The Silent Treatment

Marcus was sure she was the girl of his dreams, so why wouldn’t she give him the time of day?

DID you see that?” “Yeah, mate,” Rich replied. “Totally blanked you, she did.” Marcus and Rich were in the stairwell of the office building where they worked.

They had been walking downstairs, but now they had both stopped about halfway down and were staring, aghast, at the door that led on to the thirdfloor landing, which was swinging back and forth.

For a moment, the silence was deafening.

“That’s out of order, mate,” Rich added.

“She never said anything. Never even looked back.”

Marcus was dumbfounded.

“I’m not that bad, am I?” he asked.

“I mean, there’s not anything you’re not telling me, is there?”

“Nah.” Rich shrugged. “You just fancy a bad ’un, that’s all. Drown your sorrows in a coffee.”

“Yeah. I s’pose,” Marcus grumbled, following his friend downstairs.

They were on the way to the lowest level of the office block where they worked, the part of the building that housed the coffee shop.

It was there that Marcus had first seen her. Just the day before last.

He had left it marginally too late to leave his desk, and so by the time he got to the coffee shop, he found he had to join a very large queue.

He had huffed and grunted loudly to express his frustration.

The noise caused several members of the queue in front to turn around, hushing him, one or two frowning their disapproval.

But he had noticed that there was someone who did not turn around.

He caught a glimpse of someone at the front with her back to him. All he could see was a mass of blonde hair.

And at the sight of that hair, tumbling in waves, it was suddenly as if he was surrounded by a chorus of voices that burst into song.

A dirty great symphony orchestra: the bright, clean sounds of soaring violins, the crystal sharp trill of flutes and the rich ring of trumpets.

It sounded so loud that, for a moment, he wondered if anyone else could hear it, and if everyone was going to turn around and frown at him again, tutting their disapproval.

As the queue shuffled forwards, and the music rang in his ears, he found he could not take his eyes off that hair.

He watched as the girl reached the counter and pointed to something written on the big blackboard behind the barista.

He could see by that movement that she had slim hands.

No ring, but he spotted a bracelet of ice-blue stones.

She turned and walked towards the counter where all the sugar and stirrers and napkins were kept.

She had her head tilted a little to one side and from the profile she presented, he had caught a glimpse of a pale complexion, gorgeous long lashes and a brief sparkle from a silver chain around her neck.

Marcus found himself hoping that she would walk past him.

That she would have to retrace her steps along the queue to get back to wherever she came from.

He drew in his breath to stop his heart from pounding like a bass drum in his chest, squared his shoulders, closed his eyes and . . .

He felt a sharp jab in the small of his back.

“You moving or what?” Marcus realised that he had been standing still, frozen to the spot.

“Oh, sorry, mate.” Marcus had grinned apologetically at the bloke behind him and shuffled forward.

But in those few moments he had been distracted, she had gone.

He’d scanned the crowds anxiously, but there was no sign of her. She had faded away, it seemed.

He could not get her out of his mind. And every time he thought of her, he heard the music in his head, loud and clear.

Every morning when he went to the coffee shop, he searched and searched, craning his neck over the tops of everyone’s head, longing to see that beautiful hair.

But she never appeared. Then, this very morning, just as he and Rich were skiving off for a sneaky Americano, he had seen her.

As they were coming down the stairs, he had spotted her in front just a few paces ahead.

Marcus decided he had to say something. Now or never, he thought.

They quickened their pace so as to catch up. Then, when Marcus judged they had arrived within hearing distance, he took a deep breath and said, “Hi!” as casually as he could.

He had expected that she would turn round and at least smile back.

Or perhaps say “Hello”, or even just nod her acknowledgement.

Whatever she did, his next move would be improvised.

If she only looked, he would just nod and smile, but otherwise carry on down to the coffee shop.

If she said something, he had a plan.

He would ditch Rich – he was a mate, he’d understand – and pretend he was going

to the same floor as her and walk with her as far as he could.

He’d talk for a bit, really casually, and then ask if she wanted to come for a coffee.

Then, fingers crossed – everything crossed – she would say yes and his next words to her would be, “What can I get for you?”

Then it would be, as the song said, together for ever and never to part.

But nothing of the kind had happened.

She had simply carried on down the stairs, serene and silent.

She had not turned back. There had been no smile, no “Hi” in return. Not even a slight shrug of the shoulders.

