Before I Saw You(6)

‘The very same one.’ She smiled smugly.

Henry rolled his eyes; she could tell his frustration was hitting new limits. ‘Right. Well, if you’re really telling me that you have deep and meaningful conversations with Arnold, then who am I to judge.’

‘Exactly.’ Alice stood up. ‘Are we done?’

Henry shrugged his shoulders; the man had all but given up. ‘Apparently so.’

‘Thanks, Henry.’ She didn’t even bother to look at him as she left the room.

How odd, she thought. Why on earth was he so concerned about what she did with her life outside work all of a sudden? Surely all he cared about was getting the best possible value for money out of her. And so what if Arnold wasn’t exactly a friend – as her role got progressively bigger, he was the person she’d found herself seeing more than any other human being in her life. For five days a week, Arnold Frank Bertram manned the reception desk during the night shift at Alice’s office. It was common for Alice to be the only remaining employee in the building after 9 p.m., meaning she and Arnold were the only breathing souls in the entire forty-floor office tower. Every night when she finally found the discipline to tear herself away and leave for home, there he’d be, waiting patiently at the front desk, eyes fixed on the door to the street. As soon as he saw Alice, his face would break into a smile.

‘Another late one tonight, Miss? Not worth doing if it’s not done properly, ain’t that right?’

For a long time, Alice would simply placate the man with a smile. It was a genuine, grateful smile but nothing more. She could sense he was the talking type, in a wonderful, grandfatherly story-telling kind of way, but at 11 p.m. on a Wednesday night with a 7 a.m. start the next day, Alice would challenge anyone to be up for a chat. A smile would have to do.

But as time passed and her late nights often turned into early mornings, Alice found it harder and harder to ignore the old man and his continuous attempts at conversation. During one particularly hellish week when Alice had decided, at the godforsaken hour of 2 a.m., that she needed some fresh air, Arnold had been waiting for her on her return with a cup of hot chocolate.

‘Got to keep your sugar levels up, Miss.’ He smiled and nodded.

‘Thank you.’ She didn’t have any energy to protest and simply took the gift, realizing she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. ‘How much do I owe you?’

‘Nothing.’ He held his hands up. ‘You can get them in tomorrow night.’ He winked and then returned dutifully to his desk.

And so the strange nightly ritual began: alternating hot chocolate purchases and snippets of conversation with Arnold had become a standing agenda item in Alice’s working day.

The night of the fire was no different. Although, for some reason, it seemed the sugar rush hadn’t done much to energize her. Alice had been working on the report since 10 p.m. but something wasn’t quite sitting right with the tone of it. She distinctly remembered closing her eyes in the hope that a quick power nap would be all that was needed to restart her brain. She drained the dregs of her hot chocolate and laid her head on the desk.

The authorities had later informed her that while she was sleeping, between two and three that morning, an air conditioning unit on the floor above had caught fire and ripped the top of the building to pieces.

‘You were lucky, Miss,’ the police officer said, after his fruitless attempts to gather as much information as he could from her for his report. Even though she was getting stronger physically, her recollections were still based on other people’s versions of events. A patchwork quilt of stories she’d been forced to adopt as her own.

If this life was lucky, she dreaded to think of the alternatives.

‘You have a very diligent receptionist. That man would have all but dragged you out himself if the fire rescue teams hadn’t arrived when they did. The poor guy was distraught.’

Arnold.

‘He saved your life, Miss Gunnersley.’ The second officer looked imploringly at her; his desperation for just a hint of emotion or response was blatant. She gave him nothing but a nod.

‘All right, well, we will send you the full report when we’ve written it up. If you do have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call.’

Apparently Arnold really had been a friend. In fact, he’d overnight turned out to be one of the most significant people in Alice’s life. He had saved her.

Now she wondered if it would have been better to have let the fire take all of her instead.





6


Alfie





‘Mr P, you know what time it is!’ Alfie heaved himself up and reached for his crutches.

The old man frowned. ‘Jesus, it’s worse than being on a Butlin’s holiday with the number of activities you all have planned. I’m not one of your bloody school kids, you know.’

In his old life, before the accident, Alfie had been a Sports Therapy and Physical Activity Educator at a high school in south London. Essentially he was your run-of-the-mill PE teacher, but apparently that was a shameful word to use – politics had firmly infiltrated the education system and titles soon became a reflection of self-worth and ego. Alfie didn’t care. He didn’t need prestige or glory; he simply loved every second of his job. In fact, one of the hardest things about being on the ward was how much he missed being surrounded by his pupils. Sure, he cursed them continuously every moment he spent with them, but he wouldn’t change them for the world.