With the move to the city, Lynne would be someone. She would be sophisticated, capable, confident. She would see herself reflected in the sleek glass windows of skyscrapers wearing elegant office clothes and high heeled shoes. She would cut her long hair into a fashionable style and wear make-up that was on trend, copied from magazines.
She took a customer service job, found an affordable bedsit on the edge of the city, and tried her best to fit in. The commute was long on packed trains, but she felt like someone important. She was glad to leave her room early and arrive back late. The working days passed quickly, it was the evenings and weekends which felt long. Saturdays looking round the city centre shops admiring the clothes which looked so good on the models but never seemed to look the same on her. There were several suits and dresses hanging in her wardrobe with the labels still attached, waiting to be worn. On Sundays she cleaned her room, filled the freezer with home cooked meals, and packed lunches for the week ahead.. The phone calls home only made the loneliness more present. She told herself it would pass but three months in and with winter approaching the dark evenings felt uncomfortably empty.
“Has anyone seen my stapler?”
Shandra’s desk was lost under a mess of papers. All the office coffee cups could be found there when the kitchen cupboard was empty. Lynne brought in a travel mug each day, it sat prettily in it’s place on the coaster to the right of the keyboard next to the pot of pens.
“You can borrow mine!”
“Lynne, you’re always so neat!” Shandra said, plucking the stapler from it’s resting place.
As Shandra leaned across her desk Lynne smelled stale alcohol on her breath. Shandra looked slightly dishevelled as though she had overslept again, a late night the night before.
Lynne had recently joined a few social media sites to see if Shandra’s lifestyle was everything she made it out to be, she had set up a profile and posted some pictures of her houseplants, she had received likes from her family back home. She wondered if she should get dressed up and photograph herself with a glass of wine in her hand, but she did not think anyone would be convinced she was at a party and Mam would only worry.
Shandra appeared to Lynne like a beautiful exotic bird floating on a warm tropical breeze, and many of Shandra’s photos seemed to be taken on foreign shores. It all looked effortless.
She was their team leader but hardly seemed to do any work; she was often late or absent but that did not cause her any problems; she got on well with their manager Ben. Lynne would often see them laughing together in the kitchenette. Lynne wondered if they might be having an affair, the kind of thing which involved lustful embraces in the supply cupboard or the lift. The thought of Ben kissing Shandra made Lynne feel nauseous.
“Oh, I nearly forgot, I saw Ben in the lift, he wants to see you in his office,” Sandra said.
“Did he say what it’s about?” Lynne asked, feeling a little knot of anxiety curl up in her stomach and make itself known.
“He wants to go over your probationary review with you.”
Lynne stopped outside the door with the small name plaque which said, Ben Worthing – Operations Manager, taking a few calming breaths before knocking lightly. When there was no reply, she knocked again more loudly. Ben caught her eye through the glass panel, and she could see he was on the phone, he gestured for her to enter and sit in the vacant chair opposite.
She sat quietly waiting for him to finish his conversation, trying to calm her nerves, watching Ben in fleeting glances as he spoke into his headset and gestured at his computer screen. Lynne liked Ben, he had kind eyes, hazel and flecked with gold and green. Shandra had eyes like a bird, eyes which darted to things to decide coldly if they were to consumed or were a threat. Ben was not suited to Shandra at all.
Lynne wondered if like her he might enjoy long walks maybe quietly reading a book or a newspaper on a bench in the sun while the world went by.
She thought of the park by the river back home. She had sat there alone many times as a teenager. Now she imagined him there with her under the large old willow tree with its branches trailing down around them to ripple the water. She felt a longing of homesickness and something else she could not name.
Ben ended his phone call and hung up the phone.
“Lynne, Hi, sorry about that.”
Lynne smiled and made a small nervous gesture of hello, “It’s ok.”
“Can you believe it’s already been three months?”
He shuffled some papers around on his desk to find the report he was looking for.
“Shandra says you’ve settled in well with the team?”
Lynne thought of the five other people she shared her office with, she barely knew beyond having learned their names. Once or twice they had invited her for a drink after work but at the time she had been trying the exercise classes her free gym membership offered. They had not asked her again.
“You’ve got to grips with the system. Attendance, punctuality, it’s all really good. Beautifully detailed notes, I see. There is just one thing though, it’s your escalated call rate. You’re just putting too many people through to other departments.”
Lynne wanted to say that she was trying to help. She remembered the training session about call deflection or how to get people off the phone quickly, but it had not seemed right to her, that putting them off was not really helping them at all. Every one of the customers had seemed to have a legitimate reason for calling in and worthy of help. She had to admit when Shandra was on the phone no-one got through to anyone. Lynne nodded again feeling her heart beating and the knot in her stomach tightening a little bit more uncomfortably, she started to worry about her IBS.
“Would a refresher on the call deflection module help?” Ben asked, a patient smile showing on his gentle lips.
“Oh, I’ve got all the notes. I just need to be … well, um… you know, stricter with them,”
Ben was looking at her thoughtfully,
“You moved here from out in the sticks somewhere, didn’t you?”
