Finding Anabelle Glass: Part V
2nd November 2014
Anabelle Glass sat opposite her boss. Her overweight, sweaty-faced boss. For several weeks now, the office had had a competition running as to when the white shirt he had on every Tuesday and Wednesday would burst open. The buttons, straining further than ever, looked like they could quite easily spring from his shirt placket, fly across the short expanse of desk space between them and hit her on the head.
“… I like you, Anabelle. I really do.” Sigh. “But this is twice now. In a week.”
His chest hairs were poking through the holes between chest and shirt, wiry things, from what Anabelle could see, and not at all attractive. Also, he had a piece of broccoli – spinach? – stuck between his crooked front teeth and it made everything he was saying that little bit more repulsive.
“…I mean, your mother would…”
And there he went again. Anabelle’s conscience sighed and shook her head, knowing this particular thread of conversation by heart. Anabelle’s mother had been a vital part of the company – blah, blah – Anabelle was not doing much for the Glass reputation – blah, blah – didn’t Anabelle think her legacy was worth more than this? Blah, blah.
He’d stopped talking. Shit, Anabelle thought. How long had he been waiting for her to say something?
“Um,” she cleared her throat and fidgeted a little on the spot, twiddling fingers and thumbs together. “Mr Lloyd – ”
“Jeff, dear,” he smiled, as though they were having a friendly chat, rather than a this-is-the-time-I-will-actually-fire-you chat.
“Yeah, Jeff. I know I’ve seen the inside of this office a few too many times…” She trailed off, not quite knowing what she was going to say. An excuse? She had none. An apology? Again, she had none.
Jeff sighed, the warm breath wafting her way unpleasantly. “I think we both know that you’re just not… meshing with the company, dear.” Anabelle raised her eyebrow at that, but Jeff carried on talking. “I’ve let you get away with quite a bit, when you think about it – but it’s gone too far. We’re going to have to…” Here, he stuttered, wiped his brow with the back of his hand and took a breath, like it was paining him. “We’re going to have to let you go. Grab your things and go to HR for your last pay check.” The last few words tripped over themselves and he turned from Anabelle to his computer.
Outside the tall, glassy building, clutching a half-full cardboard box with a sheaf of paper and a personalised desk organiser inside, Anabelle paused. She was undeniably having a ‘moment’. Prior to her job with Lloyd & Co., she’d worked for an aquarium, and occasionally they’d have a child with one of those final-wish companies wanting to swim with dolphins or sharks. Watching the smiles on their faces when they had that wish granted always made Anabelle have a moment – a moment of what am I doing with my life? Cleaning out fish tanks and emptying bins of juice boxes from school field trips is not a career. What do I want?
In the crisp city air, a few bus stops from her apartment block, she thought of her life. It wasn’t bad: she had a nice place, a stable job – oh, wait, no, cross that one off – and a loving family.
Heston Chadwick. Her thoughts strayed fondly to her odd, odd neighbour. One condition of moving into her apartment when she had done had been keeping an eye on Heston. His aunt owned the building – some small-time building mogul – and she was big on both charity work and family. The entire apartment block was filled with people like Heston, men and women in need of extra support whilst being independent – the only reason Anabelle had got a room was because she was the daughter of an uncle who was best friends with blah-blah-blah. Somehow, she was connected to Heston’s family, and in the city? Connections were everything.
Moving into Apartment 5b had been an interesting curveball in Anabelle’s life. She’d been given a list of tenants’ requirements, which was now stuck to her fridge with a lone, magnetic, pink letter ‘l’.
Tenant’s Agreement for Falgrove Apartments, date: February 2nd 2006.
1. Act responsibly: no overtly loud and disruptive behaviour between 9pm and 9am. Please be conscious of other tenants in the time not bracketed.
2. Grocery deliveries can be made through Falgrove – to do this visit the website given to you upon move-in.
3. For those of you on floors 4 and 5, your fellow tenants may have specific requirements – please help your fellow tenants in any way they might need if you are available.
4. Apartments 2b and 5a do not collect mail – if someone is trying to deliver a parcel, you may need to step in and leave outside these respective doors. The building is otherwise secure, so you need not worry about anyone stealing mail.
5. Your doormen/woman are either Stan (Monday-Wednesday), Derek (Thursday-Saturday) or Patty (Sunday).
6. In the event of a fire or emergency requiring emergency services, please call the numbers on the Sheet 2.
7. Pets are allowed, but please alert Falgrove – pets must be house-trained.
8. If you have any extra requirements, please do not hesitate to get in contact with Falgrove. Any numbers or email addresses can be found on Sheet 2 or 3.
Heston Chadwick was Anabelle’s neighbour. As far as she knew the other two apartments on the fifth floor were vacant. A few times Anabelle had had to refer to that list of instructions, picking parcels up for Heston and deflecting people who knocked on his door. So far it had worked out smoothly, and despite the curiousness of Falgrove, Anabelle was glad she lived there.