Rachel [09:34]: Oh, come on. I know that made you laugh. As in, I literally just watched you laugh and then try and turn it into a cough when you realised the head of Editorial was walking past.
Tiffany [09:36]: Did it work, do you think?
‘Tiffy? Do you have a minute?’ calls the head of Editorial.
Shit. ‘Do you have a minute’ is always bad. If it was urgent but non-problematic, he’d just shout it across the room or send me an email with one of those passive-aggressive red exclamation marks on it. No, ‘do you have a minute’ means it’s confidential, and that almost certainly means it’s worse than just sniggering at my desk because I’m messaging Rachel about kissing.
What’s Katherin done? Has she uploaded a picture of her vagina on Twitter, as she threatens to do literally every time I ask her to do another interview at Martin’s request?
Or is it one of the many, many books that I have completely ignored in the madness that has been Crochet Your Way? I can’t even remember their titles any more. I’ve shifted pub dates like I’ve been playing Bananagrams, and I definitely haven’t run the changes by the head of Editorial. It’ll be that, won’t it? I’ve ignored someone’s book for so long that it’s actually gone to print without any words in it.
‘Sure,’ I say, pushing away from my desk in what I hope is a brisk and professional manner.
I follow him into his office. He closes the door behind me.
‘Tiffy,’ he begins, perching on the edge of his desk. ‘I know it’s been a busy few months for you.’
I swallow. ‘Oh, it’s been fine,’ I say. ‘Thanks, though!’
He gives me a slightly odd look at this point, which is entirely understandable.
‘You’ve done a fantastic job with Katherin’s book,’ he says. ‘It really is a stellar piece of publishing. You spotted that trend – no, you shaped it. Really, top notch.’
I blink, bewildered. I neither spotted that trend nor shaped it – I’ve been publishing crochet books ever since I started at Butterfingers.
‘Thanks?’ I say, feeling a bit guilty.
‘We’re so impressed with your recent work, Tiffy, that we’d like to promote you to editor,’ he says.
It takes a good few seconds for the words to sink in, and when they do, I make a very peculiar choking noise.
‘Are you all right?’ he asks, frowning.
I clear my throat. ‘Fine! Thanks!’ I squeak. ‘I mean, I just didn’t expect . . .’
. . . ever to get promoted. Literally, ever. I had entirely given up hope.
‘It’s extremely well deserved,’ he says, smiling benevolently.
I manage to smile back. I don’t really know what to do with myself. What I want to do is ask how much more money I’ll be getting, but there’s no dignified way to ask that question.
‘Thanks so much,’ I gush instead, and then I feel a bit pathetic, because let’s be honest they should have promoted me two years ago, and it’s undignified to grovel. I draw myself up to my full height and give him a more purposeful smile. ‘I’d better get back to work,’ I say. Senior people always like to hear you say that.
‘Absolutely,’ he says. ‘HR will send over details of the salary increase et cetera.’
I like the sound of that et cetera.
*
Congratulations on the promotion! Better late than never? Made you mushroom stroganoff to celebrate. x
I smile. The note is stuck on the fridge, which is already one layer deep in Post-its. My current favourite is a doodle Leon did, depicting the man in Flat 5 sitting on an enormous heap of bananas. (We still don’t know why he keeps so many banana crates in his parking space.)
I rest my forehead against the fridge door for a moment, then run my fingers across the layers of paper scraps and Post-its. There’s so much here. Jokes, secrets, stories, the slow unfolding of two people whose lives have been changing in parallel – or, I don’t know, in synch. Different times, same place.
I reach for a pen.
Thank you I’ve been doing a lot of celebratory dancing around the flat, just so you know. Like, seriously uncool, trying-to-moonwalk dancing. I can’t imagine that’s something you ever partake in, somehow . . .
Can I ask what you’re up to this weekend? I’m guessing you’ll be staying at your mum’s again? I just wondered if you wanted to maybe go out for a drink or something to celebrate