Crusaders

I wised up on the day that Sharon was made redundant. She came out of Melissa’s office with a glazed stare that froze her tears and immediately made us uncomfortable. At first she didn’t speak, but sat down, turned off her computer and began to place a few belongings into her bag. Kelly and I glanced at her uneasily, tried for a few seconds to pretend that nothing was wrong, then asked the question.
“Anything wrong?”
We could barely hear her answer.
“I’ve been made redundant.”
That piercing silence followed, the moment of disbelief and open mouths. Then one of asked us why. The answer came through a quiver.
“Something about revenue flows and restructuring. She said they can’t justify my job any more.”
“Can’t justify! You’re serving how many customers? Nine? Ten?”
“Fourteen.”
“And she says it can’t be justified?”
“Says it needs a change, something to do with a different service line.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that I’ve got two months’ money and five minutes to leave.”
I noticed a couple of faces turned towards us. The atmosphere was spreading around the office, alerting everyone to Sharon’s tragedy. Then I noticed Melissa come out of her office, glance our way and move quickly towards the reception area.
“Fuck that!” I said. “Give us a chance. We’ll talk to her.”
“No point,” said Sharon. “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. I could just tell there was something else, something she didn’t want to tell me.”
“But what was your last appraisal like?”
“Very good all round. No complaints.”
“Have you had any trouble with her before now?”
“None. I’ve always got on with her. Didn’t like her much, but kept it to myself, didn’t give her any trouble. Even did all those extra hours without overtime.”
Ellen came over, then Damian, then Tom. They all repeated our act with the open mouths and confused questions. Whispers went around the office, more people looked towards us. Melissa was out of sight but Colin, the building’s guy in uniform had appeared at the door. We knew the score; the companies in the building were able to call on him when someone had to be escorted outside. Sharon saw him across the room and said “I’m getting out.”
“Do you want a drink?”
“It’s not ten o’clock yet.”
“A coffee then. We’ll go to Nero with you.”
“No thanks.” Her eyes were beginning to go damp. “I’d rather go home. I’ll meet you for a drink, later in the week.”
She stood up, there were half a dozen hugs, then she walked towards Colin who offered a sympathetic smile and opened the door. That was the end of her.
Melissa appeared ten minutes later, avoiding eye contact with anyone as she walked quickly to her office and closed the door. She didn’t want to provide any explanations to the troops. None of us even tried to get back to work, but sat quietly trying to make sense of what had happened. It was the one time in my life I was ready to use the word ‘gobsmacked’. Then I thought sod it, and walked to Melissa’s office. I could see through the glass that she wasn’t on the phone, so I knocked once and went in, making a big effort to stay calm. There was no need to explain what I wanted.
“What was that about Melissa?”
“Sharon? I guessed one of you would be in here in a few minutes.”
“We can’t lose her. She’s one of our best. All the clients like what she does.”
“I wouldn’t argue, and I’m so sorry to lose her, but I explained to her that we need to restructure.”
“Why?”
“Cash flows aren’t matching HR inputs.”
“What does that mean?”
“Our business model doesn’t match the way she was deployed.”
“But she was doing a lot more than justifying her salary. And what are the clients going to think? At least three of them have specifically asked that she’s kept on their accounts.”
“It’s not your job to worry about that.”
“But what if we lose the business?”
“Look, it’s all very complicated, and I don’t have time to explain the intricacies of modern business theory to you, but I can assure you that it’s in the company’s interest. I’m sorry, but I can’t say any more about it.”
Her eyes made it clear that it wasn’t so much can’t, but didn’t want to say more about it; and the line about business theory was her way of telling me to shut because she was the boss. It reached the point where I couldn’t argue any further without making trouble for myself. I tried a different approach and softened my voice.
“It won’t do any good for office morale. Everyone knows Sharon’s very good at her job, and everyone likes her.”
Her eyebrows went up. Half a smile tripped across her face.
“Well maybe some people like her, but don’t take for granted that everyone shares the attitude of your little group.”
“What does that mean?”
“That’s enough for now. I think you’ve got work to do.”
I left the office, momentarily baffled by what she had said. Everyone did like Sharon. As I stepped outside the first person I set eyes on was Ian, head tilted over his desk as he made heavy work of another easy task. Then I turned and caught Odette looking at me and got the impression that she knew something. I walked to our corner of the office and it struck me. Melissa, Ian, Odette: an unholy bloody trinity.
