We Just Clicked

I push the door open to Claims Adjustments. Their floor has got an identical layout to ours and I’m always freaked out seeing the wrong people sitting at the desks.

I spot Jason and make a discreet beeline for him, pretending I’m searching for someone else.

There are a couple of people at the end of his desk hovering over some tin foil containers and the scent of cinnamon is wafting through the air. But before I can reach it, Jason leaps into my path and folds his arm like a bouncer.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Oh yes,’ I say, looking down at my folder as if hoping it’ll give me some magical answers. ‘I’m looking for Sarah.’

Every department has a Sarah, right?

He looks at me suspiciously.

‘She’s not in today. She’ll be back tomorrow.’

‘Right,’ I say relieved that my cover story has held up.

‘Do you want to leave a note?’

‘No, no, I’ll come back,’ I say, trying and failing to see over the side of the silver container. ‘Boy, something smells good.’

‘Tell Mrs Harris I said hello,’ he says, glaring at me.

‘Will do,’ I mutter sheepishly.

I hurry out of their floor. I’d make a terrible spy. I’m slightly scared of going back to Mrs Harris empty-handed, so I make my way to the next floor down to see if I can find Mary or Miles.

I push open the door, it’s so noisy. There are long rows of desks and everyone’s wearing headsets with microphones and it’s impossible to tell who’s talking on the phone and who’s talking to each other.

I try to look purposeful with my red folder as I walk briskly along, sniffing the air for baking scents. I notice a collection of biscuit tins on a central table and people seem to be swooping in and grabbing mini cupcakes on their way to and from the giant printer. I try and keep my heart rate steady whilst I make my way to the printer, reaching into the tin as I pass. And just like that, I’ve taken one brazenly. I’m chuffed I got away with it until I come face to face with a woman who I recognise from a health and safety training course I had to go on.

‘Aren’t you going to eat that?’ asks Brenda.

‘Oh, I was saving it for a cup of tea,’ I bluster.

‘We haven’t seen you on this floor before,’ she says, not taking her eyes off the cupcake I’m holding.

I suddenly feel like I’ve edged into the wrong side of town and I hastily shove it into my mouth.

I’m hit with a burst of something boozy and citrusy and usually I’d savour every single second of it, but I’m too scared so instead I wolf it down.

‘I recognise you,’ says Brenda, ‘Don’t you work in Contracts?’

I watch her turn and wave at Mary – whose cupcakes they are – and her face looks like thunder.

‘I – er, I’m here to find someone,’ I lie.

‘She’s with me,’ says a voice and I look up and see Luke. I’d forgotten that Billing and Sales were on the same floor; so much for trying to avoid him.

He flashes Brenda, and Mary who’s joined us, one of his winning smiles and they relax.

‘Ah, Luke, have you had a mini cupcake? They’re mojito-flavoured,’ says Mary slipping into cougar mode.

‘Thanks, but I’m watching my figure,’ he says, patting his stomach.

Mary and Brenda titter with laughter and he grabs my elbow and guides me down to the other end of the office in case the spell he’s cast wears off.

‘What are you doing?’ he says. ‘It’s savage down here at the moment! This Bake Off is bringing out the worst in people.’

‘Thanks for rescuing me.’

‘You’re just lucky it wasn’t Miles,’ he says, nodding across to a man who almost snarls at us for looking in his direction. He must have witnessed the exchange with Brenda and Mary because he’s clutching his tin of baked goods close to his chest. ‘Now, open that folder and I’ll pretend to look at it. I don’t think we’re out of the woods yet.’

I hastily open the folder and he starts nodding.

‘I’ll point at this, and you nod.’

I play along.

‘I had fun the other night. Turn the page.’

‘Umm-hmm,’ I say, pretending I’m fascinated with the piece of paper in front of me.

‘I was going to send you a message using Link but I didn’t know your surname.’

‘Oh,’ I say, shutting the folder and then regretting it as my name is written in large letters on the front.

