I knew something was up, she’d been looking at me funny all
day. I could tell she was watching me, staring at me, noting my every movement,
and then looking away crisply as soon as I looked in her direction. It was more
than just a little disconcerting; I spent the day checking my flies were done
up or looking in the mirror to check I’d not got newspaper ink smudged across
my face. But as far as I could tell nothing was wrong, I looked like I did
every other day of the year. I tried to ignore her, she was probably just
playing some sort of childish game with her mate Lizzie; those girls were
always up to no good. I just hoped this one would not land me in any trouble. I
just wanted a quiet life, do the job I was paid for and piss off home.
The clock ticked around to 3pm, tea break time. I stood up,
put my jacket on and quietly left the open plan office, well aware that people
would moan that I never said hello or goodbye. The afternoon cup of tea was my
oasis in the barren desert of the long afternoon, a welcome respite from the
stuffy office, the tinny radio and the office politics. The canteen was exactly
72 strides away; I started counting down the paces 71, 70, 69. But I could hear
footsteps behind me, light footsteps, she was following me.
‘Tea Charl?’ Beryl said with a grin. I nodded returning the smile.
She was about the only person in the whole place who I could be bothered to
raise a smile for. Can you really judge a woman’s suitability on the way she
makes a cup of tea? If so, I should probably propose to Beryl.
‘No Bob today?’ I sometimes had my afternoon tea with Bob
from HR, on a Monday we’d chat but by the end of the week we’d just be sitting
enjoying the brew in silence, knowing by sitting together other people would
leave us alone. We were the lesser of many evils for each other.
‘Meeting,’ I said, taking my tea and handing over the 75
pence. I could smell rose scent behind me, meaning the footsteps I’d heard
earlier had caught up. I didn’t look back; I just took my tea and went to sit
in my usual seat, wishing Bob was there.
I slurped my tea, I never slurp my tea at home but I do in
public, it ensures people give you a weird berth.
‘Can I join you?’ I didn’t look up from my steaming mug. I
knew Bethan was standing over me. I didn’t want her to join me but that is not
really a question you can say no to.
‘Of course,’ I said with my voice, while saying fuck off
with my intonation.
‘No, I mean can I join
you?’ she said sitting down. I looked at
her now. ‘I know who you are, I know what you do.’ Her voice was above a
whisper but not loud enough for anyone else to hear. ‘and I want to join.’
I looked at her, my face not moving a muscle, not giving
anything away. I looked down at my tea again, blew on it and took a big slurp
hoping my vulgar behaviour would scare the girl away. But she sat there staring
at me, waiting for an answer.
This was a trap, this had to be a trap. The powers that be obviously had suspicions
about me and wanted me to confess to something, anything. This was how it
happened wasn’t it? Quirky middle-aged man seduced by pretty young thing, tries
to impress her with tales of his undercover exploits and then bosh there it is,
enough evidence to send him to the gallows.
I stared at her, assessing her, my eyes steely, my face
passive. She was young, pretty, and a good actress.
‘There’s nothing to join.’ I said. I stood up and left the
canteen feeling aggrieved that my tea break had been so rudely interrupted.
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