Four weeks, three days since Joseph and I broke up. Three months and counting to get Joseph back before he replaces me.
I can’t help but be the tiniest bit offended by how much everyone loves my new hair. Yes, it’s great that people think that I look like I’ve just stepped off the pages of a photo shoot, I’m sure it’s also a huge compliment that I now look a bit like Alexa Chung and Caroline Flack, but every coo and compliment makes me wonder just how bad everyone thought I looked before.
It’s day three of the new haircut at work and instead of people accepting it and moving on, my colleagues keep saying that they can’t believe it’s me.
I’m walking over to the communal office printer, and if I get one more hair comment then I’m going to hide it under my woolly beanie for the rest of the week.
I’m only a few steps away from the printer when I see Lindsey, sorry, ‘Linz’ with a Z as I keep overhearing her telling people on the phone, get there first. I’m about to try and pretend that I’m on my way to the kitchenette, when I see she’s holding my printout and looking bemused.
‘That’s mine,’ I say, resisting the urge to snatch it away from her. I don’t know what it is about her that’s got my back up, but I guess I’m suspicious of naturally bubbly people.
She looks up at me and flashes her perfect pearly-white teeth. With her blond hair tied up high in a ponytail and sun-kissed skin, she looks like she’d be more at home in California than Portsmouth.
‘Hi, Abi,’ she says, still grinning and not handing over the paper.
‘Linz,’ I reply, putting my hand out.
Instead of giving it to me she looks down at it once more.
‘The Eiffel Tower?’ she says.
Ten out of ten for identifying one of the most easily recognisable buildings on the planet.
‘That’s right, it’s for a mood board,’ I say.
Which is true. It just happens to be for the mood board I’m creating at home of all the challenges on Joseph’s bucket list. We’ve got a super-dooper colour printer at work and I’ve been sneakily, or at least up until now, printing off pictures for it.
‘Oh, right, what account’s it for?’
Why won’t she give me my bloody bit of paper!
I stare, mentally willing her to hand it over to me.
She can only be in her early twenties, not long out of university. She’s got that fresh-faced, eager-beaver look that I used to have when I started my career. The sort of enthusiasm that comes from the naivety of not calculating how many days of your life you’ve got to work before you draw your pension.
‘For the Spinnaker account. I thought it might be helpful to remind myself of other iconic towers.’
Sometimes I scare myself with how quickly I can come up with lies.
‘That’s such a good idea. And I love the idea of making actual physical mood boards. That’s so old school.’
As if I needed another reason not to like this girl.
‘I’m just a bit confused, though. I got the impression from Rick that I was going to do the design for it.’
I turn back to face her and she gives me that sweet and innocent smile that she seems to have down to a tee.
‘Um, when we first got word of the tendering process last month, before you started, Rick assigned it to me, so I’m not sure what gave you that idea . . .’
She shakes her head.
‘Of course,’ she says handing me my Eiffel Tower picture. ‘That was only when we were in the pub after work on Friday. Rick had mentioned that it might be a good project to build up my portfolio, but I’m sure he was only being nice. He’s obviously invited me to the meeting this morning just to show me how things are done here.’
She bats her eyelashes at me like Road Runner used to do to a stunned Coyote, then turns and walks off with her printouts leaving me standing alone.
After-work drinks on Friday with Rick sounds a little bit cosy for my liking.
I’m reminded of what Giles said to me last week, about her getting her feet under the table. I must get him to elaborate.
I walk back to my desk wishing that Hayley would come back soon. But, given that her baby was only born last week, I know I’ve got to put up with Linz for the foreseeable future.
I settle back into my chair and tuck my Eiffel Tower picture safely in my bag. I’ve now got nearly all the photos for my mood board, which means the next step might actually be to attempt to do one of the tasks on the list.
It’s been a whole four days since the arrival of the box that started me down the journey of trying to complete Joseph’s bucket list. And so far, I haven’t managed to tick off a single thing.
When I’d looked at his list, I’d thought that I’d whip through it in no time. But I’ve been researching the activities, and nearly all of them are going to take time and preparation. No wonder Joseph hadn’t completed any himself. There are hurdles and obstacles everywhere I look.
