I sit up straighter, feeling powerful. He sounds like such a shit. I can tell from his voice that he’s in his fifties or sixties, and I’m picturing a wide, ugly tie, on a wide, ugly man.
‘I have, actually, yes. For a few weeks now,’ I say, my voice a pitch higher than I would like.
‘Apologies, I’ve been away. I only just got your message,’ he says, but he doesn’t sound the least bit apologetic.
MessagesPLURAL, I don’t say.
Sam leans over to Franny and asks in a loud whisper, ‘What’s going on?’
Franny elbows her and tells her to ‘shut up’ but then relents, whispering, ‘They’re trying to shut down the building where our Fuddy-Duddies United group meet. We don’t have anywhere else to go, and my girl Delilah is going to stop them.’
We make eye contact across the table, and she gives me an encouraging nod. I stand up. It helps me feel in control.
‘Fine, well, Mr Canid—’
‘Canid,’ he corrects me, petulantly, even though it sounds exactly like what I said.
‘Canid,’ I repeat, irritation creeping into my voice. He’s already annoying me and I haven’t even started.
‘You’re not pronouncing it right,’ he interrupts me again.
‘I’m pronouncing it exactly the same way you’re pronouncing it,’ I say.
‘Canid,’ he says again.
‘CANID’, I shout back.
He sighs, dissatisfied. ‘Don’t worry about it, MsFax. What do you need from me?’
OH, THIS MAN. He’s so rude!
I am momentarily at a loss for words, furious at his brazenly unhelpful manner. And then all the lost words rush out at once.
‘You had a phone conversation with a colleague of mine recently – Ethel Galding – about the closure of the youth club building we use for our weekly group meetings. I want to know exactly what you think you’re doing and how the hell this has happened. We’ve had no notice, no warning. You had absolutely no right to blindside an elderly woman during a phone conversation like that. You knew full well you were dropping a bombshell and you deliberately did it to someone you obviously knew wouldn’t fight back. How dare you do that? How dare you think it’s OK to speak to her in the way that you did? How dare you act like it’s acceptable to throw a group of elderly women out onto the street with nowhere to go? There are no other buildings in the area we can all get to, you’re effectively shutting down our group. These are people’s lives you’re dealing with here. It’s despicable and you should be ashamed of yourself. Well, Mr Canid, I’m here now and I’m not such an easy target. I won’t be going down without a fight.’
There is silence at the other end of the phone and I feel amazing. I feel articulate and angry, andadult. A surge of electricity and power bounces through me. I haven’t spoken to somebody like that in years. Maybe I never have. I know people see me as a pushover, but not now, not today. Oh no, sir! Today I am standing up for the weaker and the less fortunate. I am bringing down The Man. I feel strong and righteous and like I really can make this situation work outOK.
He clears his throat. ‘It’sCanid,’ he says icily.
I nearly scream with fury. I nearly smash the phone on the floor. I nearly punch the wall beside me.
Wow, anger feels really good. How come nobody told me how great this feeling is before?
‘MrCandice,’ I say sarcastically, my voice unrecognisable with all this amazing malice behind the words, ‘I want you to tell me how we’re going to fix this situation.’
He sighs. I can hear his disinterest. I picture him loosening his big, fat, ugly tie on his big, fat, ugly body.
‘I’m afraid you can’t fix it, Ms Fox. You’re just going to have to find a way to live with it. I understand your passion, but it’s misplaced. And unless you’re willing to buy the building from us yourself – and I should mention here that it’s not for sale – then we’re closing the place and knocking it down come October. Since you are clearly very upset about all this, I offer the council’s sincerest apologies for the inconvenience. But I will also flag up at this point that we did, in fact, sent multiple letters. Firstly about the proposal, then about the appeal process, and then about the decision itself. And they all went unanswered and unchallenged.’
Hold on, what?
‘Excuse me,’ I say, suddenly wrong-footed. ‘You definitely didn’t send any letters – that’s not true. There have been no letters, I’ve never seen anything like that. Where did you send these so-called letters?’
On the other end of the line I hear him shuffling some papers, sighing again like he doesn’t have time for all my silly, womanlyemotions. ‘They were addressed to a Ms Francine Fox,’ he says, reading. ‘That is the contact name we have. I assume she’s a relation of yours?’
Fuck.
I look at Franny, sitting there looking forlorn. She widens her eyes at me questioningly.