It had been Thursday of the previous week, lunchtime in the kitchen, four of us eating microwaved soups and leftovers. Sharon and I were listening to Lucy and Matt complain about Ian’s latest bout of ineptitude. Melissa had hired him six months before, placed him in a responsible job where he soon proved out of his depth, but kept him after his probation and made it clear to the others in his team that they had to carry him.
“How long can she keep it up?”
“As long as she likes. What he’s doing doesn’t show in the figures.”
“His salary shows. I bet he’s on more than any of us.”
“Surely the board will rumble it sooner or later.”
“Melissa’s the only one who’s here all the time, and it would take a lot to make them overrule her.”
Odette came in, went straight to the fridge and poked around. On the usual form she would take out a yoghurt and go straight back to her desk. I’m not sure that Matt had noticed her when he spoke.
“I don’t think she’ll put up with it much longer. It reflects on her.”
“Don’t bet on it,” said Sharon. “You know the real reason he was hired? He goes to her church.”
“Are you sure?”
“He told me. It’s one of those born again groups.”
We all thought about it for a moment. It was common knowledge that Melissa was a churchgoer, although she didn’t talk much about it.
“I bet that’s what it is,” said Sharon. “Christians scratching each other’s backs.”
I was vaguely conscious of Odette leaving the room. Now I thought of Odette watching my scene with Melissa. Odette, who had been seen reading The Bible on the bus. She had told Melissa that Sharon had her rumbled.
I kept it to myself until lunchtime. Me, Kelly, Tom and Damian were huddled around a table in a greasy spoon cafe, comforting ourselves with fry ups and angry gossip. When I explained my theory they were all undecided. Kelly reckoned that Odette may have told Melissa something completely different.
“She’s a crafty bitch,” she said. “All unassuming on the surface, but I’ve seen the way she looks at people. And there was what she said about Tiffany just after she left.”
“What did she say?”
“That she had to leave because she had been having an affair with someone in the office, one of the married guys. Odette wouldn’t say who it was, just pretended that she knew some big secret.”
“Well Tiff was a bit .....”
“A bit what?”
“Well the way she dressed.”
“What’s that got to do with it. She was engaged. She’s got married since.”
“She was faithful to her other half,” said Damian. “I tried it on it with her at the Christmas party. Got nowhere.”
“That’s because you’re an ugly bastard.”
I told them to take it seriously. Sharon had just been sacked. She was a good worker and she was our friend, and victimised by a religious conspiracy.
“I don’t know,” said Tom.
“It sounds a bit heavy,” said Damian.
“Is Melissa into it that deep?” asked Kelly.
We discussed it for a few minutes. Most of the staff knew that Melissa went to church every weekend, and a few of us had picked up that she went to a Bible class on Tuesdays. She had mentioned it to a couple of people, enough to convey that she didn’t think it was anything to hide, but didn’t hand out any religious lectures or go fishing for souls at work. Until recently I would have said it was all fair enough, that she had beliefs and didn’t try to inflict them on her colleagues. The others were still inclined to see it that way, although Kelly began to take what Sharon had said about Ian more seriously. Damian reckoned Melissa wasn’t getting any sex and wanted to take it out on someone. I couldn’t convince them, but we all agreed that Melissa was a dishonest, manipulative bitch who hid behind her master of business degree and enjoyed pulling rank. We crept back to the office and spent the afternoon sharing sour looks.
A couple of days later I saw a chance of confirming my theory. As I walked into the kitchen Odette was unpacking a bag to place some yoghurt and falafel in the fridge. She had placed a Bible on the table. I smiled, tapped the Bible, and pretended to make friendly conversation.
“Is that your bus reading?”
“Yes.”
“I’m curious. How many times have you read it now?”
“Hard to say. I choose passages according to my mood, or sometimes at random. But I’ve probably read it all several times.”
“And you never get bored with it?”
“You can never get bored with the Word of God. It’s a source of strength.”
“I suppose it’s nice that you find it so enriching.”
Odette smiled. I thought she had taken it in good faith, accepted this was a friendly chat. I kept smiling.
“Which church do you go to?”
She smiled, but I saw the suspicious flicker in her eyes.
“God’s church.”
“I mean more specifically. Which denomination?”
“That’s something I share with believers.”
She closed the fridge the door and left the room quickly, straining to keep the smile on her face. She was useless at pretending she had nothing to hide. Now I was sure that she went to the same church as Melissa, and that she had stuck the knife into Sharon’s back. I let the others know quietly, one by one. Kelly was on her way to being convinced; she had always disliked Odette and was eager to believe she was a snitch. Damian and Tom were more cautious. Religion meant nothing to them, and they struggled to believe anyone could take it seriously enough to sack a star employee. Over the next few days the gossip about Sharon’s sacking began to tail off, everyone got on with their work, and I began to think I should knock it off before the others reckoned I was paranoid. Until a couple of weeks later, when Baldwin joined the firm.
