“Have you made any New Year’s resolutions Jane?” Alex asks.

“Only to escape CWS!”

“I make that resolution every year,” I grumble, “but I’m still here.”

“That’s because you need to look beyond your office, Helen, ” she advises. “You’re too myopic.”

God she annoys me sometimes.  

“You only decided to take up politics a month ago,” I point out.

“Yes, but I think it has been my vocation for years.  I just needed a wake-up call to make me realise that.”

Most people would just be grateful for a promotion; Jane takes it as a cue to take over the world.  But we don’t have time to discuss her global ambitions, because Liz appears, looking tanned and relaxed.

“Hey, welcome back!” Alex greets her. “How was the holiday?”

“Oh, really good, thanks.  I feel like I’ve been away for eons.”

“Three and a half weeks is a long time.”

“Yeah,” Jane agrees,  “It’s been ages since we saw Dan sticking his tongue down your throat.” 

Liz flushes, inspite of the tan.   We look at her, expectantly.

“He lunged at  me in the dark,” she claims, “I didn’t know what was happening until the torch switched on.”

Jane does (what I think may be) her biggest eye roll to date.  “You didn’t know what was happening?!  You were feeling your way around his tonsils!”

“He attacked me.” She folds her arms.

“With his tongue?!”

“Yes!”

“It must have been very strong to have overpowered you so easily.”

“It has had plenty of training!”  I just can’t help myself. 

“It has not!” her face is burning with indignation.

“Me thinks she doth protest too much,” Alex observes.

We nod in agreement.

“Well, I don’t care if you believe me or not!  I do not have to justify myself to you three!”

With a contemptuous look, she stalks off to find more sympathetic ears, but, within thirty minutes of her return, the office gossips go into overdrive and The Typing Union is balloting its members on a possible boycott of her typing.

“I can’t believe he snogged her,” Melinda gestures to Liz’s office.

“When he could have had you, you mean?” Lynnette smirks.

“Yeah!” she nods. “I mean, if he could have Scarlett Johansson why would he choose Drew Barrymore?”

“Are you comparing yourself to Scarlett Johansson?” Danielle hoots.  “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all year!”

“Shut your face. I have more in common with her than you do!”

This makes Danielle laugh even harder.  “What could you possibly have in common with a multi-millionairess, Hollywood superstar?”

“More than you think.”

“What?”

“Plenty.”

“Blonde hair and big boobs?” Lynnette speculates.

“Scarlett could compare to half of the women in Romford on that basis!” Danielle squeals.

She and Lynnette fall about.

“At least I’ve been to LA ,” Melinda sniffs, “which is more than either of you two morons have.”

“Oh, another similarity,” Lynnette exclaims, “They have breathed the same air!”

They are almost crying with laughter now.   In fact, Danielle is enjoying herself so much that Jane feels the need to put a stop to it.

“Would you like to share the joke?” she asks.

“Melinda thinks she is Scarlett Johansson’s secret twin!” 

“I do not!”  Melinda fumes.  ”Your secretary is just stirring things up.”

“I am not!  You said Liz was like Drew Barrymore and you were Scarlett Johansson.”

If that were true, what that would make Jane, I wonder?  Bette Davis?

“I did not say I was Scarlett Johansson,” Melinda asserts, “I said……”

“What?”

“Something else,” she drops her eyes.

“What else?”

“Nothing; be quiet Danielle.”

But Danielle is not easily silenced.  “She is upset because Dan snogged Liz and not her!”

Melinda is a picture of fury.  She glares at Danielle with such intensity that I fear she may melt, right there on the spot.

“Really?” Jane raises her eyebrows. ”Well, don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll get to you in due course.”

“Do you think so?” she looks up.

“Yes.  He has a very short attention span.  You have a lot in common.”

And, having put the cat firmly amongst the pigeons, she wanders back to her room, where we are all surprised by a New Year’s message from the Partners.

“ATTENTION ALL USERS

The firm has, for sometime, been considering a relocation of its City office.  The process was put on hold whilst the impact of the continuing recession was assessed and adjustments made, to streamline the firm’s key areas.   Although the firm continues to assess the economic situation, it is believed that the changes which have been made have resulted in a leaner and fitter partnership, ready and able to tackle the challenges which 2010 may face.  The lease on our building expired last month and, although the Landlord has, kindly, agreed to extend it by six months, we must vacate before the summer to allow redevelopment.   The partners have acquired new offices just off Bishopsgate and are pleased to announce that the firm will be relocating over the Easter Weekend.

 Further details will be circulated nearer the time.  Any questions should, in the first instance, be directed to Jeannette, who will be co-ordinating matters.   Jeannette will be assisted by Ashley, who has been promoted to the new position of “Assistant Office Manager”.  In the meantime, please begin the process of rationalising your files/papers/possessions – there will be limited space for non-essential items.

Thank you, in anticipation, for your co-operation.

‘Non-essential items?’  Could we jettison Tarquin and Melinda on that basis, I wonder?

Sadly not.  In an astonishing display of foresightedness The Boss calls a meeting and announces that we should form an “Allocation Committee” to plan our team’s move to the new place.   Then he blows it all by nominating Clive, Simon, Danielle, Melinda, Tarquin and me on the basis that, our desks are “the clearest.”   Melinda achieves this by never doing any work with which to sully hers, but why, oh why, do I end up being at the forefront of all office initiatives? 

