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  Kirsty used her foot to pull her chair closer to the table that separated them. She nodded at him, eyes wide, wishing he’d hurry up and tell her whatever it was he had to say.

  “We were friends at school,” he said at last. “We played rugby together, snuck out drinking. We even shared a dorm. The usual lad stuff.

  “One night when we were sixteen, I woke up and noticed he was missing. I snuck out to find him. Long story short, he had lost his temper and punched up a local girl pretty badly.”

  “What?” Kirsty breathed, dumbfounded.

  “Yeah, he knocked her around pretty bad. The police found out and he was hauled off, but he was a minor so he got off pretty easily I suppose. “

  Kirsty shook her head. “I’ve known him for years. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, never mind a person.”

  “I’m sorry.” Daniel shook his head and looked at her sympathetically.

  She leaned back in the chair and ran her hands through her hair, trying to picture what Daniel had just described. “But how can he do something like that and then get a job in a bank? They have such tight checks on everything.”

  Daniel wore an awkward expression. “No idea. I hadn’t seen him since that night. I’m sorry you had to hear it from me, I really am.”

  “It’s okay,” she looked back at him, hardly seeing him. “I’m glad you told me, it’s just...”

  He stood up. “I’ll leave you alone. Rich is out, maybe you should just go home. It’s a lot to take in.”

  She smiled at him shakily as he walked past her to the door.

  Chapter 4

  When Jones walked past to his office, it felt like several months had gone by since Kirsty last saw him. Her heart sank: throughout his absence it had been business as usual. She anxiously waited for ten minutes to tick past before going to his office.

  “Can I have a word?” she asked, not waiting for a response before she walked in and sat down.

  He sighed. “Well if it can’t wait. I’ve just returned from mandatory leave. I have a lot of emails to get through. As I’m sure you know.”

  “It won’t take long. I’m concerned about the restructure... reallocation... whatever... and I hoped we could address any performance issues...” she began, before he cut off with a tremendous sigh.

  “We’ve had this discussion. And I hear you’ve had the same one with HR too.” He looked at her. “Angela was concerned that I might have a mutiny on my hands, so she called me,” he added, defensively. “There is no performance issue. I’m acting in the interest of the client. That’s my job.”

  “If there’s no performance issue, then why is it in the interest of the client? And why the fuck did the client think that I was leaving the company?” Kirsty hissed, angry at herself for losing control. His exaggerated calm always had an incendiary effect on her.

  He tutted. “This is ridiculous. We’re not getting anywhere with this conversation. Do I need to call HR and turn it into a disciplinary matter?”

  She stared at him, shocked, before standing up and leaving the room. She left the door ajar knowing that she wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to slam it.

  As she sat back down at her desk and unlocked her computer, a message appeared in the corner of her screen.

  Coffee?

  She smiled.

  “Look, you’ll probably accuse me of trying to usurp your other client, but I’m going to go ahead and say it anyway.” Daniel took a gulp of water. “Have you thought about moving? You’re not going to get far locking horns with Richard Jones.”

  “That’s your answer, run away?” she snorted humourlessly.

  “Well, yeah. What else are you going to do? Stage a coup like the one HR thinks you’re planning?”

  She laughed, slapping him on the arm. “You’re probably right. With Richard, and all that stuff about Simon, it’d be nice just to get away.”

  He smiled back at her, silently.

  “What?” she asked at last.

  He laughed nervously. “Would you like to go for a drink some time?”

  She looked at him. He was watching her expectantly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Daniel. We work together. And then there’s Simon.”

  “Have you spoken to him?”

  “No. He’s been away for some sales roadshow since last week.”

  He looked at his watch. “I have to get back or Rich’ll be terribly upset. He hasn’t seen me in two weeks.”

  She laughed, finishing her coffee. “So you think I should quit too, eh?” she asked, standing up and brushing muffin crumbs from her grey wool trousers.

  “I’m not the only one?”

  “My friend Grace is adamant that I should just leave. Volunteer in Timbuktu I think she said.”

  “It’s your call,” he shrugged, pressing the lift button. “But you have to do something, otherwise you’ll still be here complaining about Rich in twenty years time.”

  “You’ll be fed up of listening to me by then; you’ll end up punching me after five,” she laughed.

  “I’ll be CEO by then, I can just have you fired.”

  For the rest of the day she could think of little else: she knew she needed to make a decision and stick to it. She had gone back to her desk resolute, but self-reflection was much easier than action, and at two o’clock she was still sitting staring into space. Her black screen betrayed her inactivity.

  “On strike, are we?” Richard called as he blustered past on his way to the lifts.

  “Prick,” she muttered quietly.

  Returning her attention to her screen, she opened Simon’s calendar, surprised that he hadn’t revoked her access. Seeing that he had meetings booked for that afternoon in London, she picked up the phone and dialled his extension.

  “Kirsty?”

  “Hi, yeah. I need to talk to you.”

  He sighed. “I just got back from Dubai. Didn’t you hear me when I said we should take some time away from each other?”

  “I know. And I’m fine with that. But I spoke to Daniel, he told me some things,” she raised her head and looked around the quiet office, stopping mid-sentence.