He was a very clean cut, well spoken black man who always came to work in a suit and was scrupulously polite to everyone. It was par for the course to look smart and be nice in your first few days, but I recognised the type straight away. He had the look of one of those black guys who goes to church twice on a Sunday, makes it the centre of his social life, maybe even knocks on doors in search of converts. I was nice to him. On the day he joined we had a little chat about his previous job and his family. Then on his first Friday I noticed him go into the kitchen and decided it was time to make myself a cup of tea. We said hullo to each other and he did me the favour of starting the conversation.
“Are you doing anything special this weekend?”
“Nothing planned. I might find a movie, watch some football on TV. What about you?”
“Usual thing. Shopping and chores on Saturday. Church on Sunday.”
“Really? Which church do you go to?”
“It’s an independent church. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”
“Is it close to where you live?”
“No. It’s in Balham. Half an hour’s drive from our place.”
I noticed the little shift in his eyes. He realised he had given away something significant. I knew that Melissa lived in Merton, not a long way from Balham. He went to her bloody church. I decided it was best to put him at ease.
“I’d be too lazy to travel that far on a Sunday. I’ll walk two minutes to the pub.”
“What about to see your parents?”
“That’s usually on Saturdays.”
The look on his face said he approved, and had no reason to worry about talking to me. We spoke a little about parents and children, then went back to our desks. I reckoned it was better not to share it too quickly with the others. I told Kelly a couple of days later when we walked out at lunchtime together. She was ready to accept my theory that Melissa was filling the office with fellow believers. I told Tom at the post-work drink the following Friday. He wasn’t ready to be convinced, and said Baldwin could have been going to a different church to Melissa. Damian was on a week’s leave.
The following Monday Damian returned to work. He didn’t have a chance to turn on his computer before he was called into Melissa’s office and told he was being made redundant. He told us with a mixture of shock and amusement.
“Why?”
“All the same bollocks she gave to Sharon. Something to do with cash flows and HR inputs.”
I looked towards Melissa’s office. She repeated the act, walking out as if she had something very important to do. We could expect big Colin to appear in a minute or so.
“Have you upset her?” asked Kelly.
“Not as far as I know. Come to think of it I’ve barely spoken to her in the past six months.”
“Maybe it’s because of that.”
“I don’t care why. I’ve got a redundancy cheque, better than the statutory rate. I can put it with the savings and bugger off to Australia for a few months.”
He didn’t hang around for the expressions of sympathy, just shook a few hands and let us know that his girlfriend was off work that day, and he planned to celebrate with a Monday afternoon shag. Colin appeared as he got to the door. I shared a couple of silent stares with Kelly and Tom: now they both believed me. Ten minutes later Melissa reappeared. I looked her way as she strode towards her office and caught a very threatening glance. She wasn’t going to have any sort of conversation about this one.
Over the next few days we struggled to keep up with work. Damian had been on a big job that nobody else had been briefed on, and Kelly and I shared the phone calls with the client trying to make sure it didn’t fall apart. In the breaks we moaned to each other about the way Melissa was beginning to tear it all down. At the end of the week Melissa came over to us, suddenly very friendly and understanding, and told us how much she appreciated our efforts over the past few days.
“I know you’ve found this confusing, and that you’ve both worked hard to provide the cover, but I’m working on some new arrangements that will lighten your load. Of course it has to work within the existing budgets.”
We both knew there wouldn’t be a new Damian. The law said she couldn’t make someone redundant and get a straight replacement in within a few days. We also couldn’t think of anyone else in our team who had the time to take on more work.
“So what’s happening?” asked Kelly.
“I can’t tell you now, we’re ironing out some details.”
On the following Monday an email went around. Half of Kelly’s smaller jobs were to be subcontracted and she was to take on Damian’s big account. Ian was going to take on the smaller jobs that Damian had done. Kelly and I were expected to train him. We went into her office together.
“We can’t spend all that time teaching him to do the job.”
“You’re both very good at it. I’m sure he’ll learn quickly.”
“But he hasn’t got the aptitude.”
“How do you know? You haven’t seen what he can do yet.”
“But we know that .....” Kelly let it trail off.
“You know what?”
We knew that everybody who worked with Ian said he was thick, that he took twice as long to learn and twice as long to do anything as the others in the team. We knew that he had the job because he went to the same church as Melissa. We knew that if we brought that up we were likely to be next out the door. I registered a mild protest.
