“So you're trying to make out you're the old Lexi,” she says. “Yes.” “Then you should look meaner.” “That's what I said,” agrees Fi. “Like you think everyone is just a . . . worm.” “Exactly.” They both sound so sure, I feel a pang of hurt. “Was I ever nice?” I say, a bit plaintively.
“Er...yes!” Fi says unconvincingly. “Plenty of times. Come on.” As I push open the glass doors to the building, I adopt my meanest scowl. Flanked by Fi and Amy, I stride over the marble, toward the reception desk. Here we go. Showtime.
“Hi,” I snarl at Jenny. “This is my temporary intern, Amy. Please make her out a pass. For your information, I'm fully recovered and if you've got any mail for me I want to know why it isn't upstairs already.” “Excellent!” whispers Fi by my side. “There's nothing for you, Lexi.” Jenny seems taken aback as she fills out a pass for Amy. “So... you remember everything now, do you?” “Everything. Come on, Fi. We're late enough already. I need to talk to the team. They've been slacking.” I stride away, toward the lifts. A moment later I can hear Jenny behind me, saying in an excited undertone, “Guess what? Lexi's got her memory back!” I turn backand sure enough, she's already on the phone to someone. The lift pings. Fi, Amy, and I walk inand as soon as the doors close, dissolve into giggles. “High five!” Fi lifts her hand. “That was great!” We all get out at the eighth floor, and I head straight to 348 Natasha's desk outside Simon Johnson's office, my head high and imperious. “Hi, Natasha,” I say curtly. “I assume you got my message about my memory returning? Obviously I'll need to see Simon as soon as possible.” “Yes, I got your message.” Natasha nods. “But I'm afraid Simon's quite booked up this morning” “Then juggle things around! Cancel someone else! It's essential I see him.” “Okay!” Natasha types hastily at her keyboard. “I could do you a slot a t . . . ten-?thirty?” “Fantast” I stop as Fi nudges me. “That'll be fine,” I amend, shooting Natasha my meanest scowl for good measure. “Come on, Fi.” God, this barking and snapping is a strain. It's getting me down and I've only been doing it for ten minutes. “Ten-?thirty,” Amy says as we get back in the lift. “That's cool. Where do we go now?” “To the Flooring department.” I feel a stab of nerves. “I'll have to keep this act up till ten-?thirty.” “Good luck.” Fi squeezes my shoulder briefly, and the lift doors open. As we head along the corridor to the main office I feel slightly sick. I can do this, I tell myself, over and over. I can be a bitch boss. I arrive at the door and stand there for a few moments, surveying the scene before me. Then I draw a breath. “So.” I summon a harsh, sarcastic voice. “Reading Hello! magazine is work, is it?” Melanie, who had been flicking through Hello! with a telephone receiver under her chin, jumps as though she's been scalded and flames red.
“I was just... waiting to be put through to Accounts.” She hastily closes Hello! Til be speaking to you all about attitude later.“ I glare around the room. ”And that reminds me. Didn't I ask everyone to provide full written travel-?expense breakdowns two months ago? I want to see them.“ ”We thought you'd forgotten,“ Carolyn says, looking dumbstruck. ”Well, I've remembered.“ I give her a sweet, scathing smile. ”I've remembered everything. And you might all remember that you're relying on me for references.“ I sweep out, almost straight into Byron. ”Lexi!“ He nearly drops his cup of coffee. ”What the fuck“ ”Byron. I need to talk to you about Tony Dukes,“ I say crisply. ”How did you handle the discrepancy in his calculations? Because we all know his reputation for pulling a fast one. Remember the trouble we had in October 2006?“ Byron's mouth is hanging open stupidly. ”And I want to talk to you about our annual strategy conference. Last year's was a shambles.“ I head to my office, then turn around. ”Speaking of which, where are the minutes of our last product meeting? You were doing them, as I remember.“ ”I'll... get those to you." He looks utterly gobsmacked. Everything I'm saying is hitting right home. Fi is a total genius!
“So, are you recovered?” Byron says as I open my office door. “Are you back?” “Oh yes. I'm back.” I usher Amy in and slam the door. I count to three, then I look out again. “Clare, a coffee. And one for my temp, Amy. Fi, can you come in here?” As Fi closes the door behind her, I collapse on the sofa, breathless. “You should be on the stage!” Fi exclaims. “That was so great! That's just the way you used to be!” I'm still cringing inside. I can't believe I said those things. “So now we just have to sit it out till ten-?thirty.” Fi glances at her watch as she perches on my desk. “It's past ten now.” “You were a real bitch out there,” says Amy admiringly. She's taken out mascara and is applying yet another coat. “That's what I'll be like when I go into business.” “Then you won't make any friends.” “I don't want to make friends.” She tosses her head. “I want to make money. You know what Dad always said? He said” Suddenly I really don't want to hear what Dad always said. “Amy, we'll talk later.” I cut her off. “About Dad.” There's a knock on the door and we all freeze. “Quick!” says Fi. “Get behind the desk. Sound cross and impatient.” I scuttle to the office chair, and she quickly pulls up a chair opposite. “Come in,” I call, trying to muster the most impatient tone I can. The door opens and Clare appears, holding a tray of coffee. Irritably I jerk my head at the desk. “So, Fi... I've had just enough of your attitude!” I improvise as Clare unloads the coffee cups. “It's unacceptable. What have you got to say for yourself?“ ”Sorry, Lexi,” Fi mumbles, her head bowed. Suddenly I realize she's in fits of giggles.
