had
persuaded me to write off her parking ticket without her submitting the
necessary legal documents – something that was unheard of in the call
centre.

‘Oh gosh, I’m sorry William. I really am. I honestly
don’t know what I was thinking.’

He rubbed his temples and sat back down at his desk.
‘Maddy, Maddy, what am I going to do with you? You know what you did was a
sackable offence?’

I nodded solemnly. ‘Yes I know. I messed up big
time. What are you going to do?’

William hesitated, studied my file for a couple of
minutes. ‘I haven’t decided yet. I want to hear your side of the story. Why did
you do it?’

‘I felt sorry for her. I mean, I know that’s hardly
a defence but ... she just sounded so vulnerable. She had kids and no money.’

‘Of course she had money!’ William snapped. ‘How do
you think she can afford to run a car? Let me tell you Maddy, I work my arse
off forty hours a week and I can’t afford to drive. The road tax alone is a
killer. Then there’s MOT, insurance ... I’m sorry, but anyone who can afford
the luxury of a car cannot claim to be too poor to pay for a fifty pound
parking fine. Really, I’m surprised you fell for it, Maddy. I thought you were
smarter than that.’

There was a long silence. I looked out the window.

‘So what’s going to happen? Are you dismissing me?’

William eyed me carefully. ‘As I said, what you did
was a sackable offence.’ He paused. ‘But, taking into account your previous
good character and the fact that I believe it was a one-off moment of madness,
I’m willing to let you off this time with just a warning. Obviously, this
meeting will be recorded in your personnel file, but I see no reason to take it
any further as long as you promise it won’t happen again.’

I breathed an enormous sigh of relief. ‘Thank you,
thank you! It won’t happen again.’

He looked at me curiously. ‘Are you sure you’re
okay, Maddy? You’ve seemed so downcast lately. You haven’t had a bereavement or
something?’

For a second, I toyed with the idea of telling him
about Chet Vincent, but somehow the words never came. ‘No, of course not.
Seriously, I’m fine, William. Don’t worry about me.’

‘I know you applied for the management position. I
hope this hasn’t put you off applying for other opportunities elsewhere in the
council. I’ve always seen a lot of potential in you, Maddy. I’d hate to see you
throw it away over some mid-life crisis.’

Mid-life
crisis?
Cheeky sod! What next? Cosy
chats about hot flushes and HRT?

Just then, the door opened and Caroline poked her
tousled head in.

‘Yes, what is it?’

‘Sorry to bother you William, but I’ve got a Mr
Gomez on the phone again. He says you were supposed to call him back this
morning.’

‘Well, I can’t talk now. I’m in a meeting.’

‘But William, he’s going crazy! He says they don’t
have parking tickets where he comes from.’

‘Ask him if they have running water where he comes
from.’

Caroline stared at him.

‘Just tell him I’ll call him back, okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘What’s so funny, Maddy?’ William asked when she’d
gone.

‘Nothing, nothing.’ I had to hold my breath to keep
myself from giggling.

‘Well, okay, you can go now.’

‘Thank you, William. And thanks for giving me
another chance. I really appreciate it.’

I got up, closed the door behind me. When I was
alone in the corridor I exploded with laughter.

* * *

At two o’clock the whole office was called into an
emergency meeting with Angela Towner. We knew it was coming, but nobody had
expected it to happen quite so soon.

Everyone filed in grim-faced to Meeting Room One
with the knowledge of possible job losses hanging over us. The room wasn’t
large enough the accommodate all forty of us so most people had to stand. I
managed to find a space near the back sandwiched between Margery and Caroline.

‘What do you think this is about?’ someone muttered.

‘Isn’t it obvious? We’re in for the chop.’

‘I knew this would happen.’

‘I can’t believe this.’

Angela Towner smiled fixedly at everyone. There was
a hint of Shere Khan behind those little beady eyes of hers.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you more notice
about this meeting,’ she began, ‘but things have happened so quickly, I didn’t
have much time to prepare. I will try to keep this as brief as possible. Right.
I know there have been rumours circulating for some time about the direction
that this service is going in. As you are all aware, the government unveiled
its new manifesto in April and the current financial climate dictates that
budget cuts to the public sector will be unavoidable.’

‘Oh come on, come on, get to the bloody point,’
Margery muttered.

Somebody sniggered.

Angela paused, cleared her throat. ‘When looking at
which services to cut, we have to ask ourselves, “’Are we giving the public
value for money? Are there areas for improvement? Are there areas where we
could be more frugal in our spending while still providing an excellent service
to our residents?”’

My hands tightened. I gritted my teeth. God, the
woman could talk. For someone who had said she was going to be brief, Angela
sure was giving Tolstoy a run for his money in the
War and Peace
stakes.

‘And so guys, it is with deep regret that I have to
inform you that there are going to be big changes around here. There’s no easy
way of saying this, so I’ll get straight to the point. As of this coming April,
your jobs will no longer exist.’

‘What!’ There was a collective gasp from everyone.
Cries of bitterness and indignation. Shouts of ‘I’m going to the Union!’ and
‘I’m going to an employment tribunal!’

Angela raised her hands for calm. ‘Please, please
let me finish. Right, okay. So, your jobs will no longer exist, but there is a
light at the end of the tunnel. I have put a proposal forward to the members. I
have asked that we overhaul your current job descriptions and implement a new,
higher graded post. These roles will be re-named Customer Specialists, and
those who are successful at interview stage will be rewarded with a salary two
scales higher than the one you are currently on.’