It's even more ironic because carpet is only a fraction of the company these days. About ten years ago the maintenance department started producing a carpet cleaner that was sold by mail order and became incredibly popular. They expanded into all sorts of cleaning products and gadgets, and now the mail-?order business is huge. So are soft furnishings and fabrics. But poor old carpets have fallen by the wayside. Trouble is, they're not cool these days. It's all slate and laminate wood flooring. We do sell laminate flooringbut hardly anyone realizes we do, because they think we're still called Deller Carpets. It's like one big vicious circle that all leads back to shag. I know carpets aren't cool. And I know patterned carpets are even less cool. But secretly, I really love them. Especially all the old retro designs from the seventies. I've got an old pattern book on my desk, which I always flick through when I'm in the middle of a long, tedious phone conversation. And once I found a whole box of old samples at the warehouse. No one wanted them, so I took them back to the office and pinned them up on the wall next to my desk. That's to say, my old desk. I guess I've been upgraded 134 now. As I head toward the familiar building on Victoria Palace Road, I feel a fizz of anticipation in my stomach. It's the same as it ever was: a tall, pale gray block with granite pillars at the entrance. I push open the glass doors to reception and stop in surprise. The foyer is different. It looks really cool! They've moved the desk, and there are glass partitions where there used to be a wall... and the flooring is blue metallic-?effect vinyl. There must be a new range out. “Lexi!” A plump woman in a pink shirt and tapered black trousers is bustling toward me. She has highlights and fuchsia lipstick and pumps and she's called...I know her... head of human resources... “Dana.” I gasp the name in relief. “Hi.” “Lexi.” She holds out a hand to shake mine. “Welcome back! You poor thing! We were all so upset to hear what happened...” “I'm fine, thanks. A lot better.” I follow her over the shiny vinyl floor, take a security pass from her, and swipe my way through the security entrance. This is all new too. We didn't use to have barriers, just a guard called Reg. “Good! Well, come this way...” Dana's ushering me along. “I thought we could have a short chat in my office, pop in on the budget meeting, and then you'll want to see your department!” “Great! Good idea.” My department. I used to just have a desk and a stapler. We travel up in the lift and get out at the second floor, and Dana ushers me into her office. “Take a seat.” She pulls out a plushy chair and sits down at her desk. “So now, obviously, we need to talk about your... condition.” She lowers her voice discreetly as though I have some embarrassing ailment. “You have amnesia.”
“That's right. Apart from that, I'm pretty much okay.” “Good!” She scribbles something on her pad of paper. “And is this amnesia permanent or temporary?” “Well...the doctors said I might start remembering things at any time.” “Marvelous!” Her face brightens. “Obviously, from our point of view it would be great if you could remember everything by the twenty-?first. That's when our sales conference is,” she adds, giving me an expectant look. “Right,” I say after a pause. “I'll do my best.” “You can't do better than that!” She trills with laughter and pushes back her chair. “Now, let's go and say hello to Simon and the others. You remember Simon Johnson, the MD?” “Of course!”
How could I not remember the boss of the whole company? I remember him giving a speech at the Christmas party. I remember him appearing in our office and asking our names while Gavin, our department head then, followed him around like a lackey. And now I go to meetings with him! Trying to conceal my nerves, I follow Dana down the corridor and up in the lift again to the eighth floor. She leads me briskly to the boardroom, knocks on the heavy door, and pushes it open. “Sorry to interrupt! Only Lexi's popped in for a visit.” “Lexi! Our superstar!” Simon Johnson stands up from his seat at the head of the table. He has a tall, broadshouldered, ex-?army-?officer frame and thinning brown hair. He comes over, clasps my hand as if we're old friends, and kisses my cheek. “How are you feeling, my dear?” Simon Johnson just kissed me. The MD of the whole company kissed me. 136 “Er...fine, thanks!” I try to keep my composure. “Much better.” I glance around the room, taking in a whole bunch of other high-?powered company people in suits. Byron, who used to be my direct boss, is sitting on the other side of the conference table. He's pale and lanky with dark hair, and wearing one of his trademark retro-?print ties. He gives me a pinched smile and I grin back, relieved to recognize someone else. “You had quite a knock to the head, we understand,” Simon Johnson is saying in his mellifluous public-?school voice. “That's right.” “Well, hurry back!” he exclaims with mock urgency. “Byron here is standing in for you very well.” He gestures at Byron. “But whether you can trust him to safeguard your department's budget...”