Take having afternoon tea at the Ritz. I’d imagined I’d tip up, eat my monthly quota of cakes and put a big fat tick on the list. Sian had agreed to take a day off with me, and we were going to go up later this week. Only when I checked the website I realised that it wasn’t as easy as I’d imagined. I had to book and after a lot of searching on the online booking facility, I just about managed to find a slot that Sian, the Ritz and I could all do. We’re going next Tuesday.
Then there was the Spanish. At first I thought I’d try teaching myself, but that proved a lot harder than I thought. I had got a Michel Thomas CD out from the library on Monday night, but I’d fallen asleep listening to it. I found the sultry tone of his voice so soothing. And, disappointingly, I didn’t manage to learn Spanish by osmosis. So I’ve booked myself onto a course.
I’m just bringing up Facebook to scan Joseph’s page to see if there’s been any activity that might indicate a new female companion, when my phone rings, the number’s withheld, and I cross my fingers, hoping it’s one of my outstanding enquiries, rather than some call centre ringing to tell me that I’m eligible to switch phone companies.
‘Hello.’
‘Hi, is that Abi? It’s Jenny here from the Outdoor Centre.’
‘Oh, hello. Thanks for calling me back.’
‘No problem. So you said in your message that you wanted to learn to windsurf?’
I have to fight the instinct to shout no at the top of my voice, but instead I hear myself squeaking a yes. Why anyone would want to sail out to sea standing on a wedge of foam with a flimsy plastic sail is beyond me. Whenever I’ve seen windsurfers in Portsmouth it’s always on those foul, stinking days where they’re getting bashed around by the howling wind and rain. It’s not the best advert for the sport.
‘Well, the best way to start is to do an introduction to windsurfing day. Then from there you can do a weekend beginners’ course, then an intermediate and before you know it you’ll be riding the waves on your own.’
I stifle a laugh. Yeah, right.
‘Will the introductory thing teach me to stop and go?’
‘Um, yeah, there’s hopefully a little more to it than that, but essentially that’s it.’
‘Perfect,’ I say. The list said learn to windsurf, so that will be it – job done. I’ll have my photo for Facebook. If only I could do it without getting wet. ‘Do you supply the boards?’
I’m desperately hoping the answer will be yes, as not only do I not want to fork out for one when I’ve already got to buy a bike, but I can’t imagine where I’d possibly store it in my shoebox flat.
‘Yes, we lend you everything. Wetsuits, board and sail and buoyancy aids.’
‘Great.’
‘So, we’ve got room on our course on Saturday.’
‘This Saturday?’
Now, I know I’ve been banging on about whipping through the challenges, but this Saturday? That only gives me three days to stress, stew and psych myself up. I was hoping to dip my toe into this list with the easy stuff first before I prepared to battle one of man’s most dangerous adversaries: the sea.
‘Yes, or we’ve got another one running the last weekend of the month, if you’d prefer.’
‘Um, yes, that sounds better,’ I say, exhaling.
That gives me three weeks to get my confidence up. By then I’ll probably be some adrenaline junkie pro. Or I’ve got three weeks to get myself some Valium to get me through it.
‘Great. So the course, including hire, costs seventy-five pounds. You can pay a deposit of fifty pounds now and the rest on the day.’
This list is getting more expensive by the minute. So far, afternoon tea at the Ritz is costing me fifty pounds (plus travel expenses and inevitable cocktails after), a ten-week beginner’s Spanish course that starts next week is costing me seventy pounds, and I’ve entered a 10k Race for Life (which is almost a half marathon – right?) at sixteen pounds. And that’s before I buy proper running shoes and a decent sports bra to strap the puppies into. I’d worked out that doing those three challenges alone was going to cost me about £250.
This is probably why people do their bucket lists over a few years rather than a few months. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m losing my mind – as well as my hard-earned pounds – doing this.
With my rent going up, my savings can’t really afford to take such a hit, but I can’t put a cost on love, can I? I mean, at the end of it I’ll be poor, but I’ll have Joseph back, and surely that’ll be all that matters. That and when we get back together this time I might bring up moving in with him and then I’ll save money. If you think about it, it’s just a short-term investment.
