‘Can I have your number?’ he shouts in my ear.
Oh, ok – that sounds fairly normal. He hands over his phone and I type in my number, sure he’ll never contact me again. I hand it back to him and walk off to find the girls. I notice Ryan from the corner of my eye glaring at me. What the hell is his problem?
* * *
My body aches as I turn my alarm off at 7am the next morning. It’s been a long time since I’ve danced all night, especially in five inch heels. As I switch it off I discover a text from Jazz.
‘Task for today – ditch work.xxx’
I sigh heavily, too tired to argue. I mean, is she crazy? I can’t just ditch work. Even though my feet are heavily blistered and the thought of me squashed between hot bodies on the tube repulses me, I can't let my boss down. I haven’t had a sick day in four years and I’m not about to start now.
‘Ok. You need to go to agencies and get a job. Any job – but a full time perm one – no more of this temp business. And u need to ring your credit card & bank people & tell them you’re getting yourself sorted – they just need to give you some more time.’
I get an instant reply.
‘Ok, but wear something yellow xxx’
Wear something yellow? Is she serious? Is that all she can say to the list of demands I’ve given her? I drag myself out of bed, my feet crying from the bruises and blisters, and start rifling through her wardrobe. Amongst the tutu’s, sexy nurse’s outfit and zebra printed jacket, I find a pair of plain black trousers and a white t-shirt. They seem to be the only things that aren’t every colour of the rainbow. I cover it with the grey cardigan that I wore here and place a yellow Alice band on my head. That should do. This way I’m not actually breaking the promise.
That's all I’m doing. My feet are too raw to even consider wearing high heels. I slip on my old faithful black ballet pumps. I’m definitely not going to ditch work. I know I’m supposed to be doing what she says, but I can’t be totally irresponsible. What would it solve, me getting sacked? She’s hardly one to be giving out advice anyway.
I go into the kitchen and try not to retch from the cigarette stubs in the ashtray. I vaguely remember getting in last night and trying to cook eggs on toast. The fire alarm is still hanging open from where I hit it with the broom. How embarrassing. What a first impression. I get out some cereal, not caring that it's not mine. I mean, this whole life swap thing is really just to help her anyway. My life’s fine. Totally fine.
‘How’re you feeling?’ I jump round, heart racing to see Ryan in his same position as yesterday.
‘Jesus, scare the crap out of me why don't you,’ I snap, startled.
‘You’re a ray of sunshine this morning,’ he laughs, leaning back cockily in his chair.
I’m in no mood for this arsehole.
‘Whatever. I don't have time for this.’
I throw my cereal bowl in the sink and flinch when it cracks in half. Shit. I planned to bolt out of the door, making a triumphant moody exit, but now I should clean it up. I walk over to it, then decide I should still go. Or should I? I hover over it for a second, thinking over my options as I feel my cheeks redden. Ryan looks up from his cereal.
‘I thought you didn’t have time for this?’ he smirks.
I feel my temper flare up, all the more because of the hangover I’m nursing. I glare at him quickly before making the triumphant moody exit I planned. Well, apart from the small trip. I really wish I hadn’t tripped.
* * *
I get off the tube and spot a familiar flash of bright red hair in the crowd. Lilly from work is one of my best friends. We’re both PA’s at the same firm that sells head lice treatments for kids (possibly the most boring and un-sexy place to work ever), so have spent many a late evening ordering pizza while we work on presentations for the next morning.
We used to just be work colleagues, but our friendship was finally cemented when she tried some diet pills and ended up farting and accidentally shitting herself at work one day. She said the way I locked her in the toilets and rushed out to buy her new tights and a skirt made her realise I was a friend to keep. That and I’m sure she was terrified I’d tell anyone.
That night she invited me round her flat and we watched her favourite all time film, Thelma & Louise, to make her feel better. I don't really get it to be honest. Sure, Brad Pitt’s in it and its fun, but then they kill themselves. I guess I just don't really see that as a happy ending. That night we ate so much pizza, ice cream and, ok, a bit of white wine, I ended up vomiting on her carpet. We knew we had to be friends after that. However, I still think it was cruel to post the picture on Facebook.
‘Thelma!’ I shout over what seems like hundreds of commuters.
