My Not So Perfect Life(108)

“Morning.” Alex doesn’t seem particularly keen to have her sitting opposite him. “Look, Demeter, there’s no rush, we can do this later—”



“I need another day,” Demeter cuts him off. “Give me one day.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” Alex looks balefully at her and then me. “I knew you were hatching something.”

“One day.” I back her up. “That’s all. It’s nothing.”

“I can’t give you one day,” he snaps. “I’ve already told Adrian that I’ve broken the news to you.”

“We haven’t had a meeting,” shoots back Demeter. “You haven’t explained my employment rights. Nothing’s official. You can give me one more day. You have to.”

“Yes, you have to,” I affirm. “Or else.”

Alex darts a suspicious glance at me. “Or else what?”

“Or else you’ll be a wanker. Sorry, Dad,” I add.

“You go for it, Katie my love!” Dad waves his toast cheerily. “Give him all you’ve got!”

“This is my livelihood,” says Demeter evenly. “And it’s not going to be finished off like this. After all the chances I gave you, Alex, all the support I gave you, you owe me more than that. And you know it.” She sounds scathing, almost contemptuous.

For a moment no one breathes. I can tell from Alex’s flickering eyes that she’s got to him. He’s thinking…thinking…Then, breaking the spell, he sighs.

“OK. Suppose you had one more day.” He shrugs as though to say: What then?

“There are more email printouts in the office. Hundreds of them, stashed away in my cupboard.” Demeter places her hands on the table like a politician. “Let me look through them.”

Alex shakes his head. “Demeter, you won’t be able to step into that office without Adrian being all over you. He’ll march you into talent management on the spot, and you’ll be out before you can draw breath.”



“We’ve thought of that,” I say. “I’ll do it. I’ll pretend I came back for something. No one will suspect me.”

“I’ll give her the key to the cupboard.” Demeter produces her key ring and dangles it. “I’ll write some letter allowing her in. Predate it. I mean, who’s going to stop Katie going in?”

“That might work,” Alex allows.

“It will work.”

“Muffins?” Biddy comes bustling over to the table, holding a basket of muffins. “I’ve got bran…apple…blueberry…Alex!” She looks in disappointment at his plate. “You’re not eating!”

“I am,” Alex says hastily, and shovels a load of food into his mouth. He sits back, chewing, then shakes his head. “Here’s the other thing. Adrian’s expecting to hear from me that I’ve finished the process this morning. Done everything properly. Case closed.”

“Well, fob him off,” says Demeter impatiently.

“How?”

“Be out of signal.”

“All day?”

“Or send him an email. Give him some excuse.”

“What excuse?”

“I don’t know!” snaps Demeter. “Be inventive! Isn’t that your strong suit?”

“Excuse me overhearing,” says Biddy with a beam. “But would you like some help?”

Both Demeter and Alex stare up at Biddy as though the teapot has suddenly begun to speak.



“Well,” says Demeter politely, “I’m not sure how you could help, Biddy. Obviously if you could keep my boss off my back for a day, then I’d be very grateful.” She gives a short laugh.

Alex nods. “So would I.”

“Easy,” says Biddy. “Do you have his number?”

Alex darts a startled glance at Demeter—then a wicked smile spreads over his face and he holds out his phone to Biddy. “Here’s his mobile number. But he’ll still be at home.”

“Even better.” Biddy twinkles at him. “We’ll catch him off guard. Oh,” she adds to Demeter. “He knows your married name is Wilton, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.” Demeter looks intrigued.

“Good!”

We all watch, agog, as Biddy dials the number and draws breath. “Hello?” she says. “Is that Adrian? It’s Biddy here, the farmer’s wife from Ansters Farm in Somerset.” She’s making her vowels creamier than usual, I realize, just like I did. “I’m very sorry to say, sir, both Mrs. Wilton and Mr. Astalis are terrible ill. Terrible ill.”

I can hear some sort of exclamation coming from the other end of the line, to which Biddy listens peaceably.

“Terrible poorly,” she reiterates. “Yes, it’s been quite a night here, sir, with both of them suffering, like. Poor loves. So they asked me to let you know.”

There’s another outburst at the other end, and Biddy winks at us.

“Oh no, sir,” she says calmly. “There’s no chance of them coming to the phone. Although,” she adds brightly, “I’ve a message for you. Mr. Astalis asked me to pass on that what with him being so poorly and all, he hasn’t quite finished the job that he came here to do.” She listens placidly to another eruption from Adrian. “That’s right. Not quite finished, but he’ll get to it as soon as he can. Whatever it is,” she adds innocently.