Don't Push Me Read online

  ‘I’ll try and find them,’ Kat said. ‘Don’t worry.’

  ‘Don’t worry?’ Maureen said. ‘That’s easy for you to say. It’ll be that Irene Jenkins. She’s always stealing people’s stuff. She’s a bloody tea leaf, no two ways about it and she’s a proper hussy as well!’

  ‘Now, now – don’t be like that.’

  Kat’s mum had been in the nursing home for over a year now. It had been a struggle getting her a place, and it had been a long few months until she had felt settled and stopped asking to go home. Maureen was eighty-four years old and had lived independently up until last year, but she had mild Alzheimer’s, and had good days and bad. Kat didn’t know what awaited her every time she visited.

  She still couldn’t bring herself to put her mum’s flat on the market, even though it was lying empty and would fetch a small fortune. There were just too many memories there – plus the views of Kelvingrove Park were stunning. Unfortunately, there was no way her mum would be moving back in.

  ‘What you here for at this time of day anyway, Katherine?’ Maureen said. She had become much blunter the older she got – there were no airs and graces about her and she basically told it as it was. Sometimes the consequences were a little awkward or embarrassing, but not it seemed for Maureen.

  ‘I was putting my car into the garage this morning and had a bit of free time before work so thought I would give my dear old mum a visit,’ Kat said.

  ‘Aye, well don’t make a habit of it. I’ve got my routines and you’re messing that up. This Morning starts soon so you’ll need to be gone by then. And, less of the “dear old mum” nonsense.’

  Kat laughed. ‘It’s just a fleeting visit.’

  ‘What’s happening with you anyhow? Have you gone for the new job yet?’

  Kat had confided in her mum a while back that she wasn’t happy in her current role at the bank; she didn’t think her mum had taken much notice but she was obviously taking in more than Kat gave her credit for. Kat had failed to mention she was unhappy due to being bullied though; she was sure that wouldn’t go down well, and the last thing Kat needed was a lecture from her mother about how to stand up for herself.

  ‘No, I’ve not taken the leap yet,’ Kat replied.

  ‘Well, you better get a bloody move on. Time waits for no man or woman – I’ll tell ye that for nothing.’

  ‘I know, Mum. I’ll get to it soon enough.’

  ‘Aye, you’ve been saying that for years. Just get a move on or before you know it you’ll be as old and dotty as me.’ Maureen gave Kat a gumsy smile.

  Kat stifled a laugh again. Her mother didn’t hold back but she certainly gave good advice. If only she could grab the bull by the horns and try for a promotion. But her confidence had taken a kicking recently and as usual she kept putting it off.

  ‘Have you got everything you need?’ Kat asked as she sorted through her mum’s clothes.

  ‘Aye, I’ve got everything I could ever wish for, apart from ma bloody teeth.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll find them soon.’

  ‘Somebody better find them. I can hardly eat anything at the moment apart from soup. The mess I made with my breakfast earlier! You should have seen the poor lassie trying to clean it up. The face she had on her. I told her to stop her mumping and moaning and get on with it; she’s getting paid to do it. Anyway, my programme’s starting in a minute so…’

  Kat could take a hint. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Mum.’ She reached over and kissed her.

  ‘Aye, hen, I’ll see you soon, but do me a favour, eh? Don’t be coming at funny times again. It’s messing up my routine.’

  6

  Kat’s morning off work had been productive, even with a bad hangover. She had used some flexi time so she could take her car into the garage. The only downside was that she would have to stay on later one night to make the time back. After her visit to the nursing home, she had checked up on her mother’s old flat before getting on the subway and heading to work. She had also contacted the dating site and informed them that someone was playing a cruel prank on her. The supervisor had, thankfully, said she would take the profile down. Hopefully no one she knew had seen the rogue profile yet. At least that was one problem taken care of. Her car would also be ready later that day.

  Kat walked slowly to her work. She wasn’t in any rush to get there, though that hadn’t always been the case.

  She had been interested in finance for as long as she could remember. She had always found big business compelling and was forever checking share prices and reading business books. However, her current role was as far removed from what she wanted to be doing as possible. She was in more of an admin or data-entry type role, and although the pay was enough for her modest lifestyle, it wasn’t what she aspired to. She had taken the demotion a few years ago when she was in the midst of a messy divorce and her head had been elsewhere, but she had never managed to work her way back up the ladder. Now, there was the bullying to contend with. It was a problem she had never encountered in her life before, even at school. The bullying had resulted in her losing all interest and focus in her work. She had even stopped reading.