“Nant Hyfred.”
“I’ve never been there but I’ve heard it’s nice though. And you worked in your local hardware store?”
“Yes, it’s pretty much the only shop there.”
“I remember you telling me about it now..”
He ran a hand over his beard as he contemplated her. Lynne felt her anxiety grow into a sense of cold dread, knowing he was deciding her fate; wondering how she would find another job. She would have to give up her room and move back home to live with her parents.
“Look Lynne, I’d really like to stamp this so you can get your pay rise but …”
She might have begged if she had been able to find the words and her throat wasn’t tight with fear. Without realising it she must have been pleading with her eyes as she looked up at him.
“Ok, look, here’s what I’m going to do. You’re a good employee, you’re organised, and on time and a real asset to the office. I can see you’re trying, and I know it’s a lot to take in when you first start. It seems to me you want this to work so I’m going to put this report to one side for couple of months and then we’ll look at the stats again. OK?”
Lynne felt her breath gushing back into her lungs and realised she had been holding her breath.
By the end of the day a full tension headache had settled behind her eyes and she felt exhausted. It was dark at when she stepped out into the rain wondering why she did not have her umbrella.
Lynne heard Shandra’s laughter from the stairs, her heels tip-tapping confidently across the reception floor as she led the others out. Shandra came out into the street barely noticing Lynne on the doorstep. Without pausing for a beat, she lifted an umbrella and pressed the button to release it; allowing it to unfurl colourfully over her head as she said goodbye to the others. Lynne recognised the pattern of blue irises and daffodils on the umbrella, it was the one Auntie Jean had given her as a leaving present. She opened her mouth to speak but Shandra had already clipped away without a backward glance.
The rain was cold and her thin coat not up to the job of keeping her warm and dry alone. Close to the buildings trying to shelter from the worst of it she stepped onto a metal ventilation grill at the edge of a towering office block. The heel on her shoe caught in one of the small square holes and stuck fast. As she tried inconspicuously to free herself by wriggling her foot, she felt it come loose with a snap, staring down in dismay at the ragged edge of the leather and the stump of the heal which should have supported her.
No-one passing by seemed to notice and no-one stopped to help or to see if she was ok. She held a cold hand against her hot forehead to calm herself for a moment before trying not to cry as she limped on towards the station.
Passed the window of a shoe shop with a sign that read, “Handmade shoes for comfort. Treatment for foot disorders.” Lynne paused. The shop was closed but she stopped to look at the display of sensible flat shoes that her feet seemed to long for like the comfort of a warm blanket and the embrace of a soft chair by the fireside.
It was while she was contemplating the shoes that she noticed the shop next door. This shop was still open its window was brightly lit with neon signs; mystical symbols, East Asian pictograms, she had never seen anything like it. There was a inside the window were rows of shelves filled with bottles and jars. Lynne realised it must be a medicine shop. It excited her to think of it as an apothecary, something out of legend or history, where people from a different age sought remedies of dried herbs which came in little packets tied with string. She wondered if they might have something to ease her headache.
With caution she remembered that new shops arriving in the high street of Nant Hyfred, unless they were opened by locals they were regarded with suspicion and no-one went in until someone else went in first and reported back on it. Mam said they came from a long line of worriers. Lynne thought it was what had kept them all in Nant Hyfred for generations. Lynne wondered who that first person was to enter a new place and decide if it was ok; was it by chance that someone decided one day just to risk it.
Hadn’t Lynne moved to the city to be the person who tried new things and report back on her success?
Opening the door set off the tinkling of a wind chime, a melody of notes cascading into the warm fragrant air. One scent was indistinguishable from another, herbs, spices, flowers, and something more potent, something which seemed to reach inside her overwrought mind and draw her in with the promise of solace.
A girl was sitting on a stool behind the counter reading a book.
“Are you sick, miss?”
“Um… oh, I’m not sure… I just…”
The girl called called out to summon the shop keeper.
“I don’t really think that I need….”
But Lynne could hear slow heavy footsteps coming down a staircase she could not see. For the briefest moment Lynne imagined the owner of the shop would look like a wizard with shining silk robes embroidered with gold, and a long white beard. He might have a gnarled old staff and be imbued with secret and ancient magic.
The man who emerged from behind the beaded curtain was disappointingly average. He was clean shaven and wearing an ordinary green jumper over a beige shirt. He did not have a staff but a well-worn walking stick which he hung over the edge of the counter.
“My grandfather doesn’t speak much English,” said the girl, “He’s the doctor here. He can help you.”
The old man smiled warmly and gestured to the small statue of a woman which lay reclined on the countertop in front of him.
“It’s traditional,” The girl said with a shrug. “He wants you to indicate where your pain is by pointing to the statue.”
Lynne opened her mouth to protest, racing to think of an excuse and escape but her head ached so much. She pointed swiftly to the figurine indicating her head, and then after a moment’s consideration, she pointed again to the stomach.
