He is, and I’m surprised and more than a little bit disappointed to find Mr Canid is neither fat, nor old. In fact, there is, inconveniently, nothing really physically wrong with him that I can pick on. I had planned to get so personal when this descended into a shouting match, I had my list of insults all ready. My parents have given me very little in the last few years, but they’ve definitely improved my insults vocabulary.
‘Ms Fox?’ he says to me, and there’s that familiar voice I’ve come to know and truly loathe.
I take his hand, nodding sternly.
Actually, if I could see through my hatred, I might even say Mr Canid is quite attractive. Mid-thirties, dark hair, nice shirt. But obviously I hate him, which makes him hideous.
‘Mr Canid?’ I say, as politely as I can.
‘It’sCanid,’ he says and I bristle. But he’s smiling.
‘Follow me,’ he says, peering around, a little confused at the whole group. ‘Er, all of you, this way.’
He leads us down a beige council-offices-type corridor and into his large office. Franny and I take the seats in front of his desk, while Molly, Annabel and Ethel collapse loudly on the sofa. Lauren and Joely hover nearby, and I note with irritation that Joely has that look on her face she gets when she fancies someone and is close to taking her bra off to throw at them. In fact, she is definitely wearing fewer clothes than she was in the lift and I don’t even know how that’s happened because she was already fairly skimpily dressed. What a traitor. At least Lauren has my back, just like she always has. She gives me a steady nod and a wink, as I turn to face the dickhead.
‘Thank you for seeing us, Mr Canid,’ I say, and I clear my throat, readying my speech.
‘Oh, no problem,’ he says cheerfully. Too cheerfully. ‘It’s nice to put a face to the name, Ms Fox. Here’s a fun fact for you: did you know my surname means a mammal of the dog family? That includes foxes. I feel like we’re practically related!’ He laughs nicely and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. This is all a bit too bloody jovial and friendly. I need to stay on message: he’s a prick and I hate him.
‘Right, well, that’s as may be,’ I say, sitting up straight. ‘But that’s not what we’re here to talk about. In fact, I expect you know why we’re all here.’
He nods encouragingly, so I carry on. ‘I don’t suppose you saw Friday’s episode ofQuiz Monsters: Live Celebrity Special, but—’
He leans in. ‘Ooh, no, I didn’t. Was it good? Should I get it on catch-up?’
‘Well, yes, you should...’ I am flustered. ‘But that’s not the point either. I mean, yes, watch it, definitely because it was promoting our cause and it’s a really good show that everyone should watch anyway. And Twitter was full of—’
‘Twitter, eh!’ he says happily. ‘I’m not on Twitter but my little sister loves it. She’s always trying to sign me up. She’s called Annie. Let me show you a picture of her.’
He leans across the desk with his phone held up and I sigh with frustration. This is so annoying. I had my whole speech thing ready. I was going to call him all the bad words. My parents’ hatred was finally going to be useful. Why’s he being so nice? What an unbelievable arsehole.
‘Oh, she’s beautiful!’ Ethel, another traitor, declares from the sofa.
‘How lovely. What age is she?’ Annabel throws in.
I hastily cut the conversation off before he can answer. ‘Look, Mr Canid, we’re here about the youth club building and Fuddy-Duddies United. I’m here to tell you face-to-face that you can’t shut down our building. You’ve been unreasonable on the phone and ignored all my emails with alternative suggestions, so—’
‘Your emails?’ He looks surprised.
‘Yes,’ I say impatiently, and he leans into his computer monitor, clicking through and then leaning back in his chair.
‘Oh, bloody IT,’ he moans, and it’s the first hint of the grumpy cat I thought I’d be meeting. ‘They promised they’d fix my spam filters. I can see you’ve sent me quite a lot of messages, Ms Fox. I’m sorry. You must’ve thought I was a right prat ignoring you!’
Wait, what?
OhFFS.
I put my head in my hands. All that research and time spent looking for options. All that wasted emotional energy thinking he was deliberately blanking me. But he was still horrible on the phone... er, wasn’t he?
Um. I mean, I probably wasn’t really in the best frame of mind for our very few conversations. Falling out with my best friend, sabotaging my own relationship, panicking about work and theFU... It’s a tiny bit possible I was projecting some hostility onto this perfectly nice chap.
‘Having said that,’ Mr Canid says, firmly but nicely, sitting forward in his chair again, ‘I still can’t help you, I’m afraid. It’s too late, the order is in. Everything is already underway to demolish the building. I wish I could do more. I’m sorry – I can see you’ve done a lot of work trying to get this project changed.’
‘Wait, please listen to us before you say that,’ I say, pleadingly. ‘Look, we’ve been inundated with support since we went public with this. People don’t want to lose Fuddy-Duddies United. We’re important to this community. And there’s so much more we could do if we had the chance.’
I scramble for the piece of paper in my pocket, unfolding it and pushing it across the table to him.
‘This is how much we’ve raised so far on our crowdfunding page. That’s since Friday and the donations are still coming in. Ask your sister about all the tweets we’ve had.’