“We don’t think he’s right for the job.”
“Well I’m the one who keeps an eye on all the staff here, so I’ll be the judge of that. Now I hope that you’ll both be professional about this and give him a chance to show what he can do.”
She closed with a threatening smile. We went back to our desks and got on with our jobs, sharing a silent rage.
Two days later Damian met a bunch of us after work for a goodbye drink. There was an open invitation but I noticed that Ian, Odette and Baldwin all steered clear. Melissa had too much sense to show her face. Damian was in a good mood, as if the redundancy had done him a favour, and everyone seemed ready to go along with it. I had gone out ready to spread the dirt, share my theory with anyone who was bothered to listen, but decided I didn’t want to spoil the fun. So I knocked back a pint, joined in the jokes, had another pint, talked about football and music, then another pint, and found myself to the side with Tom. He looked around the group and dipped his voice.
“How many came out tonight?”
“I’m not sure. Twelve? Fifteen? Why?”
“So that leaves nearly twenty who could have come and didn’t.”
“I wouldn’t make anything of that. Some of them have got kids. Three or four would have had something already planned. Some people don’t like drinking in midweek.”
“Yeah, but none of Melissa’s mob are here.”
“Personally I’m glad they’re not here.”
“So how many of the others who haven’t come are in her crowd?”
I didn’t answer. I was struck by the thought that Tom had now become more deeply embroiled in the threat than me.
“I mean,” he said, “there are four that we know about, and they know it’s not right for them to be here tonight. But what about all those others?”
“Like who?”
“Any of them who have them started here since Melissa took charge. Justin. Martin. Jane. Stephanie. Maybe they’re all in on it.”
I wanted to argue with Tom, tell him he was paranoid, but something was holding me back. It wasn’t that I agreed with him, but I couldn’t be sure enough to disagree. There was a shred of credibility in what he said and it was horrible to contemplate. All I could do was mutter without commitment.
“I dunno mate. I dunno.”
“I bet it’s a crusade to them,” he said. “Our office is the Holy Land and they want to take it from us heathens.”
“Do they really think we’re that bad?”
“We’re different to them. We don’t believe in their God, so we’re fair game to be colonised and wiped out. Religion’s full of bollocks like that. How many millions of people have been massacred in the name of God?”
I turned and caught a whiff of Tom’s breath. I remembered that he had been out for a meeting in the afternoon and not returned to the office, so he had drunk two or three more than the rest of us. The booze was fuelling his paranoia, and his ideas were feeding mine. I tried to play it down.
“Steady on. I don’t think anyone’s going to crucify us.”
“No, but they’ll have our fucking jobs.”
I thought about Ian, Odette and Baldwin, then about Justin, Martin, Jane, Stephanie and anyone else in the firm. Suddenly I didn’t know who we could trust.
“Fanatics,” Tom mumbled.
“Extremists,” I said.
“Sanctimonius scumbags.”
“Bible bashing bastards.”
“Pious pricks.”
“Fundamentalist fucks.”
“I need a piss.”
Tom stood up and walked towards the gents. I sat growling into my beer until a voice came from our crowd.
“Oi! Cheer up you miserable git!”
It was Damian. He was the one who had a right to be miserable and he was making the best of it. I stood up and joined in the jokes again.
The following week Kelly handed in her notice. She had found another job, told everybody she was ready for a move upwards, more in the pay packet, a new challenge, but admitted to me that she had only been looking since the crusaders began to move in. She said she could do without the aggro, not knowing who she could speak to without becoming their next target. Life was too short for that kind of stress. I told she was doing the right thing for herself, and she would be much better off in a firm full of normal people who found religion a big bore. She asked if I was looking for a way out; I told her I hadn’t started, although I doubted that I would be there much longer. At first she was going to work a month’s notice, then Melissa came up with a line about having to “re-establish the office continuity in a hurry”, told Kelly she could go at the end of the week and take the month’s money. The following Monday I was introduced to her replacement.
Irene was one of them. She was black, dressed in that smart but slightly conservative way favoured by churchgoers, and spoke received English with an inflection of West Africa. I had to brief on her how to do the job. Melissa had told me she had the relevant experience, but I realised after three minutes that she had never worked in our line before. She was only partly familiar with the computer software, asked the meanings of a couple of terms that are common to the work, and by the end of the day had done barely a stroke. I decided on a final test, and told her that we usually took a starter out for a drink during their first week.
“Never mind,” she said. “I don’t drink.”
“So come down the pub and have a Coke.”
