The No Texting Policy by Nicki Bell

ONE

Kayleigh

Sky – grey. People’s faces – grey. Buildings – grey. Why is everything in Glasgow grey? I mused from my desk right next to the second-floor window of Donnelly’s debt collectors. The loud, obnoxious wall clock on the opposite wall ticked towards 11 .a.m.

It would be 3 p.m. in Mauritius now. I should be sunbathing after a long lunch or frolicking in the ocean while my husband gazes lovingly at me from his towel on the beach. The narrow white band on my left ring finger taunted me. It was even paler than my off-white freckled skin.

The last two weeks had both dragged and flashed by. I’d spent it in the centre of a tornado trying to keep from following Dorothy and Toto up into the air.

Despite my efforts, I’d ended up in Oz, aka my childhood bedroom, anyway. Mum had converted it into a sewing room the minute I left two years ago, and I’d spent the last fourteen nights studying a cardigan pattern taped to the wall to help me drift off. My makeshift airbed was as comfortable as the conversation I’d had with the hotel when I’d told them not to expect us.

The phone on my desk rang and I chose to ignore it. After three rings it circulated to a bearded guy on the other side of the office – Jim, or something, I remembered vaguely from my first day of introductions. Jim-or-Something threw me a dirty look and began to jot something down on his notepad.

Ashley – who I’d met on my first day – winked at me from two desks away. She appeared to dislike this job as much as I did, though she’d had a choice in coming here. I hadn’t.

Why is everything in Scotland grey?I texted her. Margaret – the older woman between us – had made it clear she found our conversations extremely irritating. And we weren’t daft enough to use our business email. Ashley tended to use colourful language. So texting was the easiest way to communicate.

No one else seemed to talk. Or even look at each other very often, as if the huge beige room sucked the soul right out of you and left a mindless drone behind.

Because it’s Scotland, she wrote back.

The guy in charge of our team stepped out of his office, taking a minute to survey what we were doing. Immediately I dropped my phone into my lap and pretended to tap away on an empty Word document. So far I’d written—

Hello, oh my God, this is sooooooooooo boring. I don’t care about chasing people’s debt. I only care about my debt. I wish they’d stop chasing my de—

‘Kayleigh,’ the familiar voice said above me, ‘what are you doing?’

My fingers paused as I met his brown eyes. The scar on his left cheek from when I made him fall off the see-saw was faint against his tan. ‘Work?’

He didn’t look convinced. ‘I hope so. I put my neck on the line getting you in here.’

I pursed my lips. ‘Yes, I’m aware of the part you’ve played in me ending up here.’

My sarcasm wasn’t lost on him, but he’d heard much worse from me during rowdy sleepovers. ‘How many times have I been over here today?’

I held my fingers up to count. ‘The first time – to tell me to stop looking out the window, when that pigeon was eating a burger. Second time – to get off my phone. The third time you reminded me not to swing around in my desk chair while texting. So…’ I tapped all four fingers slowly. ‘Five? I’ve never been good at maths.’

‘Hilarious. If I have to come over here again there will be consequences.’

He marched away before I could respond, square shoulders rounded out from the bony stubs they used to be. When did he start working out?

My phone vibrated with a text from Ashley. What’s his problem?

I shook my head at her behind Margaret’s back while I typed, High on power. He forgets I’ve seen him in the bath.

Ashley’s eyebrows lifted to her hairline as she read. What? Recently?

God, no. When we were, like, five. He’s my little brother’s best friend, I typed furiously.

I kept my eye on the glass doors for Jordan’s return. There was a lull in the conversation when Ashley’s work phone rang and she got stuck with a customer.

A text from Mum appeared. What do you want for dinner?

Every bloody night. I’d barely had an appetite and had survived on toast and water for the last fortnight, but she still insisted on asking. Like I’d randomly decide I wanted rump steak during my mourning period. I missed my flat, where I could go home and have tinned soup for dinner on my corner couch without someone trying to feed me up. Except it wasn’t my flat, and it wasn’t my couch. It was his. That’s why I’m sleeping in sewing-pattern-and-cat-poster purgatory.

Nothing,I responded and hoped she wouldn’t try to lure me with something she’d bought in the butcher’s. Our family’s meat intake was off the charts. I’d need to have a word with them about vegetables and carbs when I felt up to it.

