Liverpool Annie (20 page)

Her shoulders immediately felt lighter when she went into the Gallaghers' noisy house. The rain lifted, the sun came out, and after dinner, she and Dot went for a walk to escape the din. She told her auntie about the Delgados.

'It's often the way when couples are all lovey-dovey,' Dot said soberly. 'It's only done to disguise the faults, from themselves as well as everyone else. I always suspected things weren't all they were cracked up to be

between those two.' She nudged her niece sharply with her elbow. 'If it weren't for Bert, I wouldn't mind helping Bruno out!'

'Auntie Dot! You're terrible, you are.'

'I'm only joking, luv, but you must admit he's a bit of all right.'

Annie was about to climb the final flight of stairs to the flat when she nearly jumped out of her skin. On the shadowy landing, someone was sitting on a suitcase outside her door.

'Hello, Annie,' Sylvia beamed. 'Relations have completely broken down at home. They were using me to convey messages to each other. I'd like to move in, if you don't mind. I promise to be incredibly cheerful, do my share of housework and pay half the rent. We'll have a wonderful time. They say every cloud has a silver lining. I suppose this is it!'

She had lost her temper only once in her life, and Annie Harrison had vowed never to do so again. Occasionally, people would remark how calm she was, particularly for someone with red hair. But it was dangerous to lose your temper, dangerous to lose control and say terrible things you didn't really mean which you would regret until the day you died.

Despite her vow, the day came when Annie could easily have murdered Jeremy Rupert. Instead, she merely slapped his face.

By keeping a sharp eye on his movements, she managed to keep out of his way most of the time, but when summer arrived and along with it summer frocks and bare legs, he became more and more difficult to

repel. His round eyes would devour her as she sat by his desk. Once again, she began to scan the paper for another job.

The days he was in court were best. He came into the office early, rattled off dozens of letters, and she was left to type them in peace.

He was due in court at eleven o'clock the day she slapped his face. She had already packed his briefcase with the files concerning the case he was defending, together with a lined pad and two freshly sharpened pencils, whilst he went for a quick confab with Mr Grayson. She fastened the case and put his wig in its white drawstring bag on top.

A few minutes later, he came in with Bill Potter, the junior solicitor who was accompanying him to court. He lit a cigarette and flung the lighter on the desk,

'Hallo there, Annie,' Bill smiled.

Annie smiled back. Bill was only twenty-three and quite attractive in a weedy sort of way, but unfortunately engaged to be married.

Mr Rupert picked up the briefcase. 'Everything here?' he puffed.

'Everything,' confirmed Annie.

'What about the Cfivedon file, Jeremy?' Bill Potter said. 'Old Grayson thought it might prove useful.'

Jeremy Rupert clicked his fingers impatiently at his secretary. 'The Clivedon file, Annie. Quickly, there's a good girl.'

The Clivedon file was in the end cabinet, third drawer down. Annie disturbed the file behind as she hastily pulled it out. Mr Rupert shoved the folder in his briefcase and the two men left.

Before closing the drawer, Annie bent down to straighten the files. Suddenly, Jeremy Rupert was back in the office. He snatched the lighter off the desk and held it aloft. 'Nearly forgot this.'

Annie muttered something meaningless and returned to the fihng. She never felt his hand reach beneath her flared skirt until it was directly between her legs, squeezing.

'Hmm, nice,' he murmured.

She felt herself grow dizzy with hot, uncontrollable rage. She span round and slapped his face with such force that his head turned ninety degrees and his glasses flew off. 'How dare your she gritted.

He went pale and retrieved the glasses, which were miraculously all in one piece. There was a bright scarlet patch on his right cheek. 'But . . . but, Annie,' he stammered. 'You've never said anything before.'

Annie didn't reply, but slammed into her own office without another word. She was shaking because she'd completely lost control. Had she been holding something heavy, she could have killed him.

For the remainder of the week, he appeared slightly shamefaced, but over the weekend must have decided he'd done nothing wrong. On Monday, he began a reign of terror. He found fault with her work where no fault existed, insisted he'd said one thing during dictation, when her notes proved he'd said another. They argued fiercely over the situation of commas and semicolons, and Annie found herself with no alternative but to type letters a second time, usually long ones, when there was nothing wrong with the first. He insinuated she was incompetent, that she was slow, unintelligent. He claimed one of his clients had said she was rude on the telephone.

