These Little Lies

Lyn Carling wheeled her bicycle out of the garage. Out on the street, she peddled her bike along as quickly as she could. She was running late for work. The management weren’t too strict but she didn’t want to push her luck. She had slept in and would be cutting it fine to get to the office on time. She zipped in and out of the cars, weaving this way and that, through the line of cars. She swerved around a large puddle and turned a sharp corner. 

Lyn chained her bike up around the back of the building, and dashed through the office doors, unclipping her cycling helmet as she went. 

As she took her seat and booted up her computer, she noticed there were not many of her colleagues at their desks. There were a couple of post-it notes stuck to her desk. She read the messages and tutted. One of her colleagues, Joanne, was off sick, another of her team, Jimmy was working from home. Great, Lyn thought, sensing it was going to be one of those days.

The day went as badly as expected. Joanne was off sick with a cold and while she was at home under a duvet, Lyn was left to cover the calls and emails. And she could imagine that Jimmy’s idea of working from home would be to have his work laptop computer open while he watched daytime television. She swore under her breath and typed even quicker on the computer keyboard. 

Just after eleven o’clock, she popped to make a cup of tea. As she rushed back to cover the constantly-ringing phones, she decided enough was enough. Maybe it was time she acted like the others. Why was it always down to her to cover for everyone? Perhaps next time she would be the one who phoned in, the one who stayed home. 

At lunchtime Lyn called her husband, Paul. When he asked how she was doing, Lyn found herself ranting and grumbling about how she had been dumped on at work, and left to pick up the pieces. 

‘I’m sick of it.’ she said. ‘I feel like phoning in sick myself.’

‘Should I pick up some beer and peanuts on my way home?’ Paul asked.

‘Definitely. Thanks, love.’ Lyn said. 

The next day went better, Lyn woke at the alarm, and arrived at the office to find everyone was in attendance. Hopefully today would be less chaotic. Early that afternoon one of her friends messaged to ask if she fancied going to the pub that evening, for the weekly quiz. Lyn was about to reply she’d better leave it, as she had work the next morning, when she stopped. Stuff it, she thought. Who cared if she was a little hung-over the next morning? Why shouldn’t she have a mid-week night out? She deserved it after the stress of the day before. 

She texted Paul to invite him along. When he replied count me in, Lyn responded telling him he could help with any film trivia questions. 

The next morning, when the alarm went off, Lyn groaned. Her head hurt and the room was spinning slightly. The pub quiz had gone on later than expected. It had been nearly midnight when they finally left the pub. It had seemed like a really good idea at the time, but now regret and self-pity had replaced the bravado of the night before. Paul straightened his tie and kissed her on the cheek, before leaving for work.

Lyn flopped back down in bed. She couldn’t face the office just yet. The thoughts of cycling to work right then was just too much. An idea popped in her head. Why should she drag herself to the office right there and then? Nobody else put themselves out. Her colleagues were a bunch of slackers, why shouldn’t she take a leaf out their book? Maybe they had the right idea. The perfect excuse came to her. 

She called the office explaining how she had set off for work as usual, but she had to go home and get changed because on her cycle to work a bus went through a massive puddle and soaked her.

She would make it to work later on. She hung up and rolled over and went back to sleep. Two hours later Lyn woke up and felt much more like her normal self. She smiled and stretched in bed. Now she felt ready to face the day. Whistling to herself, she headed for the shower.

Early the following week, Lyn arrived home after a long, hectic day at work. She dragged up the garage door and wheeled her bike inside. She was tugging the garage door back down when an idea came to her. If there was something wrong with the garage door, then she would have to work from home the next day while she called someone out to fix it. Work wouldn’t actually know if there was something wrong with the garage door or not. It would be nice to have a day at home tomorrow. Smiling she went into the house, placing her handbag on the sofa. 

The next morning, as Paul was dressing for work, Lyn zipped up her tracksuit jacket top.

‘Aren’t you going to work?’ He asked.

‘The garage door is broken. I’ve got to wait in for someone to repair it.’ Lyn said.

‘It’s broken? Really?’ 

‘No, it’s fine, but work don’t know that.’ Lyn replied.

‘You are so naughty.’ Paul laughed.

‘Well, everyone does it.’ She insisted. 

Lyn set up her work laptop computer on the coffee-table in the living room. She booted it up and went through her emails. Twenty minutes later she decided it was time for a well-deserved cup of tea. As she sipped her tea, she flicked the television on and made herself comfortable on the sofa. This beat sitting at her desk all day. As the odd email came in, Lyn would deal with it and reply, before returning to her position of slouched on the settee, watching daytime television.

She had a lovely day, pottering at home, catching up on both her television soaps, and a few household chores she’d been meaning to get around to. This was just brilliant. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? As far as work were concerned she was working, she was logged on the system and deal with any queries, but in reality, she was having a nice day at home while spending the odd moment here and there on her laptop.

