The Ultimate Secret

By John Flannery

A plump and placid Blackpool teenager, Christine Walker quits her lowly civil service job when she is publicly humiliated by a colleague who she has a crush on. She uses her freedom from work to: reread her cherished Harry Potter novels; fantasise about various celebrities and write sexually charged fan letters to them; experiment with vodka; ignore her twenty-seven diet books; ride her beloved rollercoasters in Blackpool Pleasure Beach; then finally lose her Catholic faith. Christine falls out with her mum and dad, Janet and Peter, when they implement a ‘tough love’ policy against her; they withdraw their love. The family becomes dysfunctional and a war of attrition begins. Christine’s seething anger, conscious and unconscious, with her parents and the outside world in general turns against herself. She feels hopeless, useless, isolated, bored, angry, and depressed. All these apparently minor factors combine to create a despair that leads to her suicidal thoughts. During a supernatural epiphany, Christine tells a little girl on the beach about her suicidal intent. The girl reveals that a man can save Christine from herself but she brushes aside the information. So, Christine prepares to go to London, lose her virginity, and jump in front of a Tube train. As a cover story, she tells her parents that she is going for a holiday in the Lake District. In an attempt to go out with a small bang, Christine checks into the plush Dorchester hotel in central London for a few days. She visits: the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain in Hyde Park; Buckingham Palace for lunch with the Queen; a bustling and vibrant Leicester Square in the West End; the Harry Potter gift shop in King’s Cross Station with its famous Potter inspired Platform 93⁄4 wall complete with the embedded luggage trolley; and, thus killing two birds with one stone, she searches for a Tube station in which to kill herself. Later that day, she loses her virginity to a bisexual sex worker, Justin Avery who wants to try and save Christine from an early death. Justin is intent on giving her a reason to live but even his declaration of love fails to stop her suicidal impulse. Christine reads him her suicide note which she will be posting to her parents who, back in Blackpool, have been fretting over her disappearance. After deflowering Christine, Justin awakens her blossoming sexuality and, in the subsequent days, they start to enthusiastically make love. Justin introduces her to his small and motley group of close friends. They take Christine to a comedy club where she heckles one of the amateur comedians. Justin is an amateur musician who writes a song for Christine. Justin then introduces her to his favourite London cultural venues such as the Tate Modern Gallery, Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament, and Downing Street. Two days later Christine posts her suicide note to her parents and prepares to take her own life at the Angel Tube station. With Cristine on the very edge of the station platform and a Tube train bearing down on her in the tunnel, the mysterious little girl reappears on the station platform and reconnects with Christine by revealing some crucial and shocking information. But will it be enough to stop Christine from completing her suicide?

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Flannery
• Release date: May 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005077303

John Flannery

John Flannery was born in 1963. He was brought up in Manchester but he now lives in Fleetwood. John studied Housing Studies at the University of Westminster and graduated in 1992. He decided to become a writer of fiction in 1986 but he did not start writing in earnest until 1995. In 2010 he self-published a collection of short stories entitled Toby's Little Eden and Other Stories that was greeted by a huge tidal wave of public indifference that still overwhelms him to this day. In 2012 he self-published a small collection of short stories called Our Little Secret and Other Stories. He has also published a collection of stries entitled Our Little Secret and Other Stories, a debut novel called God's Gift, and a novella called The Place. In September 2013 John published a novella called Billy Atherton. In November 2013 John published another novella entitled Joshua's Withdrawal. They are all published on Amazon Kindle.

Book preview

The Ultimate Secret

John Flannery

Copyright © John Flannery 2022

In memory of our Moira

Author’s Note

This novel is very heavily influenced by the ideas, theories, and general approach to suicidality used in Antonia Murphy’s book Out of This World: Suicide Examined.

No one ever lacks a good reason for suicide.

Cesare Pavese

I’ve been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand.