'Who was it?' Annie demanded. 'I'll ring up and apologise.'

'I've already apologised,' Mr Rupert snapped.

'Liar!' Annie muttered underneath her breath.

In the lunch hour, she remained at her desk and applied for every single secretarial vacancy in the Echo.

She knew she was finished at Stickley & Plumm. Her Up curled when she thought about her boss. He was utterly despicable, using his little bit of power to harass a helpless young girl - she forgot, for the moment, that she'd nearly knocked his head off. He'd probably like to sack her, but was scared she'd make a fuss and he'd get into trouble. Instead, he was trying to drive her into leaving of her own accord, but Annie's blood was up. She was damned if she would leave before she found another job.

'What's up with you.*"' Sylvia asked one night when they were clearing the table after tea.

'What do you mean, what's up with me?' Annie snapped.

Sylvia pretended to back away in fright. 'I mean exactly that. You don't speak normally, you explode. Is everything all right at work?'

'Everything's wonderful at work. Jeremy Rupert is the perfect boss.'

'Are you being sarcastic?'

'Yes,' Annie said briefly, but refused to say what was wrong. 'I'm in the middle of a feud. I'll tell you about it when it's over.'

The crunch came one Thursday, nearly three weeks after she'd slapped Mr Rupert's face.

He dictated a long Writ that morning. The Litigant was called Graham Carr. 'How do you spell that?' Annie enquired.

'C-A-R-R.'

The document was complicated and full of legal jargon, it had to be done on very thick paper with two carbon copies, which meant the typing was slow, hard work. It was three pages long when finished, and had taken two hours, but there wasn't a single error. Mr Rupert had gone to lunch, so she put it on his desk, and quickly typed half a dozen letters applying for jobs

advertised the night before. She'd already been rejected by five of the firms she had appUed to; she was either over-quahfied, under-qualified, or too young,

Jeremy Rupert returned at three. A few minutes later, he waddled into her office and threw the Writ on the desk. 'You've spelt the name wrong. It's Kerr, K-E-R-R. Same as Deborah,' he added with a sneer.

'But you spelt it the other way,' cried Annie. She produced her notebook and turned to the page. 'See!'

'You misheard. It's Kerr with a K. You'll have to type it again. I'd like the correct version by five o'clock, if you don't mind.'

He'd done it deliberately! Every shred of anger fled and she felt close to tears. She reached in her stationery drawer for a sheet of special paper, two flimsies, two carbons.

'C'mon, girl, c'mon.' Mr Rupert was watching her slow movements. Annie jutted out her jaw. She'd sooner die than let him see her cry. It was a ludicrous thing to think of, but she desperately wished she had a mam or dad to go home to, someone who would stroke her head and say her boss was the most evil man in the entire world and she wasn't to work for him another minute. She was fed up being on her own. Sylvia wasn't the same as a proper adult.

'I need to go to the cloakroom,' she said abruptly.

'Don't forget, I want that Writ by five o'clock,' Mr Rupert called after her. She could have sworn she heard him chuckle.

She would never get the Writ done in time. Her hands were already shaking and her fingers would turn to thumbs with nervousness. She sat on the lavatory for a good ten minutes and made up her mind what had to be done. She would hand in her notice and hope one of the jobs she'd applied for would turn up soon, though it went against the grain to be forced out by a bully.

After splashing her face, she went to see Miss Hunt and told her she was leaving.

'Leaving, Miss Harrison! But why?' Miss Hunt's long jaw dropped.

'I think I would be happier in another job.' Annie had no idea why she should feel uncomfortable, as if she were letting Miss Hunt down. It was she who had recommended Annie for promotion.

'Happier? But I thought you were happy in your present job. We have had glowing reports about your work from Mr Rupert. Even Mr Grayson has expressed his pleasure more than once at the way you have progressed.'

'I love the work, it's just . . .' Annie paused, wondering how she could explain to this prim and proper woman what her boss had done.

'It's just that what, Miss Harrison?' Miss Hunt's permanent frown deepened in annoyance.

'Me and Mr Rupert don't get on all that well.'

