* * *
After my lunchtime walk, I spot a missed call from Dawoud. He doesn’t usually call me and my heart skips a beat. No, if something were wrong with Dad, I would have heard from Mum as well. When I call Dawoud back, I find out he only phoned to ask me to order more catheters.
He could ask Mum to do that, but instead I say, “Sure, of course. I’ll do it now.” Just because I’ve moved out doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do anything for Dad. It only takes me two minutes to log on to the website and place an order.
I’m about to let Mum know I’ve done this, but a message from her is already sitting in our chat. Oh, she’s sent me a voice note. She never does that. I didn’t think she knew how. I press Play.
“MADELEINE!”
Of course she’s shouting. I lower the volume on my earphones.
“MADELEINE! I HAVE JUST DISCOVERED VOICE ACTIVATION MESSAGES ON THE WHATSAPP. LOOK AT HOW YOUR MOTHER IS—”
The message ends there.
* * *
I return to my desk and prioritize Penny’s list. I only suffer a few hiccups, mainly with the printer because they’re all bastards and will likely lead the technological charge in the eventual war against humans, but I’ve finished everything before Penny returns from her last meeting of the day. She walks into her office, picks up the stack of papers I left on her desk, and leafs through them.
“This is everything,” she says.
I wait in case it’s a question.
She looks surprised. “Thank you, Maddie.”
“You’re welcome.”
She closes her door, and Eliza pops up again.
“Well done,” she mouths with a thumbs-up.
I mock wipe my brow and mouth, “Thanks!”
* * *
The following weeks pretty much follow a similar pattern. I try to see if I can help with any actual books, but Penny and office admin takes up so much of my day. Just trying to come to grips with the database can take me hours at a time. I’m electronically filing some records when the assistant and commissioning editors head into Penny’s office for an impromptu Creative meeting. I wonder what they’re discussing in there … maybe the reissue of Free Eating.
Free Eating is a plant-based cookbook first released when being a vegetarian was too much of an ask for people. Now we’re hoping a new jacket, bonus material, and the writer’s expanding social media presence will give it a new lease on life. The author’s brand is that he was a vegan before it became a trend （his words, not mine）， and the man （judging by his correspondence） sounds a bit of a dick to be honest. He signs off every email with: Blessings,
Jim Carper
OG Vegan
Penny’s door opens. “Maddie?”
I pop out of my seat. Is she going to ask me to join?
“Can you make me and Thea a tea, please, and bring it in?”
“Oh, sure.”
I used to hate making other people tea until Avi once said, “If someone asks you to make them a cup of tea with no further information, they deserve whatever they get—especially since they’re not even paying for it” and it’s been a whole new world for me since then.
I enter Penny’s office and notice her table is splashed with food photography. I crane my neck to look before placing the two cups of tea on her table. I turn to leave when Penny says, “Thea, do you need more milk?”
Thea, a petite brunette, says, “No, thanks. It’s fine.”
I nod and reach for the door again.
“Maddie,” Penny says. “I could use more milk.” I look at her mug and wonder if she’s saying this for future reference. “Is there any left?”
“Yes, I’ll grab some.”
I think I should have taken her mug with me, but since I don’t know the correct amount of milk, I take the carton to her. I plan to put it on the table and leave, but Penny holds her mug out to me.
“I’ll say stop,” she says.
Thea momentarily stares at her, whilst the others busy themselves with the photographs. My throat tightens at her reaction.
I unscrew the milk top, feeling strange, and pour milk into Penny’s mug for her.
“Stop,” she says. “Thank you so much, Maddie.”
I can’t look at her, so I nod and leave the room. I feel my eyes burning, but I can’t figure out why. One part of my brain is saying it’s no big deal, just milk in a mug, but another part—Thea’s reaction—tells me Penny shouldn’t have asked me to do that.
Chapter Twelve
Ben calls when I’m back at my desk.
I answer without thinking and then pause. “Shit,” I mouth.
Eliza looks over at me; I point to the phone and whisper “Emergency.” I leave the room and step into the corridor.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Maddie. It’s Ben.”
“Hi, Ben.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Oh, I’m at work.”
“Right, okay,” he says, matching my whisper. “Just wondered if you’d like to have dinner Saturday night at my place.”
“Dinner? On Saturday?”
An actual date? Just the two of you? Nonstop conversation for at least two hours? Do you think he’ll kiss you at the end?
My mind runs a list of excuses I could give Ben.
Period pains? Too personal.
Already have plans? Makes rescheduling an option （also, a lie）。
Mercury is in retrograde? I don’t actually know what that means, but everyone is saying it.
I went out yesterday night, and I’m still a little hungover? Signs of a possible alcoholic.
I don’t want to go not because I don’t like you but because I haven’t been on a date in almost a decade and the thought makes me want to be sick? Nonsensical to everyone but me.
“Yes, tomorrow,” he says.
“Ben, why are you whispering?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s weird talking aloud with someone who’s whispering on the other line.”
I smile. From the office, I hear Penny ask, “Where’s Maddie?”
“Okay, dinner Saturday night at your place. Sounds good.”
“Great. I’ll text you the address. See you tomorrow, Maddie.”
“Bye, Ben.”
He laughs, probably because I’m still whispering, before hanging up.
* * *
As soon as I’m out of the office doors, I pull my phone out. Farringdon during rush hour is not a street you want to walk across with downcast eyes, but these are desperate times. I won’t have a signal once I’m on the underground.
Google: How to prepare for a first date
My top four first-date tips—article written by Lisa Fiener
I have been on so many first dates, I’ve lost count.
My head jerks back at this.
So if you’ve found this article, you’re in safe hands. Follow my top tips to ensure success on your first date.
I scroll down to see if Lisa Fiener has embedded any links to articles she’s written about second dates. She has not.
Nerves: if this is your first date in a long time or even just a first date with someone you really like, you’re probably working up a sweat just thinking about it. Kick those nerves to the curb by keeping yourself preoccupied in the run up to D-day. How about fitting in an intense workout at the gym or even book in some time for a spray tan to give you that extra boost of confidence? Distract yourself to avoid overthinking; my distraction of choice is a prebooked massage so I’m relaxed and soothed right before my big date.