The Writers' Circle

*Part of a chicklit novel. Critic as harshly as you seem fit please.*

ONE

Charlie loves Andy. Andy loves Charlie. Charlie has an exciting job working for a daily newspaper. The newspaper is called London Core. Charlie's life is exciting and fulfilled. Charlie tells lies.
	Charlie Wallis sat at her desk writing nonsense on an old summary report. The hubbub of her work colleagues, happily planning Saturday night's office party in two weeks' time, drifted around her. Odd snatches of conversation occasionally caught her attention:
	'. damned if I'm going as Scary Spice.'
	'. Fenny's looking. Head down and pretend to work.'
	'. damned if I'm going as Scary Spice.'
	Charlie sighed, and began to doodle a sad face upon a stick body. Telephones rang, some were answered while others trilled relentlessly. Charlie worked amongst the chaos and she loved it. Loved the hustle and bustle of working for such a seemingly disordered daily newspaper, where everyone appeared to be talking at once.
	An outsider walking in, would probably wonder how anything got done, but London Core, even though termed a "rag" by others in the trade, pulled in a decent amount of readers - no wonder the Middleton Group wanted to buy it. Had bought it, Charlie corrected dolefully.
	The Middleton Group was a huge company who owned many publications, and it was known for swallowing up small publications like Core, changing the dynamics of the workforce, creating redundancies and relocating staff. 
Management hadn't mentioned redundancies, but rumours had been rife through the building. And because of that the workers had been organising an event to either celebrate or commiserate with others that may be chucked by the wayside due to the takeover. 
	She stopped doodling for a moment to add, "Charlie loves her job", to her nonsense writing. "But her job doesn't love Charlie," she continued in an ineligible scrawl. She doodled another sad face, added tears and after a moment's hesitation, large ears.
The event the staff was organising was a pop star fancy dress, and Charlie was planning to dress as Ginger Spice alongside some fellow workers who were dressing as the rest of the Spice Girls. She sighed again, and fingered a strand of her red hair. How could she enjoy herself at the do knowing her job was on the line and her boyfriend was about to dump her? This time last week, she mused to herself, she had it all: a boyfriend who loved her, and a secure job.
	She had been seeing Andy Chambers for seven months; seven months and two days to be exact and she had been certain he was going to ask her to marry him. He'd mentioned settling down on several occasions, admittedly they were made in a jest, but still, why plant the seed if you don't want it sown, as a once foster carer used to say. 
	Charlie had lived in children's home all of her life. She'd have loved a family of her own, but it was never to be. It was on the top of her list of future achievements. Second was keeping a job. Third, having her ears pinned back when she won the lottery-if-she-ever-bought-a-ticket. The first was a secret, the other two well known. All to be crossed off simultaneously, she thought dolefully. 
	Andy wasn't going to ask her to marry him. She'd brought it up last month and practically had to resuscitate him. 
	'I'm like a bird,' he had said. 'A wild bird that can never be tamed.'
	She'd repeated the conversion to Melvin, her best friend, who'd said if Andy was a bird, he'd be a turkey. It hadn't helped. And ever since then, Andy had been distant towards her, and she knew the signs even if she pretended not to. The cancelled dates, long trips away. they all signalled one thing and that was that she was soon-to-be single - and jobless as well.
Charlie sighed again and Melvin, sitting at the desk in front of her, turned as if feeling her despair. 'What's up, baby doll?' He flicked off imaginary fluff from his T-shirt, which bore the slogan: I'm knot a real blonde, I'm Knot, and fixed her with a concerned gaze. 'You've been causing a draught down the back of my neck for the last hour.'
	'I'm going to be unemployed and single which means I won't be able to pay my rent and I'm going to end up an old spinster like my neighbour Mavis. Oh God, I'll have to buy a budgie. I hate budgies.'