Joy Division

Chapter 1

Teenager, Christine Walker is friendly but friendless. She’s not very good at hanging around with other people except for Peter and Janet, her mostly loving parents. In private they describe Christine as being old-fashioned; a term used by some Northerners to portray a person who is immature, vulnerable, and a bit unworldly. Christine has got quite a bonny face but many people don’t see beyond her plumpness. The Walker’s Sunday evening is very normal and uneventful so far. They are enjoying a cosy night-in watching a lion chomping on a hapless gazelle’s arse and so they are therefore learning omnivorously about fundamental natural history ‘truths’ and also some reinforcing principles such as: the survival of the fittest; kill or be killed; sink or swim; and don’t fuck with the honey badger. The universal cry of Nature, as filtered through natural history television programmes and the implied call of some governments seems to be: ‘It’s really tough out there! Stay indoors and don’t rock the boat. We will look after you. Don’t be a hero.’ Christine is happily grazing from a big bag of cheese and onion crisps until she sees a lion eating a pathetic, unwell baby elephant. Christine stops chomping and feels a rage rising in her breast. The only thing that challenges her placid nature is cruelty to animals whether they be wild or domestic; she always and instinctively favours the underdog. She closes her eyes and turns away from the elephant’s deathly scenario unfolding on the screen until she hears the reassuring sound of some loudly growling sea creatures. Christine is now mesmerized by a huge mob of the steaming, battling walruses. She smiles and eats another crisp. As the camera focusses on a young female walrus, Christine’s father feels the need to comment humorously on the walrus action:

There’s our Christine, said Peter Walker.

Thanks dad, said Christine.

Sorry, Christine, you’re not a walrus…you’re that doomed baby elephant! Christine’s mother, Janet rolls her eyes and chides her husband:

Give it a rest, Peter, said Janet Walker. Our Christine is a bonny lass.

Agreed, if she lost two or three stone. No offense, Christine.

None taken, dad. You only insult me when you’re bored and tired.

I mean well. It’s for your own good. I do it to keep you grounded.

Dad, I don’t think that I’m an undiscovered superstar anymore!

No, but you do still live in a fantasy world of your own making.

Agreed, said Christine.

And you sometimes wear shades when you go shopping, said Peter.

Fair enough.

You’re a superstar to me, Christine, said Janet.

Thanks, mum.

I’m glad I’m not a bloody walrus. Jesus! They just slob around all day stabbing each other now and again with their big bloody tusks. What a life! But it’s survival of the fittest out there.

Leave the walruses alone! They do their best. They do their bit. They’re good parents as well, said Janet.

They’re just big blobs of blubber and they eat all the bloody fish. No offence our Christine, said Peter.

None taken, dad.

Actually, you’re developing into a nice, classic English pear-shape, said Peter.

Thanks, dad. Would you like a crisp?

No, I’m watching my weight.

Do you want to borrow one of my diet books? said Christine.

Maybe. How many have you got now?

Twenty-seven.

Lifting all those diet books is the only exercise you get.

Yeah.

The wildlife documentary hasn’t yet provided everybody with their daily quota of: animalistic violence; sex; death; blood lust; and the unconscious wish to die, so the family is now watching the BBC ten o’clock news. Some people think that this bulletin is solely designed to send the working public straight up to bed while thanking their lucky stars that they’ve got a shitty job to go to on Monday morning. After a long story about a natural disaster overseas, Peter Walker says it all:

We may have it bad over here but look at what the bloody foreigners have got to put up with! It’s bloody chaos out there. Thank God we’re British and that we don’t have to live in a shithole like that lot over there. All this doom and gloom. What do they want us to do about it? It’s not our problem. What are we supposed to do about it? It’s not our bloody fault!

We’ve got so many problems of our own to sort out, said Janet.

Yeah, said Christine. The newscast rolls on remorselessly and the newscaster introduces a story about the apparent obesity crisis facing Great Britain. The screen suddenly fills up with a montage of big wobbly bums.

Why do they do that to fat people on the news? said Peter.

Do what? said Janet.

Only show the fat people from the neck down.

The BBC must be afraid of being sued by all the fatties if they showed their fat faces.

It’s not as if they don’t know that they’ve got a big fat arse…no offence, our Christine.

None taken, said Christine. Peter continues:

Not showing their fat faces doesn’t work. They must sit at home and say, ‘There’s my big fat wobbly arse on the news again!’ The news camera crews probably go out there scoping for fat people to film from the neck down, ‘Quick, here comes another fatty! Look at that fat bugger down the road.’ How do they label all the footage they film out there? They must write on the tapes, ‘Various Headless Fat Bums In The Street.’ It’s crazy, but it’s survival of the fittest out there.

Maybe the BBC are just being polite, said Christine. Perhaps they don’t want to shame the obese people into losing a lot of weight. I feel for them.

You’re not obese, Christine. You’re just a bit overweight and you’re big-boned, said Janet.

Thanks, mum.

You’re welcome. I wonder if they use the headless fatty technique on American TV news?