“I don’t go to pubs.”
“Well there’s a couple of wine bars. It’s all very civilised.”
“Sorry, I just don’t enjoy places where people are drinking alcohol.”
I smiled, pretending that it meant nothing to me.
“So what kind of places do you enjoy?”
“Places where I know people share my values.”
I smiled at her. You pious, self-righteous, judgemental, hymn singing, prayer mumbling tart. Why don’t you just fucking say that you get your jollies in prayer meetings. I felt like turning out her handbag to find The Bible, wave it in the air and declare it proof of the conspiracy. Instead I turned back to my computer and made a point of finishing a heavy job two days before the deadline.
I spent that evening looking at my CV. It was three years old, updated a month before I found the job. I realised that I had enjoyed most of my time with the firm, that the work was rewarding, the wages okay, the people good fun, and hadn’t thought about doing anything else. Now it had been spoiled, my nine to five domain overrun by invaders, a sect that wanted to build its own little colony in my space. I felt too upset to make any changes to the CV, but acknowledged I would have to bring it up to date soon. It was time to start looking at job ads.
My frustration grew worse the following day. I was returning from lunch and stepping into the lift with Henry, the parent company’s managing director. He had retained elements of the old management style – always wore a suit, didn’t drink with the employees, maintained a slight air of detachment – but he sometimes walked around the office asking people how things were going, and he knew my name.
“How’s it all going?” he asked.
“Okay,” I replied.
So what else do you say to your boss’s boss?
“I understand you’ve had a few changes in your area recently.”
“That’s right. I suppose it happens in any firm from time to time. I was sorry to see Kelly go.”
“How do you feel about it all?”
I paused, caught his eye and realised he was probing. Did it mean that he knew something was wrong? Or was he part of it, deciding on whether I should be the next to go? I bottled it.
“I hope it settles down.”
The lift reached our floor, Henry smiled and stepped out first. I felt sick. Maybe I had just saved my job, at least for a while, and I had to consider that Melissa reported to him. He must know, must approve of what she was doing. But then it may have been a chance to alert him to what was going wrong with his company. I could have made a stand, began to fight back. Instead I wandered back to my desk and didn’t speak to anyone all afternoon.
I looked over the desk. Ian and Irene hadn’t said much to each other, but they looked too comfortable side by side, as if they weren’t strangers. Of course not, I thought, they’ve been swapping Bible verses together twice a week for months, or years. I stole glances around the room. Odette was at her desk, looking very pleased about something. Bitch. Baldwin and Jane were chatting with the air of two people who had plenty in common. I had wondered about her before: was she part of it? I glanced around at others. Tom was sound. Silja was Hindu. I couldn’t imagine Maureen or Patrick as part of the cult, but maybe that was part of it. I began to think about who went to the pub after work. Who did something civilised like watch football or go to the movies on Sunday. None of them spoke about religion in the office, but that was obviously one of their rules. Don’t give yourselves away. Don’t let the unbelievers in on the secret. Hide everything until they’re all gone. I didn’t know who to trust, and hated them for making me feel like that.
That evening I lay on the sofa, played my Nick Cave albums, and found relief in visions of unholy persecution. Melissa and her disciples cowering in front of hungry lions. Tied to stakes and screaming as the flames licked their sides. Chained and weeping as they were thrown into a violent, icy sea. I wanted to be their grim reaper.
All I could really do was creep back into work the next morning and cultivate a sullen detachment. Irene caught it the first time she asked a stupid question.
“You don’t know what that is?”
She looked embarrassed and stayed hidden behind her PC screen for the morning. I knew it couldn’t last, that sooner or later she would say something to Melissa and I would get a lecture about my responsibility to help less experienced colleagues. She was so bloody confident in her right to have her own way. I wanted a way of rattling her cage.
I found it at lunchtime. I was wandering the streets around the office when I looked into the window of a large bookshop. At first I went in to look at the three for the price of two deals, a little treat to console myself, but once inside I went down to the basement, and without thinking headed straight to the section on religion. The answer was in front of me, a big translation of the Qur’an, with a ponderous essay on the text’s relevance to the modern world. I bought it without a second thought, took it back to the office and left it on the desk.
It took a couple of days for people to notice, prompted by lunch hours when I stayed at my desk, eating a sandwich and leafing through the pages. I read a few paragraphs in depth, skim read some pages, and took in virtually nothing. Meanwhile I watched for people who noticed and noted their expressions. Most were a little bemused, a couple showed mild disgust. Irene moved her head to the side of her monitor and peered at the title. I swear there was horror in her eyes.
