May I come in, Mrs. Harrison? One of the deputy managers stands in the doorway of the managing directors office.
Yes, James, come in, Mrs. Harrison nods businesslike, gesturing to a seat. So, how are things today?
What things? Where?
On the shop floor.
Oh, the shop floor. Everythings fine there. Why do you ask?
Well, you havent just popped in for a chat, have you? There must be something youd like to discuss.
Well, yes, there is actually I need to ask you for something, the deputy manager says gloomily.
To ask for something? Mrs. Harrison eyes the reasonably well-dressed man in front of her, shaking her head. Oh, James, I have to say, youve been a bit off lately.
Off?
Yes. Youve been looking rather down, as if youve got some terrible family drama on your hands. Is everything alright at home?
Well, to be honest James sighs heavily. If you dont help me, things might get much worse. What I need from you is a simple letter.
A letter? Mrs. Harrison looks suddenly concerned. Im not following. What kind of letter?
I know it must sound odd but, James sighs dramatically. I need a letter from you. For my wife.
Sorry? For your wife? What sort of letter?
A letter stating that nothing has ever happened between us. That there isnt, and never has been, anything improper.
Nothing improper?
That we havent had well you know any intimate relationship, the way a man and woman might.
Have you lost your mind? Mrs. Harrison begins to pale. Are you having me on?
I wish I was. James shrugs. But honestly, the future of my marriage depends on a letter, with your signature and the company seal. My wife is convinced you and I are having an affair.
Mrs. Harrison freezes, mouth slightly open, then, cautiously, Is your wife alright in the head? Demanding a written statement like that from her husband? Ive never heard the like Even the telly wouldnt show something so daft.
I know, I know! James raises his hands, pleading. But what can I do? Weve got children. My wife insists that unless you provide a letter confirming were nothing but a director and deputy, shell file for divorce and take the kids off to her mothers in Newcastle. Thats practically the end of the world for me. Please, just write the silly letter.
Hold on, James, Mrs. Harrison shakes her head, barely believing the conversation. Where on earth did your wife get the idea there was anything between us? She and I have never even met! Its not as though youve come home with lipstick on your collar. Where has she got this from?
Here. James reaches into his suit pocket, produces his phone, scrolls for a moment, then holds up a photo. She saw this picture and everything just clicked for her.
Mrs. Harrison narrows her eyes at the snap: the management team assembled, arms around each others shoulders. Ive got this photo, too! It was taken after we were awarded those certificates by the cityeveryone was being congratulated.
Yes, exactly. James gives a wry smile. But you see, were standing next to each other. Ive got my arm round your shoulder.
Because there were loads of us, we had to squeeze in for the group shot!
True, but Look at your head. Emily says no woman leans her head toward a mans chest unless shes in love.
What?! Mrs. Harrisons eyes flash with anger. What in love? Cant your wife see straight? I leaned that way because if not, the flowers Mrs. Turner was holding would have covered my face.
I tried explaining that to Emily, over and over. But the more I protested, the more suspicious she became. Now Im done for without your letter. Honestly.
This is ridiculous! Mrs. Harrison cries. Are you really so under her thumb youre scared out of your wits?
Yes, I am, James admits in a low voice, making sure she hears. For my kids. I couldnt bear to lose them, you see?
Mrs. Harrison mutters, This is madness, and grabs a clean sheet of company letter paper. Alright, if you need this letter, so be it. Dictate what it should say.
James murmurs, Right. Write, I, Alice Harrison, confirm that I cannot stand my deputy, James Richardson.
She shoots him an incredulous look, but he waves it off.
No, really, write that. And add, In fact, I detest him.
Detest him?! Mrs. Harrison protests. How am I supposed to work with a deputy I detest?
Then write I have no romantic feelings for this man, and would never sleep with him under any circumstances, not even for a million pounds. Now just sign it and give it the company stamp. Just to be extra sure.
The company stamps in Accounts, Mrs. Harrison says automatically, but then re-reads the statement and gasps in horror.
This is absolute madness! What nonsense! she cries, then suddenly folds the letter in half and rips it again, and again.
What are you doing? James panics. That was the letter! I need it!
James Mrs. Harrison suddenly smiles in a rather mischievous way. Ive got a better idea. Divorce Emily, itll save you all the trouble.
What?! he yelps. I cant. Shell take my children. Shell definitely take them.
No, she wont, Mrs. Harrison trills, still smiling. I know an excellent solicitoryears of experience in these sorts of cases. Hell make sure the children stay with you.
But I
And if you need help, she cuts him off, Ill personally help you look after the children.
You? Youd help me? Personally?
Of course! I think youre a superb deputy. Ill even find you a fantastic nanny. Youll thank me for it.
And Emily?
Let Emily go off to Newcastle if she wants, or she can come see me and well have a good heart-to-heart. Thatll do far more good than some ludicrous letter with a seal.James stared at her, dazed, the cracked veneer of authority flickering in his eyes. Youd really do all that for me?
Mrs. Harrison stood and straightened her jacket, a spark of amusement dancing in her expression. Life is far too short for imaginary scandals, James. And even shorter for men ruled by their wives daydreams. Go home, talk to Emilynot with letters and seals, but honest words, for once. Tell her youre just my deputy, and I am just your boss, and the world is big enough for that. She handed him a tissue as if she dispensed them for bravery, not runny noses.
James rose, his relief colliding with embarrassment and an uncertain sort of hope. Do you really think it will work?
Mrs. Harrisons eyes glinted. If it doesnt, well, maybe Newcastles exactly what she needs. Some fresh sea air and a reality check. Either wayno more forged confessions on company letterhead, you hear? Her laughter chased him to the door.
In the corridor, James felt the weight of absurdity lift. Sometimes, it turned out, the cure for wild suspicion wasnt a stamp or a signature, but the unexpected kindnessand bluntnessof someone who saw through both your troubles and the foolishness that started them.
By the end of that month, no letters were ever needed. Emily agreed to counseling, the management photo stayed framed in the corridor, and James, for the first time in years, stopped flinching whenever someone said, Say cheese. Mrs. Harrison never let him forget what she called the letter of no loveand every time laughter filled her office, he remembered that, in the strangest way, she had saved much more than his job.
And in the heart of the company, far from Newcastle, liferumor-free and unpredictablebegan again.