They can’t do that, said Peter. Because nearly everybody in America is fat. They would have to show millions of people from the neck down only. Everybody in the bloody crowd-scenes would be headless! The fatties would sue the news networks for invasion of privacy. ‘There’s my big fat butt again!’ That’s the American Dream. Christine and Janet giggle at Peter’s observation and impression. Christine nearly finishes her bag of crisps and then she pours the final morsels straight into her mouth.

Mum, you and dad are quite slim so where do I get my big body-shape from?

Blame your great grandmother. She was the genetically hefty one in the family, said Janet.

Oh right. I’m going up, said Christine.

Night and God bless, said mum and dad in unison. Christine kisses her mother on the cheek:

Night and God bless, said Christine. She puts her big empty crisp packet in the bin.

Christine, said Janet.

Yes, mum?

Before you go up can you feed Tyson?

Yeah. Christine pads to the kitchen in her novelty shark slippers followed by her very robust and charismatic cat. When Christine opens the cat food, Tyson leaps onto the worktop and goes into a tuna-induced frenzy. After some urgent pawing at her soft, puffy hands, Christine shoos him away and places the dish on the kitchen floor.

Night and God bless, Tyson, said Christine but he is too busy to reply. Christine climbs the stairs and imagines telling her beloved, distant, remote crush, Tom Smith all about her beloved cat, Tyson, and other things that feed her longing for him. Now, slightly out of breath, she smiles at her own silliness and sighs.

Christine Walker is one of the lowliest civil servants possible; she’s an Administrative Assistant, or AA. Only the casual members of the AA staff are more put upon in the sphere of humble public service work. Nevertheless, she is more than happy to have a job at all, even if it is a very boring and repetitive one. In the open-plan office, two of Christine’s slightly more senior colleagues are slagging her off nearby. Florence and Grace don’t care if she overhears their sly remarks about her:

"Look at that fat bitch," said Grace.

Who, poor fat Christine? said Florence.

Yeah, look at her staring longingly at Tom again.

Yeah, she’s in love!

Fat Cristine’s in love again.

They’re on different planets. She must know that.

Love is blind.

Love can’t see her weight on the scales.

I thought she learned her lesson when she disastrously tried flirting with him at the Christmas party.

She obviously doesn’t know what Tom calls her behind her back.

Dim-wit?

Half-wit?

Fat arse?

Lard arse.

Silly bitch?

The doormat?

The fat loser.

The fat fool.

The fat-berg.

The un-fuckable virgin? Christine stands up and walks towards Tom’s desk. She goes pink.

Look at her big…fat…wobbly…arse!

She’s going to stick her big fat wobbly arse right in his face!

"Can you imagine them actually doing it?"

Repulsive. A horror show.

It would be like fucking one of those big, bouncy exercise balls you get in the gym.

Look at her blushing, ‘Oh Tom! Oh, Big Tom! Oh! Oh!’

She’s the only person in here who doesn’t know that you are shagging Big Tom.

She’s green as grass.

Hopelessly naive.

Simply hopeless!

"Love is blind…again." Their vile remarks are mostly down to the remorseless accumulation of frustration and boredom that flows from office-workers in close proximity. There is also an element of ‘playing up for a transfer’ to a different department. Without such ploys they will end up fighting like hungry rats in a sack. Christine returns to her desk and settles back into her blue office chair. Her complexion is returning to normal. She is smiling and she looks a bit flustered.

I think Christine needs something to take her mind off Big Tom.

Yeah, let’s go over and kick her fat arse! Grace and Florence gather together some box-files from their desks and approach Christine:

This one’s for Christine.

So is this.

Christine!

This looks like one of Christine’s.

Christine?

CHRISTINE.

Do you want this one, Christine?

Can you do this one, Christine?

Christine! Christine! Christine!

Is Christine in this morning?

There’s Christine.

Where’s Christine?

Christine’s being lazy again.

Here’s another one of yours, Christine.

CHRISTINE.

Christine again!

Give this hard one to Christine.

Do you want a hard one, Christine?

Yes please.

Can you scan all these case-files as well, Christine?

Yes, I can.

And when you’ve finished them, you can do some file-linking.

Fine. We’re paid to link not think!

Then you can do some of the new schedules.

Fine. Thanks.

Thanks, Christine. Have a good day!

You too.

I’m going to buy a gun and shoot you all.