  Simon was silent on the other end of the line. “What things?”

  “You know,” she whispered. “Is it true? What he said?”

  He sighed again.

  “Simon?”

  “Yes,” he replied, and hung up.

  She replaced the receiver and tried his number again. It went to voicemail. She opened Microsoft Word. In a few minutes, she had composed a brief resignation letter, which she printed, folded, and placed on top of a teetering pile of documents on her desk.

  Opening a new browser window, she selected travelpedia.com from her favourites. She tapped her chin, thinking, as the screen loaded. She could go anywhere. But where would she go first? She had been passively thinking about how she could afford to leave over the past two weeks, but the idea had now taken on a momentum of its own. She’d worry about the finances later; the immediate problem was deciding where to go. Impatient, her fingers flew across the keyboard as she keyed in different destinations and noted the flight times and costs. Kathmandu, Bangkok, Buenos Aires: they just seemed like abstract, colourful phantasms to her, not real places. Impulsively, she booked a one-way ticket to Singapore, typing her credit card details from memory.

  Now I have no choice but to do something, she thought, picking up the phone.

  “Grace”, she whispered, not wanting to attract the attention of her cubicle neighbours, “I’m going to do it!”

  “That’s great,” Grace exclaimed, before lowering her voice, “but I’m sorry, I really have to go. I’ll call you later.”

  She hung up the phone and twisted restlessly around in her chair, hoping that Jones would return soon. Now that she had finally made a decision, she wanted to get the last step over with.

  To kill time, she searched online for ‘Singapore’. All she knew about the place was that it was one of Asia’s main transport hubs, and it was relatively
developed compared to the other Asian capitals. The perfect starting point, she thought. She had booked the flight for exactly five weeks later, and purposely selected the non-refundable option. It helped that it had also been the cheapest. She scrolled distractedly through the search results.

  “Are you shopping again? God help the man who marries you!” Richard Jones’s braying voice cut through her reverie.

  Picking up the letter with a flourish, she trailed him the short distance to his office, where he was still standing, hanging up his coat.

  “Have you got a minute?” she asked.

  He looked at her for a moment before nodding mutely.

  The actual decision had been such a sudden one that she now found herself speechless. Sitting down in one of the chairs facing his desk, she played with the corners of her letter, sensing his growing impatience.

  Might as well just get to the point so I can get out and celebrate. “I’ve decided to leave. I’ve been here for three years now, and I’ve decided to do some travelling.” She looked up at him, waiting for his response.

  The tension had lifted from his face. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Really? You look happier than I’ve seen you in months... “And I’m sorry to leave. I’ve learned so much during my time here.” She would need a reference no matter what she ended up doing.

  He looked at her impassively. “Have you decided what date you’re going to leave? I’ll need to let HR know.”

  A few minutes later, having discussed the practicalities, she left Jones’s office, the reality sinking in. She couldn’t conceal her relief and excitement, practically skipping back to her desk. She clicked open IM, and typed quickly.

  About that drink...

  Grace watched Kirsty carefully as she returned to their red leather booth cradling a condensation-covered wine bucket .The bar was an old traditional pub in Moorgate, close to the offices where Grace had been holed up all day in client meetings. It had all the characteristics of an old London boozer, but the location meant that it boasted an excellent wine list, in spite of its rugged charm. The after-work crowd had begun to filter out, leaving behind only a handful of diehards reluctant to set food in the grey London drizzle.

  “So it’s true,” she said, as Kirsty poured two glasses of pinot grigio.

  “Yup.” Kirsty replaced the bottle in the bucket and held her glass to Grace’s. “Cheers. To new beginnings.”

  Grace smiled, and watched her friend take an almighty gulp that half emptied her glass. “What did he say?”

  “Who? Richard or Simon?”

  “Well...both I suppose.”

  “Richard reacted much as I expected.”

  Grace raised an eyebrow. “Barely concealed joy?”

  “Yup, you got it.”

  “Dickhead. I’m so proud of you for finally quitting.”

  “Thanks. It all seems a little crazy now that I’ve done it. What do I know about Asia?”

  “You’ll be fine. I think you’re doing the right thing.”

  Kirsty smiled. “Me too. I was humming and hawing all week, and then I spoke to Simon and that was just the catalyst. I need to get out of this place.”

  Grace nodded, watching her silently.

  “I didn’t think it was true. I mean, I’ve known the guy for years, pretty well I thought,” Kirsty continued.

  “What exactly did he say?”

  “Not much. I asked him if it was true and he said it was. Then later, he sent me an email telling me I could leave his stuff from my flat at reception and he’d pick it up from there. It was very formal. It all seems so unlike him: the way he’s acting now, and the idea that he’d do something like that in the first place.”

  Grace patted her arm. “It’s amazing what people are capable of doing. But it is a long time ago now.”

  “That’s true. Did you have any luck finding details about the case?”

  “Nothing. Although there’s nothing strange about that when the information you need predates computerised records.” She finished her drink and reached across the table to top up their glasses. “You are happy you resigned though, aren’t you?”

