Chapter 3: Aftermath

I woke up next morning with a pounding head, a dead cat in my mouth and a desperate need to pee.

First I scrambled to the bathroom to relieve my aching bladder, then I hunted down a couple of painkillers and a glass of water. When I deposited my empty glass in the kitchen area, I found two used coffee mugs. That’s when the enormity of the previous night’s disaster came back to me. I remembered I’d been sleeping on the floor in my living room and that I was naked because my clothes were in the bedroom with Mandy. It was that sort of day, with my brain struggling to accomplish even the simplest rational thoughts.

I wished with all my heart for a Fairy Godmother who could roll back time twenty four hours so I could have avoided the party. Then I’d have no worries about what I might have done there while drunk because I wouldn’t have got drunk, and there could be no repercussions from my involvement with Mandy because there wouldn’t have been any involvement.

I returned to the bathroom and felt the towels. They were dry, so it was likely Mandy was still asleep. So I took a shower and cleaned my teeth. It made me feel a little less awful, plus it gave the painkillers time to kick in.

Wrapped in a towel, I decided I couldn’t put of facing Mandy any longer. I rapped gently on the bedroom door. No answer. I knocked loudly. Still no answer. Finally I plucked up the courage to open the door and go in.

The room was empty. Mandy’s clothes had gone too, but mine were still in a pile on the bedroom floor. Unless she had an unusually large bladder, Mandy must have used the bathroom but I never heard her. She’d probably had an eyeful of my naked body in the process, which seemed unfair since she had insisted on the light being off the previous night.

I sorted out some clean clothes then checked the bedding. Although there was no evidence of semen stains, the sheets still smelt of Mandy’s perfume so I put on clean sheets and put the used ones in the wash.

I had a plain breakfast of toast and marmalade because my stomach wouldn’t countenance anything richer, then washed it down with coffee.

The thought occurred to me than Mandy might have left a note somewhere to explain her disappearance. I searched the flat high and low, but with no success.

My plan had been to go into work and fix the fault I’d been working on, having mapped out the principal code changes necessary before the taxi driver had arrived. But my head was throbbing and I suspected I was still legally drunk and I didn’t trust myself to get complicated edits right.

The weather was warm and dry and I didn’t want to stay in the flat so I succumbed to an out-of-character urge to do something spontaneous. Except when deadlines were looming, just about everyone else at CornerStone Systems took Sundays off so, just for once, I would too. I went to the town zoo. It was served by a regular bus service, even on a Sunday, and my flat wasn’t far from its route.

For many, the town zoo could be considered anti-climactic. It didn’t have the capacity or facilities for large wild mammals, but it more than made up for it with its range of interesting and unusual creepy-crawlies. There was also a variety of kid-pleasing small, cute animals, some of which kids could pet for an additional fee, and also some domesticated beasts of burden, donkeys and ponies, on which kids could get an escorted ride, again for an additional fee. I could see why the zoo was commercially viable, despite its modest size. But I kept returning to my favourites, creepy crawlies. I watched the large spiders in their heated tanks as they in turn watched me. I wondered what they were thinking.

I stayed at the zoo until closing time.

Back at my flat, I made myself a bland evening meal, watched the news on the telly, then hit the sack. I set my alarm for early the next morning, so I could get to work early and fix the fault I’d been working on.

The next morning I felt reinvigorated, and I got to work just as dawn was breaking. I made a succession of code changes quite quickly and accurately then set about entering the amended module into a private build of the product so I could check whether my code changes worked. That’s when I discovered the problem exuded tentacles throughout the product.

When I took a break, I noticed Ms Altropolina’s door was open, signifying that she was in and approachable. I knocked on her door.

Ms Altropolina looked up. “Oh, hi Michael, please come in. Have you finished with that fault report for Mandy?”

“I’m working on it at the moment. I’ve made the necessary code changes but it affects other parts of the product, and I’m tracking them all down. I’m afraid I wasn’t in a fit state to work yesterday.”

Ms Altropolina laughed. “I think you’re the only developer who apologises for not working at the weekend when it isn’t necessary. Did you enjoy the party on Saturday?”