Christine is now exhausted after quietly battling through her very busy working day. She is now in the kitchen helping her mum to prepare the family’s main evening meal. Tom severely impinges on her mind so she stops mashing the potatoes. She can’t help herself because he smiled falsely at her during lunchtime. She is chatting away to him in her head when her mum notices the suspicious dreamy air about her.

Are you okay, love? said Janet.

Yes mum.

Can you fetch the broccoli for me, lovie?

Yeah, said Christine.

We’ve got to go to an Ed Sheeran gig. He’s awesome. I love him, but not as much as I love you!

After clattering around in the freezer for a while, Christine catches her knuckle on one of the plastic drawer’s sharp edges. She licks the small, bloody wound and suddenly feels a strong urge to confess something to her mother. Mum?

Yes love?

I’m in love!

Not again! Who is it this time? George Clooney?

No, he’s too old.

He’s not too old for me. I’d give him one.

Mum!

Is it Justin Bieber this time?

No, he’s too young.

"Have you actually fallen for a real person this time?"

Yes, it’s somebody at work.

Oh, great.

He’s called Tom.

What’s he like?

He’s nice.

Any signs of him liking you? Does he actually know you exist?

Mum!

I just don’t want anybody getting hurt. How old is he?

He’s about twenty-five…he’s got lovely kind eyes. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Fair enough but take it steady. Try stalking him for a bit. That’s what I did with your dad.

I’ve already started stalking him in a way.

"Real people can be a bit trickier than Hollywood superstars. The ideal thing to do is to learn to like somebody before you fall in love with them. Now, enough of my worldly wisdom. Has he got a nice bum?"

Mum!

What?

He’s tall and slim. He’s got a lovely smile. He’s got a very deep voice.

Good. I like the sound of him. I might give him one myself! Peter enters the kitchen:

Give who one?

The random bloke that our Christine’s got a crush on.

It’s more than a crush, mum. He’s not random. He’s awesome.

"I’m just relieved that he’s a real person this time, said Peter. Don’t count your chickens. You’re a young eighteen, remember. I don’t want to see you getting hurt. Have you started stalking him yet? That’s what your mum did to me."

You were playing hard to get.

I’ll take it one step at a time. I won’t get hurt.

Christine is in stalker-mode. She loves Tom marginally more than her red Mini, Dottie. It was bought for her by her parents because she passed her driving test at the first attempt. Tom, meanwhile, loves himself unconditionally; but cars come in a close second. Christine has imagined in depth car-chats with Tom on many occasions. As Christine waits for him to arrive at their workplace’s car park, she listens to her car radio. She laughs out loud at one of the DJ’s humorous observations but she rapidly becomes extremely focused when she glimpses Tom’s red BMW zoom past her. Her eyes become squinty as she closely watches where Tom parks his car. He doesn’t notice her; he very rarely notices her. She tries to see inside Tom’s soul as he walks towards the rear entrance of the office building. He has a quick, confident stride. Christine is concentrating hard in order to not make it too obvious that she is stalking him. She times her move so that she ‘bumps into’ Tom just as they reach the back door. Christine is trying very hard to look as vibrant and alive as she can. She smiles desperately:

Morning Tom!

Morning.

As they make their way down the corridor, Christine struggles to keep pace with him. She desperately wants to say something but her mind has gone completely blank. She wants to say ‘have a good day’ but instead she just about mumbles:

Errmm.

What? snapped Tom.

Nothing! Making their way down the corridor, in a reversal of usual chivalrous manners, Christine feels like opening fire-doors for him to walk through first. She is like a puppy waiting to run after, and catch in its eager mouth, a ball thrown by its owner. But Tom is too self-absorbed to notice her antics and her passive, lively demeanour. With his nose in the air, people rarely get in his way. Eventually, the pair enter the work-room and Tom feels a sudden frisson of awkwardness and embarrassment because he doesn’t want to be seen anywhere near Christine or that they are in any way whatsoever, together. They make their way to their desks and begin the working day. Christine is aware that she is sweating noticeably. She self-consciously wafts her face and settles into her chair. She doesn’t notice her colleague, Grace sidling up to Tom and whispering in his ear:

Is Fat Christine your new girlfriend, Big Boy?

Fuck off. Are you jealous?

"I think Fat Christine needs a lesson in life…in real life."

What kind of lesson?

A not falling in love with a person who actually hates you kind of lesson.

What have you got in mind?

