Caryl Phillips - In the Falling Snow

‘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.’

Clive quickly drums the tips of his fingers against the desk with an almost military flourish, and then he sits up straight and stares at his subordinate.

‘Can I ask you something, Keith? I’m not trying to be offensive or anything.’

‘Ask whatever you want to ask, Clive. You’re in charge, aren’t you?’

Clive sighs. ‘Look, I don’t want any unpleasantness between us. Believe me that’s the last thing that I want.’ He pauses. ‘I suppose I just wanted to know if it was serious. On your part, that is. I’m not interested in what she was thinking, I’m just trying to work out what was going on in your mind. Because, if it wasn’t serious, have you ever thought about using prostitutes? I mean, that’s what they’re there for. Quick, simple, easy, nobody gets hurt, and who gives a fuck, right?’

‘Is that what you do, Clive? Fuck prostitutes, and you think that makes you better than me? Cheating on your wife with hookers, that makes you smarter than me?’

‘Calm down, Keith. I’ve never been with a prostitute in my life, I was just trying to understand something, but I’m sorry if I offended you. Look, you made a mistake, Keith. I don’t want to come over all heavy, but you made a mistake. These are other people’s kids that you’re treating like this.’

‘Other people’s kids? She’s a fucking twenty-six-year-old woman. She’s not some schoolgirl virgin. Can you not get that straight? She’s not innocent, and don’t you dare talk to me about other people’s kids like I’m some fucking sex offender.’ He pushes back the chair and stands up. ‘Clive, don’t fucking patronise me.’

‘Please, Keith. Keep your voice down.’

‘Fuck you, Clive. “Somebody else’s kids”? Have you lost the plot? You really have bought into all of this “healing” crap, haven’t you?’

When he reaches the door to Clive’s office he turns, but he stops himself as he hears the words of resignation rising to his lips. No, he isn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Clive Wilson emerges from behind his desk and walks towards him with an arm extended awkwardly in his direction.

‘I’m sorry, Keith but you need more cooling-off time, and I’m going to recommend counselling. It’s important for you, I think. And it will also show that you’re serious about addressing these issues.’

‘Fuck you, Clive.’

‘I know you’re angry, and maybe I would be too. But work with me on this. Please.’

He leaves the office and realises that he needs to calm down. Another minute and he would have smacked the smug bastard. He decides to take a walk by the river, and because it is nearly lunchtime he has the option of dropping in at one of the pubs on the embankment for a drink and something to eat. He walks purposefully through the busy pedestrian traffic on the High Street, having made up his mind to stop first at a cash machine and then buy a newspaper, but before he gets to his bank it strikes him that wandering alone by the river sounds too depressing. He dashes across the street and passes into the indoor shopping centre. Shit, maybe he should have shaken Clive Wilson’s hand before storming out, for he has now left the fool with the impression that he is simply an angry man. By flying off the handle and failing to keep control, he has allowed Clive Wilson to talk his rubbish about a cooling-off period, and needing to see the bigger picture. He is going to have to email him a note of apology, but he will stop short of suggesting another meeting in his office, or a reconciliatory drink, for that would be to give up too much ground. A simple note of apology will have to suffice and he will leave it up to Clive Wilson to make the next move.