  *

  Kat had been at her desk for nearly an hour and as yet nothing had soured her day. Long may it continue, she thought. However, she was always on edge, waiting on something unpleasant happening. It was a horrible feeling and meant Kat could never allow herself to relax.

  An email had come out of the blue informing everyone in the office that Tony would be leaving his current role as manager and they were looking for a replacement. Kat couldn’t believe her luck. Maybe they would get someone in who actually knew what they were doing for a change or, at the very least, someone who wouldn’t stand for any workplace bullying. How Tony had got the job in the first place was still a complete and utter mystery. Many thought he must have won it in a company raffle. Now, he was moving to a role even higher up in the business. It was no wonder the bank was taking a pounding in the press if this was the calibre of candidate they were actively promoting.

  Kat could go for the job; she knew she could do the role standing on her head. It was finding the courage to actually apply that was the stumbling block. Imagine she was the manager and in charge of the two girls who were causing all of her misery? She could solve the problem once and for all.

  ‘Are you going to go for the manager’s job, Kat?’ Rachel asked, loud enough for most of the office to hear. She was laughing hysterically as if the thought of Kat as manager was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.

  And so it begins…

  Kat knew where this was going. Unfortunately, she was more than used to it. It had become an everyday occurrence. They were making fun of her.

  ‘I doubt you’d want me as manager,’ Kat said, trying to laugh it off as best she could. It was a tactic that had yet to bear fruit. Rachel sneered at her; she hated it when Kat had the audacity to answer back.

  ‘You’d be even worse than the current one!’ Kirsty shouted, backing up her horrible friend.

  There were a few laughs around the office now. Others were joining in. Tony, for once, had ventured out of his office and stood sniggering like a little schoolboy. Kat wondered what it would take for him to intervene.

  ‘The team lunches would be good – buffets every day!’ someone shouted.

  They were making fun of Kat’s weight. It was an easy joke to make – an easy and tired joke. Something original would be nice.

  ‘Imagine Big Kat telling you you’re not getting the bonus.’ Another woman laughed. Big Kat. Kat detested being called that.

  This happened far too often. It usually started with Kat trying to laugh it off, trying to show they weren’t bothering her. It normally ended with her leaving the office and locking herself in the bathroom for a few minutes, either crying or scolding herself for letting them get to her yet again. Kat remembered the old saying ‘sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me’. What a load of old nons
ense that was.

  She was sick and tired of being laughed at, sick of the snide remarks, the teasing and the mental abuse. She shouldn’t have to put up with this. Not at her age. Not at her work.

  There wasn’t anything she could do though. It had gone on for too long, and Tony had done absolutely nothing to stop it. It was just so frustrating. She was forced to grin and bear it and then drink to excess at night to try to forget about it all.

  Kat was fifty-two years old for God’s sake – how could she be letting this go on? Bullied at her age? It made her blood boil.

  Kat tried to suppress the tears; she didn’t want to cry in front of them. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. She moved off towards the toilets.

  She was relieved to get to the relative safety of the toilet cubicle. She locked the door, wiped the seat with toilet paper and sat down, then put her head in her hands and sobbed quietly. Kat knew it was a sorry state to get into. She knew she shouldn’t be letting them get to her like this. She just needed to get away from them all, even just for a minute or two. Regain her composure then go out and face them.

  Kat took some deep breaths and tried to get herself back on an even keel. She scolded herself internally. She really had to come up with a plan of action. This couldn’t go on much longer. There was only so much she could take.

  After a few moments, Kat could sense that someone else was in the toilet. She stood up and listened. They were not here to use the facilities. She could hear laughing.

  Could they not leave her alone even in here?

  Kat composed herself and was ready to go back out and face them. She would confront whoever was laughing on the other side of the door. Tell them enough was enough. Tell them to grow up and act their age. They were all adults, after all.

  She moved to leave the toilet cubicle. The door wouldn’t budge. She fiddled with the lock, but it was jammed shut. She couldn’t get out – she was trapped.

  The laughing was louder now. Someone had managed to lock her in the cubicle from the outside.

  Kat couldn’t get out; she couldn’t breathe. Oh God, the walls were closing in.

  ‘Who’s out there? Can you let me out?’ Kat was panicking now.

  The laughing was louder still.