‘Hey baby-doll,’ she smiles, waving. Her bracelets jangle loudly as she weaves her way through the crowds.
Her round chubby face is plastered in its usual fake tan. She’s got fake eyelashes on, which frame her wide set blue eyes and so much bright red glossy lip gloss on her lips that they’re practically dripping. Her un-natural red hair is blow dried perfectly with lots of volume and massive diamante earrings dangle from her ears. She’s wearing a tight fitting burnt orange crochet dress, which is high necked and goes just below the knee. To say it's slightly too much is an understatement.
‘I really don't feel like work today,’ she shrugs.
‘I know, me too.’
‘What do you say? Run away from our lives and drive off a cliff in a convertible?’ she grins.
Jazz’s text flashes into my head. ‘We could always just ditch it.’
She looks at me in complete confusion.
‘Ditch? You mean, do a sickie or something?’ she asks, her eyes widening with interest.
‘Yeah. I can't promise any wild adventures, but I’ve got tea and biscuits?
‘Tea and biscuits! Why the hell didn’t you say! Let’s go!’ She breaks into her deep, husky laugh. ‘But seriously, since when did you become so reckless?’ Her face twists into a confused smile.
‘It’s a long story. So are you in?’
‘Yeah, why not.’
We go into the station toilets and take it in turns to call into Mandy the receptionist. I feel my heart in my throat as the phone rings in my ear.
‘Good morning, Nits R the Pits. How can I help you?’ Mandy drawls, sounding half asleep.
‘Hi, it's Poppy,’ I croak. ‘I’m so sorry but I just feel really, really ill. I don't think I can make it in today. I need to be close to a loo....but, oh God, I’ve got so much work to do. Maybe you could...bike my computer and desk over to me? I don't know,’ I say, my voice fading. ‘Ring me or text me....about anything. I’ll keep the phone by the bed.’
‘Nah don't worry Poppy, I’ll tell Victor. Feel better.’
I let out one more moan before hanging up.
‘We did it!’ Lilly exclaims, shocked by our own excellence.
We skip onto the tube, giggling like school girls. I feel so naughty, as if I’m bunking school. I can’t help looking over my shoulder all the way home to check that I don’t see anyone from my work.
We go back to the new house and I flick the kettle on, glad that Ryan seems to have moved from his eternal chair. I start opening cupboards, searching for biscuits.
‘So, what are the new housemates like?’ she asks as she perches on the kitchen table, having been filled in by me on the ride back.
‘Ugh!’ I sigh. ‘One of the girls seems sweet, but the other ones a right bitch and there’s a guy.’
‘A guy?’ Her eyes light up with interest.
‘Yeah, a guy,’ I drool sarcastically. ‘He’s a bit of an idiot though.’
‘Yeah, but is he fit?’ she asks searching around, as if I’ve hidden him under the sofa.
‘I suppose in some way. Not my type. All shaggy hair and attitude.’
‘Mmm, sounds yummy,’ she licks her lips.
‘He’s not a dessert,’ I laugh, putting tea bags in the mugs. ‘And by the look of things we’re not even having biscuits.’
‘Don't they have any?’ She starts rifling through their cupboards.
Victor suddenly flashes through my mind and an urgent flicker of panic goes through my body, starting in my stomach and ending up buzzing in my brain. What have I done? He’s going to find out I’m lying. How could I be so irresponsible? He’s got two meetings today. Who will he ask to make drinks? Maybe Cheryl. But what if Cheryl’s better at my job and they decide to get rid of me completely? Oh God, what have I done!?
‘I’m going back,’ I declare.
‘What?’ she yells, sticking her head out of the cupboard, completely surprised.
‘I’m going back. I’m sorry Lil, but I just can’t bear it. We’re going to get found out. I just know it!’ I edge towards the door as panic starts to rise in my throat. He’s going to fire me.
‘No! You can’t go back. If you go in after you called in sick they’re gonna know that you were faking. And they’ll know we did it together! They’ll put two and two together and we’ll both get fired!’ she screams, shaking my shoulders with desperation.
I’m getting hysterical now, imagining Victor’s face as he sacks me tomorrow. God, I can't bear it. My stomach weighs with worry and dread. Why did I ever think this would be a good idea? Victor’s going to go mad. He might even smack me round the face. I think I’m going to be sick.