At the end of the second day Tom caught me as I left the office.
“What’s the business with the book?” he asked.
“I’m enjoying the looks on the faces,” I said.
He grinned, and asked if I was going to give up pork and booze. I told him I might abstain within a mile of the office for a while.
“Well if you want a drink on Friday, I’ll get on the tube with you.”
Good man.
The following day Melissa came to my desk. She had a couple of lightweight questions about a job, but I knew the real idea was to check whether the gossip was true. Her eyes lingered on the Qur’an just long enough to make her realise she couldn’t pretend to ignore it.
“What’s prompted your interest in that?” she asked. That. She couldn’t hide her disgust.
“Intellectual curiosity.”
“Are you finding it interesting?”
“I’m surprised. There’s a lot of good sense in there.”
“Oh well, each to his own.”
That was it, I was next on her hit list. The best I could hope for was to cause Melissa a serious embarrassment.
To my surprise nothing happened through the rest of the week, but I saw plenty. The crusaders whispered among themselves. I noticed twos and threes who didn’t have any work in common disappear into meeting rooms. I became sure that Jane was one of them. She came to our side of the office and spent fifteen minutes talking quietly to Irene without acknowledging I was there. I noticed Ian staring at me a couple of times, and Baldwin was not so friendly. I was the heathen in their midst. Over the weekend I thought about growing a beard and buying one of those hats Muslim guys wear, maybe dropping a couple of remarks about women covering their heads and the evils of American foreign policy. No, it would have been going too far too fast, except for the last one, which was taken as agreed by almost everybody in the office.
On Monday I realised that the crusaders had been talking about me over the weekend. I noticed how they all looked away to avoid meeting my eyes, but kept theirs on me when my back was turned. I made a couple of efforts at friendly conversation in the kitchen. I got no more than a “Yes” and “Okay”. When Melissa passed I caught her glance, a careful suppression of outrage. She was waiting for the chance to add me to the casualty list. I responded by intensifying the act of lunchtime reading, gazing at the pages of the Qur’an with affected fascination, moving my lips in a silent recitation of the words. Irene stared at me as if I was the Devil. Others looked at me as if I was crazy, one of those pavement preachers who make you cross to the other side of the road. Melissa and Odette struggled to disguise their anger. I didn’t expect it to do any good, reckoned the odds were stacked too heavily towards the boss getting her way, but I was enjoying the irritation it provoked. Tom told me there was a pool open in the office on how long I would last. I asked where he had placed his money.
“Two to three weeks.”
“Tell you what, I won’t do anything else to annoy them until we get into the third week. No guarantees, but it might put the money in your pocket.”
“Thanks mate.”
As it turned out we only got to Thursday before it kicked off. I was trying, in the face of dirty looks and an expectation of being out of work, to get on with an important job. The deadline was the following afternoon and I reckoned that with my head down and an extra hour in the evening I may wrap it up in time. I was conscious of Melissa being in a flap over something, and Henry the big boss entering her office. A few minutes later I went to the loo, and noticed as I passed that their voices were raised, Melissa’s betraying a shot of anxiety. When I came back I noticed the argument was attracting some glances towards her door. I went back to my desk and got on with it. A couple of minutes later Melissa stepped out and called Irene to her room. I couldn’t imagine that she could do anything to impress Henry. Two more minutes and Irene re-emerged, looking the lost little girl, and slipped back into her seat. I asked if there was anything wrong. She told me that Henry wanted a job done in a hurry, one that she had to admit was too tricky for her. He told her not to worry about it.
“I think he was annoyed,” she said.
“With you?”
“No. Well, don’t know. Maybe more with Melissa.”
That was interesting. He must have been aware that she had dumped Sharon and Damian, that Kelly had moved on and that the quality of the replacements left a lot to be desired. Very good. I thought that maybe Melissa was putting a couple of black marks against her name. Then I noticed Henry leave, saying his usual hellos to a couple of people he passed, then Melissa came flustering out of the door carrying a pile of folders, straight towards me.
“Sorry,” she said. “This is urgent. There’s a big deal hanging on wrapping this one up by the end of the day.”
I took one look at the folders and reckoned they amounted to five, maybe six hours work. I placed my hand on the pile that was already on my desk.
“I’ve already got this lot. We’ve got a deadline of tomorrow afternoon.”
“Well this is more important. Henry says it’s a priority.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “But remember what you said about this other lot. If we don’t get it to them over the weekend we could lose the account.”
“So they’ll both have to be done.”
“So who’s going to help?”