Ashley finally got rid of her customer. You never told me that. So you two never…? she wrote – followed by a bunch of devil emojis.

My fingers flew over the keypad. NEVER!! I selected ten red crosses after it to confirm.

Why not? He’s adorable. I want to stick my tongue right in his dimple, she admitted.

The sound of his voice approached from down the hall. Because I hate him. Also, you are disgusting.

He laughed at someone’s joke as they strode back into the room, dimple on full show. I dropped my mobile into the top drawer before he could catch me. Yeah, adorable or not, I hated him.

If it wasn’t for him, I’d be married.

Jordan

There she goes again. I watched as Kayleigh lowered her head behind the computer screen. She thought she was being clever, keeping the phone in her lap. She never did follow rules. She’d cheated at hide and seek all the time. I’d spent the last two weeks trying to babysit/intimidate her into making an effort. I knew she blamed me for being here. Part of me blamed myself. But I couldn’t play the martyr forever. At some point, she’d have to start putting the work in.

Her blue eyes flicked above the cubicle divider, and I turned my attention to a crack in the opposite wall. If she caught me staring, she’d make a thing of it. Unlike the outer office, I’d been allowed to paint the walls of my own a light blue. To remind me of the sky during the fleeting Scottish summer.

I kept my gaze on the crack for another few seconds until I could be sure she was looking away. Ashley smirked at something in her hand. I’d never had to reprimand Ashley for using her phone during work hours. Until Kayleigh.

Always the renegade. In contrast, my best friend – and her little brother – Matt was a saint, almost as beige as the office. He respected authority, that there was a reason behind every rule. Unlike Kayleigh, who barrelled through the stop signs and warning lights of life. Why dip a toe in the water when you could cannonball in wearing a neon bikini?

When our friend Callum started dating her, I’d given it a week. Callum played it too safe. He’d had a bank account named ‘Rainy Days’ when we were fifteen and working at McDonald’s.

Then the week turned into a month. Then a year, and another.

A loud snigger followed by a cough erupted from Kayleigh’s desk. And here we are.

I fired a warning look in her direction. She picked up her ringing phone and proceeded to type. Going by the main call log, I knew her extension had received thirty-six calls. She’d answered three.

Why am I cutting her so much slack? I questioned. Anyone else would have been gone a week ago.

Leaning back in her chair, she twirled her long mahogany hair into a bun, letting it unravel then starting again. That’s how her hair had been that morning, with a crystal-and-pearl tiara perched on top to match the earrings Callum had bought her on their first Christmas together.

When I’d left her mum’s house that day, I’d found one lodged in my suit jacket. I’d assumed it had landed somewhere on the living-room couch after Kayleigh had launched it. She’d never had good aim.

‘Jordan.’ My boss rapped on the door and entered without an invitation. The perks of having your name on the building. ‘Department-head meeting in ten minutes. I need a rundown on everyone’s targets.’

‘No bother,’ I told him, feeling a knot begin to form in my intestine. In my ten years working here, Michael Donnelly had been in my office twice. Once to tell me I needed to fire four people. And now. He was built like a rugby player too, which only added to the feeling of intimidation.

His eyes scanned over everyone through the glass wall. ‘How are things down here?’

‘G-Great,’ I stammered, checking the printer had enough paper before running the reports. Please don’t let him notice Kayleigh. Please don’t let him notice—

He nodded to Kayleigh’s bundle of desks. ‘That the new girl?’

I paused. ‘Uh, yeah, Kayleigh Cooper. We go way back.’

He combed his moustache with one finger. ‘Maybe so, but I’m not running a charity for family and friends. If she’s not up to it then cut her loose.’

My hands shook as I stapled the reports together. ‘She’s absolutely up to it.’

‘Good, because you convinced me to hire her. So any mistake she makes is a reflection on you, understood?’ Michael grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It’s what I imagined Michael Myers looked like behind the mask.

They have the same name – why am I just noticing that?

A shovel-sized hand waved in front of my eyes. ‘Jordan?’

‘Sorry, yes, understood,’ I assured him.

‘See you at the meeting,’ he said and left.

Through the glass division, I spied Kayleigh twirling in her chair again, mobile phone firmly in her hand.

She is not going to be the reason I lose my job.