The Reunion. Литагент HarperCollins USD
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‘What do you want to go there for?’
I shrug my shoulders and smile, but don’t answer.
‘Do your parents still live there?’ Olaf asks.
‘No, they emigrated to Spain five years ago.’
‘Oh yeah, you told me that yesterday. Not a bad move.’
‘It depends how you look at it. Robin is in London, my parents are in Spain…’
‘Ah, poor thing, so you’re left behind all on your own?’
Olaf puts his arm around my shoulders and leaves it there for a while. His arm feels like lead. It would be terrible to shake him off but that is my first impulse. The way he strokes my arm suggests a bond that isn’t there at all. Not yet. It could also be the first step towards something unthinkable. Is Olaf interested in me? Is that possible?
‘I must get back to work.’
‘But wasn’t your computer a bit slow?’ he says.
‘No slower than me, so it will be alright.’
Olaf stays in my thoughts for the rest of the morning. Every time someone comes in, I look up, and I keep thinking I can hear his voice. Every ten minutes I check for new mail. But, no, that was it for today, and now my uncertainty drives away the hopeful butterflies in my stomach.
It’s been a long time since I felt this way. The first time I fell in love was with Bart at the school disco, and his reciprocal interest brought about the same feeling of amazement I’m now experiencing with Olaf. That nothing came of my other relationships was my own doing.
RenÉe comes into the office and I get back to my work. She sends a cool glance in my direction, slides behind her desk and from then on checks every other minute to see what I’m doing. With a sense of deep relief, I pick up my bag at twelve-thirty and leave without saying goodbye to anyone.
I spend the whole afternoon lying on the sofa and zapping through all of the television channels, waiting for As the World Turns. The sun shines in, revealing the dust on every object in the room.
I’d planned to do some cleaning but energy has deserted me. Even making a cup of tea seems like too much effort.
With my feet, I shift a book on the table towards me. A woman with a challenging look and hands on her hips is on the cover. The Assertive Woman is written in menacing letters at the top.
It’s one I recently got from the library. It is full of tips and psychological insights that offer solutions to every problem. All you need to do is learn a list of assertive sentences by heart and then use them at the appropriate moment.
It’s not my problem./I’m off. Bye!/What difference does it make to me?/I want to be left alone now./I’m not taking that./Do it yourself./I’m not going to do that./I don’t want to do it./I’m against it.
They would all be usable against RenÉe. I memorise them until I hear the theme tune to As the World Turns.
‘Have you all thought about it?’ RenÉe asks the next day once we have all arrived.
I say nothing and carry on calmly typing.
‘About what?’ Zinzy asks.
‘That we pay fines for unnecessarily wasted paper.’
‘I’m for it,’ Margot says. ‘It is a brilliant idea, RenÉe.’
RenÉe’s eyes wander over to Zinzy and me. ‘Sabine?’ she asks.
I picture the list of assertive sentences. An ‘I’ message would be particularly good here. It sounds powerful and commands respect.
‘I’m against it,’ I say.
There is a moment’s silence.
‘Given the amount of mistakes in your letters this doesn’t surprise me, Sabine,’ RenÉe says.
‘I’m against it,’ I repeat. ‘It’s a terrible idea.’
Margot and Zinzy remain silent.
‘Zinzy?’ asks RenÉe. ‘Do you think that too?’
‘Well, I’m not sure…’ Zinzy falters. ‘If you think it’s necessary…’
‘We have to all want to do it,’ RenÉe says.
I recognise Walter in her words.
‘Listen, RenÉe,’ I say. ‘I come here to earn money, not to finance the weekly drinks. I don’t think that we deliberately make typos, so if we just agree to check our work more thoroughly before we print it that should be enough.’
They all look at me, gobsmacked. I’m rather good at this.
‘Some people make more mistakes than others,’ RenÉe says coolly.
‘If it’s taken up by the union, we’ll implement it, otherwise not,’ I say, equally coolly, and turn my back on her.
RenÉe doesn’t speak to me for the rest of the morning and Margot and Zinzy avoid me. The tension in the office is so tangible that anyone who comes in immediately lowers their voice. My in-tray is filled up with drafts covered in yellow post-it notes. If RenÉe needs to speak to me, it comes through Zinzy and Margot.
‘Do you know what the problem is?’ Zinzy says. We are hanging around by the vending machine, where I used to stand with Jeanine. ‘You don’t give the impression that you want to get back to work. You sit at your desk with a stony face and that puts people off. Everyone thinks that you’re a grumpy cow who’d rather be at home on sick leave.’
‘However would they have come up with that?’ I say.
Zinzy seems to be nice. Slim, petite, shiny black hair, big brown eyes. I’d like to look like her. There’s something uncertain in her manner that makes her come across as insecure—which she absolutely isn’t. She’s just told me exactly what people think of me, after all.
The ultimate proof of her independence is this particular risky venture: eating Mars bars with me by the vending machine.
Her words are illuminating. So that’s how they see me. Well, they are not really wrong. I don’t really want to be back at work, but it wasn’t always like this.
‘Do you find me grumpy?’ I ask.
‘Not right now, but when RenÉe comes over, I see you go all stiff. Why do you have such a problem with her?’
I screw up the Mars bar wrapper and throw it into the bin.
‘You’ll find out for yourself one day,’ I say.
At twelve-thirty I go to the lift. I could take the stairs but just the thought of all those stairs makes me feel dizzy. Lifts are there to provide people with a service. You’d have to be stupid not to take advantage of them.
There’s a ping and a moment later the lift arrives and opens. I rebound off a wall of bodies.
‘Oh,’ I say, ‘full.’
‘Not quite, Sabine! You can fit in. Breathe in, everyone.’ It’s Olaf from somewhere at the back.
On the second floor, I almost fall out when the doors open.
I wait until everyone is out to get back into the lift. Olaf hovers outside the lift.
‘From now on I’ll resort to the stairs,’ I hold the door open with my foot so I can talk to him. At the canteen, there is a long queue by the buffet. ‘It smells of pancakes.’ I enjoy the greasy, sweet waft.
‘Do you like them?’
‘They’re delicious. Especially with