“It’s all right,” I wrote before suddenly typing, “Can I ask you a question?”
My heart had begun racing from the moment I pressed send. I was going to ask her. So many times I’d almost asked her but then backed out. This time, I was going to do it.
“Anything.”
“What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“Having a thingy inside you.”
“Oh for crying out loud, Natalie, if you’re going to talk about sex, at least try to be an adult. Don’t call it a thingy.”
I wasn’t going to use that word. It was too crude. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m not telling you until you say it.”
“Fine, don’t tell me. G2G, I’m here.”
I switched my phone to silent and slid it into my handbag, ignoring the indignant vibrating as another message came through. It could wait, as could she, as could I.
I’d been trying to build up the courage to ask her about it for ages and when I finally did, she mocked me for not being grown up. Well, I’d show her how grown up I was. I was about to get a job. I’d be able to stick out my tongue and blow raspberries at her when I got back, which I realised might prove her point as much as mine.
“Natalie Brook?” the receptionist said as I walked inside. She’d seen me more than some of my tutors in the last year but she still seemed to have no memory of me whatsoever. It was quite the skill to be that forgetful.
“Yes, Maria,” I replied, watching her attempt to hide her confusion as she wondered how I could possibly know her name. “I’m here to see Sally.”
“She’s expecting you. Head on in.”
I ducked to avoid the model of a steamship which hung from the waiting room ceiling, passing through into Sally’s office. The nautical theme continued in there, anchors and seagulls painted on the walls. Their slogan was Full Steam Ahead to a New Job. I got the feeling they’d originally planned a railway theme for the place but changed their name for some reason after the business cards were printed and just stuck with what they had.
I felt my phone vibrate again as I sat down. I was already regretting asking Alison about it. What could she tell me that the internet couldn’t? I did my best not to blush as Sally slapped my file down on the desk. God, I felt like such a child, not helped by the withering school mistress look the ‘Captain’ of the agency was giving me.
“How are you, Natalie?” she asked.
“Fine, fine.”
“You look a little flushed. Should I open a window?”
“I’m fine,” I snapped too coldly and she gave me a look before opening the file.
“I’ve got something rather exciting in here,” she said, pulling out a piece of paper.
I didn’t get too worked up. The last exciting thing she had for me was a week of washing up in a hotel kitchen. In a way it was exciting, waiting to see how often the chef would try to steal my phone to look for naked selfies. He didn’t understand why I got so upset every time he went to snatch it. Nor did Sally when I tried to explain that was why I quit.
“I’ve had someone asking specifically for you.”
“For me? You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. They need an assistant for some office thing for a week or so. Here’s the address, it’s not far from here. They’re expecting you some time this morning so I’d go now if I were you.”
“But what’s it about? Why do they want me?”
She shrugged. “No idea but I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.
TWO
Natalie
According to my phone, it was going to take ten minutes to walk to my mystery assignment. Sally hadn’t been able to give me any more information about it though something in her eyes told me she knew more than she was letting on.
As I walked, I looked at the most recent messages from Alison. “Cock cock cockity cockington cock,” was the first one. Very mature of her. “I’m going to keep writing it until you do. Cock cock cock cock.” It must have taken her a while to type. There were two full screens of cock. Insert your own punchline here.
“Forget I asked,” I typed back, pressing send as I turned the corner at the end of the street.
“I’m only teasing,” she replied at once. I got the feeling she was still laid on the sofa where I’d left her, phone in hand waiting to see what I had to say for myself. “Sometimes I forget how innocent you are.”
“I’m not that innocent, it’s not like I’ve never done anything.”
“My ninety year old grandma gets more action than you, and she died last year.” She never mentioned the one thing I had done, or more accurately, what had been done to me. We had an unwritten rule, we never discussed the thing it. She was the only person I told afterwards and I knew I could trust her to keep it to herself. She was a lot of things but she was not a blabber.