  Kirsty looked away from her friend’s scrutinising gaze, playing with a chipped corner of the old wooden table. “Yeah.”

  “Well then cheer up,” smiled Grace. “You’ve done the right thing, getting out. I spoke to a friend whose husband works in employment law; she said that although it sounds clear-cut, discrimination cases can take months of negotiations and mediation in situations like yours, and I don’t think that’s something you want.”

  Kirsty shook her head.

  “I’m tempted to join you, you know.”

  “Really?” Kirsty couldn’t hide her disbelief.

  “Well no, probably not. I don’t think I could ever just quit – I’m not as brave as you are. But I might take some time off and meet you for a holiday.”

  Kirsty slapped both hands against the table in rapid succession. “I’ll hold you to that!”

  “Please do,” Grace laughed. “Now tell me more about this Daniel guy. One minute you fancy the pants off him, then he’s stealing your job and you hate him, and not you’re going out with him? I can’t keep up!”

  After leaving the pub, Kirsty walked up Moorgate. It was dark, but the evening was mild. She felt her head clearing after only a few steps, and was soon lost in thought. Passing Grace’s offices, she was in a world of her own when she collided with something. She started, heart racing.

  “Sorry,” she smiled sheepishly. She had walked straight into a tall man who was standing outside the building.

  He turned to face her. “No harm done. Kirsty! Good to see you,” Neil Lennox looked down at her. “It’s been a while.”

  “Sorry, I was miles away. How’ve you been?”

  “Oh good, this place keeps me busy. How about you? How’s work?”

  “I just resigned today actually, so it’s pretty good,” she smiled.

  “Good for you!”

  “Yeah, Grace and I have just been celebrating.”

  His face darkened. “Oh good. How is she?”

  Kirsty cursed herself for mentioning her friend’s name. “She’s great. Busy.”

  “That’s Grace,” he smiled bitterly. “Nothing matters but the job.”

  “Neil, that’s not true.”

  “In fairness Kirsty, it is, but I’m sorry, I know she’s your friend. Good seeing you though,” he rubbed her arm and smiled, before walking in the opposite direction towards the river.

  Chapter 5

  The remainder of the month passed rapidly. Time always seemed to speed up in London when the weather was reasonably good, and a wet and cold February had turned into an unseasonably warm and dry March. For Kirsty, it passed by especially fast, as she wrapped up her life in London and prepared for her trip. She did as much of this as she could at work, when she wasn’t sitting with Daniel, ostensibly to hand over her workload. Daniel was taking her other client on too, the much less prestigious Thompson Fund.

  Outside of work, she spent most of her free time with Daniel. She hadn’t heard from Simon; she presumed he was out of the country on business, but had no way of knowing since he didn’t return her calls or respond to her messages. She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to say to him, but felt strange about the way things had ended. Grace’s best efforts still hadn’t uncovered any more details about what had happened all those years ago.

  Lost in her reverie, Kirsty didn’t notice the small crowd that had begun to gather, slowly shuffling forward to encircle her desk, until Richard cleared his throat officiously. She looked up, startled, cramming the last of her personal effects into a bulging plastic folder with the rest of the clutter she had accumulated over the past three years. She turned around and smiled at the assembled mob, realising that she knew hardly anything about the majority of them, despite have worked with most of them for three years. Simon hadn’t shown up.

  Richard cleared his throat again, dra
wing a chorus of obsequious titters. Kirsty’s heart sank, as the corners of her mouth locked upwards in a forced grin.

  “Kirsty first came to work for me almost three years ago now, when she first joined the graduate program. She provided invaluable assistance, and at the end of the year, I invited her to join my team full-time. She has proven herself to be an excellent multi-tasker, although her time-management skills have become debatable. Which is why...” (Kirsty noticed the small square parcel in his hand for the first time) “... we thought you should have this.” He handed her the package, sparking another round of giggles. Tearing off the paper, she forced a laugh when she unveiled a small analogue alarm clock, obviously taken from the marketing cupboard, judging by the company logo plastered on its face.

  “Joking aside,” Jones continued, “I would like to thank Kirsty for her contribution to my team and to wish her every success in her travels and in her future endeavours.”

  Everyone clapped enthusiastically, before looking to Kirsty expectantly.

  “Thanks Richard,” she responded. “And thanks everyone for coming to see me off. It’s been a pleasure working with you all. As my email said, my leaving party will be at the Grey Cat this evening, I hope you can all make it.”

  The crowd dispersed quickly. Turning back to her desk, Kirsty knelt down to grab her handbag from the floor where she had kicked it earlier. Jamming the folder into the already bulging bag, she put on her coat. Exit, stage left, she thought. Almost. She sat back down on her chair and hurriedly rifled through the pile of documents that remained on her desk. Having separated them into two piles, she hurried to Richard’s office and placed one on his desk, deliberately knocking over one of the neat piles. After feeding the other bundle into the confidential document bin, she returned to her desk and typed a quick list to Richard before shutting down her machine. The only things left on her desk were her handbag and the old photo. It had become almost talismanic to her: it reminded her of the moment when her life had started taking its new direction. She picked it up and placed it carefully in the side pocket of her bag.