I’d forgotten the smell of London, the busyness, the crowds. I’d forgotten about coming up out of the tube steps into the hot, concentrated city sunshine, surrounded by people of all descriptions, and thinking, I could do anything, go anywhere, be anyone.
Ansters Farm is like a circle. It is what it is. And you basically go round and round in a peaceful way, never digressing. But London’s like a spiderweb. There’s a million possibilities, a million directions, a million endgames. I’d forgotten that feeling of…of what? Being on the brink of something.
And right now I could not feel more brinksman-like. It’s all down to me. Katie Brenner. As I turn my steps toward the Cooper Clemmow offices, nerves are gnawing at my stomach, but I firmly tell them to pipe down.
Demeter and Alex aren’t with me. They’ve stationed themselves at a café, two tube stops away, because the last thing they wanted was to run into Adrian. But they’re on the phone. We’re all in contact, constantly. As though reading my mind, Demeter texts me:
There yet? x
I pause and send back a reply:
Nearly. All good. x
As I push my way through the big glass doors, Jade on reception looks up in surprise.
“Oh, hi,” she says. “It’s Cat, innit? Didn’t you…”
“Leave? Yes.” I nod. “But I’ve got to pop upstairs, if that’s OK? I left some stuff at the office and I never picked it up. So, you know, I thought I’d pop by….” Oh God. I’m starting to gabble with nerves.
Jade nods. “Fine.”
“I’ve got a letter from Demeter, giving me permission,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
“I said it’s fine.” Jade gives me an odd look, scribbles a visitor pass, and presses the button to open the barrier.
OK. First hurdle over. As I get into the lift, I’m prickling with apprehension, but there’s no one else in it, and I make it to our floor safely.
As I walk along the familiar corridor, I feel a bit surreal. It’s all the same as it was. The same black shiny floor; the same crack in the wall as you pass the men’s; the same distinct smell of coffee and floor cleaner and Fresh ’n Breezy home scent diffusers. (They used to keep sending us freebies, which Sarah would put out. Guess they still do.)
And then there I am, in our office space. It’s just as it ever was, with the distressed-brick wall and white desks and the naked-man coat stand—although there’s a new red coffee machine in the corner, with a stack of Coffeewite sachets on top. I glance over at my desk—but it isn’t there anymore. They’ve moved them all around. There’s no trace that I ever sat there.
The office is pretty empty. There’s no Rosa, no Flora, no Mark, no Liz—and Sarah isn’t at her desk either. Thank God. I timed my arrival carefully for 1:15 P.M., as I know she’s usually at lunch then, but it’s still a major relief.
Hannah is sitting at her desk and looks up as I enter.
“Oh, hi.” She blinks at me through her glasses. “Wow. Cat. How are you?”
“Fine.” I nod. “How are you?”
“Oh, fine, all good…” She looks around. “A lot of people are out at lunch, I’m afraid. You’ve missed them.”
“Not to worry.” I hesitate, then add nonchalantly, “Actually, I just need to pick some stuff up from Demeter’s office. I left it and she held on to it for me.”
“Oh, right.” Hannah nods, totally accepting this story. “Well, I’ll say hi from you, shall I?”
“Yes, do.”
“OK. It must be weird for you, being back here,” she adds, as though the thought has just occurred to her.
“Yes.” I force a smile. “It is.”
It’s more than weird; it’s freaking me out a bit. I’m unnerved by my own reaction. I thought I’d be fine, coming back; I thought I’d got past it. But now, standing here, it’s as if the last few months have concertinaed into nothing, and the hurt is as fresh as ever.
As I survey the empty office, it suddenly hits me: It’s Wednesday. Flora, Rosa, and Sarah will be at their drinks at the Blue Bear. The fun, cool-gang drinks I would have gone to if I’d stayed. It seems like a lifetime ago now.
“So, have you got another job?” Hannah’s voice breaks into my thoughts.
“No.”
“Oh. D’you still live in Catford?”
“No. I had to move home.”
“Oh. Bummer,” says Hannah, looking awkward. “I’m really sorry. I mean, I’m sure you’ll get another job….Have you applied for any?”
This is such an inane question, I think even Hannah realizes it, and she blushes.
“I’ll get my stuff,” I say, letting her off the hook. “Nice to see you.”
As I head into Demeter’s office, I check back, and Hannah is already engrossed in her work again. She’s obviously not remotely curious about what I’m up to, and neither is Jon, who’s sitting way over in the corner. I never really got to know him.
Trying to look natural, I head to the cupboard. This should take thirty seconds, tops. Pile the email printouts into a bag, don’t bother checking them out, just get them and go. I unfold the big laundry bag I brought and place it on the floor. I take out Demeter’s key ring, quietly unlock the door, and swing it open, ready to scoop piles of paper out.
The cupboard’s empty.
For a moment I can’t actually compute what I’m seeing. I had such a strong vision of what I was going to find: piles and piles of messy printouts, in a typical Demeter-ish shambles. Not this.