I rattle off my card details, officially booking my place, and say my goodbyes to Jenny. As I put my credit card back into my wallet, I spot the card that Giles’s friend Ben gave me last week. I ought to pay him a visit at the bike shop because the sooner I start practising how to ride on two wheels, the sooner I’ll be able to tick it off my list. I look at the address and realise it’s not that far from the office. I could probably go in my lunch hour tomorrow.
‘That sounded exciting,’ says my colleague Fran, leaning between the crack in the partition that separates our desks.
‘Oh, um, yes, should be.’
I hadn’t realised that anyone would overhear. I don’t like to make personal calls at work.
‘Are you coming to the meeting?’ asks Giles before Fran can ask any more questions.
I glance at the clock behind his head and I see that it’s ten o’clock already. I’ve been at work an hour and so far all I’ve done is sort out my extracurricular activities. I was meant to be doing some initial designs for a museum client, but I’ll have to do it after lunch now.
‘Yep,’ I say, standing up and rummaging around my desk for a pad and pens.
‘So that was fun at the pub the other day,’ he says as we make our way to our meeting room.
‘Yes, thanks for inviting me. I had a lovely time.’
‘Us too. Laura’s really excited about you coming to Wales.’
‘Well, that makes one of us,’ I say, before realising how awful that sounds. ‘I mean it’s not that I’m not excited about going with you lot, but I’m pretty nervous about the hike. I’m worried that I’m never going to make it to the top.’
I’m desperately trying to dig my way out of the hole I found myself in as Giles pushes open the door to our meeting.
‘You’ll be fine,’ he says quietly as he holds the door open for me.
We take our seats opposite Rick and Linz, who barely seem to have noticed we’ve arrived – too lost in their own conversation.
I clear my throat noisily.
‘Hey,’ says Rick, snapping his head to face forward. He still can’t look me in the eye, after the whole trampoline-boob-grabbing incident. I fold my arms protectively over my chest as if to hide the offenders. ‘Now you’re both here we’ll get started. I’ve asked Linz along as she’s new to the business and the tendering process, so I thought this would be a good way to walk her through it.
‘Right, as you know Spinnaker are considering changing marketing agencies, and their head office in York has put it out to tender. We’re competing with national as well as local firms. I’m hoping what gives us an edge is our local knowledge, so let’s bear that in mind when we work up a concept. They want us to give them a glimpse of the design and what they’d expect from us, so I’m hoping we’ll be able to come up with something fresh and innovative that they’ll like. Giles, at this stage we don’t need you to build a website, but could you liaise with Abi about ideas for it, as it might influence the branding and design Abi puts together. Also, Abi, if you could bring Linz into that design process that would be great. I think it’s good to get some fresh, young blood on this.’
Between that and Linz’s earlier comment about my mood boards being old school, I’m beginning to think that I should be reaching for my Zimmer frame.
‘Whilst I’m going to make sure that I make the figures as competitive as possible, I think it’s really going to come down to how we impress them with the concept. So have you had any ideas so far?’
Rick looks between me and Giles and I’m about to open my mouth when Linz pipes up.
‘I thought a good starting point might be to consider other iconic towers, you know the Eiffel Tower, the Shard, the Empire State Building. We’ve got to think of the Spinnaker being Portsmouth’s version of one of those,’ she says in a confident tone.
My mouth’s dropped open and I’m staring at her in disbelief. She’s stolen my idea. Or at least my fake idea. I’d fudged that as a cover story to hide my printing motivations, but of course Linz doesn’t know that. In her head, she thinks she’s pre-empting what I was going to say.
‘That’s an interesting take,’ says Rick. ‘And how would you translate that into a design idea?’
‘Um, well, I guess . . . it would be about making it seem large and impressive.’
Any feeling of annoyance at her poaching my idea fades away as it seems that given a little bit of rope Linz will hang herself.
‘OK,’ says Rick, smiling at her politely. ‘So, Abi, Giles, any ideas?’
