It was amazing how slowly the clock could go when you were watching it. It was like it did it on purpose. The last reports and paperwork I’d needed to tidy up were done, I’d returned the sundry plates and teaspoons that had accumulated on my desk to the kitchen, set the dishwasher and washed those random bits in the sink. Hell, I’d even resorted to cleaning out the fridge to make the afternoon go by. There were all sorts of alien lifeforms growing in there – the ghosts of lunches past, including one Tupperware container that was so green and bulging that I sacrificed the whole damn thing to the bin. At least now the fridge smelt a bit more appealing and the contents weren’t a biohazard.
With half an hour to go I finally found the heart to drag the cardboard carton from under my desk and start filling it with the things that were about to have a six-month hiatus at our house.
This was not how I imagined my last day would be.
My romantic self had thought it would be all ta-tas, kissies and fond farewells as I waltzed out the front door. Granted, there had been a little of that this morning, but since then, it had been pretty much just me, staring at the clock. It was starting to look more and more like I’d be sneaking out the back door, but without the grin.
I started on the 3D puzzle that was fitting everything into the box.
Two ponytail palms – the only office plants I hadn’t managed to kill.
Favourite novelty mug, a gift from Maggie: Don’t flatter yourself. I only look up to you because I’m short. It was one I strategically tried to be holding whenever The Boss was in the room. I don’t think he got the message though. I felt a pang of sadness at the thought of Maggie. The house felt so weird without her.
I paused for a moment and breathed through another round of Braxton Hicks.
Proper Dilmah tea bags, because the crap that was provided by work wasn’t fit for human consumption.
A packet of ten green-tea bags that Mum had given me because she thought they would be healthier for me. Unopened.
The pile of snacks that hadn’t yet been consumed, which included most of a bag of Whittaker’s mini chocolate bars, some muesli bars and a half-consumed packet of crackers. On second thoughts I binned the crackers, grabbed the chocolate, and walked over to Sonia’s desk to pull open her top drawer and pop them inside. A donation to her cause.
But as I did so, I heard voices coming down the hallway – very animated voices. I shut the drawer and scuttled back to my desk, feeling oddly guilty that I’d almost been caught in the act.
‘We’ll have to pick up a car.’ Smithy walked into the room, closely followed by Paul. They both went straight to the cupboard where we stored everyone’s BAS vests and started grabbing them.
‘What’s happened?’ I asked.
‘Well, hate to say it, Sam’ – whatever it was he was about to say, Smithy didn’t look like he hated it, quite the opposite – ‘but you were right. We got the call through from tech. Your woman logged in and had a look through your files, went straight to the amniocentesis test results.’
‘Miriam Hardcastle?’
‘Yes, indeed.’
I looked to Paul, who nodded, ‘Yes. She took the bait.’
I felt immensely relieved, but equally saddened and horrified that Aleisha Newman looked to have been killed by someone as trusted as her midwife. And I didn’t care what the circumstances were.
‘You’re off to pick her up? Bring her in for questioning?’
‘Yes.’
Sonia appeared in the room, puffing slightly from her rush. ‘I got the message. When are we off?’ She went digging in the cupboard and pulled out her vest. It looked half the size of the men’s ones. I felt a tinge of envy that she was getting to go along for the ride, but it made sense they had ensured there was a woman officer present. That should have been me, but with only thirteen minutes left on the job…
‘Right. Good work, Sam. We’ll see you soon,’ Smithy said.
‘Well, actually, no.’ I pointed to the clock and shrugged.
‘Oh yeah, that’s right. Okay, then.’ He came over and gave me a hurried, awkward hug. ‘All the best,’ he said before heading out the door.
Sonia gave me a less awkward hug – ‘Don’t be a stranger. I’ll miss you’ – before she followed suit.
Finally Paul stepped up and gave me a hug and a kiss on the forehead. ‘Well done. Don’t party too hard without me and I’ll see you tonight.’
And with that the room was empty, again. Just me and my cardboard box.
I worked hard to swallow the lump in my throat.
‘Well, okay then,’ I said in their wake. ‘I’ll see ya later.’