The I.T. Girl (15 page)

When I hung up I started going through our code infrastructure
to see where I’d have to make changes.

‘Cameron,’ I said, without looking away from my screen. ‘Can
you think about what tests we’d need to do, in terms of business functionality,
in order to cover this change from our point of view?’

He looked at Sam and then back at me. ‘Sure. I’ll take a look.’
He ducked his head and walked away.

‘What about regression testing?’ Sam asked.

‘I’ll do as much as I can,’ I said into my screen.

‘
Orla
, you have got to get an extension.’
He was slicing the air with his hand.

‘Look. I am going to roll out this project on Friday morning.
If you want to help me, pull up a seat.’

 
Sam hovered behind me
for a moment and then turned to find the discarded chair. ‘I’ll help you look.’

We ran a search on all the areas of code where strategies were
handled and then identified the ones that relied on a fixed strategy leg size.

‘I can work through lunch and late tonight to get the code changes
finished today,’ I said, still hitting keys. ‘That way I can concentrate on testing
tomorrow.’

‘Are you trying to get fired or something?’ Sam asked.

‘What’s your problem?’ I turned to him.

‘Why didn’t you tell someone that something was wrong? I mean,
we’ve got three teams all making last minute changes just because you refuse to
ask for help.’

‘I’ve been trying to get help for weeks.’ I exploded. ‘You know
Sam,
its
okay for you. You just refuse to do whatever
is asked of you and somehow you get away with it. Meanwhile I’m the idiot who goes
with the rules and gets totally fucked.’

Sam jumped up, knocking over his chair and then awkwardly rescued
it before walking away.

Chapter Ten

I spent the next thirty-six hours fluctuating between panic and
calm as if a valve was shutting off my adrenalin every time it got too much. I finished
my testing on
BelOpt
but couldn’t get to any regression
testing. So, if my attempts to fix it did break something else, I wouldn’t know
until after the code went live. The other groups came back with the same result
– they’d made the changes but with the minimal amount of testing. I reminded them
if this rollout did fail it would look bad for all of us. Their code was obviously
inflexible and none of us had good documentation.

I went through my usual end of project steps – integration tests
and then move requests to get the code on to a live server. Finally I set up the
start/stop times to activate the feed for the following morning. The project was
out of my hands now but my usual end-of-project-high was replaced with dread.

On the way home I tried not to think about the following morning.
I closed the door of my apartment to the outside world, walked around the furniture
still to be unpacked and went straight to the fridge for a bottle of wine.

‘Cheers,’ I said to my family photos lying on the floor. ‘There’s
no place like home.’ Their holiday smiles came slanting back. A noise escaped my
mouth as I sat down and I wiggled my toes when my heels came off. I flicked through
the T.V. channels. ‘Pointless,’ I said out loud. There was never anything good on.
I sat back and swirled
a round
glass with its stem through
my fingers. I was spent but I knew sleep would only lie beneath an intoxicated layer.
My phone beeped from my handbag. It was a message from
Deelie
.

‘
You
coming
tonight?
’ The text said.
I had forgotten about the club social. I looked around my sanctuary and at my new
clock, ticking loudly, pinching away the time. ‘
Definitely
’ I replied. ‘
c
u on the boat!
’
Deelie
texted back.

I stood at the top of the ramp looking down over black water
lapping seaweed against the pier and missed my couch. Small windows from the ferry
flashed with disco light. A door opened and girls in high heels totted along the
bobbing deck, giggling, spilling their glasses. ‘It’s worse out here,’ I heard one
say as they disappeared back in another door. It seemed like ages since I’d been
in a normal social situation. I had forgotten how to do it. What if I made a fool
of myself? I wouldn’t be able to get away. A flutter of panic rose in my stomach.
What if they asked about my job? Well, I’ll just lie or be vague, I thought, annoyed
with myself. I stepped on to the mossy slope and slid a bit on the way down until
a flat bridge rescued me across the water. Straight away we started moving and the
ground rose to meet my feet. I went through a narrow passageway vibrating with a
rhythmic thud and a wall of dance music hit me when I slid back the light door.
Low chandeliers trembled over the crowded room and I could make out a semi-circle
bar at each end. It was like a luxury cruise liner shrunken into a fish bowl.