A few days later, Lyn went to the garage for her bicycle as usual. She dragged her bike out of the garage and went to close the door. Half-way down, the door stopped. She pulled down on the handle. The door didn’t move. She tried again. Nothing. The grey metal door didn’t budge. She swore and banged her fist on the door. She tried one last time. Nothing doing.

She couldn’t really head off to work with the garage door open. The garage would have been cleared out by some unscrupulous opportunist by the time they got home. No, she would have to stay home and call someone out to fix it.

She headed back inside to call work and explain about the garage door.

‘What? It’s happened again? I thought it was fixed the other day.’ Her manager said.

‘Yeah, erm, well it was. It’s playing up again. They should sort today, hopefully.’ Lyn replied, trying not to think of the strange coincidence.  

She called out a local repair service who were experts in all kinds of home repair.

Working from home again was just fantastic. While her laptop computer was open and she was logged onto the system, she sorted out the shelves in the spare room and had a good clear-out. Next time she worked from home she might even tackle the loft. Their attic space was crammed full of junk that they hadn’t got round to throwing out. 

The next morning as she was cycling to work a double-decker bus sped by her, straight through a huge puddle. The tidal wave of dirty rain water hit her, soaking her through. She came to a stop. She was drenched. Her pale blue coat was now dark and drenched with water. She shook her arms to and flicked her fingers to get rid of the excess water. That was not what she needed.

She had no option but to carry on to the office. She had been at home the day before. While she had enjoyed the day at home, while actually getting the garage door fixed for real, she really had to make it to work today. 

She got to the office drenched to the skin. She walked in the office door soaked, the water dripping off her. Everyone on the office floor burst into laughter when she went in. Her colleagues stood up to get a better look at the state she was in.

‘What happened?’ 

She explained about the bus splashing her as she was on the way to work.

‘That happened again? Maybe you should try a different route to work. The bus driver is clearly out to get you.’ They laughed.

Lyn laughed along, but she had to admit it was rather strange that the white lie she had told had actually come true. It had to be coincidence, didn’t it? Buses must splash members of the public all the time. Indeed, how many pedestrians had been soaked by inconsiderate motorists over the years? It was so common. It had to be just coincidence.

A week later, work was doing her head in. Dealing with her colleagues was like working with children. Grown men and women, acting like spoilt children in the playground. That was on top of the problems with the actual job, the work they were being paid to do. On her way home from the office that evening, she decided she would stay off the next day. She would go old-school and phone in sick. She would tell them she had a stomach bug, not sure if I’ve caught something or if it’s food-poisoning. Sorted, the excuse was enough to get her out of work, but not enough to warrant a doctor’s appointment or hospital visit. 

Paul rolled his eyes when he saw Lyn was getting into her tracksuit rather than her work clothing.

‘You’re staying home again? You’ll get in trouble.’ He said, surprise and disapproval in his tone. 

‘I’m gonna tell them I’m poorly, that I’ve got a tummy upset. And I know what I’m doing. Going in to work every day is a mug’s game. Everybody skives off a little. They expect it. You really should do the same.’ 

Paul said nothing, and carried on getting ready for work.

‘We get paid absence and they let us work from home, so why shouldn’t we use it?’ Lyn insisted.

‘Abuse it, you mean?’ Paul said.

‘Everybody does it. I’m just going along with everyone else.’

Lyn was enjoying the day at home. She was in the garden, seeing to her potted plants, and wondering how long she could string this out for, maybe she could get the rest of the week off sick. As she was watering, pruning and clipping, she felt a pain in her stomach. She suddenly didn’t feel quite so well.

Minutes later she was bent over the toilet being violently sick. As waves of nausea washed over her, she couldn’t help thinking that she had brought this on herself by telling work she was ill. She spent the afternoon, either in bed trying to sleep, or in the bathroom being sick.

As well as the ill feeling, she was also feeling panicked about the bizarreness of the coincidences. All the recent coincidences came flooding to mind. The garage door breaking, the bus soaking her, and now the stomach bug. She had no idea how it was happening, but whatever excuse she made appeared to be coming true. This was all rather unsettling. 

She knew one thing, she wouldn’t be making up any more excuses. Hopefully that would stop whatever was happening. She would happily go to work every day if all this stopped. 

By the time Paul came in from work, Lyn was on the sofa under a blanket, watching a tea-time television quiz show. He kissed her on the cheek and gave her a grin.

‘I decided you were right.’ Paul said.

‘How do you mean?’ She asked. 

‘I’m off work tomorrow. I’ve told work that your grandmother has died.’ He said.

‘You’ve told them what? What have you done?’ Lyn said, unable to keep the panic from her voice. At that moment her mobile phone rang. She stared at the number on screen.

The call was from her grandmother’s nursing home.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom