The employees have disappeared into their Christmas party, leaving us as sole occupants of the office. Inside this room, the artificial light makes the whiteboards glow pale green.
We – Zlatko and I – are stepping out of the bar and onto the cobbled street. We leave behind us Gligor, Gligor’s sudden temper and the chair he has just thrown against a wall and broken to pieces.
“Faster, please, Beatrice. Tempus fugit!”
"Dude, it may be icy, but it's a wheelchair you're in, not a bob-sleigh! And we've still got 30 minutes to get there - chill!"
In anticipation of the annual surf trip, I am always conscious of my Christmas Day alcohol intake. Each year, I decline Kian’s offer of a nightcap.
‘Won’t be long Mary love.’ I called goodbye like I always do and pulled the front door shut. I walk through Clissold Park most afternoons after lunch, have done for twenty years or so...
My mother and I had a tacit agreement not to make eye contact during school hours. When the clip clopping of her Headteacher high heels stopped at my classroom door I looked down at my desk, suddenly absorbed in long division.