The I.T. Girl (20 page)

Waitresses and waiters in the
obligatory black skirts and trousers with clean white shirts wandered amongst
groups of people with trays of champagne flutes and Katie inhaled the heady
mixture of strong female perfumes.

“I think we are sitting at table
six,” Harry said as they helped themselves to a glass of champagne and
manoeuvred their way in between round tables covered with white tablecloths and
gilded chairs with cream upholstery. Table six was towards the back of the room
and they found their names on place cards propped up in front of white linen
napkins, and silver and blue decorations. A silver candelabrum stood in the
centre of the table with three white candles and Harry lit them while Alice
delightedly fingered her card which had a blue background and her name in
silver print.

Excitedly Alice squeezed Katie’s arm
and looked in wonderment around the table.
 
“Oh, isn’t it all just beautiful?”

“It certainly is,” Katie agreed while
counting ten tables strategically placed around the room. “I just wish we could
have been on a table nearer the front.”

Awestruck, Alice whispered, “Well, we
couldn’t expect to be sitting at the management tables.”

Katie sipped her champagne
thoughtfully. “Of course we couldn’t,” she said, but looked longingly at table
three where ten of the company’s project managers were seated and gritted her
teeth in determination - she would get her name card onto that table next year if
it was the last thing she did.

The room buzzed now with more
colleagues arriving and loud greetings with the expected air kissing of cheeks,
and by eight o’clock there was only one remaining empty seat at their table,
which of course was the seat meant for Tim.

Oh, God, here we go again, she
thought smiling brightly and explaining Tim’s absence for the third time in
only fifteen minutes. Irritatingly, she knew as long as the chair remained
empty it would continue all night - and then as if she’d been sent a gift from
heaven her senior food technologist, Frances, arrived.

Frances was an old hippie. She was
nearly forty with wild, uncontrollable, frizzy ginger hair, protruding grey
eyes that often looked as if they were standing out on stalks, and was very overweight.

“
Hiya
,”
Katie said pulling out the spare chair for her, “I thought you would be sitting
with your sister on the other table?”

“Oh, I’m supposed to be but she’s
driving me mad already and they’re all such boring farts in HR and finance…”

Katie laughed at her when she
explained again how Tim couldn’t make it, Francis plonked herself down onto the
empty chair. “Great, I can sit here with you guys and have a laugh,” she said
winking at Harry and Alice.

Katie likened Frances to a whirlwind
in the office where she worked in complete and utter chaos. Her area was always
in a mess and Katie often had to beg her to tidy up to which Frances would
inevitably throw a big squashy arm around Katie, guffaw with laughter and tell
her to chill out. Frances was without a doubt the kindest, most sincere person
Katie had ever met and she knew she gave the team an older but steadying
balance that it needed.

Frances tapped her arm. “Pass that
bottle of champagne, Katie,” she said laughing. “And let’s get this party
really started.”

Giggling, Katie filled Francis’s
glass and watched her knock back half the wine in one go, while young Alice
stared at her in surprise.

“Now,” Frances said. “Before I get
too inebriated I have to tell you something I found out about the project
manager’s role.”

Katie leaned towards her in
anticipation. Her CV and application form were already submitted for the job
and Francis’s sister, Susan, who worked in personnel might know how many other
candidates had applied.

Francis licked her lips and then
hiccupped. “Well, apparently there’s only one other applicant who will be asked
for interview and she’s only got four years of experience,” she said squeezing
Katie’s hand with encouragement.

Digesting the news Katie said
excitedly, “But I’ve got twice as much as that!”

“Yep, I think you’re going to walk
it, my lovely,” Francis said grinning. “And I can’t think of anyone else that
deserves it more - sounds like a done-deal to me.”

“Oh, I hope so, Francis,” she said,
“I know I’ll be a good project manager. And I want it so much I can just about
taste it!”

Francis laughed. “Well, here comes
our starter, let’s taste these fabulous prawns instead.”
 

The fresh seafood smell was divine
and Katie’s mouth watered in anticipation. “These prawns are delicious, they’re
so succulent and sweet,” she exclaimed. Francis nodded her head in agreement
with her mouth full and then lapsed into contented silence while she gave the
food her undivided attention.

Once the meal was finished the chief
executive stood on the stage and an automatic respectful silence fell upon the
room. He was a chubby man in his late fifties with a bald head that the light
seemed to twinkle on, almost as though it had been polished for the special
occasion. He explained how well they were doing against their retail
competitors and the layout of the new campaign while Katie listened avidly
hanging upon his every word. It was all very exciting and ideas started to race
around in her mind.

The business unit manager for her
department, David Shaw, stood up to speak next and boasted about the increase
in his sections sales. “And, in particular, I’d like to mention the dessert
section which has increased our sales this year by nearly 60% which is largely
due to Katie Wilkinson and her team,” he said proudly smiling across at Katie.

Her heart soared with happiness and
she could feel her cheeks flush as everyone turned to look at them and began to
clap. Katie grinned back at everyone and then silently mouthed the words,
‘thank you’ at Francis, Harry, and Alice for all their hard work.

When the speeches were over she stood
next to David, discussing some of his new ideas and while she was making sure
he knew that she was one hundred per cent behind the campaign, the chief
executive approached them with a young man she hadn’t seen before. He was tall
and slim with a slick young Tom Cruise look about him and wore a ‘look at me
I’m stinking rich and don’t I know it’, expression on his face.

“David!” the chief exec boomed in his
loud penetrating voice and shook his hand vigorously, “I’d like to introduce my
nephew, Alex.”

David’s face flushed with the
recognition, and the friendly greeting - he shook Alex’s hand.

Katie gave the chief exec her warmest
smile as David said in reply, “This is Katie Wilkinson, my product development
team leader in the dessert section.”