I walked over a slow swell, in and out of chatting groups, in
search of the familiar face. The women were wearing cocktail dresses and the men
were in suits with spiked hair. I removed the shawl that had quickly replaced my
work jacket before I left home. Looking around, I wished I had bothered to change
properly. I ran a hand down the shirt I was wearing; it didn’t really match my trousers;
clothes were the last thing on my mind in recent mornings. We began to pick up pace.
Outside the window, the water was dancing. Well, there was no going back now.

‘
Orla
!’
Deelie
was coming towards me, waving. ‘You made it.’ She was
wearing a dark-green dress with patterned stockings beneath. Her hair was down in
waves and she had silver eye-shadow, giving her a disco look.

‘Have some champagne.’ She snapped up a glass from a passing
tray.

‘Thanks. Cheers.’ I knocked the glass back.

‘Hey, take it easy. You’re not walking the plank,’ she laughed.
‘This is Alex. Alex, this is
Orla
.’

‘
Orla
,’ Alex raised an eyebrow, ‘Yes,
I think I recognise you.’ I recognised her too. ‘Everyone looks different with their
makeup on,’ she said with a grin. She was wearing a crisp white shirt, tied in a
knot at the waist over a dark a-line skirt. I guessed she had come straight from
work too.

‘Alex and I joined the club on the same day,’
Deelie
said, ‘and now she goes bombing ahead with the serious
runners. I only see her for the warm-down.’

Alex laughed. ‘So, is
Orla
your new
recruit?’

‘Recruit?’ I interrupted.

‘Here, let me introduce you to some men,’
Deelie
replied quickly.

‘Oh no, that’s okay,’ I protested.

‘C’mon, quality men in suits, baby. James, this is
Orla
.’ She grabbed a subject and pushed him in front of me.

‘Hi
Orla
,’ he said, extending his hand.

‘Hi James,’ I said, trying to keep up with his handshake. He
stooped over me with large teeth and flicks of receding blond hair.

‘Is that an Irish accent?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Dublin.’

‘And what are you doing over here?’

‘I’m a software developer. Work in finance.’

‘You write software? There aren’t too many women in that business.’

‘Ha. No.
Programming.
It’s not for girls.’

‘Pardon me?’ He looked puzzled.

‘You know, the expression, it’s not for girls – like a Yorkie
bar.’ I heard myself say.

James turned, distracted by a circle of people spilling off the
dance floor. ‘He’s not going to do that again!’ His head bobbed in annoyance.

Inside the circle a man with dark curly hair and a neat beard
poured a small glass into his mouth and followed it with a lit match. A golden flame
burst from his lips.

‘He’s going to start a fire and we’ll all have to jump overboard.’
James declared, over the cheering.

‘Can we see your bum,’
Deelie
said
to James, cocking her head.

‘No, I’m afraid you cannot.’

‘C’mon. Just lift up your jacket.
Orla’s
an ass woman.’

‘Is she joking?’ he turned to me.

‘I suspect she’s never joking,’ I said.

‘
Er
, excuse me. Just have to check
our drinks supply.’ He crossed to the other side of the room and stopped to lean
into a group, putting his arms around shoulders. They laughed at his punch line.

‘He’s not in charge, is he?’ I asked, feeling a quiver of the
panic again.

‘Yeah.
He’s one of the club organisers.’
Deelie
laughed.

‘How do I get outside? I think I need to get some fresh air.’

‘The exit’s over there. You want company?’

‘No thanks,
Deelie
.
Just going to get my sea legs.’

