Remember Me?

No one answers. No one even acknowledges my presence. Did I suddenly become invisible? “So, anyway.” I force myself to smile. “Enjoy!” I swivel on my heel and walk out. I've done my bit. If they want the muffins, they want them. If they don't, they don't. End of subject. I really don't care either way. I sit back down at my desk, open a recent financial report, and start running my finger down the relevant columns. After a few moments I lean back, rubbing my eyes with my fists. These figures are just confirming what I already know: the department performance is terrible. Sales went up in the last year by a bit, but they're still far, far too low. We're going to be in real trouble if we don't turn things around. I mentioned it to Byron the other day and he didn't even seem bothered. How can he be so blase? I make a memo on a Post-?it“Discuss sales with Byron.” Then I put my pen down. Why don't they want my muffins? I was really optimistic when I bought them this morning. I imagined everyone's faces lighting up at the sight, and people saying “What a nice thought, Lexi. Thanks!” But now I'm crestfallen. They must totally hate me. I mean, you'd have to loathe someone to refuse a muffin, wouldn't you? And these are really deluxe ones. They're fat and fresh and the blueberry ones have even got lemon icing on them. A tiny, sensible voice in my head is telling me to leave it.

Forget about it. It's only a basket of muffins, for God's sake. But I can't. I can't just sit here. On impulse I leap to my feet again and head into the main office. There's the basket, still untouched. Everyone is typing away or on the phone, ignoring both me and the muffins. “So!” I try to sound relaxed. “Nobody wants a muffin? They're really nice ones!” “Muffin?” Fi says at last, her brow wrinkled. “I can't see any muffins.” She looks around the office as though baffled. “Anyone seen any muffins?” Everyone shrugs, as though equally baffled. “Do you mean an English muffin?” Carolyn's brow is wrinkled. “Or a French muffin?” “They do muffins at Starbucks. I could send out if you like,” Debs says, barely hiding her giggles. Ha-?ha. Really funny. “Fine!” I say, trying to hide my hurt. “If you want to be childish about it, then that's fine. Just forget it. I was only trying to be nice.” Breathing hard, I stalk out again. I can hear the sniggers and giggles behind me, but I try to block my ears. I have to keep my dignity; I have to be calm and bosslike. I mustn't rise. I mustn't react. Oh God. I can't help it. Hurt and anger are rising through me like a volcano. How can they be so mean? “Actually, it's not fine.” I march back into the office, my face burning. “Look, I went to a lot of time and trouble to get these muffins, because I thought it would be nice to give you a treat, and now you're pretending you can't even see them...” “I'm sorry, Lexi.” Fi appears blank and apologetic. “I honestly don't know what you're talking about.” Carolyn snorts with laughterand something inside me snaps. “I'm talking about this!” I grab a chocolate-?chip muffin and brandish it at Fi's face, and she shrinks away. “It's a muffin! It's a bloody muffin! Well, fine! If you're not going to eat it, then I will!” I stuff the muffin into my mouth and 237 start chewing it furiously, then take another bite. Huge crumbs are falling all over the floor, but I don't care. “In fact, I'll eat all of them!” I add. “Why not?” I grab an iced blueberry muffin and cram that in my mouth too. “Mmm, yum!”

“Lexi?” I turn and my insides shrivel up. Simon Johnson and Byron are standing at the door to the office. Byron looks like he wants to burst with delight. Simon's regarding me as though I'm the crazy gorilla throwing its food around at the zoo.

“S-?Simon!” I splutter muffin crumbs in horror. “Um... hi! How are you?” “I just wanted a quick word, if you're not...busy?” Simon raises his eyebrows.

“Of course not!” I smooth my hair down, desperately trying to swallow my mouthful. “Come through to my office.” As I pass by the glass door I catch my reflection and wince at my eyes, all red from tiredness. My hair looks a bit all over the place too. Maybe I should have put it up. Oh well, nothing I can do about it now. “So, Lexi,” Simon says as I close the door and dump my half-?eaten muffins on the desk. “I just had a good meeting with Byron about June '07. I'm sure he's been filling you in on developments.” “Sure.” I nod, trying to look like I know what he's referring to. But “June '07” means absolutely nothing to me. Is something happening then? “I'm scheduling in a final decision meeting for Monday. I won't say any more just now. Obviously discretion is crucial ” Simon breaks off, his forehead suddenly furrowed. “I know you've had reservations, Lexi. We all have. But really, there are no more options.” 238 What's he talking about? What? “Well, Simon, I'm sure we can work it out,” I bluff, desperately hoping he won't ask me to elaborate. “Good girl, Lexi. Knew you'd come around.” He raises his voice again, sounding more cheerful. “I'm seeing James Garrison later on, the new guy at Southeys. What do you make of him?”