‘Well, why are you putting your jacket on then?’ I realise I sound like a child.
‘I’m going to the canteen to get a coffee,’ says Art. ‘I can get you one if you promise not to throw it at me.’
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Um, yeah, thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he says. And he leaves.
I slump face down on the couch and silently scream into the cushions.
When Art comes back ten minutes later I’m sitting on the floor with my computer on my lap. I’ve been trying and failing to think of solutions to some of Bernard’s notes. Four days. I’ve got to submit a final draft in four days. And I have no idea where to even begin.
‘Everything all right down there?’ says Art.
‘Not really,’ I say.
Art sits down next to me and hands me a cup of coffee. ‘Maybe this will help.’
‘Thanks.’ I sip the coffee and we sit for a moment in surprisingly companionable silence.
‘So …’ he says, and then there’s a knock on the door and, without waiting for an answer, Susan comes in.
‘Oh!’ she says, staring down at us. ‘Am I interrupting anything?’
I can feel my face grow hot even though we were only innocently drinking coffee but Art seems utterly unperturbed. He puts down his drink and stands up easily. ‘Of course not. Just discussing our next drafts.’
I scramble awkwardly to my feet and say, ‘Yes. We got our notes, obviously …’
Susan clears her throat. ‘About that,’ she says. ‘I know Bernard was a little … intense.’
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ I say.
‘But if he’s hard on you,’ says Susan, ‘it’s because he knows you can handle it.’
I almost laugh out loud. Bloody hell, does she actually believe this? Maybe Art’s right about the Stockholm syndrome.
But even though he was threatening to walk out of this job just ten minutes ago, Art smiles at her and says, ‘That’s really good to hear. Isn’t it, Annie?’
I force a smile of my own. ‘Yeah, it’s great.’
Susan looks relieved. ‘I’m glad you can see it that way. Look, your second drafts were in very good shape, both of them. But Bernard … well, we’re going through a transitionary period at themoment which is very stressful, and these anniversary episodes are a big deal.’
If that’s the case, I think,then why did he give them to me and Art?But I say, ‘I understand.’
‘We need to be sensitive,’ says Susan. ‘Everything will settle down when we’re over this hump.’
‘No need to explain anything,’ says Art smoothly. ‘We totally get it, it can’t be helped. And you’re in a very difficult position.’
God, he can be so … smarmy. But still, it clearly works because Susan says, ‘Great. I’m glad you understand. We’ll have another check-in meeting on Thursday.’
After Susan leaves Art says, ‘Well, I think she’s less annoyed with us than she was last Monday.’ He turns to me. ‘You’re welcome, by the way. Jesus, I thought you were going to have a go at her when she first came in.’
I sigh. ‘Sorry I couldn’t just slap on a fake smile.’
‘You could have tried,’ says Art. ‘I was pissed off too, but I managed it.’
Of course he did. But fuck it, it worked. I can’t pretend it didn’t. ‘I know,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’
‘Look,’ says Art, ‘what’s important is that we’re no longer the messy note-losers as far as Susan’s concerned. We’re the understanding new writers who are able to deal with Bernard’s nonsense. She’s basicallyadmittedit’s nonsense. We’ve come out of this looking good. Haven’t we?’