“Because The Boss likes you,” Alex reckons.

“Nah,” Jane disagrees, “He doesn’t like anyone.  He just needs someone with a tidy office, but without behavioural difficulties.”

“Then, why not pick one of you?”

“Have you seen the state of our rooms?”

That is true.  Jane could harvest penicillin in hers.

The one benefit of the office move is that it detracts attention from Liz’s Christmas party antics; Melinda, Danielle & Co are too busy speculating on what facilities there will be at the new place.

“Do you think there will be an in-house spa?” Melinda asks.

“Nah,” Danielle  shakes her head. “They’re too mean for that and, besides, they wouldn’t want us workers getting distracted.”

“They might put in showers,” Lynnette points out.

“Yeah,” she nods,”and beds; to make sure we can work 24 hours a day!”

“They won’t pay for beds,” Celia disagrees. “They’ll hang hammocks around the office or store beanbags under our desks.”

“Well, they might come in handy for an afternoon nap!”

With Melinda safely distracted, Liz is free to seek my advice.

“Did everyone see?” she slips into my visitors chair with a pained expression.

I nod. “You were in the centre of the dance floor.”

“I know!  But, honestly, it wasn’t planned.   I was just really drunk and he lunged at me and, well, it seemed like a good idea…..Does The Boss know?”

“I don’t think so; all the partners had gone home by then.” 

She is relieved to hear that the management doesn’t know but mortified when I tell her that the secretaries know.  “Melinda is a jealous love-rival,” I add. “She thinks Dan should have chosen her rather than you.”

This makes her laugh. “So do I!”

“So have you spoken to him?”

“No.  He sent me a text message wishing me a happy holiday.  I haven’t seen him since.”

“How are you going to play things?”

“I am going to pretend I have no recollection of what took place.  I don’t have the energy for an office romance, especially not if it means fending off Melinda in the process.”

“I don’t think she would be serious competition.”

“Are you kidding?  She could poke my eye out with one of her false nails!”

I imagine Liz and Melinda squaring off.  Melinda’s Romford training kicking in; taking Liz out with the patented false nail/stiletto swipe or hair extension garrotting manoeuvre.  She’s right: she wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Ah well, if you can’t have Dan, at least you can keep both your eyes.”

“And my dignity.”

But, of course, she can’t because Danielle posts the Christmas party photos on the notice board and, right there, in the middle, is the incriminating snogging shot.   Malcolm nearly chokes on his morning tea.

“Is that Liz?!” he asks me.

“I’m not sure,” I lie “It’s hard to tell at that angle.”

“I think it is. Yes! I remember that dress she was wearing.  And that must be Dan.  Oh dear…….”

Oh dear indeed.  I take it down as soon as he leaves but, too late, she is summoned to his office, for a, “friendly chat.”

“It’s none of my business,” he tells her, “but I feel that, as your supervisor, I should warn you that office romances are frowned upon.”

Except where Miranda and The Boss are concerned, of course.

“I am not having an office romance,” she assures him, “It was just a silly, drunken mistake.”

“Mistakes have a way of repeating themselves,” he warns.  “One drunken fumble leads to another and the next thing you know, you’re three months pregnant with triplets, and then where will that leave you?”

Where indeed?  This is worse than one of the teenage lectures she used to get from her Dad.

“It won’t be repeated.” she assures him.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.  Alistair would be very upset if he thought any of his staff members were intimate.”

“We are not intimate.”

“No, well, not now, obviously, but, well, anyway, make sure you take precautions.”

Precautions!

She straightens her back. “In the unlikely event that Dan and I have any form of human contact in the future,” she informs him, “I shall make sure that I am wearing a full biological protection suit.”

“That’s good,” he nods. “It’s not that I want to stop you having fun, but it wouldn’t be good for the department’s targets if staff members started procreating all over the place.”

“I wouldn’t want to upset the department’s targets,” she smarts. 

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, I’m not suggesting – ”

“I’m sure you’re not but you might be interested to know that slave owners used to see their workers’ progeny as a welcome addition to the workforce.”

“We’ve moved on a lot since then, Liz,” he smiles.

“We’ve moved on a lot since then!” she tells me. “To what: worrying that their female assistants – highly educated women who’ve spent years getting qualified –  might, accidentally get knocked up by some smarmy colleague and endanger the precious departmental figures!!”

I fear she may throw something.

“That may only be Malcolm’s view,” I soothe.

“It is not only Malcolm’s view!” she shrieks.  “They are all the same.  They see us as human machines; valued only for the money we generate.   If, for some reason we get distracted, we’re shot, like lame racehorses!”

An unfortunate, but sadly accurate analogy.  “So, what are you going to do?” I ask.

“I’m going to show them.  I’m going to show them that they are wrong.” 

With barely a backward glance she charges out of the room and over to the office Jane shares with Dan.

“In answer to your question Jane,” she informs her, “I do have a New Year’s resolution.”

“Oh,” she looks up. “What’s that then?”

“It is this: if they were the last people on earth I would not have anything more to do with the men in this office!”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I have made a similar resolution myself,” Dan smirks at her. “I am not going to have anything more to do with the women in this team, not even if they beg me to do so.”

“Good!” Liz folds her arms. “Then I’m glad that’s clear.”

“Oh it’s clear all right,” Jane pauses, as she looks from one to the other, “And I’m looking forward to the wedding!”