Just be very nice to her. Treat her as if she’s special. Flirt with her.

What, as if I’m actually in love with her?

Yes.

I’m not Tom Hanks! I’d deserve an Oscar if I pulled that one off. You seem a bit jealous. Is that where your nasty plot has come from?

No. I’ve got nothing better to do and I’m a sadistic bitch. Christine’s pathetic. It’s obvious that she’s got a massive crush on you.

She’s got good taste. I don’t blame her. Lovely job! Leave it with me. I’ll turn on the charm for our lovely Christine. Grace looks over at Christine who has got her head down and is working hard on a task that is producing skull-cracking boredom. Grace peers at Christine and shakes her head. She goes over to Florence and tells her all about her plan to publicly humiliate Christine. In some ways, Tom is a pathetic creature but he’s not simply a nasty bastard with a personality disorder. He’s got a chip on his shoulder because he sees himself as an able, entrepreneurial young man who is wasted in mere public service. He’s not as good as he thinks he is. He ignores his lack of promotion, both internal and external, both public and private. His lack of career-progress irks him and he detests the pathetic civil service drones who are happy and content with what they’ve got…like Christine. He also envies her quiet niceness. Ruthless, frustrated, resentful, and plain old nasty, Tom is now very keen to take it out on her.

It is the mid-morning break in Christine’s open-plan office. She is desperate for some sustenance, rest, and distraction after completing a series of very monotonous but stressful tasks. She is so busy attacking a cheese and pickle sandwich that she doesn’t notice a beaming Tom sidle up to her desk holding a mug of coffee. He regards himself as a stalking assassin; a fantasy he relishes.

Christine stops gorging herself when Tom eventually perches on the edge of her desk. Her eyes are wide open with embarrassment and surprise.

"I love a woman with a big, healthy appetite," said Tom. Christine is so distracted and amazed by Tom’s close attention that she forgets that her mouth is full. She can only blurt out:

Oh! Her exclamation projects morsels of cheese and pickle onto Tom’s crotch area. He sweeps them away and forces out an oily smile. Christine swallows hard and struggles to compose herself. Sorry. I’ve never been called a ‘woman’ before. It’s usually just, ‘that big girl over there.’ I suppose I am a woman now! Tom leans forward and lowers his voice.

"You’re definitely a woman. You remind me of…what is it? What’s that great old love-song? It’s on the tip of my tongue…."

I don’t know that one, but thanks anyway…awesome. Tom looks deeply into Christine’s eyes and smiles in such a greasy and insincere fashion that any woman who was less in love with Tom would have puked up their whole lunch into his lap. But Christine is mesmerized by Tom’s undivided attention. This is the first time a man has ever flirted with her. "I love my food."

Luckily enough I’ve got a very rapid metabolism. I can eat anything whatsoever and I never put weight on.

All I have to do is glance at a chocolate biscuit and I put on ten pounds!

You’re funny. I love that in a woman. It’s a sign of high intelligence.

Awesome.

Don’t stop eating because of me.

It’s not very attractive, gobbling everything down, is it?

Oh, I don’t know…. Christine’s stomach flip-flops and she places her hand on her tummy. She is beginning to feel blank and euphoric. All she can do is smile at Tom. She tries to remain serene but the large cheese and pickle sandwich she’s just swallowed has got other ideas. She tries to stifle the burp but it jumps out of her mouth unbidden.

Better out than in, said Tom, straining to make Christine feel attractive.

"Excuse me," said Christine patting her chest.

In some Arabic countries it’s regarded as a compliment to burp after a meal!

Awesome. Despite Tom’s attempt at putting her at ease, Christine goes purple with embarrassment. She places her hand on her tummy again. She doesn’t now if it’s love or a serious bout of indigestion.

I’ll see you at lunch, yeah? said Tom.

Yeah, right. Awesome. Tom walks over to Grace and Florence.

Love is in the air, said Florence. She’s got a very loving aura around her.

I can’t keep this up for much longer, said Tom. She’s fucking repulsive.

Save it for lunchtime, said Grace. Christine looks over at the trio and waves at them good-naturedly. Tom waves back. Christine struggles to contain herself. She hasn’t learned to question herself when experiencing something that seems to be too good to be true.

