Summer arrived at last. The weather was settled and July, hot and dry. The staff could wear their summer clothes into the office and everyone felt happy and carefree.
Alan was in his office, sweating. He switched on the fan and as it whirled round, he threw himself down into the chair. He was hot and... devastated. He'd just heard that Mark was taking Clare out on a date on Friday night. He liked Mark, they all did, he was a good guy, but...going on a date with Clare?
There was a knock on his door and Angie walked in.
Alan blurted out, "Mark's taking Clare on a date!"
"I know, Catherine encouraged her to go, she wasn't that keen."
"Oh, Angie, what can I do?"
"I don't know, but perhaps we'll think of something?" Angie replied, looking straight at him. They fell silent. Alan groaned. "It's agony, absolute agony" and as he said this loudly, Clare opened the door from the corridor with a cup of tea for Alan in her hands.
"Is anything wrong, Alan? Have you got a migraine, I heard the word agony?" she asked as she placed the tea in front of him.
"No, not yet, but I could well have one soon." said Alan feeling despondent.
"Oh, take no notice," said Angie, thinking on her feet "It's just a client giving him a bit of bother." And they both left his office, leaving him to his own thoughts.
Alan yanked at his tie and stood up and looked out of his office window. He was glad their offices were on the ground floor. He hated heights. Shame, though, he could have thrown himself out of the window if he had been on the 8th floor.
He wondered if, perhaps, it would have been better if he had been born a woman. He indulged the thought for several seconds. No, perhaps not. Some men looked women up and down in a particular way. It wouldn't be good on the receiving end. Other thoughts occurred to him. Oh no, not that! And then there was childbirth, all that pain. No. He changed his mind. He'd rather be a man, thank you. He thought of his car, he didn't know any women who drove a BMW. No. It was most definitely better being a man. He loved his car, but if he had to choose between the Beamer and Clare, then he'd choose Clare, every time.
The phone rang and Alan jumped out of his skin. What was he doing? He had a mountain of work to do and here he was day-dreaming. He answered the phone and held a long conversation with a client and spent the rest of the morning trying to concentrate on his work. He stayed in his office during the lunch time and ate ham and pickle sandwiches. He'd allow himself a half an hour break and then get back to work.
He imagined that he was taking Clare out on a date.
"I would write her a note saying:-
'Please meet me on the city centre tonight at 6.45pm under the clock. I have two tickets for a show and then we will go to a restaurant.'
She would meet me under the clock, looking gorgeous, wearing a slinky black dress showing plenty of cleavage. She would look stunning! We would watch the show and hold hands, laughing and joking. I would buy her an ice cream during the interval and I would hear a man saying "She's lovely, isn't she?" and he would point at Clare and I would feel elated.
At the end of the show, being the last to leave the building, I would stop her in the exit doorway and put my arms around her waist and kiss her passionately. A man with a bunch of keys would be waiting to lock the door. A woman at the ticket counter would say "Lucky woman", but the man with the keys would say "No, lucky man!" Clare would smile with embarrassment, but I would laugh. We would go to Giovanni's for supper. We would walk along talking and swinging our hands like we did when we were children."
Alan's mind raced towards the end of the evening. She would stay the night! Oh, what a result. Yes, she would definitely stay the night. It would be a night of nights. Alan's thoughts stopped abruptly. No, she wouldn't stay the night. He was still a married man. His divorce hadn't come through yet and he knew Clare had strong opinions on certain subjects. What a damn shame! He wondered if he could say damn. Clare didn't like swearing, certain expressions and definitely not Americanisms, although 'okay' was okay.
This was one of those occasions when he wished he'd never met Marie. She'd always ruined things and she was still doing it now. How he hated her for it!
"I think I'm getting a headache after all." said Alan out loud and he opened a packet of crisps and continued eating his sandwiches. He thought, if I carry on like this I'll be dead in six months.
Angie will sing at my funeral and Clare will say "It's such a pity, I really loved Alan, but I didn't know it at the time." And there will be lots of flowers.
Clare loves flowers...
Alan floated back to earth, feeling desperate. "I'm going insane. Is it ever worth it?" Just at that moment there was a knock on the door. It was Clare. "I saw you were staying in, so I've brought you a cup of coffee." She placed it on the desk in front of him.
"Oh, thanks Clare, that's kind of you. Don't you and Angie usually go out during lunch time?"
"We do, but it's so hot we've decided to stay in." She returned to her office and he watched her leave. She had the loveliest pair of legs.
Answering his earlier question, was it worth it? Yes, it was worth it, but there was a long road to travel. It was like being on an emotional roller coaster 'UP'one minute and 'down' the next. "For goodness sake, Harding, get a grip." he said out loud. His thoughts had lasted longer than he had wanted and it was nearly 2 pm. Bang goes another half an hour, he thought.
There was a knock on the door and Angie appeared.
"Clare's in the loo." she said quietly coming into the office and closing the door behind her. She had an air of the spy about her.
"Guess what? I've found out that Mark's taking Clare to Giovanni's after the show and I was thinking, why don't you go tonight and you can see what happens?"
"No, that wouldn't be right!" Alan was horrified at the suggestion.
"But you often go there, you could say it was a coincidence."
Alan swiftly changed his mind.
"Hey, I think I will. What time does the show end?"
"Well, if you book a table for 10.15pm that should be all right."
"That's late, I'll get indigestion." said Alan, pulling a face.
"Well, I can't help that," said Angie "It's up to you, of course."
* * * * * * * *
So that was how Alan came to see the incident. He was sitting at a table in Giovanni's at the back of the Restaurant, when he saw Mark and Clare arrive at the front door. Mark pointed to the menu which was displayed in the window and said something. Suddenly looking panic stricken, Clare let go of Mark's arm and ran away. Alan saw no more of her, but he saw a look of utter amazement on Mark's face as he hit the Restaurant door with his fist and then came in to cancel the table. Quick thinking, Alan jumped to his feet, feeling stunned and called out, "Hello, Mark, fancy seeing you here. What a coincidence. Would you like to join me?" Mark came over and joined him in a glass of wine, but he didn't mention Clare and neither did Alan. Then Mark made an excuse and left.
'Excellent', thought Alan, 'very good. Not for Mark, of course, but for me. Good old Angie!' And he ate his Tiramisu with gusto.
The whole evening turned out very well, in fact. Later on as he was paying the bill, he met Andrew Graves, with his girl friend. Alan knew Andrew from school days and his father, Michael Graves, was a wealthy man who owned a lucrative printing business. It appeared he was looking for new accountants as he was less than enamoured with his current ones and Alan was delighted when Andrew gave him his father's telephone number and told him to give him a ring.
So it was an eventful evening after all, even though Alan was concerned whether Clare had reached home safely and he called Angie, who told him she had; which set his mind at rest.
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