Champagne High

Chapter 2

For the third time today I rip my glasses from my face and throw them down onto my keyboard in total frustration. My head falls into my hands as I fight the urge to scream. I hate my job, I hate my desk, I hate my computer and I really hate the phone. It beeps once in my ear and forces me to accept the call. I listen to the silence over the phone line as the caller waits for me to speak.

A bright fake smile pulls itself across my face and as I begin to speak hoping and praying that it reaches my voice. “Good afternoon, thank you for calling MSB finance. Jessica speaking how can I help?” Everything I say is part of a carefully written script designed to trip people up. I can translate, what I was actually saying was ‘Good afternoon, Thank you for calling Money Stealing Bastards finance. Jessica speaking how may I take all of your money so my bosses get a big fat pay check this month?’

A gruff voice comes onto the phone. “I want to cancel my policy.” Oh great we’ve got one of these again.

I reach out replacing my glasses back onto my face so I can actually see my computer screen. “Can I please take you’re policy number?” In lame mans terms this means ‘I don’t believe you are who you say you are so I’m going to take some personal data from you.’

The next few moments are filled with both boring and personal information so I wont got into to much detail here. I can’t even give you this guy’s name. Just for the sake of argument lets call this man John Smith. Unoriginal I know but I don’t do well with names. So anyway John goes through all of my security questions and passes. His details pop up on my screen and it’s finally time to earn some bacon.

“Thank you.” I say into my headset. “I now have access to your policy. You wanted to cancel your policy.” What I’m actually saying here is ‘you cancel this policy and I don’t get a bonus. So we both know what’s going to happen here.’

He makes a frustrated noise at me down the phone. Like I’m making his day harder somehow. I’d just like to remind everyone who phoned who here. “That’s right.” I can actually imagine him puffing out his chest on the other end of the line, proud that he’s able to take these things into his own hands.

“Okay Mr Smith, can I ask why you feel you do not need the policy any longer?” I don’t have a translation for this one. I am actually just gathering information.

“This premium is too expensive. And has gone up since my last renewal.” Ahh this is about money. This kind of save is too easy.

“Of course we are all worried about money in the current economic environment. However have you considered the cost if something were to happen to you if you didn’t have this policy?” If it were legal for me to say MSB would actually want me to say. ‘What if you got hit by a bus tomorrow. Do you really think you could pay your bills with a fractured spine?’

I immediately stop taking. Letting the silence drag on. Balls in his court now, it’s up to him to fill the empty space. “I… er…” See how he hasn’t got an answer for that. He’s not cancelling. We both know it. We just have to get through the formalities now. “That is all well and good but I still want to cancel.”

I see we have a stubborn one here. Time to bring out the big guns. “I don’t know about you but I certainly wouldn’t be able to pay my bills for months if I were unable to work due to an accident. Personally I don’t have thousands of pounds lying around if anything were to happen to me.” At this point I would just love to be screaming down the phone at this guy. ‘The bus! Think of the bus!’ And just for added effect I might throw in ‘what about the children?’ But that is scare mongering and that’s illegal. So we just have to put this image in his mind without actually saying it.

“As I said before the premium has gone up and I don’t want to pay the extra.”

I resist the urge to sigh down the phone. The next few moments are filled with me literally repeating myself with a few flashy figures thrown in for some effect. I wont bore you with the details. When all is said and done Mr Smith decides he does want his life insurance after all. Not wanting to risk getting hit by the big red bus.

This is all I do eight hours a day, five days a week. The same conversation, over and over again. It’s driving me insane. When I finally finish financially raping Mr Smith I push the small button on my phone to show I’m away from my desk. “I’m going on lunch.” I say to no one in particular and get a whole host of grunts as replies. Yeah. We make a fantastic team.

I can’t stand this place. Tucking my paper under my arm and locking my computer I hastily make my exit from the building. I can’t stand this place. I can’t stand my colleagues. I’ve never met a less motivated bunch in my life. I can’t stand what I’m selling. I mean come on how morbid is it to buy insurance just in case you die. Most importantly I can’t stand the council.

The last one is relevant trust me. I’m having the mother of all bad days. My phone slips easily out of the inside pocket of my jacket. This is by far going to be the worst call of the day.

As I make my way down the crowded street my phone springs to life with a short beep each time I enter a number.

The line is answered after only three rings. And the nightmare begins. “Staffordshire council.” The woman on the other end of the phone sounds far to cheery to work for the government. This alone irrationally flares my temper. “How may I direct your call?”

“Waste collection.”

“One moment please.” She screeches down my ear before putting me on hold. As the tasteless hold music slowly tries to bore me to death I side step people on the street as they pass. Around me all I can hear is the din of peoples conversation, either on the phone or with each other and the whoosh of air as cars pass along side me.

I am just about to give up on the council when the music suddenly clicks of and a dreary voice comes down the phone line to greet me. “You are through to waste collection how may I help you.” The woman on the other end sounds so disinterested from our conversation I would not be surprised if she were to be playing internet poker. Or some equally mundane office based distraction.

I roll my eyes knowing that she will never be able to see me and jump right into it. “I’ve had my black bin stolen.” See my council in all of their ill informed wisdom have this rule about rubbish. You get a set amount you can throw away. Whatever can fit into a black wheelie bin, you can throw away. With the lid closed I might add. Otherwise you’re not ‘recycling’ enough. Personally I think the bin men just went on strike and this is the compromise they came to but that’s just my opinion. Anyway thing with wheelie bins is kids love to play in them, which means they get stolen.

