‘Good morning, my name’s Kim, how can I help you today?’
‘I’m going to kill you,’ Emma blurted out. The room erupted with laughter.
‘You’re obviously upset,’ Kim managed when she’d stopped giggling, ‘but I can’t help you without your details. Could I have your policy number?’
‘No,’ said Emma and put the phone down.
Kim scowled and looked at Vernon. Emma saw a flash of irritation cross his face before he recovered and smiled. ‘There’s always one,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Kim and Emma. Remember to tell the abusive caller that calls are being monitored and recorded and that it’s company policy to end abusive calls. Next.’
At lunch, Emma left. Better for them all that way. She wondered if Vernon would tell. She got a text from Laura mid-afternoon. Heard her phone go as she was fixing the dressing on her leg. U ok? x
Felt sick x Emma replied. Laura cared; even though she’d made a fool of herself and upset Kim, Laura was still talking to her.
Don’t blame u l8r x
Emma felt so much better then. She got the tub of ice cream out; she deserved a treat.
‘Gavin wants to see you,’ Laura told her the next morning as she hung up her coat.
‘Right.’ Was abandoning a training course a sackable offence? A written warning?’
‘Tell him you had cramps,’ Laura said. ‘He’ll hate that.’
Emma cleared her throat. ‘Is Kim okay?’ She could still see Kim scowling, sense her irritation that Emma had ruined the exercise, not given her a chance to shine.
‘Course. It’s not like you can help it, being shy.’
Emma wanted to collapse with relief. All night she’d imagined a conspiracy, the three of them sending her to Coventry, a wall of silence, or sniggers. An earlier memory scoured through her: a special assembly at school. She was six. Her class had to walk up on stage and chant a poem, something about forests and tigers. Emma was one of the smallest and was made to stand at the front. She wet herself.
‘Thanks,’ she said to Laura. ‘I’d better see Gavin.’
‘Remember – really bad period pains.’
Oh, she did like Laura. She was smart and funny, and she was kind too, like now.
Gavin was okay about it. As soon as Emma mumbled that she’d felt ill, he didn’t ask for any more details. He said her attendance record was excellent and gave her a handout from the afternoon and recommended she read through it – especially the bullet points at the end about good practice. Then he let her go.
Emma had brought in shortbread and handed it round at break.
‘Not stuck poison in it, have you?’ Little Kim teased her. ‘Your face! I thought you were going to kill me.’
‘You should have broken the phone,’ Blonde Kim said to Emma. ‘Vernon would have gone mental.’
‘That beard,’ said Little Kim. ‘Looked a right prat.’
‘Look what I’ve got,’ said Laura. She rummaged in a carrier and pulled out a wodge of holiday brochures. Handed one to each of them. Greek Island Escapes, read Emma’s. Her heart raced. She saw aquamarine sea and white sand, like in the film musical Mamma Mia. Little coves with restaurants by the water’s edge, olives and donkeys. Laura and Emma and the Kims all sunbronzed, drinking chilled wine beneath palm-thatched umbrellas. In their room, getting ready to hit the disco. She knew the three of them had been to Tenerife last year. But now Laura had given her one of the brochures.
‘Be cheaper to book online,’ said Blonde Kim.
‘I know,’ Laura said. ‘This is research. We each come back with two resorts that sound good, decent nightlife and not too far from the airport, and then we choose a shortlist and see what cheap deals we can find on the net. But we need to work out dates. Avoid the school holidays.’
‘I can’t do June,’ said Little Kim. ‘Our Maryanne’s wedding.’
Emma ate another biscuit. She felt the anticipation frothing inside her. They could have barbecues on the beach and go on boat trips. The four of them bessie mates.
‘September’s too long to wait,’ said Blonde Kim.
‘May, then,’ said Laura. ‘Be warm then.’
‘Where are we looking?’ Little Kim tried to see Emma’s brochure.
‘Spain and the Canaries.’ Blonde Kim waved her booklet.
