When She Was Bad(8)

Sarah pushed through the glass doors into the reception area with its plastic pot plants on top of a narrow laminated desk, behind which sat the receptionist with the hair extensions; Sarah could never remember her name. The woman’s electric-blue-painted nails were so long that it took her for ever to tap numbers in on her phone pad using just the tips of her fingers.

‘Morning,’ said Sarah, hurrying past while looping the cord of her plastic ID card around her neck. She had that unpleasant out-of-breath feeling, as if her lungs were being gently raked with an ice-scraper.

The receptionist glanced up but didn’t respond.

On the fifth floor, Sarah scurried out of the lift and in through the double doors that led to her open-plan office. As her desk was on the far side, she’d have to cross in front of Rachel Masters’s glass cubicle. She glanced over and saw the black head bent over the desk. If she just took off her jacket at the door and carried it in her left hand, out of Rachel’s line of sight, she might look like she was just sauntering back from the loo instead of arriving fifteen minutes late.

Safely seated at her desk, Sarah finally risked looking across. Rachel was still engrossed in whatever she was working on and didn’t appear to have noticed. Sarah inhaled deeply, feeling the knot of anxiety that had been lodged inside her gradually unravel. Only then did she become aware of the strange atmosphere in the office.

‘What’s going on?’ she hissed at Charlie.

He gave her a funny little sideways look, swivelling his head towards her while the rest of him remained firmly in work pose.

‘We’ve been regulated,’ he whispered. ‘By the new Führer. Apparently we’re wasting too much time on coffee and chitty-chatty. Once we’re in the office we’re expected to be in work mode straight away. Like that.’

He snapped his fingers in front of his face.

‘What did she actually . . .’

Sarah’s voice tailed off as the door to Rachel’s office was flung open and her new boss strode out, pausing by Paula’s desk to confer. Sarah’s heart stopped as suddenly both women swung around to look her way.

‘Sarah, could you come into my office, please.’

‘You’re in trou-ble, you’re in trou-ble,’ sang Charlie softly.

Sarah tried to smile but her mouth was dry as she made her way across the office, aware that everyone else was tracking her movements. Rachel had said she would be calling them each in individually – she was probably the first. If only she’d had a chance to think about it, and put her thoughts in order. She’d meant to sit down last night and write out a bullet-point list of her achievements in her role, and how she thought productivity could improve – the sort of thing new bosses want to hear. But then Sam had had a tantrum about having his hair washed, and it had taken ages to calm him down, and after that he’d insisted on reading two story books instead of the usual one, and by the time she’d got downstairs she hadn’t had the energy to do anything except pour herself a glass of wine and watch the telly.

Outside Rachel’s door, she hesitated, unsure whether to knock. Unnecessary, she decided, seeing as Rachel had only that minute called her in.

‘Hello,’ she said, in a jolly voice she instantly regretted. She pulled back the spare chair facing Rachel, ready to sit down.

‘Don’t worry about a chair, you won’t be here long enough to need it,’ said Rachel Masters. Her face was hidden behind her hair, her eyes trained on the folder on her desk. The moment stretched out in agonizing silence until, finally, she looked up.

‘Are you often late, Sarah?’

The jolt of those blue eyes. Like falling on ice. Slam.

‘No. It was just the trains today were—’

‘Only I’ve been informed that punctuality has been an issue with you in the past.’

Sarah felt her eyes instantly burn with hot tears. Someone had gone behind her back and complained about her. Someone out there in the office. One of the people she called friends.

‘Who told you?’ she asked.

‘It’s not important. The important thing is that you are aware that no matter what arrangement you had with Gill, that’s not how I run things. I expect all members of staff, regardless of circumstances, to be in work at 9 a.m. and to remain at work until 5.30 p.m. at the very earliest. And if for any reason you arrive later than 9 a.m., I expect you to come straight to see me to explain. Are we clear?’

Sarah nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Back at her desk, she turned on her computer and logged in without looking at anyone else. She could feel them all sneaking glances over at her, but she kept her gaze fixed to her screen.