‘Do I look like I’m joking?’
‘Well what are they saying?’
‘I think you’d better read it for yourself.’
‘I don’t know anything about this website.’
‘Trust me, you will.’
‘But it’s ridiculous, we’re two single people who started to see each other and it ended, that’s all.’
‘You don’t get it, do you? You can’t win in these situations, and you do understand that somebody is going to send the link to Laurie, the same way they sent it to me.’
‘Who sent you the link?’
‘I’m buggered if I know, but somebody wanted to make sure that I saw it.’
He runs his hand quickly across his face, but he realises that he is not thinking clearly.
‘You think somebody’s trying to stitch me up?’
‘Yes, Sherlock, somebody’s trying to discredit you further than you’ve already discredited yourself. And it might not be Yvette, or whatever her name is. It’s a blog so anybody can sign in. It’s public space.’
‘Maybe I should speak to a lawyer and see if I can get it stopped.’
‘Well do me a favour, Keith, do something, will you? Before your son begins to dislike you too.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean you don’t have a lot of friends on that blog.’
‘Including you, I take it.’
‘I’m not on the blog.’
He shakes his head. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘How was it tonight?’
‘How was what?’
‘Your time with Laurie. What do you think I mean?’
‘I had a good time with him. He’s changing, that’s all. Going through that moody “I’m a man” stuff. But we chatted, and it’s fine.’
Annabelle smiles sarcastically. ‘“And it’s fine”? What are you talking about? What’s fine?’
He feels anger and frustration rising quickly within him, but he bites his bottom lip hard. He lowers his voice to just above a whisper.
‘Laurie’s fine. He’s passing through adolescence so he’s doing the whole awkward thing. What do you expect?’
‘And you think that’s all there is to it? That’s he’s not hiding something from us?’
‘Look I’m his dad, not his bloody therapist. He seems fine to me. All that ADD crap that the headmaster was talking about is just that. Crap.’ He stares at Annabelle. ‘All right?’
Annabelle glares at him, but she has clearly decided to say nothing further.
He takes a sip of wine as the computer whirrs and beeps and offers him various upgrades which he rejects with a succession of hurried clicks. He puts down the glass then stands up and takes off his jacket and drapes it over the back of the sofa. As he does so he notices that the two cinema tickets have fallen from his jacket pocket on to the floor, so he stoops to pick them up and tosses them on to the coffee table before stepping back into the kitchen and switching on the central heating. He has been meaning to program the thermostat so that the heat comes on automatically, but this will mean reading the booklet and he’s yet to find the time to do so. He re-enters the living room and sits back in front of the screen, but his hands hover for he is still trying to decide whether or not to take a look at the offending website. Annabelle had helpfully written down the address on a piece of paper and shoved it into his hand as he was leaving. But why, he thinks, should he expose himself to something that he knows is going to disturb him, and most likely make him angry? He logs into his email and begins to write to Clive Wilson. He needs to see him urgently. In fact, first thing in the morning. Before he sends the short email he stands up and walks a few paces to the window where he stares out into the darkness. He can see nothing, no people, no movement beyond the gently swaying branches and the flickering light in the lamppost, but he can hear cars swishing by on the main road at the end of the street. There is no need to explain to Clive why he needs to see him. Surely, Clive Wilson should be able to work that out for himself.
‘Here,’ says Clive. ‘Just drink out of the other side of the cup. No milk and no sugar, right?’ He pushes the coffee cup across the desk. ‘Whoever heard of running out of coffee. Hang on, you can have your own cup of decaf if you like. I’ve got some of that.’ Clive slides back his chair and prepares to climb to his feet.
‘No thanks, Clive. This is fine, we can share.’
He lifts the cup to his mouth and takes a quick sip of the watery coffee, and then he places it back in front of Clive, careful to make sure that the handle is facing the right direction. His boss laughs nervously then clears his throat.
‘I promise you, I’ll speak to her about the website, but it might not be anything to do with her.’
‘Oh come on, you know better than that.’
‘Look, I’m on it, Keith. I’ve already contacted our IT guys, and they’ve been in touch with some internet lawyers so, one way or another, we’ll find out who’s responsible. Anyhow, the site’s probably already been cleared up. Basically don’t worry about the website, that’s no longer an issue.’
‘Well, can I assume that you don’t have a problem with me wanting to come back to work?’
‘Well, personally, I’d kill for a few weeks’ paid leave. I don’t know what the hurry is to get back.’ Clive slurps his coffee, but he doesn’t bother to push the cup back in his employee’s direction. He holds on to the handle. ‘I thought you were writing a book or something.’
‘More like “something”.’
‘So it’s not going well. Is that why you want to plonk yourself back behind your desk?’ He thinks about how best to explain the situation, but Clive continues. ‘Lesley’s doing just fine in your job. I mean it’s a bit of a stretch for her, but she’s coping.’
‘With all due respect, it’s not Lesley that I’ve come to talk about.’
Clive Wilson sighs and brings his hands together on the desk, as though about to pray.
‘Like I told you, Yvette’s back now and she’s healing. I think that’s what they call it. Bloody hell, what kind of language is that? They make it sound like she’s tripped up and bruised her knee.’
‘Look, Clive, the only way I’m going to put an end to this bullshit is by standing up for myself and confronting the situation. I want my job back. I’ve got to let people know that I didn’t do anything wrong and that it’s all finished with.’ He pauses. ‘It would be better if you could move her to a different department, or transfer her out of the building, but I suppose you’ve got your reasons for not doing so.’
Clive laughs, and leans back in his chair as he does so.
‘Yes, Keith, I’ve got my reasons all right. She’s accused you of harassment and technically she’s the innocent one here. I can’t just make her disappear.’
‘I’m not asking you to have her bumped off or anything, but how can you call her innocent? Harassment? I’ve never harmed anybody in my life. Come on, this is bullshit, Clive. Whose side are you on?’
Clive leans forward and places his hands back on the desk.
‘It’s probably best if I forget that I heard that.’
‘No, it’s all right. You can go ahead and answer. It’s about time somebody explained to me just what the hell is going on around here.’
‘I had to fight for your job, Keith. I know you don’t want to hear this, but it was me who suggested that rather than begin disciplinary proceedings against you, which the local authority were seriously considering, they should give you paid leave which would enable everyone to have a cooling-off period. I can’t do much about gossip, and these days people don’t just whisper in the corridors or by the water fountain, they do so on websites. It’s pretty uncomfortable, but I can’t legislate for that. Nobody can, but like I said I think that’s been dealt with. But I’m sorry, you are going to have to sit tight for a few weeks before I can begin to ease you back into your job, and when I do so Yvette’s not going to like the situation any more than you like it now, but that’s just the way it will have to be.’