Author's note: a bit of a slow builder, but hopefully worth the wait.
*
Mark says... A few Decembers back and, facing the prospect of spending Christmas alone for the first time in years, I found myself at a low ebb. Having split with Donna in the summer, a stopgap at work colleague Gary's house had turned into an elongated stay. Not that Gary minded unduly, a fellow singleton, he was glad of the company and happy with the rent, besides which I happened to be his boss. I suspected that, with the New Year pay reviews impending, he'd be expecting a better-than-average rise this time around.
Having graciously let Donna keep the car, as well as being his lodger I was his passenger on the trip into work each day. A fortnight away from Christmas and with the inclement English weather at its most mischievous, I was grateful of the warmth of the Mercedes that was Gary's pride and joy. One of those ice-cold December mornings straight out of a Victorian Christmas card, a light covering of snow brushed the ground, supplementing the freezing rain to form huge slushy puddles. The breath from those walking on the pavement, wrapped in padded winter coats, hats and scarves, was clearly visible.
Being a passenger and not having to concentrate on the road, I didn't notice her until the very last minute. Dashing for the bus in inappropriate heels, a white blouse and cream jacket, she really was asking for trouble. Gary saw her, however, and issuing an evil chuckle veered suddenly left to churn through a massive roadside puddle of sludge. Wheels spinning, a blanket of murky icy water flew up to splash the girl neck high, turning everything she wore black in its wake.
My colleague howled with sadistic laughter as in the rear view mirror the girl banged her fists, stamped a foot and bawled mute expletives our way. A right nasty piece-of-work at times, Gary could hardly to stop laughing throughout the rest of the journey. Pulling up in the company car park beside the office, we headed inside to join our colleagues about to embark upon another dull Monday. Still, Christmas was close and, with the festive season in full swing, the huge over-decorated spruce in reception brought some seasonal cheer, alongside the telephonists who were clearly trying to outdo one another with the largest Christmas card collection.
An hour later Jane Rees, the office manager came up to my office to reveal that our new temp had been in accident and would be late. Looking at the piles of work that had accumulated thanks to annual leave and a bad strain of the flu, I sighed. "Where does the agency find these people?" I mused, the festive spirit having quickly evaporated and not for one moment realising the journey that was about to begin.
* * *
Kate says... If I hadn't needed the money so badly for Christmas, I'd have had no need to go temping. But I did and that was why I found myself rushing around on that horrid Monday morning. Blonde hair tied into a ponytail and smoothing the skirt down my bum, it wasn't until reaching the front gate that it dawned upon me just how badly dressed I was. The cream jacket and skirt I'd worn to my last job a couple of summers back was totally inappropriate in the bleak midwinter. I shivered, almost loosing my footing as I stepped out onto the glazed pavement like Bambi on ice.
Seriously pushed for time, there was no turning back. I had to press on or risk being late for work on the very first day. Heading to the bus stop, I was lucky not to topple over two or three times on the way. Yet nothing could prepare me for what happened next. It all happened in a kind of slow motion. He knew exactly what he was doing, the nasty so-and-so, swerving so as to plough through the puddle to send a tidal wave of dirty slushy water all over me. Dripping from head to toe, I banged my fists and let fly with a string of expletives before breaking down in tears.
With no option but to head home to change, sobbing all the way, I knew my 'work' wardrobe was stretched already, the tight black skirt more apt for the nightclub than the office, the split up the side far from subtle. The only other top that wasn't a t-shirt was a tight-fitting blouse from days gone by. Though I could hardly be described as busty, the blouse accentuated what boobs I had rather obscenely. I only hoped this firm had a relaxed attitude to dress code. I flung the heels in a bag and slipped into a sensible pair of trainers for the journey, making a note to get to the shops after work. I was so ill-prepared it was untrue.
10.30 before I made it in and, almost turning back several times, I carried on thinking only about the money and how useful it would be. Unable to locate the door – it just wasn't my morning – I headed up the side, searching for an entrance. It was then that I noticed it, that same damned Mercedes that had drenched me in crap first thing. A black mist descended and, not really thinking straight, I moved upsides, taking out a shoe. A grimace slipped from my lips as the heel scraped the paintwork, its sound like the shrill chalk-on-a-blackboard noise from my schooldays.
Satisfied with my handiwork, leaving a nice dense scratch, I quickly changed footwear and looked around for a way in, finally locating a carousel door. It was only as I waited in the reception, cheered by the huge Christmas tree and abundance of pretty cards, that it occurred to me that the owner of the car I'd just vandalised probably worked here. Breaking out into a cold sweat and about to flee, I heard a voice in my ear. "Kate Lee?"
"Yes, that's me," I replied timidly.
"Jane Rees, office manager," she introduced. "We'll just get you issued with a pass and I'll take you up."
Too late now, I figured no one could possibly suspect innocent little me of inflicting the damage.
I turned a deep shade of crimson upon following Jane into the office as, standing at the coffee machine, the first person I laid eyes upon was the driver with a smug expression I'd recognise anywhere. He glanced my way, thankfully without a hint of recognition (at least that's what I hoped), just that knowing look guys tend to give me whenever they set eyes upon me for the first time: heavy with lust and wanting. I had to run the gauntlet of a dozen more men, ranging from teenagers just out of college to those nearing retirement. A cosmopolitan bunch, they shared a collective one-track mind, mentally undressing me. "Is that the new temp?" I heard one whisper.
"Phwoar, wouldn't ya just!" mouthed another.
You should be so lucky, I thought, making a point of glancing over my shoulder and pouting, despite having clammy hands and a heavily pounding heart. "Okay, this is where you'll be working Kate," Jane announced. "I'll leave you in Kirsty's capable hands.
And capable hands they appeared too. In her late twenties / early thirties, Kirsty Peters looked a real dish. With a brunette bob and a businesslike demeanour, she was my antithesis. Thank God the job only lasted a fortnight. She pulled up a seat and started showing me around the system. A whistle-stop tour, I was ready to begin work by 11.30. With the fax machine located at the side of my desk, it was funny how popular it proved to be over the next few hours. By lunchtime, it seemed that every guy on the floor had been over to check me out.
A quiet and uneventful rest of morning, just as well after the dramatic start, I was getting ready to go to lunch when the still was shattered and all hell broke loose. Mercedes Man, it seemed, had discovered my handiwork. He stormed down the aisle, cursing and raging and heading for one of the private offices. Even with the door shut it was possible to hear his raised voice and I felt my face redden. "It's got a bloody great scratch down the side," I heard him whinge from behind closed doors.
Serves you right, I thought.
The office door opened and he was preceded by the guy had I remembered had been in the passenger seat. Of medium height and build, his head was shaved, a look I had to admit I quite liked. "That's the boss, Mark," disclosed Kirsty in a whisper, rising to join the Pied Piper-like exodus as everyone went off to witness my malicious act of vengeance.
I let them get on with it, heading off to grab a sandwich and familiarise myself with the surroundings. Having killed the mandatory half-hour, the afternoon turned out to be less apocalyptic than the morning, spent working solidly. Having quickly picked up what was required, I was able to shift quite a few piles of work. "Wow, I'm impressed," Kirsty enthused.
I blushed and at that moment we were joined by someone else. "Mark, this is Kate, the new temp," Kirsty introduced.
I stood and turned to face him, holding out a hand in greeting. He took it and smiled, issuing the obligatory welcome and a look I couldn't quite fathom. Was it possible he recognised me as the girl from the bus stop? Had he put two and two together? "How are you feeling now?" he asked in a deep voice that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.
