Jenny Colgan - Working Wonders

Without warning, Ross’s left arm shot out and smashed him on the ear. It felt like being stung by an extremely large bee. Arthur was dimly aware of a buzzing noise, then realized there wasn’t a bee, it was the rest of the office, attracted to the open door of the restaurant. Before he could stop to think, the adrenalin kicked in, and he threw up his arms like he was playing volleyball. He caught Ross a glancing blow on the underside of the nose. Ross grunted and staggered backwards a few feet. Whilst Arthur was taking this in, Ross threw out a foot and cracked it into his gut. Arthur squealed – it was as undignified as that – but, finding it in him to ignore the pain, came charging forward, yelling and letting fly with an erratic punch which landed straight in Ross’s eye socket.

Ross was roaring now, like a giant bear, lunging around with his hand to his eye. Furiously, he dragged up one of the plastic chairs which, Arthur dully noted somewhere in the bottom of his mind, were normally bolted to the floor, and brandished it in the air across the canteen.

And Arthur, noted coward, who had never done anything even vaguely out of step in his life before yesterday, who had balked at everything that came his way, who was ready to get soft and old in his middle age, said something he’d never said before in his life, not even in fun. Instead of clenching his body and waiting for the blow or trying to make himself as small as possible, he pushed out his shoulders and opened his body wide, like a gorilla, or Russell Crowe. He stood, legs apart, eyeing up the other man with as much ferocity as he could muster.

‘BRING IT ON!!!’ he roared.

The sound bellowed and bounced off the walls. Then – silence.

Ross and Arthur stared at each other. The crowd of people by the door were completely silent. Nobody dared breathe. Then, with a crash, Ross hurled the chair across the room, but away from Arthur. It split through a picture frame hung from the raffia.

‘Fuck you! This will come around,’ said Ross, his face purple and red to bursting. He pointed his finger at Arthur. ‘THIS WILL COME AROUND!!’

And he stormed out of the room, leaving Arthur and the rest of the office staring in his wake.

‘How was your day?’ Fay asked carefully.

‘Oh, oh, it was fine, you know. Usual.’

This was becoming a nightmare. He used to share everything with her. Now he could barely talk to her beyond politeness, before she’d sigh and start mentioning somebody or other’s toddler who had done something which was supposedly cute but in fact just sounded incredibly annoying.

Fay was well aware of this. She flicked quickly through Heat magazine, elaborately casual.

‘So the black eye …’

Arthur winced. Okay, that was stupid. Perhaps he should have double-checked for the visual evidence.

Fay let out a long sigh. She remembered what the book had said – never nag, never burrow into his affairs. She tried to do her best. But he was late, tired, distracted, he’d hardly said a word to her for what felt like months – ooh, and, by the way, there was blood on his collar and he had a black eye. Her man – the sweet, gentle man she’d fallen in love with five years ago at a training conference in Peterborough – couldn’t even tell her why he was dripping blood. She set aside her magazine.

‘Arthur, we have to talk.’

He grunted into his newspaper. Yes, he knew they did. He looked up at her. His eyes were hollow.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

‘Well …’ Arthur did a quick summary in his head.

Hmm not that bit … No, maybe not that …

‘I got promoted.’

Fay’s face lit up. ‘Really?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, really.’

‘But this is brilliant!’ Her eyes shone. ‘I mean … we’ll have enough money to – hang on.’

She ran to the fridge and came back with a bottle of champagne they’d been keeping for good news.

‘This is so fantastic!’ She kissed him on the top of his head. ‘You’re so clever, darling! And think what we can do now …’ She straightened up for a second and smiled at him. ‘And the black eye is, what – the official entry token to the executive washroom?’

‘I had to fire Ross,’ said Arthur matter-of-factly, uncorking the bottle.

‘Oh! God, well, that’s even more brilliant. Isn’t he the one you thought was a bit of a tosspot?’

Arthur nodded. ‘With a good tossy right hook.’

‘Ooh!’ She sat by his knees, hugging her own, and lifted up her glass to be filled. This was it. This was the moment. No wonder he’d been so quiet, if he’d been working up to such a wonderful surprise!

‘So, there’ll be a bit more money coming in, won’t there?’

‘Um, we didn’t discuss it … Probably.’

Oh God, thought Arthur. He suddenly had an inkling as to where this was heading. Thank God his eye was already black. Although of course she could still scratch it out.

‘So, you know, maybe we could …’ She twirled her manicured finger around the top of her glass. Looking at it, Arthur realized for the first time that he didn’t really like manicures. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to sound like he was encouraging her. The pause grew longer. She looked up at him, firstly with hope, then, as the silence continued, almost as he watched, the light in her eyes slowly dimmed.

She stared at the seagrass carpet for an even longer time. It was killing Arthur to keep quiet, but he didn’t know what else to do. He felt a lump in his throat. The wait grew interminable. Finally, and very slowly, she raised her head back up to look at him. Her eyes were full of tears, quivering, hovering and waiting to fall.

‘Are we …’ She was attempting to sound dignified, but there was an immediate wobble to her voice. ‘Are we – are you …’ She shook her head to get a grip, and managed to steady herself. ‘Do you really want to be with me, Arthur? Properly? To settle down and have a – a family and everything?’ Immediately her eyes flicked away. A ten-ton weight settled on Arthur’s ribcage. He had to say something soon. He had to.

He couldn’t think of anything. He was failing.

‘Aren’t you even going to talk to me?’ The tears were falling now.

‘Aren’t you going to even deign to … Am I really worth that little to you?’

Fay’s voice was angry now, and hard.

‘Look at me, Arthur.’

Slowly, Arthur lifted his head. Her face was white, and her hands were gripping the wine glass so hard it was frightening. Neither of them spoke. Arthur loathed himself, and his cowardice.

‘Are you – are you talking about having a baby?’ Arthur managed to force out, quietly.

‘No!’ said Fay, indignant. ‘Can’t I ask a perfectly reasonable question about where our relationship’s headed without it turning into a big fuss about … babies .’

‘Oh. Only, I thought you were talking about babies.’

‘Yes, of course I’m talking about babies.’

She attempted to laugh and half choked, loudly in the quiet room. Arthur reached out his hand to her but she shook it off.

‘Fay, – I’m not sure I’m ready.’

Her face creased with disappointment, then she took a breath. ‘How … How … When would you be ready? We have three bedrooms and two cars, for fuck’s sake!’

‘I know.’

‘We chose this place together!’

‘You chose it, Fay,’ he said, as gently as he could, realizing of course that this wasn’t fair.

‘I chose it because … because we’re going out and you’re thirty bloody two years old! And so am I, nearly! We’re not fifteen! You don’t fuck about with someone just to go out with them!’

‘I – I’m not fucking about with you.’