Copyright Oggbashan December 2012
Minor edit December 2013
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
This story is set in the 1960s, long before texting and mobile phones.
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Our office party was set for Christmas Eve starting at one o'clock. As with every year our managers had a problem. The office had to appear to be operational right up to the last hour even though everybody would be at the party. They couldn't afford to have a phone call routed through to the party because the caller might be answered by someone drunk, or even if not, would hear the revelling in the background.
As with every year, they asked for volunteers to look after the telephone switchboard. The work wasn't difficult. All the volunteer had to do was answer the very few phone calls, and take messages. Any personal messages for staff members would be written down, enveloped, and put on the notice board by the main exit. If it was an official call and a reply was needed, the volunteer could answer it from their own knowledge or consult the director's secretary who could summon a senior manager from their sedate sherry and mince pie gathering. The criteria for the volunteers were that they should be junior managers, reasonably experienced and possessing enough common sense to decide whether any call should be referred to a manager.
The benefits for the volunteers were a couple of hours time off in lieu during January, credit for helping the company, and the knowledge that if they were selected they were considered by their managers competent to make decisions. Being on duty at Christmas could be an indication that the volunteer was eligible for promotion.
This year I had put my name forward to be on duty. On Christmas Day and a few days afterwards I would be staying with an uncle and aunt for this year's family get-together and I needed to be sober for the evening of Christmas Eve for the long drive there. My parents would be in Germany staying with my older brother. After a few years of office parties I would be pleased to miss the event because too many people drank too much and said and did things they shouldn't.
I was pleased that I was selected but surprised by the other choice. Belinda 'The Body' would be on duty with me. My surprise was not that she was inexperienced. She wasn't. She was a competent supervisor and intelligent. But she was the leader of the in crowd at the office, the organiser of social events and the ultimate party girl. She was called 'Belinda The Body' openly and appeared to glory in the title. It described her. Belinda was curvy, well developed and emphasised her considerable assets with fitted clothing. Men found it difficult to look her in the face because her cleavage, even when covered, was so prominent.
I was slightly concerned that Belinda had volunteered. I couldn't understand why she would want to avoid the office Christmas party. It didn't seem in character.
Whatever her reasons for volunteering, I was confident that she would be capable of dealing with any crisis that might arise and her experience and mine were complementary. If I didn't know what to do, she would.
As usual every Christmas, the chosen volunteers were briefed by the Director. This year the message was different.
"Alan, Belinda, you were chosen for duty because you will be representing the company on your own. All the senior managers have been asked to attend the Board's event. None of them will be here, nor available. You will have to answer any queries from your own resources. Is that OK?"
Of course we agreed. This was serious recognition of our competence.
"Thank you. Neither of you will regret it."
We looked at each other as soon as we had left the Director's office.
"There's a promotion board this year, isn't there?" I asked Belinda.
"There is, Alan, and I think we stand a good chance. Do you know who they turned down for duty?"
"No."
As we walked down the corridor passing several people Belinda quietly told me a short list of names, many of whom I would have thought more likely promotion prospects than either of us.
"Wow!" I replied.
"Wow indeed, Alan. I'm glad I volunteered," she said.
"That's been puzzling me," I said. "Why DID you volunteer?"
Belinda looked sad. Just then one of her group of friends passed and waved. Belinda waited until no one else was around.
"Not here. Not now. I'll tell you this afternoon when we're alone."
"OK."
She went to her office. I went to mine. At a quarter to one we relieved the telephonists. They went off to change for the party.
"Well?" I asked.
"Well what?" Belinda replied.
"Why are you here?"
"Did you know I was going out with Henry?"
"No... But he's..."
"...Married? Yes. He is. He told me that he was separated and... It doesn't matter what he told me. He lied. He was using me and we broke up two weeks ago. He intended to be at the party with his wife. That's why I don't want to be there. I might make a scene and tell her what a bastard he is."
"I'm sorry, Belinda."
"Sorry for what, Alan? Sorry that you're probably the only one in the whole office who didn't know that Henry was fucking me and cheating on his wife?"
"No. It's not surprising that I didn't know. We aren't in the same circles. I'm sorry that you have been hurt. You didn't deserve that."