We sailed along black water under a bridge.
London landmarks passed by in fairy lights.
I nodded at two women,
stepping around them. ‘Just a little more encouragement should do the trick.’ One
was saying close to her friend’s ear. They looked at me without recognition and
then turned back to their conversation. Not knowing where I fitted in reminded me
of my school days. Until we started computer club – then I found something I excelled
at. Ironically, in being the nerd I found acceptance. Maybe something is only right
for a while, or some place is only right for a while, and then it’s time to move
on. I leaned heavily over the bow of the boat pressing my stomach into the wooden
curve and watched the waves replace each other. Something I did as a child, to stop
sea-sickness.

‘Hey, you okay?’
Deelie’s
voice was
sharp over the music when I came back in.

‘I’m fine thanks.’ I made an effort to smile.

‘C’mon. We’re over here.’ She led me to her friends gathered
at the top of a short winding staircase.

‘Pressure at work?’
Deelie
clucked like a mother hen.

‘It’s fine, really,’ I shook my head but for a moment I thought
I was going to cry.

‘Hello Sailor,’ she said to George as he joined us.

‘Howdy Ma’am.
How’re y’all enjoying
the party?’ he said, imitating an American drawl.

‘It’s great,’
Deelie
said to him, ‘didn’t
know there’d be fire-eating. I’m impressed.’ She smiled encouragingly, ‘This is
Orla
. She’s new.’

‘Hi,’ he shook my hand, ‘I suppose you work in finance too?’

‘
Orla’s
a pioneer,’
Deelie
said.

‘Really?
What do you do?’

‘I’m a stunt woman,’ I said.

‘No way.
What kind of stunts?’

‘You know Cat Woman?’

‘Yes.’

‘Mostly me.’

He eyed me up and down. ‘Well, it’s a good thing you’ve joined
our club then. You really need to keep your fitness up.’

‘Exactly,’ I laughed.

‘Has
Deelie
tried to set you up with
anyone yet?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘She’s given up on me,’ Alex joined in, ‘Are you single?’

‘Yes,’ I caught my breath, ‘
Was
sort
of seeing someone. But it was casual. We had to end sometime.’

‘I’m looking for someone suitable.’
Deelie
put a finger to her lips and scanned the room.

‘Smile!’
A camera with a flash box waited
for us to move our faces together for a website photo.

‘Better take them now while everyone can still see straight,’
Alex said.

We smiled and put our arms around each other.

The champagne ran out and we switched to vodka lemonades. Alcohol
blurred the lines between the familiar and the strange and I bopped in the corner
with
Deelie’s
friends, watching
Deelie
coordinate the dance floor.

‘Can I have everyone’s attention please?’ James called over a
microphone,
clinking
his glass. ‘Welcome.’ He tried again
as the music died down. ‘Hope you’re having a good time? Just want to welcome you
all and tell you quickly about the highlights of the season. Then George will do
the prizes.’ The crowd cheered. ‘Yes, George gets the fun stuff.’

‘Look,’
Deelie
joined us and stared
over at the side of the platform next to James, ‘Jenna is finally making her move
on George.’

One of the women I had stepped around outside was leaning up
to George’s ear with a hand on his arm. It took me a moment to recognise her. Her
hair, usually in a high ponytail was poker-straight, fanned about her shoulders.

‘Maybe they’re just chatting.’ I tried not to sound concerned
for
Deelie
.

Jenna whispered occasionally into George’s ear during the speech
and then clapped, watching the room, when George took the platform.

‘I just want to add that Fred actually won his charity run.’
George picked up after James’ speech.
‘So, congratulations again,
Fred.
Right, I don’t know about you but I’m pretty drunk so I won’t keep
you long.’ He cleared his throat over laughter and received envelopes handed up
from below the platform. ‘How much did you raise Fred
?...
Two thousand pounds?
That’s incredible. As James said there’re
more details on the website and taking part in events is really what it’s all about
so do check it out... Right, drum roll please? The prize for the best female runner
goes to...’ Vocal drum rolls accompanied his opening the envelope, ‘Vivienne Tyler.
Come on up
Viv
.’ It was easy to spot the tall lean woman
with short blond hair making her way to the platform. She always wore little more
than a sports bikini on the club runs and broke ahead of everyone else with effortless
rhythmic movement.