Page 55 of Take a Moment

‘Everything’s great,’ I reply. ‘Did you have a good weekend?’

‘I did. Visited my parents in London – a weekend of shopping and shows. Funny actually, turns out John was in London too. We all ended up having afternoon tea together at my parents’ house in Kensington.’

‘How lovely. Who’s John? Is that your boyfriend?’

Danielle smirks, eyes returning to her screen. ‘Hardly. I mean John Chambers. Our chief exec.’

‘Right. How… lovely.’ I turn back to my own computer screen and start scrolling through my unread emails.

Danielle’s telling me this for a reason. It’s no secret that she likes to one-up me at every opportunity, but what if… No, surely not. I glance across at Emmanuel, who’s immersed in her own work. What if Danielle’s still not given me the full picture of the data for the project, and she’s sown a few seeds with the chief exec to suggest I’m not on it? Is shethatvindictive? I want to answer my own question with ‘absolutely not – don’t be paranoid’. But I can’t. My reading of Danielle is that she’ll do anything, and take out anyone she needs to, in order to get what she wants.

I decide there’s no point in mulling this over too much. I’ll have my answer this afternoon. Instead, I throw myself into my work, ensuring I’m on top of everything.

By lunchtime I’m feeling quite confident that Danielle has nothing on me, but I’m annoyed that she’s managed to rattle me in a way I’ve never experienced before. I’ve never doubted myself because of someone else. Either Danielle’s a level above anyone else I’ve met, or – and I don’t even want to admit this to myself – my medical situation has knocked my confidence and self-esteem more than I’ve realised.

Irritated by this thought, I decide I need some air, so I quickly grab my things and head out of the office. Despite being late autumn, it’s an unseasonable fourteen degrees with only a light breeze. So even though I’m exhausted, I decide to take a walk by the canal to clear my head. As I wander along the canal bank, watching the Canada geese dabbling in the water, I take some deep refreshing breaths.

So what if Danielle has set me up? I can handle her. Iwillhandle her – like the professional that I am. I need to focus on my strengths, not my weaknesses – and one of them is dealing with people like her. With this narrative running through my mind, I feel cheered and more in control.

Spotting a bench, I sit down and start to eat my quinoa salad while checking my personal emails on my phone. As I do, a flicker of a memory from Friday night flashes in my mind: my brief conversation with Matt. A smile spreads across my face.

I open up my messages app and tap out a new text message.

Hi Matt. Hope you enjoyed the rest of your weekend. Mine was too busy. Exhausted today. When are you free to be wowed on your own private tour of this fine city? Alex.

My thumb hovers over the end of the message. Should I add my signature double kisses? We are going on a date… but I hardly know the guy. I suddenly feel like I’m fifteen again. Guided by my hesitation, I decide to leave off the kisses and hit send. Then I put my phone on my lap and continue to eat my lunch.

My thighs are getting a bit chilled from the bench but it doesn’t bother me. I’m enjoying the peace that this inner city waterway provides. It’s like a little sanctuary away from the vibrancy of Brindley Place – something I wouldn’t naturally seek out, but with my energy levels not being what they were, I’ve learned to appreciate the odd bit of peace and quiet.

To my surprise, my phone lights up in my lap with a very quick response from Matt. I pick it up and read it.

Hi Alex. Good to hear from you. Spent all weekend biting my nails, wondering if you’d actually get in touch this time. Sorry, just kidding – that’s the last time, I promise. This weekend’s wide open. How about I spare you the research and take you out for a drink on Friday instead? x

I laugh as I read his response. He’s got a cheeky side to him, all right. I like that.

As I have no plans for this coming weekend (other than recovering from Sasha’s visit and a busy week at work), I accept Matt’s offer of drinks and arrange a time and place with him. I can get my rest on Saturday and Sunday. We message back and forth, his fun side really starting to show through, and I find myself getting sucked into the banter. So much so, I only remember I’m due back in the office for a project-related meeting with ten minutes to spare.

I quickly pack away my empty plastic box and hurry back along the canal path at a more intense pace. I can feel the fringes of my fatigue starting to nag at me: that low-level, weighted-down feeling that intermittently kicks in when I push myself physically. Then, on climbing the steps of the bridge that crosses the canal from the International Conference Centre to Brindley Place, my body goes into full-blown protest. Between my busy weekend and now this, I’ve pushed myself beyond my limits.

I reach the top of the steps, respiring so heavily that I have to stop to regain my composure. My muscles are burning from the exertion. It’s like someone has poured hot lava through my body. As I’m leaning on the side of the bridge, trying to regulate my breathing, a voice comes from behind me.

‘Alex? Is that you?’

I look round, still panting, and my heart sinks. It’s Danielle. She’s with a woman I’ve never seen before.

‘Oh, hi.’ I try my best to sound relaxed. ‘Yeah, I’m good. I was just… taking a lunchtime run. Overdone it a bit.’ I feel the heat in my face, aware that I’m flushed from the overexertion. I’m hoping she’ll buy it.

Danielle raises a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Might be wise to wear running gear next time. You’ve probably overheated in those clothes.’

Her companion smirks, her expression one of cruel judgement, and I look down and realise my spontaneous excuse might not have been the most convincing. Though I changed into my trainers for the walk, I’m still wearing my grey trouser suit and black tie-neck blouse.

‘Yeah, you’re probably right.’ I laugh, my composure thankfully returning. ‘What was I thinking? Should have abandoned the run after I discovered I’d forgotten my running gear.’

‘Sure.’ Danielle’s smile is so false, she’s not even trying to hide it. ‘You know, I like running. We should go out together one lunchtime.’

I take in Danielle’s smug face, not believing for a second that she’s a runner, and decide to play her at her own game.

‘Absolutely. Let’s sort that out.’

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