The old man nodded sagely and spoke to the girl.
“He wants to take your pulse.” The girl said.
Lynne held out her wrist and felt the old man’s fingers curl around her hot damp skin. His hands were cool and smooth, soft like the paper of a well-read book. After a few moments he let her go and stood back studying her with a look of concentration.
“Stick out your tongue,” The girl said. “As wide as you can.”
Lynne did as she was asked, feeling increasingly self-conscious. It took all of her will not to baulk when it seemed as though the old man was sniffing her before seizing his stick and disappearing behind the bead curtain again.
“You can relax now,” the girl said giving Lynne a brief reassuring smile.
When the old man returned, with a small dropper bottle in one hand and some tablets in the other.
The girl translated,
“He says the problem is with your spirit. You are out of place, off balance. He says one or two drops of the yellow medicine each morning and evening, along with one of the tablets each time you feel anxious or have pain.”
The old man placed the medicines on the counter and spoke again, gesturing with his hand to emphasise the importance of his words.
“And most important you see yourself how you want to be… I don’t know how to explain what he’s trying to say properly….” She seemed to think about it for a moment or two. “You have to find your right place…. My grandfather is a healer. Would you like him to bless you?”
A blessing sounded good, like the minister in Chapel drawing the protective sign of the cross over himself and giving them words of comfort for the week ahead. Lynne felt needed all the comfort she could get.
The old man took off his glasses and placed them gently them on the counter in front of him preparing himself for something. He squinted at Lynne as though to check she was still there, then he closed his eyes and bowed his head in prayer or meditation. Bowed over he appeared diminished, an aged man in need of a rest. Then suddenly he began to straighten lifting his head and shoulders until he seemed to have grown twice his height. His eyes widened and intensely focused on Lynne. Unexpectedly he cast his arms out wide seeming to grow bigger again, inhaling as he drew himself up filling the space behind the counter with his presence. Lynne could sense strength building in him until the precise moment he exhaled, pushing his hands out in front of him towards her. She felt a force sweeping over her so powerful she had to close her eyes. It felt at once like a perfect summer’s day and a terrifying storm while not a head on her hair was moved.
The following morning Lynne squeezed two fat sticky drops of yellow liquid from the dropper watching as the liquid unfurled into her glass of water as though it was ravenously exploring the world outside the bottle, before dissolving and disappearing leaving the water clear once again.
As Lynne gulped it down she visualised herself as Shandra, walking in Shandra’s shoes, and sitting at Shandra’s desk, living Shandra’s easy breezy life. It was a bright sunny day and as Lynne made her way to the station she realised all her usual knots, aches and worries had for once dissolved away.
People were looking at her and worried something about her clothing was out of place. She had put on one of the new dresses she had bought weeks back and not her usual loose blouse and trousers, maybe they had noticed. Lynne channelled her inner Shandra, put her shoulders back and stood tall.
“Hey, Shandra. Is Lynne not in today, are you using her desk?” Lucas asked putting his coat on the back of his chair at his desk opposite.
Lynne looked at him carefully for the hint of joke. It was obviously the dress; she told herself he was trying to draw some comparison to Shandra.
“Stop messing around Lucas!” Lynne said, blushing and trying to laugh it off.
Lucas just shrugged and sat down to log in.
Lynne also tried her password, but the screen flashed up an error. She tried again more carefully but the same error barred her.
“Are you having trouble logging in?” Lynne asked.
“Not today,” Lucas replied.
“I can’t get in.”
“Ring IT? I’m sure Pavel will fix it.”
Lynne picked up the phone and dialled the extension for Pavel, the nonchalant IT guy who’s office was somewhere deep in the basement near the vast server room.
“What log-in name are you using?” Pavel asked sounding as bored as if she was the hundredth employee not to be able to log in that morning.
“Lynnette.Rees”
“Shandra, I can’t give you Lynne’s password, you know that,” Pavel said, laughing lightly to hide his awkwardness.
Whatever the ruse was they were all in on it, they would be expecting her to make herself look crazy by protesting.
Lynne hung up the phone in disgust. She found Ben in the kitchenette waiting patiently for the clapped-out coffee machine to work itself up to dispense his coffee.
“Ben, please, please help me,” Lynne said taking hold of his arm.
“Shandra, get a hold of yourself!” Ben said shaking himself free.
Lynne took a step back, feeling wounded,
“Please just stop! I’m not Shandra. I’m Lynne, please, Ben, I’m Lynne.”
“Come off it Shandra, you don’t have to play these stupid games. Is this because I told you I want to try that new restaurant with Lynne?”
“I’m Lynne, it’s me! And I’d love to go to dinner with you!”
“Very funny, Shandra, aren’t bars, drinks and late night kebabs more your thing?”
Ben retrieved his coffee and walked away laughing to himself.
“I’m not Shandra, and I don’t want to be Shandra!” Lynne yelled after him. When she turned back to face the office she found everyone staring at her but she could not be sure what they were seeing when they looked at her.
E. Travelli 