“She looked around. All the heads were down. Everyone had piles of folders on their desks. The only people in our section who weren’t under the cosh were Ian and Irene. Common sense said that neither of them were up to it.
“Sorry,” said Melissa. “You know how it stands around here, and you are the more senior member of the team.”
“I’m not Superman.”
“Well I’m sure that the job you’re on will be okay if we hand it over on Monday morning. You could do a few hours over the weekend.”
“Sorry. I’ve got a wedding on Saturday, and I’m visiting the parents on Sunday.”
Her lip twitched. She stared at me, refusing to believe the excuse. It had been a lie, but there was no way she could prove it.
“Well can’t you see your parents the following weekend?”
“Melissa. I’ve got a right to spend a Sunday with the family.”
“But this is urgent!”
“Honestly.” I injected a note of hurt into my voice. “Do you like having your Sundays disrupted?”
“But Sunday’s a special day to me.”
“How?”
She squeezed her lips and stared me at angrily. I knew the answers she wanted to give.
Because you’re a bloody Christian? Because you think Sunday is your special day and all of us pagans abuse it? Because you wouldn’t do what you expect your staff to do?
“Okay then,” she said. “Do some extra hours this evening, and tomorrow if necessary, and you’ll be paid for overtime.”
That was a big concession. It was understood in the firm that if you had to put in extra hours you didn’t get paid for them. I let a hand drift over to touch the Qur’an.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’d be here until eleven o’clock both nights, and I’d run out of steam, and I wouldn’t be able to do the job properly.” I saw the fire rising in her eyes. I leaned back in my chair, stole a glance across the room and saw that others were watching us nervously. I decided to twist the knife. “Can’t you give it Ian or Irene?”
Her lip curled. The top half of her body shook. She slipped a hand around the folders and slammed them on my desk. The Qur’an was in the middle of the empty space and they perched precariously near the edge.
“It’s up to you!” she barked. “Look after it.”
“It’s too much.”
“Don’t be obstructive!”
The room was quiet. I was aware that someone had just come into the office but I was too wrapped up in the performance to register who it was. The folders began to tilt. She caught them with one hand and with the other reached across to flick the Qur’an aside. It was a sharp movement, with enough force to push the book off the desk. It fell straight into the bin. I looked down at it, saw the opportunity to maximise her embarrassment and went wide eyed with horror. I raised my voice loud enough for the whole office to hear.
“Look what you’ve done!”
“It was an accident!”
“It was an act of gross disrespect!”
“You shouldn’t have had the bloody book on the desk!”
“Why not? Because it’s not The Bible?”
“Because you’re not even a bloody Muslim!”
“What do you know about it? What do you know about my beliefs? What do you know about what goes on inside my heart?”
“Don’t talk like that to me! You wouldn’t know a belief from a dirty joke!”
“That sounds like an insult to Islam. I thought you were meant to respect other religions.”
“It’s not a bloody religion! It’s a nonsense! It’s a perversion! It’s what happens when people lose their bloody minds in the desert.”
I paused, affecting a look of bemused sadness, reached into the bin and picked up the Qur’an. I dropped my voice, cultivating an expression of pain.
“So you think it belongs in the bin?”
Then I noticed that the person who had just entered the office had approached us and stood behind Melissa. It was Henry. Before she got another word in he placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned and her face froze. He spoke to her quietly.
“Melissa. I think we should both go to your office.”
The colour drained from her face. It resembled that of a little girl who realised she had pushed her luck too far, contrite, silently pleading. They went to her office and the door closed. Over the next few minutes a couple of people answered phone calls, but other than that nobody in the office spoke. Anyone who could see the door to Melissa’s room flicked their eyes towards it at least once a minute. I thought I heard her voice a couple of times, momentarily rising then sharply halting. It would have been nice to eavesdrop, revel in the details of the bollocking she deserved, but it was enough to know that she was really in the shit. Henry’s face had told us that much. Odette got up and walked to the door, blatantly looking into the room as she passed, spent twenty seconds outside on some pretend task, then walked back and looked again. I noticed her looking across the room to someone, mouthing the words “She’s crying”.
A couple more phones rang and someone asked a question about copying text from a PDF file. The office began to assume a low key imitation of its regular atmosphere. Then I noticed big Colin enter, carrying an empty cardboard box. He walked to Melissa’s door, knocked once and entered. Two minutes later he appeared carrying the box as if it was now a lot heavier. Melissa followed, carrying a bulging shoulder bag. She walked briskly enough to pass him before he reached the door. Dozens of eyes flashed around the office in a moment of mutual comprehension.
“She’s been sacked!”
