The Office Party

Part 12

One of those I sleep with without really planning to - and certainly not in the way I intend – is the girl off reception. I take her cake one day, which is indirectly thanks to my baking course...

***

As my course goes on, I get into the habit of practising over the next week whatever style or technique I've learnt on the Thursday. And as I'm making more baked goods than my housemate and I could ever realistically or healthily eat ourselves, I start taking them into work as well. So Friday becomes 'Let's Try Fi's Latest Cake Disaster Day' in the department. Then a few days later they get to see how much better I've got by practising over the weekend. I always save a bit for Michelle, as the whole thing was her idea in the first place, but the rest I leave by the kettle in the Accounts department.

When they realise it's going to be a fixture, some joker makes a chart and puts it up on the wall near the departmental kettle, with a column for each different cake and a row for each colleague, and the bastards give me marks out of ten. One week, I mix things up a bit by doing flapjack and inadvertently cause a lengthy argument between one of the accountants and the payroll assistant as to whether it is or isn't a cake. A few weeks later, when I do cookies, I notice that they – along with flapjack – suddenly form a separate chart for biscuits and sundries. I start to feel slightly uncomfortable, and mention it to Roger in passing one day.

Not long after that, someone – I suspect Roger – stages an intervention. The chart disappears and is replaced with an empty coffee jar for people to leave donations. Roger takes me to one side and says he's suggested the donations jar to cover the costs of the ingredients. I'm to feel free to take what I need out of it, to cover the cost of making the departmental cake every week. Every so often, whatever is left over will be given to charity.

***

So, one morning, I happen to be taking some post up to Reception. The girl looks up and smiles uncertainly when she sees it's me. 'Hi. Is that for the post?' She holds her hand out for the pile of envelopes and other bits and pieces.

'Yeah. There's some internal as well.' I hand it over, but I'm distracted by some laughing in the office behind the desk, where the receptionists have a desk and kettle and their main admin computer. The older woman who works on Reception is chatting with one of the canteen staff. 'Having a party up here, you lot?'

The girl smiles and pushes her chair back from the desk a little to stand up, and she leans across the reception desk to slide my pile of post on top of a growing pile from elsewhere. I notice again how slight her figure is, how long her legs are in her smart trousers. She's too thin for my liking, but she does have nice legs and a cute gamine prettiness. She brushes her shortish hair back. 'Yeah. It's her birthday.' She indicates her colleague. 'So we're not getting a lot of work done today.' The girl smiles dryly, obviously meaning that the other woman's not getting a lot of work done, but that she herself is doing plenty for both of them.

'Oh, OK.' For a moment, the girl and I look at each other properly for the first time since the incident in Diana's office. Something in me flips over and I realise she's as much a victim of Diana's approach to life as I am, or any of the other girls Diana's had along the way. It's not this girl's fault that Diana and I had an argument, and neither do I really have any sort of claim on Diana. My new life of baking and one night stands might be the new me, rather than the limbo it feels like at the moment. I also remember that, until about five minutes before I saw her leaving Diana's office with her clothes in disarray, I actually slightly fancied this girl. I smile warmly at her and am pleased to see her smile back. I nod goodbye. 'OK, well, see you, then.' I go back downstairs.

Ten minutes later, I go back up to Reception with two slices of cake. (Carrot, with a buttercream icing. I'm quite pleased with it.) The girl looks up, surprised to see me crossing the lobby again. 'Hi again. More post?' She sees what's in my hand and her eyes widen. 'Oh, no. Maybe not.'