Darren and Jenny had been seeing each other for around six months. The day he posted the valentines card in her locker, she rushed over to him on the car park and gave him a huge hug. Apparently she thought it was romantic, if a little bit creepy. Just the right amount of romanticism to overcast the creepiness, since then they've been in a relationship. Darren has promised her to tone down his creepiness. Especially after he confessed he watches her when she sleeps. Sometimes naked. Don't ask me how I know that.
It's really annoying working with someone who is in love. With Steve, the only thing he loves is limited edition Def Leppard vinyl. And his garage, or 'the den' as he calls it. I can't even begin to imagine what he's got it there. Every time I do I get this mental image of him sat in his boxer shorts on a recliner with a beer, just staring at dusty memorabilia on the walls. That's if his mum lets him have things on the walls. The twins don't really seem to possess a love for everything. Alex can't love that car he's got, surely. I can't speak for Duncan and his collection of dead bees though. It's amazing what you can find at a car boot sale. But working with a loved up Darren is awful. If he's not singing that James Blunt song he's sending text messages of the lyrics to her. I swear If I hear that song again I'm going to find James Blunt and drown the bastard. Still, nice to see Darren happy.
'I'm so happy.' Darren said, in the middle of a different conversation.
'Glad to hear it, mate.'
'Were there any birds at college?'
'University. We weren't allowed wildlife.'
'You know what I mean, smart arse.'
'There were. But they were all unavailable.'
'That's what they told you.'
'They did actually.'
'And what's wrong with calling them birds? Jenny let's me call her a bird.'
And that tells you all you need to know about Jenny. That and she dropped out of her Hairdressing course at college because it was 'too stressful.' Hmmm.
'It's a little bit disrespectful, isn't it?'
'Disrespectful? Disrespectful would be to tie her up, call her a bitch...'
'Yes, all right, Darren!'
'Smack her...'
'OK, OK I get the point!'
'See? That's disrespectful. Me? I'm a gentleman.'
A young lady walked past us with a trolley of shopping. Darren watched her stroll past.
'Wow, look at the tits on that.' Darren said, a bit louder that a whisper.
Yeah, a real gentleman.
It was a Monday and I'd taken my break early to get away from Darren's singing. He'd moved on to that Bryan Adams song by two o'clock and I couldn't stay for the whole four minutes. Plus he managed to fit the word 'Jenny' into every line.
'You can't tell me, Jenny, it's not worth fighting for! You know it's true, everything i do, Jenny, i do it for you!'
Darren's no singer, but he insisted on screeching it an octave higher, scrunching his face up in the process. I just couldn't take it. God knows what it looked like from the offices upstairs. Two lads walking around the car park together, one of the them singing to the other, his face looking like he's half way through an orgasm. I sat outside on a bench, aimlessly pressing buttons on my phone. I looked across to a huddle of checkout girls under the colleague entrance, all smoking and in loud conversation. Every smokers conversation looks twice as interesting that the non-smokers. I'm always faintly envious that I can't go over there, coolly say 'lend us a fag, will ya?' light up and join in a fascinating debate about last nights telly. It's always a great trait to have at party's too. If I'm sat at a table of people I don't really know or want to know, smoking is a great excuse to leave the room. Non-smokers can't do that. Well, they can, but it would come out like 'Excuse me, I'm just going to....stand outside for a bit...on my own.' You won't get invited to another party.
Sharon was outside talking to Darren when I finished my break. Sharon hardly ever came outside, apart from that time Steve knocked over that child with the electric trolley pushing machine. He protested it was an accident, but we all heard the kid call his ponytail 'gay'. He only looked about nine. Sharon finished talking to Darren and spotted me, her next target.
'And you, Dylan. I'll see you at quarter past four.'
'Right. What for?'
'My office.'
'Yes, what for?'
'So, I'll see you at quarter past four.' Walking past me.
'OK, but wha...'
'I'll tell you at quarter past four!' She barked, walking back to the store.
I'm not a genius or anything, but her lack of information made me think it was pretty important. I'd never been in Sharon's office. I just imagined it to be a starkly painted room, no artwork on the walls, just a tidy desk with an A4 pad on it.
'What's this all about, Daz?'
'She want to see you, too?'
'Yeah.'
'Yeah, I don't know. I have to be in her office at four o'clock. When I asked her why she just kept saying...'
'Four o'clock?'
'Yeah.'
'Yeah, she wants me in at quarter past.'
We wondered around the car park. There weren't many trolleys out today. After the lunch time rush we always have to wait until about half four, when all the mum's turn up to do their big shop. Neither of us could figure out why Sharon wanted to see us.
'Maybe you're getting fired.' Darren said, eyes widening.
'Why?'
'I don't know. You tell me...'
'Can't think of anything. And besides, why would she want to see you too?'
'Maybe she wants a me to do the firing.'
'She's the manager, Daz. And you've never had any responsibility here. Since you used the forklift truck in the warehouse. How did Eddies operation go, anyway?'
'Fine! He said I could use it. It's not my fault he got in the way!'