	'You're not going to be unemployed,' he said with a groan, as if he'd heard this particular discussion before - and he had.  'Fenny's assured us our jobs are safe.' Mr Fenton was their managing editor, and called "Fenny", although never to his face. 'And Mavis is a widow not a spinster. You're worrying needlessly, so stop it. You're not paid enough.'
	'It's last in, first out. And I haven't exactly made a brilliant impression, have I? Fenny hates me,' she added remembering the way his heavy frame appeared out of nowhere on her first morning after she'd shredded some printouts that turned out to be important documents. He'd stood over her, his chins wobbling around his neck, beads of perspiration on his upper lip, and his normally neat, but thinning hair, which was usually combed over the top of his head to give the false appearance of thick hair, hung limp down one side of his face. Charlie stifled a giggle at the memory. She sobered. Ever since then her relationship with him had been a no starter. It was sad really.
	'He hates everyone,' Melvin said. 'So, what's Andy done now?' He clicked his fingers. 'Don't tell me, you've seen the light and chucked him for a homeless man drunk in a shop doorway, stinking of piss?' Melvin didn't like Andy and never bothered to hide it. He was fed up of the "chances" she had repeatedly given him in the past. And while he thought she was treated like shite, she thought Andy was a romantic drifter; spontaneous and exciting.
	'Oh you know, same old same old. He's going to chuck me any day now. It's like I'm waiting for the noose to go around my neck. God, I hate my life.' She lowered her forehead to rest on her doodlings on the summery report. 'It always goes wrong.'
	'Baby doll,' Melvin said. She could hear him wheel across the small space, which separated their desks, on his office chair. 'The man's a prat, he doesn't deserve you. But you are not going to lose your job. No one is, babe.'
	She raised her head; the report was sticking to her forehead. 'But it's Fenny's choice, not yours.'
	Melvin pulled off the paper. He was grinning. 'It's Mr Middleton's actually, our new boss, so whether Fenny hates you or not, is irrelevant.'
Faye, a colleague, stormed up the isle of the office, disturbing Charlie's and Melvin's discussion. 'I told you, I'm Baby Spice,' she shouted. 'And that's final!'
Charlie and Melvin watched as Sarah followed, answering back in a singsong voice, 'I don't think so.'
Faye was the office bitch, and Sarah the office bitchette. Faye was tall and very attractive when she wasn't snarling at Sarah. Sarah, a small blonde, was also attractive when she wasn't snarling at back at Faye. Charlie and Melvin often had to duck behind their desks as the insults hurled from one to the other. Still, it made the day tick along nicely.
	Melvin raised his eyebrows at Charlie, who pulled a face in return. 'This party is causing more problems than it's worth,' he said.
	'I can't see why they're bothering, to be honest. It'll be a kick in the teeth for those who've lost their jobs.'
	'Please not this again?' he groaned.
	'OK, we'll ask Melvin,' Faye said loudly, causing Melvin to groan even louder. Charlie giggled. 
'Oh, Mel.' Faye began, as she sauntered over. The woman pouted and pushed out her more than ample chest as she shamelessly flirted. Sarah, completely flat, stood normally. 'You know our predicament and we value your opinion,' began Faye. 'We both want to be Baby to this pop stars do, so Mel, as a superior member of staff you get to choose.'
	'Lucky me,' he said, as Charlie snorted behind him. Melvin Giles was senior copy editor and it had mainly been down to him getting Charlie a job with the firm.
	Faye chilled her with a glare, and Charlie pretended to sort through her pending tray whilst listening.
Faye cleared her throat and said, 'Right, now which one is Baby?'
	'Sarah,' he said.
	Charlie clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back her laughter at the look on Faye's face.
	Faye glared at Melvin, her hands on her hips. 'And your reason?'
	'You're black.'
	Faye stroked the back of her neck, then placed her hands back on her hips. 'Forget the obvious,' she said.
	'As a superior member of staff,' he said, quoting her and dismissing her simultaneously, 'discuss this at lunchtime, eh? Charlie,' he said, turning back towards her again, 'meeting at the vending machine, pronto.'
