pulled herself together, and was eerily calm.
‘You owe me that sofa,’ she said. Arthur was standing now, casting his arms around, trying to say something, anything, but realizing as he did so that somewhere, underneath all of this, there was a definite feeling of relief – and that this was the biggest betrayal of all.
‘You … you betrayed me,’ she said, unnervingly voicing exactly what was going through his head. ‘Maybe not with another woman – but then, of course, I don’t know you at all, do I?’
‘There aren’t any other women,’ said Arthur dully, although he couldn’t help wondering – it was a flash, nothing more – about Gwyneth’s set up.
‘But you betrayed me, nonetheless. You saw me every day and you knew absolutely what I was in for, and absolutely what I was after and you spat on it and pissed it out the window the whole damn time. Did you laugh as the years went by, Arthur? Did you laugh every day because I still hadn’t cottoned on that nothing – nothing I did was any use? That there was nothing I could do? You stole that time from me, Arthur Pendleton. You stole it, and you know you did.’
‘I …’ Arthur exclaimed helplessly.
‘You absolute wretch. Well, fuck you! That’s my curse on you. Fuck you and everything that will ever happen to you.’
‘I wish people would stop saying that today.’
‘Fuck you,’ she said again, and it echoed around the room as she slammed the door. Arthur stood there for a second, until she marched back in, scooped up the television remote control, her bag, her dressing gown, then stood in front of him where he was frozen to the carpet and calmly blacked his other eye.
‘I think I’d maybe … I’d quite like to come in and see you.’
Lynne regarded the strange purple-eyed apparition peering round her doorway coolly. Arthur had driven in at five miles an hour.
‘Can you see?’
‘Ha ha. Is this a good time?’
‘Time …’ mused Lynne. ‘What a funny question. All times are exactly the same.’
She stared out of the window. Today she was wearing six layers of different colours of brown. They floated all over her chair. One layer looked like it might be made out of a piece of sacking.
‘Er, yes they are,’ averred Arthur. ‘Except you know, they’re not. When you’re doing something or, you know, waiting for black eyes to heal.’
‘Is that what those are? I thought you were turning into a panda. I saw that happen once …’
Arthur threw up his hands in defeat. ‘Fine, I’ll come back later.’
‘No, no, come in.’
Arthur mooched in and slouched onto the sofa. There was an expectant silence.
‘Well?’ said Lynne.
‘I don’t know … Can you give me some therapy or something?’
‘What, just like that?’
Arthur shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Jolly good,’ said Lynne. ‘Right. You get confused between umbrellas and your penis.’
‘I do not!’
They both looked out of Lynne’s windows, where it was raining.
‘Just as well,’ said Arthur.
‘Quite,’ said Lynne. ‘Well, you get that kind of thing with off the peg therapy.’
Arthur sighed. Lynne peered over her spectacles.
‘Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to psychically guess that Ross took a swing at you and you’ve split up with your girlfriend?’
‘That’s creepy,’ said Arthur. ‘Well, what do you recommend, seeing as I’m supposed to be starting the most difficult job of my career this morning and I look like George Dubya eating a pretzel.’
‘Talk to your girlfriend,’ said Lynne. ‘That’s probably better than talking to me.’
‘What! That’s the most useless advice I’ve ever heard! You’re the worst therapist ever!’
‘What do you want me to say? Well done for betraying your girlfriend?’
‘I didn’t betray her. She bloody said that too. It’s not like I did anything.’
But his face gave him away.
‘Well, exactly. You should have done something. You should have split up with her years ago.’
‘Okay, well, thank you Germaine Greer but I happen to completely disagree. All she ever had to do was ask, then she did ask and I told her.’
Lynne shook her head. ‘You’re going to regret that.’
‘What? I thought I could say anything in here!’
‘Not what you said. What you did.’
‘Yes, I’m sure I will regret it, if I lose the sight in one eye.’
They were quiet. Arthur was seething. This was a hard time for him, goddammit. Didn’t he deserve a bit of sympathy?
‘You’ll be late,’ said Lynne.
The huge cubicle room was not just quiet, it was completely, utterly silent. It was hard to believe there was anyone in there at all. From the second Arthur stepped through the door, heads disappeared into files, up close against computer screens, probably even in some cases straight under the desks, using the ‘if he can’t see me he can’t fire me’ technique. Arthur went forward gingerly.
‘Hello!’ he said as usual to the grumpy temp at the front of the office. But instead of grinning and giving him some cheeky answer, she looked up, startled.
‘Er, hello Mr Pendleton.’
He squinted at her. ‘Um …’ Of course he still couldn’t remember her name. ‘You don’t have to call me Mr Pendleton.’
She looked at him. ‘What, do you want me to go back to calling you “Not Too Much of a Wanker”?’
From somewhere he could be sure he heard a very quiet giggle.
‘No, I stay away from my Native American name when I’m working,’ he said, heading past her.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I just didn’t recognize you with your sunglasses on.’
‘I’m not wearing … oh,