'Sure.'
We couldn't think of anything. We retraced our days to find any hint of action that would cause Sharon to want to see us. I know we don't work very hard but she knew that, didn't she? Surely it can't be that. When Darren came out he couldn't tell me what it was about. Which made me more nervous. I don't cope well in meetings and interviews. My brain seizes up and I can't speak. During my interview to get into University I kept nodding and saying the same thing over and over. I swear the interviewer thought I was Rain Man by the end of it.
I sat down in Sharon's starkly coloured, artlessness room. At her desk, an A4 pad of paper with a desk lamp angled over it. Had I entered the set of The Bill? Was she going to shine the lamp in my eyes and call awful names to get the truth out of me? I began to sweat, I could feel the stutters and repetitions coming. But this was silly, I hadn't done anything, that I could think of anyway. So I decided to play it cool.
'What's going on, Shazza?'
She glared at me. Wrong decision. I cleared my throat and looked down at the pad of paper. She'd taken notes. Quite a lot of notes actually. Darren must have said a lot.
'Right, Dylan. I've interviewed the rest of the porters and you're the last one.'
Oh God. What had I done? What had we done? This was bad.
'Last week, the safe that we have in our reception was broken into. Do you know anything?'
Was that it? 'Do I know anything?' No light in the eyes or pinning to the wall or awful names? Not even a nipple twist? I looked around the room, nervously. Then quickly realised I had no idea what she was talking about.
'Erm...no.' I said.
Oh shit. That's exactly what someone who did know something would say.
'Are you sure?' Fixing her stare at me.
'Yes, I'm sure. The safe was broken into? Can't you just look at the CCTV footage?'
'Done that. But we didn't move it back in position after Raheem moved it, to catch Deirdre doing that dance she does.'
'Ah, the caterpillar.'
'Yes. The caterpillar.' She said distastefully.
A new hip, two divorces and she's 65 years old. Good on you Deirdre. She's running the marathon next week.
'I'm sorry, Sharon, I don't know anything. I wouldn't know how to get into a safe. Plus, you know, I wouldn't want to to...' She narrowed her eyes at me. 'Because it's illegal and that.'
'Yes, well. Thank you anyway, Dylan.'
'No problem. Good luck with the manhunt.'
'Man?'
'Or woman...'
'Yes, well, i'm not alone. I've got Anne helping me out.'
'That old woman in the canteen?'
'Yes. She's got every series of Jonathon Creek on DVD.'
'Oh, well she's bound to crack the case, Sharon.'
'That is all, Dylan. Remember if you hear anything, let me know.'
Sharon didn't do humour. You know how people say 'I don't do early mornings' or 'I don't do rainy days'? Well, Sharon didn't do humour. I walked out with the heavy door clanging behind me. I went through the interview, if you can call it that, in my head. If Raheem moved the camera, maybe it was him. Maybe he knew he was going to break into the safe days before and moved it in a cunning scheme. I bet he felt so smug after everyone forgot about the camera out of position. The crafty little schemer. I don't like schemers. Then again, Deirdre does a cracking caterpillar dance, I can see why he would want it on film. That's probably why he arranged a meeting the next day for everyone to watch the footage in the interview room. Sharon was furious. She had to re-arrange all her interviews for that day.
I walked outside. Decided I needed another break. I figured Sharon had more on her plate than to worry about my overuse of breaks. I leaned against the wall by the bin. It hadn't been changed today, with about thirty odd cigarette butts screwed on top of it. The smell was disgusting so I moved along the wall a bit. As I did I could hear a muffled voice. It was coming from the nook in the wall where some smokers stand. It was a perfect little hiding place for skivers. I'm surprised more people don't use it. Then again, it was covered in fag ends and empty packets of crisps. The voice was of a young girl's and the conversation I was hearing was only one sided. I put together quite quickly that she was on her phone. God, I was good. I should join Sharon and Anne's little investigation team. Sharon, Anne and Dylan. S.A.D...No, that sounds bad. D.A.S Crime Investigation!
'Well, I can't tell anyone.' I overheard. She was speaking very softly, almost whispering. 'It's was only a few hundred quid....No, of course not. If i hand it back in they'll fire me.'
Oh, god. It was someone talking about breaking into the safe! It was a colleague! A colleague had broken into the safe! Suddenly I became very self aware. I was stood about two feet away and pictured myself with a deer stalker on, and a cape, complete with a magnifying glass pointing in her direction. I'd look good in a cape, but that's for another time. She finished her conversation abruptly. I put together that this girl had broken into the Supermarkets safe, gotten away with a few hundred quid and the person on the end of the phone was trying to persuade her to give it back. I sum up quite well, don't I? I don't need Sharon and Anne anymore.
When she bleeped her phone I heard her move out of the little nook in the wall. I swiftly moved away from her, sliding against the bricks, which tore at my back, making a scratching noise. I ignored the pain and looked to the floor, watching the shadow of the girl walk past me. When she got to the door I looked up at her. It was Jenny.
End of part one.
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