Cecelia Ahern - The Gift & Thanks for the Memories

Smiling to hide his frustration and minor embarrassment, Lou laughed along with them, then when the conversation turned to something else, he quietly slipped away. He retreated to his office, which was quiet and still, not a glimpse of tinsel or mistletoe in sight. He sat with his head in his hands, awaiting Mr Patterson’s call to his office, listening to ‘Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer’ being half-sung and half-shouted by the crowd outside. Suddenly the music got louder as the door to his office opened, then it quietened as the door closed. He guessed who it was before he looked up.

Alison walked towards him, glass of red wine in one hand, a whisky in the other, her hips swinging in the slinky red dress and looking like the dangly thing at the back of a throat. Her ankles wobbled in her platform heels and the red wine jumped up a few times to splash her thumb.

‘Careful there.’ Lou’s eyes followed her every move, his head staying put, both sure and uncertain at the same time.

‘It’s okay.’ She put her glass down on the table and sensually sucked her thumb, licking the spilled wine from her skin, while looking at Lou seductively. ‘I brought you a whisky.’ She handed it to him and sidled up beside him at the desk. ‘Cheers.’ She clinked his glass, and then, her eyes once again not moving from his, she drank.

Lou cleared his throat, suddenly feeling crowded, and pushed his chair back. Alison misunderstood and slid her behind along the desk so that she was directly in front of him. Her chest was in his eyeline and he tore his eyes away and instead watched the door. His position was dangerous. It looked very bad. He felt extremely good.

‘We never got to finish up what we were doing before,’ she smiled. ‘Everybody’s talking about clearing their desks before Christmas.’ Her voice was low and sultry. ‘Thought I’d come in and give you a hand.’

She pushed away a few files from his desk; they slid down onto the floor, scattering everywhere.

‘Oops,’ she smiled, sitting on the desk before him, her short red dress rising even further up her thighs, revealing long, toned, tanned legs.

Beads of sweat broke out on Lou’s brow. His mind ran through every possibility. Go outside and search for Mr Patterson, or stay inside with Alison. He still had the two pills he found around the skip which were safely wrapped in a handkerchief and in his pocket. He could take a pill and do both. Remember his priorities: be with Alison, and go to his dad’s party. No, be with Mr Patterson, go to his dad’s party. Both at the same time.

Uncrossing her legs, Alison used her foot to pull his chair in closer to the table, red lace between her thighs greeting him as he was wheeled slowly closer to her. She inched her body to the edge of the desk, pushing her dress up even higher. So high there was nowhere else for him to look now. He could take a pill: be with Alison, and be with Ruth.

Ruth.

Alison reached out and pulled him closer, her hands on his face. He felt the acrylic nails. The tap-tap sound against the keyboard that drove him insane every day. There they were, on his face, on his chest, running down his body. Long fingers running down the fabric of his suit, the suit that was supposed to mirror his inner dignity.

‘I’m married,’ he spluttered as her hand reached his groin. His voice was panicked, sounding childlike. Weak and so easily convinced.

Alison threw her head back and laughed. ‘I know,’ she purred, and her hands continued roving.

‘That wasn’t a joke,’ he said firmly, and she stopped suddenly to look at him. He stared back at her solemnly and they held one another’s gaze, then the corner of Alison’s lips lifted in a smile despite trying to prevent it. Then, when she couldn’t keep it in any more, she exploded. Her long blonde hair reached down to tickle his desk top as she threw her head back to laugh.

‘Oh Lou,’ she sighed, finally wiping the corner of her eyes.

‘It’s not a joke,’ he said more firmly, with dignity, with confidence. More of a man now than he was five minutes ago.

Realising he wasn’t teasing now, her smile faded instantly.

‘Isn’t it a joke?’ She cocked an eyebrow, looked him dead in the eye. ‘Because you might have fooled her , Lou, but you haven’t fooled us.’

‘Us?’

She waved a hand behind her dismissively. ‘Us. Everyone. Whatever.’

He pushed his chair away from the desk.

‘Oh, okay, you want me to be specific? I’ll be specific. Gemma in accounts, Rebecca in the canteen, Louise on training, Tracey – your secretary before me – and I never did get the nanny’s name. Shall I continue?’ She smiled, then took a sip of wine, watching him. Her eyes watered slightly, her corneas reddened as though the wine was travelling directly to her eyes. ‘Remember all of them?’

‘They were,’ Lou swallowed, feeling breathless, ‘they were a long time ago. I’m different now.’

‘The nanny was six months ago,’ she laughed. ‘Christ, Lou, how much do you think a man like you can change in six months, if at all?’

Lou felt dizzy, sickened all of a sudden. He ran his sweaty hands through his hair, panic setting in. What had he done?

‘Just think about it,’ she perked up. ‘When you become Number Two around here, you can have whoever you want, but just remember I got you first,’ she laughed, putting down the wine and reaching out her foot to pull his chair towards her again. ‘But if you take me with you, I can tend to all your needs.’

She took the whisky glass from his hand and placed it on the desk. Then she took his hand, pulled him to his feet, and he followed, numb and lifeless like a dummy. She rubbed her hands across his chest, grabbed his lapels and pulled him closer. Just as their lips were about to meet, he stopped, went off course and moved his lips to her ear. Ever so softly, he whispered,

‘My marriage is not a joke, Alison. You are. And my wife is the kind of woman that you could only hope of being someday.’

With that, he pulled back and walked away from the desk.

Alison sat frozen on the desk. The only movement was her mouth, which had fallen open, and her hand, which fidgeted and tried to pull at the end of her skirt.

‘Yeah,’ he watched her fix herself, ‘you should cover that up. You can take a minute to gather your thoughts, but please replace the files on my desk before you leave,’ he said calmly. Placing his hands in his pockets to hide how much his body shook, he strode out of his office and into the middle of a karaoke, where Alex from accounts was drunkenly outing himself by singing Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want for Christmas’. Around Lou, streamers popped, and drunken bearded men and women smothered him with kisses as he left his office.

‘I have to go,’ he said, to no one in particular, trying to make his way to the elevator. He pushed right through the crowd, some people grabbing him and trying to dance with him, others blocking his path and spilling drink. ‘I have to go,’ he said, a little more aggressively now. His head was pounding; he was nauseous; he felt as though he had just woken up in the body of a man who had taken over his life and ballsed it right up. ‘It’s my dad’s seventieth, I have to go,’ he said, trying to make his way to the elevator. Finally, he reached the lifts, pressed the call button and didn’t turn around, but kept his head down and waited.

‘Lou!’ He heard his name. He kept his head down, ignoring the voice. ‘Lou! I need a minute with you!’ He ignored it again, watching the floors rising on the elevator panel and shaking his leg anxiously, hoping he’d get inside before it was too late.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

‘Lou! I’ve been calling you!’ a friendly voice said.