‘Izzy Brown, got it,’ he says with a firm nod. ‘I’ll send you a message when I resolve the situation.’

He speaks loudly and gestures for me to go.

I have one last look at Brenda and Mary who are standing with their hands on their hips, shooting me daggers.

‘Oh right. Thanks for your help,’ I mutter. MI6 really aren’t going to come knocking on my door anytime soon.

By the time I make it back to my desk I’m exhausted and in desperate need of a cup of tea.

‘Well?’ says Mrs Harris, lowering her glasses onto the tip of her nose and looking over them.

‘Jason wouldn’t let me get within three metres of his creation, but it smelled of cinnamon.’

‘Just cinnamon?’

‘Like a cin-a-bon concession.’

‘Got it,’ she says, writing it down on her notepad. ‘Go on.’

‘And then I swung past Mary’s desk and her mini cupcakes were mojito-flavoured. And oh my God they were soooo—’ I stop abruptly when I see Mrs Harris’s nostrils flaring. ‘They were OK. You know, the sponge was all melt-in-your-mouth-fluffy and the frosting was all creamy and the lime was zingy on my tongue then the rum gave it an unexpected kick—’ I can still taste it on the tip of my tongue. ‘They were just OK, though. And, you know, so unimaginative. I bet if you’d have made them they’d have tasted heaps better.’

‘You weren’t supposed to taste it, that was my job. I’m the one with the sophisticated palate.’

‘Sorry, I couldn’t help it, Brenda from Sales was coming for me.’

‘And Miles?’ she says arching her eyebrow.

‘He saw me get rumbled by Mary.’

Mrs Harris tuts loudly and turns her attention to her screen. I think I’m in the dog house.

Colin gives me a little smile in solidarity.

My computer beeps and I see I’ve got a new message on Link. I click on it and read it.

Luke Taylor:

I’ve got something I want to talk to you about. Do you want to meet me for lunch today?

Blimey, I didn’t expect to hear from him so quickly. Does this mean he’s super keen? I’m so out of the loop with dating. How do I tell him I’m not interested in that way?

Izzy Brown:

I’m a bit busy today. Snowed under. Could we do it another time?

I’m hoping he’ll take the hint. I’d actually been planning to phone my mum during my break to see how she’s getting on. Going to see the ice hockey has set her back and I’ve been trying to phone her daily.

Luke Taylor:

Yes, you seemed busy walking round our floor trying to steal baking secrets.

I don’t know what to write. He’ll be seeing the dots to indicate that I’m typing and unless I respond smartish he’ll expect an essay. Think, Izzy, think. What subtly says ‘I’m not interested in you’ but is still very polite?

Luke Taylor:

Just come along and hear what I have to say. Meet you outside the main block at 1pm?

He isn’t giving me much room to get out of it and I get the impression that he’s going to be persistent.

Izzy Brown:

1pm is fine. See you then.

‘How are you so flushed in this ice box of an office?’ says Cleo, wheeling her chair next to mine. She touches her cold hands to my cheeks. I didn’t know they were burning.

‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it was the rum in those cupcakes.’

‘Or maybe it’s because Luke Taylor just sent you a message,’ she says, her eyes lighting up. I turn back to my screen to see that he’s sent a message saying, See you then.

‘What’s all that about?’ she asks. ‘Nothing! I saw him the other night at that Instagram event—’

‘Oh, you did, did you?’ She’s doing a patronising head tilt and overemphasising all her words. ‘I did. And now he wants to meet me for lunch.’

‘Lunch,’ she parrots back, eyebrow raised. ‘Yes, just lunch. He has something he wants to discuss, appar ently.’

‘Uh-huh,’ she says, smirking. ‘You’ve got a date, it’s about time.’

‘It’s not a date,’ I say firmly.

‘Whatever,’ she says, winking.

I give up. She’s never going to believe me. It’s absolutely and categorically not a date and not because I’m afraid of having my heart broken again but because he’s not my type in the slightest.

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