She had just reached the bottom of the stairs and wafted across the landing and through the doorway without even a glance behind her.

Marcus was more than hurt. He was devastated.

For her not to have given any acknowledgement to indicate that she even knew he was there, to not even have given him just a cursory I’m-not-interested smile, was one thing, but to have completely ignored him had stung.

He slumped miserably down to the coffee shop, and went through the motions of ordering his drink and paying and spooning in the sugar.

Then he sat in silence, stirring his drink slowly in a cloud of hurt and confusion.

He was vaguely aware of Rich chattering away beside him, which sounded distant, as if his friend were sitting far away and not right next to him.

Why had she ignored him? Why had she not even looked back?

He was jogged rudely out of his musing by someone sitting heavily on the chair opposite.

“Wotcher, you lot.” It was Max.

They used to work in the same office, but then he had been moved somewhere else.

They still met every so often in the coffee shop.

“So, me old mates,” Max was saying, “how’s life on the fifth floor?”

“Marcus here is a bit put out,” Rich replied, jerking his thumb at his gloomy co-worker.

“Blonde gave him the short shrift.

“Didn’t speak when he offered a polite good morning. Flat out ignored him.”

“Oh, yeah?” Max leaned forward. “I think I know who it is. Tall? Flouncy hair?”

Marcus nodded dumbly. Max took a long swig from his coffee.

“I know the one you mean. She works on our floor. I wouldn’t worry, mate. She gives everyone the silent treatment.’ “Does she?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s in one of them offices at the end of the corridor. You know ’em? Big windows. She’s in there with Shaun.

“I only work two doors down from their office.

“I have to go past it to get to the lift to come down here.

“Every time I walk by, I always stick my head in through the door and say hello.

“Shaun’s all right; he looks up and waves or smiles. Not her. She’s never once answered me.

“She sits there with her back turned, tapping on her keyboard, and doesn’t bother even to look up from the screen.

“She did it again this morning,” Max continued. “I stuck my head in, said hello, Shaun looked up and saluted. She just sat there.

“Fingers typing away, saying nothing. Not even turning round. Rude, I thought.

“So I looked at Shaun and said, ‘Not talking today, then, eh? Silent treatment, is it?’ and pointed to her.”

Max paused and took another thoughtful swig from his cup.

“Mind you, Shaun didn’t seem all that pleased. Frowned at me.”

“Did he?” That was Rich. “Why?”

“Dunno. Looked at her, then at me. Gave me a really narky look.”

Max stood up.

“Ah, well, never mind, eh? I expect he’s got a lot on. Laters!” He sauntered away.

Not just me, then, Marcus thought. He felt a bit better.

Marcus mentally shook himself. There was no point in dwelling on it.

Perhaps Rich was right, and she was a bad ’un. Max certainly had her pegged as the silent, stand-offish sort.

There was nothing for it but to get over it and move on.

He stood up. “Right, I’m off.” Marcus was about to move away when he saw that someone was walking briskly towards him, trying to attract his attention.

It was Shaun, who worked with the silent girl.

Suddenly there it was again. The orchestra.

Crashing cymbals, pounding drums, a great blaring trumpet voluntary, bells ringing and jangling, and an operatic choir of thousands seemed to be filling his ears.

Because she was with him. And she looked even more beautiful than he had remembered.

“Guys, this is Anna.” Shaun was saying to him.

“She hasn’t been here very long, but this is the first time I’ve been free to start giving her the tour of the place.

“I thought I’d better come and introduce her to some people as she’s a bit nervous on her own.”

Marcus wondered if anyone would be able to hear his voice for the thousands of violins that seemed to be playing all around him.

“Hi,” he mumbled, “I’m Marcus.”

She smiled a little uncertainly.

“Oh, yeah,” Shaun went on, “that’s why I thought I’d come with her. You have to make sure you speak clearly.”

He tapped Anna lightly on the shoulder.

She turned to look at him.

“I’m just telling him about the . . .” He waved his fingers around his ears. “The hearing aids.”

Suddenly, Marcus understood.

He reached out and touched Anna lightly on the arm.

When she turned to face him, he looked straight at her beautiful blue eyes as she watched his mouth:

“I’m Marcus,” he said carefully, forming the words so that she could read his lips. “What can I get for you?” ■