Page 21 of Someone Else's Shoes
‘Well, peoplearealways mistaking me for Charlize Theron.’
There is a brief silence in the little room. Mugs has fallen asleep, his back legs in the air like a rabbit’s, and they pause to stroke him gently.
‘Oh, and I was let go from work.’ Andrea doesn’t look up from the cat.
It takes a moment for Sam to register what she said. ‘What?’
‘Nothing to do withthis, of course, just a restructuring of the department so that my position no longer exists.’
‘They can’t do that! Not after what you’ve just been through!’
‘Well, they did. I get a small payoff, so there’s that.’
‘But – but how will you get by?’
Andrea shrugs. ‘No idea. I thought I might sell my body.’ She smiles weakly at Sam. ‘I’ll go to the benefits office next week and see what I’m entitled to. You’d think being half dead would entitle me tosomething.’
‘Don’t,’ says Sam. ‘Don’t even joke about it.’ She reaches across and takes Andrea’s hand. She squeezes it gently.
‘It’ll be all right,’ says Andrea. ‘Something will happen.’
‘I’ll help you.’
‘I’ve got savings.’
‘You told me you’d burned through most of them.’
‘Your memory is way too good,’ says Andrea. ‘Anyway, you’re as skint as I am.’
‘Seriously, can I do something? Can we sue them? Get a lawyer involved?’
‘It’s a huge corporation with whole legal departments devoted to squishing people – and honestly? I haven’t got the energy to fight anything else just now.’ Andrea keeps her eyes on the cat as she speaks, and the conversation is apparently closed. They sit in silence for a while, both lost in their thoughts, still both stroking the cat until he decides this is way too much human contact and stalks off the sofa.
‘Oh. I have a fun thing to tell you.’
Andrea lifts her head. ‘About time, Sam. Jesus. You’ve been about as much use as a wet weekend in Grimsby for half an hour andnowyou have something positive to tell me?’
She tells Andrea the story of the high-heeled Louboutin shoes, from Frampton to Miriam Price, and then the story of the handsome man with the Jiffy bag.
‘Well, where is it? The thing the guy gave you.’
‘Uh … I think it’s in my bag?’ She rifles through it and brings out the Jiffy bag. In it is a small memory stick.
‘What are you doing? It might be something exciting. Details of Swiss bank accounts. Pentagon codes that I can use to bomb my HR department. Riches from a long-lost Nigerian royal family. Let me have a look. Come on.’ Andrea raises herself from the sofa and reaches behind her for the laptop on the desk.
‘What if it’s got malware or something on it? I don’t want to put bugs on your computer.’
Andrea rolls her eyes. ‘Do I look like bugs on my computer even registers on my list of things to worry about right now?’ She takes the memory stick from Sam and slots it into her laptop. They settle beside each other so that both can see the screen.
‘If it’s Pentagon codes I’m targeting my ex-mother-in-law first,’ says Andrea, gleefully. ‘Just a small guided missile. Maybe radioactive. Nothing too dramatic.’
The screen flickers into life, and they are suddenly silent. It is Andrea who speaks first, after a few seconds of watching the two grainy bodies writhe furiously.
‘Uh … Sam? I’m not sure what this is, but I’m pretty sure that’s not … legal.’
‘Or it shouldn’t be.’
They watch in silence for a few moments longer, transfixed and horrified, unable to look away. Their mouths drop open.