“I can’t remember most of it. I had too much to drink. Did I embarrass myself?”

“What happens at the party, stays at the party,” said Ms Altropolina. “But seriously, I don’t think you did anything embarrassing. If anything, you seemed very quiet.”

“That’s a relief,” I admitted. “I have a low alcohol tolerance. I tried to turn down the Champagne toast but Ms Barratt said I’d be thrown out if I did that. Then she kept on pushing more and more drinks at me.”

“I expect she was getting you drunk so she could have her evil way with you,” laughed Ms Altropolina.

I hadn’t thought of that. Had Mandy deliberately got me drunk so she could seduce me?

“Oh God, I didn’t realise,” said Ms Altropolina, holding her head in her hands as she correctly interpreted my silence. “I remember you telling me you had a low alcohol tolerance. I must have forgotten to tell Mandy.”

Ms Altropolina lifted her head out of her hands and looked serious. “I’d better have a talk with Ms Barratt,” she said. “What she did was against company policy. Tell me, how bad was the damage?”

“It wasn’t too serious. We didn’t get around to consummation because Ms Barratt fell asleep on me.”

Ms Altropolina looked at me with her serious face. Then it cracked, and she broke out in a fit of giggles, which finally escalated into a full-blown, rip-snorting belly laugh. A normal person would have been unable to resist an urge to join in, but I wasn’t a normal person.

“Oh God,” said Ms Altropolina, when she’d recovered her composure and wiped her eyes dry. “I’m glad this office is soundproofed. I’m sorry, but that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard for a long time. It’s the sort of anecdote I could dine out on for weeks. Don’t worry, I’ll protect your confidence. And I’ll make sure Ms Barratt apologises to you and is never in a position to do that again.”

“Could you hold off on that for the moment?” I asked. “I have to work with Ms Barratt and I don’t want to sour our working relationship. I haven’t seen her since Saturday night because she sneaked out the next morning. I’d like to get her side of things first.”

“If that’s what you want,” said Ms Altropolina.

“There’s one other thing. Ms Barratt hogged the bed so I slept on the living room floor. I think it’s about time I moved to a larger flat with a second bedroom. The company gave me a list of suitable flats to choose from when I was relocated here. Do you think the company could do that for me again?”

“I don’t see why not,” said Ms Altropolina thoughtfully. “Rolf Magnusson would be the person to ask. He’s working in this building today so if you go and speak to Heidi, his PA, she might even let you in to see him immediately.”

I followed Ms Altropolina’s directions to the office where Mr Magnusson was working. Sure enough, access was policed by a woman.

“Hi, are you Heidi, Mr Magnusson’s PA?” I asked.

“Yes. Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but Ms Altropolina said you might be able to let me see him.”

“I’m afraid he’s busy at the moment with a HR meeting. May I ask what it’s about?”

“When I was relocated here, the company gave me a list of suitable flats to choose from. I think I need something larger and I was wondering whether the company could give me a list of suitable properties.”

“Actually you’re speaking to the right person. Mr Magnusson delegates that sort of work to me. We have arrangements with several property management companies from who we’ve had satisfactory service in the past. If you give me your requirements, I’ll start the ball rolling.” Heidi swivelled in her chair and pulled a form from a side cabinet. “You might like to complete this form. It covers the main options plus there’s a free-form section for additional requirements.”

My requirements were simple - same again plus an extra bedroom - so I completed the form at Heidi’s desk. I handed it back to her and she quickly scanned it. “You’re not very fussy!” she commented. “No demands for a swimming pool or a hot tub. Not even a garage or a reserved parking spot.”

“I’m satisfied with what I already have, apart from needing an extra bedroom.”

“Leave it with me, and I’ll get it circulated to the property management companies sometime today.”

“I’ll get back to work then.”

It was the end of the day before I was finished with the fault report. After adjusting all the other necessary modules, I successfully built a private version of the product and confirmed that my changes had fixed the fault. Then I tackled the reams of bureaucracy.

