The front cover of The Metro newspaper had not seemed to change in months; credit crisis, everything crises, we are all fucked, big time. Well, it had never used the phrase 'we are all fucked, big time' but it might as well have, because everyone on the underground train had a feeling that the commute into the financial capital of the world would never quite be the same again. The heady days of excess, both financial and personal were disappearing faster than the bloody estate agent minis propelling commission loaded property used car salespeople around the city streets looking for their next easy buck. Well, at least one good thing had come from the credit crunch, the estate agents where the second to get theirs after the bankers.
But, the hum of the tube carriage as it headed on its daily south western route into London was a growing sound of gloom and despair, as a thousand miserable faces peered down at today's headline of despair, "City Law Firms Next To Crash", of fucking brilliant she thought, absolutely fucking brilliant.
Amanda had worked for a London law firm for nearly a decade now, in IT by the way, the actual world of law was an unfathomable set of books pilled high on partners shelves. However, it paid well, was stable, and while the city was rocking with riches, the law firms, doing the mergers and acquisitions and big investment deals prospered. She was happy in her job, had earned enough to do the things she wanted at weekends, and had lived life to the full to say the very least during her time there. She had never been the office bike, she was far too picky for that label to ever be attached to her, but, she had burned the candle at both ends, and she more than often smiled at the memory of being used at both ends on more than one occasion. If anybody could have been said to have ridden the economic growth of the last ten years it was her in more ways than one.
That had all petered out in the last few years though, she was getting sensible, or old, or boring, or probably a combination of all three of them, but, her sex life was now confined to where it always should have been, her home and her partner.
It was bloody dull, to say the least, but, she had just sort of ambled into it, and the effort to actually do something interesting, something daring, something that would excite her, the thought of doing it and the memory of having done it now seemed just like too much bloody effort to even bother with. She stood on the train and had a few fleeting memories of past encounters and adventures, but then the train rocked and rolled, her knees ached slightly, her shoes, sensible ones pinched her toes and like everybody else she looked down and buried her head in the bad news of the day. Life was shit and getting worse, and she really couldn't be bothered to try to have fun anymore.
October 18th 2008 was no different that any other day. When was any particular workday any better or worse, more interesting or dull than any one previous? Most days the entire IT department was on autopilot, even the banter was predictable, the jokes the same, the responses the same, and with the credit crunch in full swing, and the headline suggested the legal market was next to get crunched, they temptation to joke about that had waned today. Who wants to joke about being made redundant in a city being slowly made redundant. Well, Mike did, but Mike thought stabbings where funny. Or his friends did when they texted through 'jokes' on his mobile. Even his attempts at humor fell flat today, primarily because he knew that when the crunch did finally hit, a 45 year old whose only claim to fame was rescuing a windows 2003 server within 6 hours wouldn't be at the head of the must have information technology professionals queue in the job centre. A joke about a city banker losing their job did not quite sound so funny when it could be you next.
Life was full, the office was dull, and Amanda trudged on through the day. It could only get worse she thought.
One thing rescued the day, drinks after work. An invite from the secretarial team brought a glimmer of hope at the end of a truly tedious day. The secretaries did think they were above everybody else because they looked after the partners, but it was an invite to drink something, and that that would help numb the numbness.
The George was half-empty, which meant it was a quarter full; as it was normally jammed to the door on a Thursday, the evening before "do fuck all Friday".
Amanda got to the bar without having to push anybody, or cower under the armpit of a 6'5" lawyer, and once again, she thought the credit crunch did have other benefits, quicker drinks, while she could still afford to buy them of course.
Whiskey and Diet Coke tonight, large one, yes please, what the fuck do you think, she thought as the barman poured her drink and handed it over.
She drank half of it in one go, then the next half and then the last of it.
The taste of it easing around her mouth and down her throat made life feel a little better. Whiskey was always warm going down, the coke s tingled her throat at the same time. One more should perk her up, and it did.
She sat in a group, mostly women, Mike as far away as possible, listening to the chat, not really bothering to take part. The secretaries never gossiped about partners in front of back office staff, so there was nothing really to get interested in. Weddings, No. Children, No. Holidays planned for next year, not fucking likely.
Amanda grabbed her phone to idly check for text messages. Nothing. Good god she thought to herself, five years ago there would have been a string of them, mainly from men, mainly from men she had fucked, was fucking, or might fuck if they were lucky. Ok, not all at the same time, she wasn't fucking everybody everyday, but there would have been something on a Thursday night, it was an absolutely racing certainty, and tonight, last week, the month before, nothing.
Two more whiskeys had her checking again, still nothing.
Checking for text messages always started as a once off glance, but, drink turned checking into a tick, an odd recurring wink for your fingers. The chances of a text materializing didn't increase with the rate of checking, but, the intake of booze did increase the requirement to check. Amanda was convinced something might appear, the day had put her in such a miserable mood that the law of lady luck meant something must come to cheer her up. Bugger, she might even have some fun if somebody texted her out of the blue. Come on your dopey fuckers she thought, this could be your night, if Mike texted me now he might even get a shag, fuck it, he might even get a blow job in the toilets if he just tried his luck. It was not fire in her belly that was driving her on, it was a dull ache in her heart, life was just shit and boring and surely somebody would be feeling the same and think of her and think it was worth texting. Somebody must be as bored and has desperate for some fun. Her brain told her they would not but the Jack Daniels convinced her they would.
Her constant glances didn't sway lady luck in any particular direction, and by 11:00PM she realised that even one more whiskey wouldn't make the phone vibrate, she wouldn't vibrate either. She grabbed her bag, and headed for the door, she couldn't even be arsed to say good night to the table, she had had enough, time to go home, to bed, to sleep, to wake up, to do it all again.
She headed for the tube station, not looking up, her eyes could not really focus anyway that well, eight whiskeys were taking their toll.
It was dark, cold, but not raining.
She stumbled forward, not completely pissed, just numb enough not to feel the effects of the cold air, but drunk enough to not feel the pavement under her feet. She was practiced at this though, and she just wanted to get on the train and get home.
Amanda kept going forward, knowing instinctively where she was heading.
She did not need to look up; she had done this a thousand times in the past 10 years, a number of them drunk.
The tube was 100 yards ahead on the left, thank god, not long before she could head down into the station and wait for approaching rumble of the train home.
Amanda was thinking purely about a warm bed, the thought of any fun completely lost now when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Fuck, she thought, spinning around and seeing a blue suit directly in front of her. She did not have time to ponder what was happening, her natural reaction to turn around after being touched meant she was already staring at the owner of the hand, well his chest at least. No time to worry about what was happening, only a split second reaction to turn.
She obviously didn't recognise the chest, but liked the suit, and the tie, but even killers can wear nice clothes. Her head tilted upwards expecting to see a stranger, perhaps she had dropped something or left something in the pub. The suit made her think it was most probably a legal partner at her firm saying a goodbye.
Her eyes took in the face of the owner of the hand and while her heart did not exactly skip a beat, she did think of her phone and the desire for a text message, and think, well if it had to be somebody, it might as well be him, well, maybe.