	Charlie tugged her forelock. 'Aye, aye, Cap'in.'
	At the machine, Melvin ordered two coffees. It served tea instead, but as they were lucky to receive anything at all from the temperamental machine they didn't complain. 
	'As I was saying, everyone needs an office clerk and you make a great one, doll,' he said, resuming their previous conversation. 'Anyway Fenny reckons the Mid Group will keep all staff on. It'll still be London Core, and you and me will still have jobs. Look on the bright side, doll, we might even get a promotion.'
	'There is no bright side, Melly. Not with me. Just as I head up the dark tunnel towards the light, a door is slammed shut. Always has done, always will.'
Melvin bit back a smile, and Charlie punched him on the arm, realising how pessimistic she was sounding. They'd been friends for a long time. She had met Melvin in the children's home. She was a skinny seven-year-old and he was a skinnier nine-year-old. They'd bonded instantly and pretended they were brother and sister to anyone who seemed interested, little realising that the system would split them up when Charlie was twelve and Melvin fourteen. 
Charlie had never forgotten the pain; it had been like a tumour inside. Expanding each and every way until she couldn't eat or breathe. It had never gone away - oh, the pain had certainly gone, but the fear of being left alone; of being deserted was always there and that, Charlie suspected, had been the birth of her embarrassing panic attacks that dogged her life.  
'Good luck never lasts, Mel, you know that,' she continued. 'And I've had too much of that lately.' She raised a hand and began to count off her fingers. 'We found one another again, Andy came along, and then a job with Core, I even passed my driving test and got a little car! Mel, the luck simply can't last.'
	'You're talking alien again,' he said.
	She sighed. 'So why weren't we told about this takeover earlier? I mean, as from next week some guy called Donald Middleton will be our boss. Sir Donald Middleton, in fact. Will I have to curtsey? Or is that just royalty?' She chewed on her lip.
'That's royalty, doll.' He smiled down at Charlie affectionately. 'I don't recommend you try it. Old Middleton might think you're taking the piss.'
She pouted, but she already felt better. Melvin always did that to her; made her feel wanted and worthwhile. 
'As long as I have you,' she said. 'We'll always be bessy mates, won't we?'
'Always. Want to shake on it?'
She held out her baby finger and Melvin locked her finger with his, and solemnly they shook. A custom they had kept from their time spent in the home together.
'Feeling better now?'
She nodded. 
'Good. So, how's your Spice Girl dress coming on?' he asked.
She grinned. 'The Union Jack flag I bought is a little on the small side, but it'll do as long as I don't go mad on the dance floor.'
'Who's going as Posh?' he asked.
	'Juliet.' They both looked across as Juliet stood to retrieve a mound of paperwork from a shelf above her desk. Her shirt sleeves fell back to reveal many tattoos. She plonked the paperwork on her desk, and the motion caused her family- pack of cheesy puffs fall to the floor. She swore, snatched them up and filled her mouth.
	'Good choice. Who's Sporty?'  
	'Nobody. Nobody wants to dress down in sports gear,' Charlie said on a sigh. 'We're going to be the Spice Girls Minus One. I've always thought Mel C was too good to be in the Spice Girls, anyway.'
	Melvin suddenly enveloped her in a bear hug. He was Charlie's best friend/brother/father figure all rolled into one tall, skinny frame. And with cropped blond hair, several ear piercings and black eye-lined eyes he was as gay as a Maypole.
	The dark days where they'd lost touch with one another had been the lowest in Charlie life. She'd gladly give up both her job and Andy for Melvin. He meant the world to her.
	Charlie hugged him back. He smelled of the aftershave, Hugo Boss.
	'Whatever life throws at you, babe, I'm here now,' he said into her hair. 'You know what I'm talking about don't you?'
	Charlie nodded the best she could while her head was held fast against his chest. Melvin was talking about the time she'd spiralled into the world of drink and drugs, somehow despite her reassurances that that part of her life had finished, he couldn't quite believe her.