“That’ll be a 15 pound charge to replace.” Somehow in the small time it has taken me to speak she has become even more disinterested with our conversation.

“£15? Are you kidding me?” Now I’m agitated. “It’s not like I decided to have a bon fire in it, or went out to the street and said ‘Hey kids, found you a new toy’ somebody stole it.”

I hear a deep sigh and have to wonder how much customer service training these people get. “Have you informed the police?”

“No. It’s a wheelie bin.” I can just imagine that conversation going over. Knowing my luck I would be talking to the only constable who happens to be on a murder investigation and there I’d be ranting and ravening about my bloody bin.

I’m so wrapped up with my argument with the woman that the world fades to nothing around me. Honestly would you think it would be hard to get a rubbish receptacle so I can dispose of my waste? My shoulders bump into people as I pass along the crowded street. I don’t even acknowledge their existence. Not even a passing apologetic glance.

My foot descends off the pavement into the road before I look either way. Somewhere, in the back of my mind I register that I have left the safety of the footpath. But my consciousness doesn’t register that I’m in any immediate danger. As the irritating woman at the other end of the line continues to jabber on about charges and surcharges and all other manor of charges which I have no interest in, a loud horn sounds. Two things make my blood run impossibly cold. Firstly the horn is too deep in pitch to belong to any small vehicle. Secondly, it is much too loud to be considered far away.

I feel like a dear caught in headlights, my head swivels in place. A long blur of the colour red enters my vision. Red meaning passion, stop and danger. All of these useless words dot around in my minds eye. Not words like run or move.

Time seems to slow down for me. I lose grip on the phone in my hand; it falls towards the ground hitting first the side of my right breast before clattering to some unknown place near my feet. The horn sounds a second time. This time even deeper in pitch, stretching on for an impossible amount of time. All I am able to do is stand and stare.

A pair of arms encircles me from behind. One landing over my right shoulder, coming to rest between my breasts, the hand of the end of this offending limb clutches to my left hip. The second arm snakes its way across my waist gripping the right side on my hip. Both arms clench simultaneously jerking my off my feet and pulling me backwards.

Wind travels past my ears causing a loud ‘woosh’ sound in my eardrums. The wind is pulled out of me with the ferocity of the tug and finally my feet land once again on solid ground.

The moment I touch the earth time begins it’s normal rhythm and everything speeds back up. A blur of red, flashes before my eyes. The colour leaves my gaze just as quickly as it entered it. The sound of the huge vehicle, screeching to a halt rings through the air not far from where I stand. Heavy footsteps and shouts invade my senses.

None of the commotion around me matters and my head swivels up and to the left to look at my saviour, still with her arms around my torso. It’s her. I can feel as my breathing stops. It’s her from that night. That night that could have only existed in my dreams. Yet here she stands in the cold light of day as real as anything else around me.

Her gaze is not fixed on me. It’s directed off to my left hand side. I follow her gaze to the now stationary fifty-two seated Double Decker Bus. Wide angry skid marks show it’s far too hasty stop. Through the back window I see people picking themselves up off the floor. The door opens with a short release of compressed air as the driver barrels head long out of the vehicle. The heavy set, balding man pushes his way through the gathering crowd around me.

“Miss, are you alright?” He pushes and shoves his way to me, just as the strong arms holding me release their iron grip and withdraw from my torso. Instinctively I reach back grasping her wrist as tight as a can. Once again I feel inexplicably safe around this woman and I do not want her to leave me just yet. The bus driver’s hands close over my shoulders he looks into my eyes, “Miss are you alright?”

I mutely nod at the ageing man, not trusting my voice enough to form speech.

Once again this woman comes to my rescue. “She’ll be fine.” She pulls his gaze from me to look over my shoulder. “I’ll take care of her.”

His forehead creases and I can almost see that he is trapped in the same eyes that captures me all of those weeks ago. “We should call an ambulance.”

A beat goes by and I finally release my held breath, shakily. Finally she speaks. “I don’t believe that will be necessary.”

He nods in understanding taking his hands from my shoulders. “You’re sure.” His eyes flick to my face and back up to the lady behind me.

I feel movement behind me and can only assume that she has nodded. “Don’t worry, go back on your route.”

“But I should…”

He is cut off as she begins to speak again. “Your passengers are waiting.” I can hear a slightly irate tone threading it’s way into her voice.

He nods a little flicking his gaze back to me once again. “Are you sure Miss?”

I feel my limbs begin to tremble as the reality of what had just happened begins to soak its way through my muscles but still I nod and say. “Yeah.”

He nods once more looking at us both one last time to see if either of us changes our mind. Then he turns on the ball of his foot and leaves. Clambering back into the bus to calm his passengers.

Those deep blue orbs pass into my line of site and once again I am caught within them. My trembling hand reaches out and touches her cheek, just to make sure. “You’re real?”

Her eyes glisten with laughter at my comment and the smallest of smiles pulls tightly across her face. She pulls my palm from her skin and holds it between her own. “Yes.” A frown creases her forehead as she glances down at my hand between her grasp. As she pulls her gaze back up to me her eyelids have closed into slits. Her pupils darting from left to right. “Come with me.” She states. Like I was going to give her any other choice.

She stands to my right hand side. Pulling me against her, wrapping her long arm across my shoulders. She pulls me tight against her side and leads me though the busy street. She moves through the throng of people with so much grace even with me trembling at her side.

She pulls me off to the side, leading me away from the throng of people in the busy high street and down a much more vacant ally. Still she does not break her protective hold around my shoulders.