I updated the fault report to document how I reproduced the fault, what changes I had made and how the changes fixed the fault. I notified the support team so they could build the product with my changes and pass it to their beta testing team. Because of my dual role in development and support I could have done that work for them, but my dual role came with an edict that all beta testing must be independent of program testing. However I made my test data to the support team so they could add it to the beta test suite.

Then I notified the Product Manager that my role was now complete and the fault report was now back in the hands of the support team. And, although it wasn’t strictly required, out of politeness I also notified Ms Barratt of the change in status of the fault report. I found Account managers liked to be updated on on the progress of work they had been pressing for, and Ms Barratt usually responded with a nice ‘thank you’ note.

Finally I sent a note to Ms Altropolina recommending a change to company coding standards that should prevent similar faults in the future.

The support team had no more fault reports they were stuck on so the next day I returned to development work. I didn’t receive the usual ‘thank you’ note from Ms Barratt so I assumed she was busy.

The following morning, I was in my cubicle concentrating hard on programming when, from behind me, Ms Altropolina said “Nice work on that fault report.”

I was so taken by surprise I nearly fell out of my chair.

“Sorry,” said Ms Altropolina. “You know, with your position, you’re entitled to your own office. Would you like me to requisition one for you? Then you wouldn’t keep denting the ceiling when people creep up behind you.”

My instinct was to check the ceiling for dents, but I recognised it as humour and I suppressed the urge.

“I don’t interact with my co-workers as much as others,” I replied, “but the interactions we do have provide value to all of us and I don’t want to erect barriers. From here, I have ready access to all the relevant manuals and access to the knowledge-base of my co-workers. I know I get special treatment by the company, but I don’t want to rub their noses in it.”

“That’s a very mature viewpoint,” said Ms Altropolina. “Most people would jump at the status symbol of having their own office. Let me know if you change your mind. We can always rustle up another set of manuals.”

Then Ms Altropolina got to the point. “I meant what I said about the fault report. There was a lot more work involved than I would have expected but, thanks to your thoroughness, you nailed it. Normally Ms Barratt sends me a note complimenting your work but she’s been strangely silent. Have you had that talk with her yet?”

“No,” I admitted.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d do it sooner rather than later. If it’s interfering with company operations, I need to take action.”

“Okay,” I replied flatly.

“I didn’t mean like that. It wasn’t a threat. You really did do a sterling job on the fault report. I think I’d better leave you to your work before the hole I’m digging for myself gets any larger.” With a nervy laugh, she turned and left.

I decided I couldn’t cope with Ms Barratt at the moment, so returned to my programming.

I didn’t have time to get deeply involved again before my phone rang.

“Michael Turner? This is Heidi Summerville, Rolf Magnusson’s PA. I’ve just had a call from the management company in charge of the block where you currently live. They’ve got a flat that’s just becoming available in the same block. It has two bedrooms and a boxroom plus a separate kitchen area, so it’s a little bigger than you asked for. They like you as a tenant and don’t want to lose you so they’re prepared to give you first refusal on the flat before they put it on the market. Would you like me to set up a viewing?”

“Yes.”

“Can you view it this evening?”

“I’m sorry I can’t. Tomorrow evening would be fine, though.”

“Okay. I’ll set it up and send you a copy of the details. Good luck, I hope it’s what you want.”

“Thank you.”

One of the signs of my lack of empathy was that I rarely said ‘please’ or ‘thank you’, but in this case I felt she deserved it.

The reason I turned down the viewing that evening was because I had a very welcome distraction late that afternoon. I had an appointment to play a squash league match against a woman named Samine Ashrief, someone I’d never played or even heard of until she won promotion to my league. For some reason she hadn’t wanted to play during the evening or at the weekend, my own preferred times. I’d previously cleared leaving work early with Ms Altropolina and I was hoping she’d forgotten

I had checked with a couple of others in my league who had already played her, and they had warned me that she was very good.

At the squash club, I quickly changed and headed to the court we’d been allocated. I had no problem identifying my opponent, who was ready and waiting for me. I wasn’t surprised to find that she was of Asian ethnicity.