The staff canteen is very busy and there is a steady hubbub of food-related activity that comforts Christine when she joins the queue waiting to be served their lunch. The civil service bigwigs know that an army marches on its stomach so there is a good selection of lunchtime fayre provided for their loyal soldiers on the front-line. Christine has reached the serving area. She greets the food-server and makes her choice:

Can I have the chicken curry and rice, please! She turns around in order to peer at the imbibing throng behind her. But she is disappointed because she can’t see Tom. She moves down the food line and orders a bowl of apple pie and custard. As she nears the payment area, she is distracted by an array of tempting confectionary that creates a conflict within her. Part of her wants to be thinner for Tom but, after all, he did say that he liked her big…she grabs two big bars of chocolate and looks around, scanning for Tom. He is in the far corner of the room and he is sitting with Florence and Grace. Christine was hoping to have him all to herself. She waves at them. They can see her but they don’t wave back.

The trio don’t greet Christine when she places her tray of food on the table. She sits opposite Tom and Grace. Tom is halfway through his egg and chips. Grace and Florence have finished their sandwiches and they are sipping bottled water.

I love my food! said Christine.

"We can see that," said Grace.

"A normal person would have trouble digesting all of that at one lunchtime," said Florence.

Not me! said Christine yearning for Tom’s attention. She is confused by his aloofness.

"Christine isn’t normal," said Tom.

I’m sorry? said Christine who is now thrown of balance by his apparently snide remark.

Our Christine isn’t normal, are you piggy? Christine is dumbfounded.

I thought you…. said Christine trailing off the final phrase, ‘like me.’

Thought what, exactly? said Tom.

I thought that you liked me.

Me and you? Don’t be silly. Why would I like a fat fool like you? Christine is astonished. She struggles to catch her breath. She desperately looks at Grace hoping for some comfort.

"Don’t look at me, said Grace. You’re a big girl now."

But why? said Christine.

You shouldn’t be so trusting and naive, said Florence. It’s a big, bad world out there.

Exactly, said Grace. We’re doing you a favour. Learn your lesson, girl. Tom finishes off his meal with a flourish.

Hold on, love, said Grace to Tom. You’ve got some egg on your lip. she wipes away the egg and kisses Tom. Christine’s mouth is agape. The trio silently stand up and leave the room. Christine peers down at her untouched food. She repeats the horrible words to herself: fat fool, fat fool, fat fool. She is overheating with supressed emotion. She feels a strong urge to launch her tray at the wall of the canteen. It is her unconditional love of food that has got her into this horrible situation. She takes a sip of water and notices that her fingers are trembling with contained anger and shame. She berates herself:

Fat fool? It was my fault. Fat fool! That’s what you are!

Bereft of self-esteem and confidence she takes a mouthful of her food; it’s both good and bad. Food is everything that is good and bad about Christine’s life. She takes another mouthful of chicken curry. Even though her mind is very upset and unbalanced, her stomach isn’t problematic. Christine’s saving grace is that she’s got the constitution of an ox. She clears her plates and returns, with some trepidation, to the work-room.

Christine can’t bring herself to look her humiliators in the eye. She wants her working day to end right now. One of her tasks needs some urgent liaison with Grace and Tom but she decides to ignore them. Christine gets her head down. In front of her eyes is a form that needs to be processed but her mind is full of the lunchtime insults thrown at her by Tom. She is now very angry with herself for being duped. Her mum’s warnings about liking someone before you love them are now bouncing around in her head. Christine now realises that she didn’t really like Tom that much before she fell for him. She now sees him for what he is: an arsehole. She senses somebody approaching her desk and, sheepishly looking up, sees Grace approaching with a young man.

This is Christine, said Grace. Christine, this is Jake. He’s the new casual AA. Christine smiles at the new boy. He’s a recent graduate so he should pick things up pretty quickly.

I don’t know about that! said Jake.

You can sit with Christine for the rest of the day, Jake. She’ll show you the ropes. You’re in safe hands with her.

I don’t know about that, said Christine. Grace walks away while Jake slides an office chair next to Christine’s work-station.

Have you done any clerical work before? said Christine.

No, but I worked in ASDA, stacking shelves for a bit.

Awesome. What’s your degree in?

Sociology.

Awesome. What do you think of civil servants?

I’ve never met one until today. You make it sound as if there’s something wrong with civil servants. You’ve got a defensive tone.

Have I? Awesome.

To be honest, I’ve got an open mind about civil servants. They seem to be okay. But I’ve noticed a few people who look a bit defeated, as if they’re in an interminable waking nightmare.

Sometimes I feel like a lost soul.

What do you think of your civil service colleagues?