Odette stood up and ran after her. Everybody else sat still and wondered what to do next. Henry came out of the office and spoke in a voice that was calm but loud enough for all to hear.
“There’s no point in me playing things down,” he said. “You all saw what happened. Melissa’s behaviour was unacceptable. She no longer works for the company.”
A tremor went around the office. It was people stifling cheers.
“I have to do a lightning review of the management arrangements,” Henry went on. “I have to go for a while but I’ll be back within an hour. Does anyone have anything to say?”
Nobody answered. Henry looked around the room. I wondered if he had an eye open for the crusaders, daring any of them to challenge him. Then he gestured for me to follow him into Melissa’s office. I didn’t look at anyone. I reckoned it was fifty-fifty that I was going to follow her. Inside he closed the door but remained standing, and spoke quietly.
“Are you a Muslim?”
“No.”
“So what’s with the Qur’an?”
“I’m interested in what it says.”
“So stay interested, at least for a while. Leave that book on your desk and let everybody see you reading it at lunchtimes.”
“Indefinitely?”
“Long enough for someone with a healthy, enquiring mind to satisfy his curiosity.”
His face had been rigid, but for a second there was a flicker of a smile.
“I get it.”
“And don’t gloat.”
“I won’t.”
“And when they ask you what we’ve spoken about, you tell them it was do with your workload. I understand that’s what started the incident.”
“That’s right.”
That was it. He left the office in front of me and went straight to the door. Everyone watched me as I went back to my desk, straining to suppress a grin, sat down and got on with my work. It took a minute for Tom to creep over to my desk.
“What did he say?”
“He asked me about the workload.”
When he asked more questions I brushed him off, but he squeezed my shoulder and whispered “Nice one!”
Odette returned to the office. She spoke to Baldwin in a voice loud enough for most of us to hear. Melissa had walked down the road fighting back tears. She felt persecuted and abused. It was disgusting after all she had done for the company. Surely there was a case for legal action. There was no way that Henry could be allowed to get away with this. And as for that vicious swine who set her up ..... She glared across the room at me. I smiled and gave a little wave. There were a number of giggles around the office. I looked around to see who was smiling, assure myself of who was on our side. Then Irene walked across the room to join Odette and Baldwin, then Ian, then Jane – so I was right about her – and then young Sally, who dressed like teenage tart and looked no-one’s idea of a Christian. They went into a huddle, shot a couple of suspicious glances at the rest of us, then went into Melissa’s office and shut the door.
“So that’s all of them,” said Tom.
“I would guess so.”
“All in one room together.” He raised his voice loud enough for at least half of the office to hear. “Can we barricade them in? Start a fire? I’m sure they would appreciate the irony.”
A couple of people laughed. A couple gave him looks that said he had gone too far.
“That’s not irony,” I said.
Stephanie came over to us. The office congealed into a number of huddles, any pretence of work falling apart. We spoke excitedly and didn’t worry about gloating. It amounted to an extended break, until Henry walked back into the office and people slid back to their desks. He paused at the entrance to Melissa’s office, obviously surprised by the crusaders inside, then entered.
There were raised voices, expressions of disgust, something that sounded like an ultimatum. Then the crusaders strode out. They shared the same expression, something like a pained superiority. Odette turned to the rest of us, threw back her shoulders and made their big announcement.
“We’re all agreed that what has happened here this morning is intolerable. We’ve told Henry that we believe Melissa has been persecuted for her religious beliefs and that we’re not prepared to go on working here unless he reinstates her. Unfortunately he refuses to see sense, so we are all leaving.”
Tom replied in a loud, deeply sarcastic voice.
“Oh dearie me!”
Odette responded with a sneer.
“We know that some of you will be laughing, but rest assured, you won’t find it so funny on the day that you meet the Lord.”
A number of smirks appeared. Someone said “Amen!” and burst into giggles. The crusaders broke up, went back to their desks and began to collect their belongings. I watched Irene, thought she looked a bit confused, and guessed she was doing what she had been told. I wondered if I should give her a friendly word, try to talk her into seeing sense. Then I thought sod her.
“Good luck,” I said.
She looked at me with disdain, but as she walked away I noticed her expression change. The crusaders came together again in the middle of the room, and I could see that they all wore quiet smiles, assuring themselves of their superiority to the Godless rabble they were leaving behind. I had seen traces of it in the preceding months, but this time it was more intense. Now they were more than believers, more than crusaders. As they left the office, off to face the indignities of the dole queue and the anxieties of unpaid mortgages every one of them was blissfully happy. Now they were martyrs.