Alex reached across his uncle to take
her hand and grasped it so roughly that she almost squealed with shock. He was
squeezing her hand so hard she felt her pearl ring digging into her little
finger.

“Alexander Jennings,” he said staring
intently at her and for one split-second Katie could see in his eyes that he
knew just how much pain he was causing to her fingers. Defiantly she met his
intense stare and without losing his eye contact she managed to slide her hand
out of his vice-like grip. While David was talking to them both she put her
hands behind her back and rubbed her stinging finger. Although she felt like
wincing in pain, the smile she’d plastered to her face never flagged.

Alex asked. “So you must be the sweet
stuff in the section, are you?”

Katie’s mind raced, who was this guy
and what on earth was he doing here? She realised the chief exec was staring at
her and David was staring at Alex with a mixture of puzzlement and apprehension.

“Sweet stuff. Dessert? Get it?” Alex
asked and the three men laughed loudly at the pathetic pun. She could tell
David’s laughter was mixed with relief that Katie hadn’t been affronted by the
sexist connotations in the comment and that she hadn’t retaliated, and she knew
the chef exec was probably too old and naïve to understand the hidden insult.
As Alex bored them all with tales from his time at Cambridge University she
wondered where he worked and why the chief exec had brought him - he looked more
suited to posing in adverts for Calvin Klein boxer shorts than working in food
retail. Maybe he worked for one of their competitors like Marks & Spencer
or Waitrose she wondered, and found herself staring uncontrollably at him.

In between her and Alex a young
waitress with trembling hands managed to topple two glasses of champagne on her
tray, and while Katie smiled reassuringly at her and helped her upturn one of
the glasses, she noticed Alex sneering arrogantly at the young girl as though
she was a piece of dirt under his shoe.

Hmm, what an idiot he really was, she
thought, and for the first time that night she was pleased Tim wasn’t with her
because he wouldn’t have been able to hide his contempt for this guy. It wasn’t
often she took an instant dislike to anyone but she had with Alex and was
pleased when, with a joke from the chef exec about how he was trying to get
Alex to join the company and make them all pots of lovely money, they said
their farewells and moved away to talk to another group of managers. Katie and
David were stunned into an uncomfortable silence with neither of them wanting
to say exactly what was on their minds. So, mumbling about getting a proper
drink of whisky, David headed off to the bar and she re-joined her friends at
the table.

After dancing, drinking her fill of
champagne, and smiling until her cheeks ached she said to Francis, “Gosh, it’s
nearly midnight. I’m going to get a taxi and make a push for home. I don’t want
too much of a hang-over in the morning. Can I drop you off first?”

Francis had just returned from the
dance floor with Harry where she’d been trying to teach him a jive. Failing
miserably they’d had everyone laughing hysterically. Her face was bright red
with the exertion and she was sweating profusely, the sleeves on her flowing
kaftan-style dress had ridden up exposing her fat puffy arms and Katie gently
patted them back down into place.

Heaving in and out she tried to catch
her breath. “No, Katie, I’m OK, thanks. Think I’ll cool down a little and have
another drink,” she said gulping down a glass of water.

As Katie waited in the foyer
overlooking the spectacular view of the Thames she felt her exuberant mood
flatten, thinking about Tim, and when she climbed into the back of the taxi it
dawned upon her that probably for the first time since they’d met she wasn’t
actually looking forward to seeing him. She sank gratefully into the seat and
rested her head back, silently groaning at the thought of the inevitable
argument that would take place later where she’d accuse him of letting her down
again and he’d chant out the same old excuses. This wasn’t how it was supposed
to be and it certainly wasn’t like this in all the chick-lit novels she read.
The heroines in the books were full of spirit and determination to fight for
their men, and a couple of months ago she too had been like that. But now,
after trying to hang-on in there, all she felt was bone-weary. Pep talks from
Lisa and Sarah about how Bridget Jones wouldn’t roll over and accept Tim’s bad
behaviour made her smile and when the taxi pulled up outside their apartment
she took a deep breath to bolster herself for what lay ahead, paid the driver and
entered their front door.

They always kept their keys in the
glass bowl on the small hall table and because it was empty she knew he wasn’t
home from the restaurant. She decided to go straight to bed and try to fall
asleep before he got back. This way, she decided, they wouldn’t continue the
argument where they’d left off earlier. Then, remembering his words about keeping
the dress on, she slipped it over her head and chucked it rebelliously into the
laundry basket before climbing under the soft white duvet.

Closing her eyes, she tried to empty
her mind, hoping sleep would take over but thoughts about Tim and their relationship
tumbled around mercilessly. How could things have gone so badly wrong in a
couple of months? And, although he was making it damned hard for her with his
dreadful behaviour, compared to when they’d first moved in together, she still
loved him to bits. Or did she? And, was it just the memory of the former Tim
that she was still in love with?

Knowing it wasn’t just her that he
was being horrible to helped a little as his family were also complaining about
his attitude. She remembered last week when his sister, Jenny, had called him
an arrogant, selfish prat, and his father, who was a man of few words, had
sadly shook his head in disappointment at him. But when they’d got home and
she’d wanted to talk about it, because secretly she agreed with Jenny, he’d
simply shrugged his shoulders and denied any wrong doing. At the moment it
seemed to be everyone else’s fault in Tim’s eyes.

Turning onto her side, and in an
attempt to pin-point exactly when it had started she thought over the last few
months week by week and decided the changes had begun more or less from the
first week in his new job as head chef at the restaurant, and although she knew
how hard he’d worked for the promotion and certainly deserved it, she hated the
way the pressure of work seemed to be changing his personality. And he’d had
such a lovely personality when they’d first met she thought dreamily, sinking
her cheek further into the duck-down, soft pillow.