Sophie Kinsella - Remember Me?

“We thought you’d forgotten,” Carolyn says, looking dumbstruck.

“Well, I’ve remembered.” I give her a sweet, scathing smile. “I’ve remembered everything. And you might all remember that you’re relying on me for references.”

I sweep out, almost straight into Byron.

“Lexi!” He nearly drops his cup of coffee. “What the fuck-”

“Byron. I need to talk to you about Tony Dukes,” I say crisply. “How did you handle the discrepancy in his calculations? Because we all know his reputation for pulling a fast one. Remember the trouble we had in October 2006?”

Byron’s mouth is hanging open stupidly.

“And I want to talk to you about our annual strategy conference. Last year’s was a shambles.” I head to my office, then turn around. “Speaking of which, where are the minutes of our last product meeting? You were doing them, as I remember.”

“I’ll…get those to you.” He looks utterly gobsmacked.

Everything I’m saying is hitting right home. Fi is a total genius!

“So, are you recovered?” Byron says as I open my office door. “Are you back?”

“Oh yes. I’m back.” I usher Amy in and slam the door. I count to three, then I look out again. “Clare, a coffee. And one for my temp, Amy. Fi, can you come in here?”

As Fi closes the door behind her, I collapse on the sofa, breathless.

“You should be on the stage!” Fi exclaims. “That was so great! That’s just the way you used to be!”

I’m still cringing inside. I can’t believe I said those things.

“So now we just have to sit it out till ten-thirty.” Fi glances at her watch as she perches on my desk. “It’s past ten now.”

“You were a real bitch out there,” says Amy admiringly. She’s taken out mascara and is applying yet another coat. “That’s what I’ll be like when I go into business.”

“Then you won’t make any friends.”

“I don’t want to make friends.” She tosses her head. “I want to make money. You know what Dad always said? He said-”

Suddenly I really don’t want to hear what Dad always said.

“Amy, we’ll talk later.” I cut her off. “About Dad.” There’s a knock on the door and we all freeze.

“Quick!” says Fi. “Get behind the desk. Sound cross and impatient.”

I scuttle to the office chair, and she quickly pulls up a chair opposite.

“Come in,” I call, trying to muster the most impatient tone I can. The door opens and Clare appears, holding a tray of coffee. Irritably I jerk my head at the desk. “So, Fi…I’ve had just enough of your attitude!” I improvise as Clare unloads the coffee cups. “It’s unacceptable. What have you got to say for yourself?”

“Sorry, Lexi,” Fi mumbles, her head bowed. Suddenly I realize she’s in fits of giggles.

“Yes, well.” I’m trying desperately to keep a straight face. “I’m the boss. And I won’t have you…” Oh God, my brain is blank. What’s she done? “I won’t have you…sitting on the desk!”

A kind of spluttery snort comes from Fi.

“Sorry,” she gasps, and clutches a hanky to her eyes.

Clare looks absolutely petrified. “Um…Lexi,” she says, backing toward the door. “I don’t want to interrupt, but Lucinda is here? With her baby?”

Lucinda.

That means nothing to me.

Fi sits up, her giggles vanished. “Lucinda who worked for us last year, do you mean?” she says quickly, glancing at me. “I didn’t know she was coming in today.”

“We’re giving her a baby gift and we wondered if Lexi could present it to her?” Clare gestures out the door and I see a small cluster around a blond woman holding a baby carrier. She looks up and waves.

“Lexi! Come and see the baby!”

Shit. There’s no way out of this one. I can’t refuse to look at a baby-it’ll seem too weird.

“Well…all right,” I say at last. “Just for a moment.”

“Lucinda was with us about eight months,” Fi murmurs frantically as we head out of the office. “Took care of European accounts, mainly. Sat by the window, likes peppermint tea…”

“Here we are.” Clare hands me a huge gift-wrapped parcel crowned with a satin bow. “It’s a baby gym.”

As I draw near, the others back away. To be honest, I don’t blame them.

“Hi, Lexi.” Lucinda looks up, glowing at all the attention.

“Hi there.” I nod curtly at the baby, which is dressed in a white onesie. “Congratulations, Lucinda. And this is…a girl? A boy?”

“He’s called Marcus!” Lucinda appears offended. “You’ve met him before!”

Somehow I force myself to shrug disparagingly. “I’m afraid I’m not into babies.”

“She eats them!” I hear someone whisper.

“Anyway, on behalf of the department, I’d like to give you this.” I hand the parcel over.

“Speech!” says Clare.

“That’s not necessary,” I say with a forbidding glare. “Everyone back to-”

“Yes it is!” Debs objects defiantly. “This is like Lucinda’s leaving-do too. She can’t not have a speech.”

“Speech!” calls someone at the back. “Speech!” A couple of others start banging the desks.

Oh God. I can’t refuse. Bosses give speeches about their employees. This is what they do.

“Of course,” I say at last, and clear my throat. “We’re all very pleased for Lucinda on the birth of Marcus. But sad to say good-bye to such a valued member of our team.”

I notice Byron joining the cluster of people, surveying me closely over his Lost mug.

“Lucinda was always…” I take a sip of coffee, playing for time. “She was always…by the window. Sipping her peppermint tea. Managing her European accounts.”

I glance up and see Fi at the back, frantically miming some kind of activity.

“We all remember Lucinda for her love of…biking,” I say uncertainly.

“Biking?” Lucinda looks puzzled. “Do you mean riding?”

“Yes. Exactly. Riding,” I amend hastily. “And we all appreciated your efforts with those…French clients.”

“I didn’t deal with France.” Lucinda is gazing at me in outrage. “Did you ever even notice what I did?”

“Tell the story about Lucinda and the snooker table!” calls out someone at the back, and there’s a chorus of laughter.

“No,” I snap, rattled. “So…here’s to Lucinda.” I raise my coffee cup.

“Don’t you remember the story, Lexi?” Byron’s bland voice comes from the side. I glance at him-and feel a sudden hollowness inside. He’s guessed.

“Of course I remember it.” I summon my most cutting tones. “But it’s not the time for silly, irrelevant stories. We should all be at work. Get back to your desks, everyone.”

“God, she’s a hard bitch,” I can hear Lucinda muttering. “She’s even worse than before!”

“Wait!” Byron’s voice rises smoothly over the disgruntled muttering. “We forgot Lucinda’s other present! The mother and baby spa voucher.” He brings a slip of paper up to me with an overdeferential air. “It just needs Lucinda’s name filled in, Lexi. You should do that, being head of the department.”

“Right.” I take the pen.

“You need to put the surname too,” he adds casually as I take off the cap. I look up and his eyes are gleaming.

Fuck. He’s got me.

“Of course,” I say briskly. “Lucinda…remind me what name you’re using these days.”

“The same as before,” she says resentfully, cradling her baby. “My maiden name.”

“Right.”

As slowly as I can, I write Lucinda on the dotted line.

“And the surname?” Byron says, like a torturer turning the screw. I look up desperately at Fi, to see her mouthing something at me. Dobson? Dodgson?

Holding my breath, I carefully write a D. Then I pause and stretch out my arm as though limbering it up. “I’ve had problems with my wrist,” I say to no one in particular. “The muscles sometimes get a bit…stiff.”