‘Well, I think we should concentrate on the USPs – I mean it’s all about the view. The nearest equivalent experience would be somewhere in London. I think the fact that it’s located on the seafront is a key component that could be reflected in the design,’ I say.
‘I think that’s heading along the right lines,’ says Rick, nodding.
‘We could have the tower as part of the letters in the logo,’ says Linz, like an animated puppy. ‘You know the ‘p’ could be a picture of the tower.’
I watch as she starts to doodle on a pad and I’m a little gutted to say that it looks pretty good.
‘That’s great,’ says Rick, nodding enthusiastically. ‘Abi, could you work with Linz further to mock that up.’
Linz gives me a flash of her bright whites and I smile back through gritted teeth.
‘I’ve had an idea,’ says Giles. ‘Or, at least, Abi’s given me an idea. She was telling me how she wants to abseil down the tower . . .’
Oh no. I snap my head round and widen my eyes to get Giles to stop, but I can’t get his attention. I see Rick’s eyes are twinkling – his interest piqued.
‘I was thinking,’ continues Giles, ‘why don’t we do it as a team event? Show that the agency is up to the challenge?’
Oh, God. There it is. He’s laid down the gauntlet for the bloody king of crazy challenges.
I was hoping that I’d never have to do the Spinnaker abseil. It was supposed to be the finale that would never come because my leading man would show up at the end of Act One.
‘I love that idea. What better way to prove that we understand the attraction than experiencing it in a way that no other agency would,’ says Rick, slamming his hand down on the table in triumph.
I’m starting to hyperventilate. I feel Linz staring at me, her eyes narrowing, as if she’s a dog smelling my fear.
‘I’m so up for that,’ she says looking directly at me. ‘I love abseiling. I did loads of it at university.’
‘Excellent,’ says Rick. ‘Us four will obviously do it, but we can open it to the wider office to see if anyone else wants to take part.’
‘But, Giles,’ I say, ‘weren’t you saying the other day that you couldn’t imagine doing it?’
‘Well, if you’re going to, then I’d be pretty wimpy not doing it myself,’ he says, shrugging his shoulders.
‘That settles it. The pitch for the tender is at the end of May, so if we could do it before then. Abi, are you all right to organise it?’ says Rick.
‘Of course,’ I say, rehearsing in my head the little white lie I’ll tell this afternoon – that sadly every date between now and the end of May is full.
‘I can do it,’ says Linz, putting her hand up as if she is still at school. ‘I mean, Abi’s so busy with all her existing account work, I’ll happily coordinate a day we can all do.’
‘OK, then. Thanks, Linz,’ says Rick.
Linz raises a satisfied eyebrow, and gives me a smile that only a woman would understand. I’m sure neither of the boys will realise it has all the hallmarks of a bitchy move.
‘So, let’s get cracking on some concepts, and we’ll meet back in two weeks to see what we’ve come up with. And hopefully Linz will have some news for us on the abseil. Excellent idea, Abi – I hadn’t picked you as the adventurous type. I’m impressed,’ says Rick as we stand up to leave.
I see Linz’s face fall as he praises me, and I can’t help feeling a little swell of pride. No one’s ever called me adventurous before. Although I’m sure he won’t be calling me that when I back out, unable to even go up the tower, let alone abseil down it.
I watch Linz as she bounds out of the meeting room, energetic and hungry for the job. I can’t shake the feeling that she was deliberately trying to steal my thunder at the meeting. I wonder if that’s what Giles meant the other day. That while I was at home brooding, she was here getting cosy and muscling in on my job.
It’s bad enough that I’m having to up my game thanks to my written warning, but now I’m going to have to keep up with some eager-beaver newbie who’s showing me up.
How am I going to get out of the abseil now? There was me thinking that I wouldn’t actually have to go through with this, but now everyone at work will be expecting me to do it. I’ve not only got to get Joseph back before the end of May, but I also need to come up with a good enough excuse to wriggle out of the abseil. One that’s less disturbing than Fran’s fake baby. I thought I had enough on my plate trying to do this list, but now the pressure is really on.