Some of them are pure evil.

Surely not.

Believe me…you’ll see, if you stay around here long enough. Pure evil.

Christine, are you a fan of Harry Potter?

Yeah, awesome! How do you know?

"Only a Potterhead would call some harmless, boring old clerical workers ‘pure evil.’

Awesome.

And I can also see your Harry Potter mug.

You’re very clever.

Too clever by half, some people say.

You might survive in this place. You could outwit them all.

I doubt it. I’ll probably end up like them. So, Christine, what’s your daily workload like?

A fair day’s work for a fair day’s pay. It’s peaks and troughs mostly. Don’t tell anybody I told you this, but you’ll have to learn how to cut corners. It’s the only way that we can get things done around here. The boredom can be soul-destroying.

Really?

Yeah, and if someone tells you to ‘ask somebody’ if you’re stuck then what they really mean is to go and ask somebody else! Everybody hates training new recruits. It’s such a chore. Have you signed the Official Secrets Acts 1911 to 1989 yet?

Yes, during my induction this morning.

Well, that means you can’t tell anybody about all the bullying that goes on here…you’ll see. You could go to prison if you break the confidentiality.

Fair enough, said Jake who is impressed, and slightly confused, by Christine’s refreshing honesty. What’s Grace like? said Jake in a mock conspiratorial manner.

She gets things done, said Christine. She leans over and pulls out a sheaf of documents from her desk drawer.

Right, these bits of paper are your bread and butter. For now, I’ll deal with the tricky exceptions. Has anybody explained alpha-numeric splits to you?

No.

Well….

Christine goes on to explain some of the administrative basics to Jake who is indeed picking things up pretty rapidly. But Jake can sense that his new tutor is upset and out of sorts. She becomes increasingly distracted and flustered. She keeps looking over at Tom and Grace who are chatting conspiratorially. The mixture of the lunchtime incident and the after effects of the chicken curry are now disturbing Christine’s usual constitutional equilibrium; her mood is being badly affected. Her stomach rumbles loudly so she coughs and wriggles in her chair hoping for no digestive repercussions. She deftly rifles through a file but when she sees Tom slide his hand around Grace’s slim waist, she can’t help muttering something under her breath:

"Bitch-face."

Sorry, what was that? said Jake to Christine.

Nothing.

Where does this file go when we’ve finished with it?

Dispatch.

What happens in dispatch?

Dispatch! said Christine irritably.

What do they do with it?

They dispatch it.

Where to?

"Jake! You don’t need to know. Don’t make work for yourself. Stop asking silly questions…fat fool."

Sorry, but that’s how my brain works. I like to know the context of the process. It helps me to understand the job as a whole. I was thinking….

No, no, no, don’t think about anything whatsoever. We’re actually paid to link not think.

Link what?

"Link new documents to personal files, oh, I’ll explain it later! Don’t make work for yourself…bitch-face."

Fair enough. What are you allowed to think about?

Nothing to think about at this level.

Fair enough. No problem. Where does this big file go?

Give it to me. Don’t make work for yourself. You’re only a casual! You’ll be gone by Christmas. Just keep your head down. Right, have a go at that one.

I’ve not done one of those yet.

You have!

Have I?

"Yes! Keep up, Jake. Do that one…bitch-face." Christine tuts and shakes her head.

Okay, said Jake who is seriously thinking of quitting right now. Christine stands up and excuses herself. As soon as she has left the room, Jake goes over to Grace’s desk.

Can I have a word? said Jake to Grace.

Sure.

It’s Christine. She seems to be getting upset and angry and distracted. Is it me? Have I done something wrong?

No, it’s not you. Don’t worry about it.

It might sound ridiculous but I think she’s trying to bully me.

That’s out of character. She’s usually the one that gets bullied.

She’s called me a ‘fat fool’ and a ‘bitch-face’ a few times.

That’s very out of character. I’ll have a word with her. Leave it with me. You can sit with me for the rest of the day.

I don’t want her to get in trouble. It was kind of funny because she’s obviously so naturally a mousey sort of person.

Yeah, don’t worry about her. How’s your first day at work going? Are you coming back tomorrow?

Yeah, I’ve got a massive student loan to pay off!

"If you regard our Christine as a bully then wait until we all start ganging up on you and force you out of your job."

I can look after myself. I’m fairly resilient.

Oh, are you now? Pull up a chair, young man!

Queen Christine slowly lowers herself