The frown turned to one of surprise. 'Have you been crying? Your eyes are all red.' She no longer seemed annoyed.

Annie felt her eyes fill up again. She nodded.

'Sit down. Miss Harrison, and tell me all about it.' The older woman pulled up a chair. 'Mr Grayson has a client, so we won't be disturbed,'

'It's awfully embarrassing.'

'Despite appearances to the contrary, I am not easily embarrassed.'

Annie explained about the Writ. 'He definitely spelt it Carr. I can show you my notebook. I'll never get it done by five o'clock.'

'In that case,' Miss Hunt said briskly. 'We'll get the typing pool to do it. The girls can type a page each. Now, why on earth should Mr Rupert do such a mean thing?'

Annie took a long breath. 'I slapped his face. He's been . . . well, too free with his hands. I couldn't stand it any longer. He ... he did something awful, and I couldn't help myself, I hit him really hard.'

Miss Hunt's face emptied of expression. 'And how long has Mr Rupert been behaving like this?'

Annie shrugged. 'Since I started working for him. Oh, I know you're going to say I should have mentioned it before, I should have stopped him, but I was scared of getting the sack.'

'I see,' said Miss Hunt. She pursed her yellow lips.

In the next room Mr Grayson could be heard showing his client out, a woman with a loud, pleasant laugh. Annie felt envious; she was so miserable, she was convinced she would never laugh again.

Mr Grayson returned to his office and pressed the buzzer for his secretary. 'Come with me. Miss Harrison. I'd like you to repeat what you just told me to Mr Grayson.'

Annie gasped. 'But I couldn't possibly . . .'

'I'm afraid you must. Come along.'

Mr Grayson looked mildly surprised when they both appeared. 'Miss Harrison has something to tell you,' Miss Hunt announced.

Throughout her halting and muddled explanation, Mr Grayson stared grimly at his blotter and didn't look at her once. 'Thank you. Miss Harrison,' he said pleasantly when she'd finished.

Miss Hunt showed her to the door. 'Don't forget the Writ,' she said.

The Writ delivered, Annie returned to her office. A few minutes later Jeremy Rupert's internal telephone rang, and she heard him say, 'Yes, sir, right away.' He immediately went downstairs.

The only person he called 'Sir' was Mr Grayson. Annie tried to get on with her work, but kept making

mistake after mistake, and the waste-paper basket became increasingly full of crumpled letterheads.

It was a good hour before her boss returned. Through the thick glass, she saw him sit at his desk and put his head in his hands.

Not long afterwards, a girl from the pool brought the Writ. Annie thanked her. 'I would never have got it done in time.' She read the document through. There were two spelling errors which hadn't been on the original, but she didn't care. She combed her hair in the mirror behind the door and briefly practised looking as if she didn't have a care in the world before taking the Writ into Mr Rupert's office.

He hadn't moved from the desk. His face was ghastly white and he was gazing into space, entirely unaware she had come in. She stared at him nervously. She hadn't planned on it going this far. If only she'd put a stop to things months ago!

She told Sylvia the whole story when she got home. As she expected, Sylvia howled with laughter. 'He's gross, Annie, gross in more ways than one. I hope he's got the boot, he deserves it.'

'I didn't want him to lose his job.'

'But you were quite willing to give up yours! When we get to the Grand, I think I shall ask Bruno to give you a little pep talk.'

'I'd sooner you didn't mention it. I feel dead ashamed.' She'd saved her own job, but at the cost of Mr Rupert's. It was an uneasy feeling.

The situation at the Grand had become bearable. Cecy and Bruno no longer rowed; instead they were scrupulously polite to each other. Bruno was openly consorting with Eve, the former waitress, and there was nothing his wife could do about it. Cecy looked worse each time they saw her. Although only forty-two,

she could easily have been taken for fifty. Her blonde hair was thinning, her face was haggard and her blue eyes were glazed with sadness - whereas Bruno seemed younger. Annie found herself glancing at him surreptitiously from time to time. She'd always had a crush on him, but now, although it was shameful to admit, since she'd learnt about the affairs he was even more attractive. She felt a little shiver when she thought about him making love to Eve, a plump and comely woman with a jaunty walk, as dark-haired as he was.

Shortly after the girls arrived, Cecy announced she intended buying herself a little bungalow.