  ‘Help!’ Kat pleaded, desperately trying to force the lock open.

  ‘Hopefully someone comes to the rescue soon!’ the cackling voice said. It sounded like Rachel – it had to be her.

  Then the lights went out. She had locked her in the small cubicle, turned off the lights… and left her there.

  Kat was trapped in the pitch-black toilet cubicle. She couldn’t move. She was struggling to get a breath.

  Then she collapsed to the floor.

  7

  Kat woke up and immediately knew something was amiss. She wasn’t in her own bed. She wasn’t sprawled on her couch either. Her head was absolutely banging and this time it had nothing to do with alcohol. She could hear some sort of beeping and compressing of machines. As her eyes slowly focused, she realised to her horror that she was in a hospital ward. All sorts of wires had been affixed to her chest and finger. She was hooked up to noisy machines that were monitoring her vital signs. She brought her hand up to her head and touched what felt, worryingly, like stitches.

  ‘Ah, you’re awake,’ a nurse said. ‘I’ll go and fetch Dr Andrade.’

  Dr Andrade was obviously very busy, as a considerable period of time passed before he appeared, smiling, at Kat’s bedside, holding a clipboard.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Matthews. Good to see you back with us,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘It’s Miss Matthews actually.’ Kat didn’t mean to come across tetchy but that’s how it sounded. ‘Mrs’ brought back painful memories of her failed marriage.

  ‘Sorry about that. Miss Matthews, how are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m a little confused, to be honest. What’s happening?’

  ‘We’re putting it down to a panic attack,’ the young doctor said matter-of-factly.

  ‘A panic attack? I’ve never had anything like that before,’ Kat said.

  ‘These things can and do come out of the blue,’ Dr Andrade said, taking a seat beside Kat’s bed.

  Her head was throbbing; she couldn’t take all of this in. A panic attack? She suddenly remembered being stuck in the toilet cubicle at work. The horrible laughing. The darkness.

  ‘It could be a number of things. Maybe you’re under a bit of extra stress or it could be something else entirely that has triggered it. The main thing, though, is that you’re okay,’ the doctor continued, placing his hand on Kat’s.

  Kat knew exactly what had triggered it.

  ‘My head’s really sore,’ Kat said, bringing her hand to the stitches again.

  ‘Yes, it will be. I’m afraid you must have given it an almighty whack when you fell. Thankfully, you only needed a couple of small stitches. You should count yourself lucky. I’ll fetch you some painkillers. They should do the trick.’

  ‘I don’t need to stay in here, do I?’ Kat asked. A long hospital stay was the last thing she needed.

  ‘No, no, once you’re up and ready and we’ve given you the once-over, you can be on your way. There should be no lasting damage and there’s ways of coping with these attacks,’ the doctor said. He was smiling, trying to reassure Kat. It wasn’t working.

  ‘Will they come back then?’

  ‘Hopefully this was a one-off.’

  ‘Hopefully,’ Kat said.

  These silly girls were now causing her to have panic attacks? Were they not going to be happy until they’d caused her death? This had gone way too far.

  Enough was enough – it had to stop.

  8

  Kat left the hospital still feeling very fragile. She couldn’t quite believe what had happened to her. What she had allowed to happen. She couldn’t believe that her work hadn’t called Paul and let him know his mother was in hospital. They hadn’t informed anyone by the looks of it, and Kat was left to deal with everything herself. She’d never felt so alone. They hadn’t even sent a first aider along with her, even though the bank’s own health and safety protocols required them to do so. Tony really was playing at being a manager. He was worse than useless.

  The headache still hadn’t shifted as Kat took a taxi the short ride home – if anything it was worse.

  Kat’s neighbour, Mrs Paterson, was loitering outside her flat. She was a nice old lady but a terrible gossip; she was like a one-woman neighbourhood watch. Not much got past her and she loved knowing everyone’s business. Kat could really be doing without this today.

  ‘Kat, why are you in a taxi? Where’s that lovely car of yours?’ Mrs Paterson fired her question machine gun at her. Kat was barely out of the cab and her car could never have been described as lovely.

  ‘Hi, Mrs Paterson. The car’s in the garage getting fixed.’ This wasn’t what Kat needed – a grilling from her elderly neighbour. She just wanted to get into the flat.

  ‘Oh yes, I noticed last night. How did your window get smashed? Whoever would do such a terrible thing?’

  ‘Just a little vandal, I’m afraid. It’s nothing to worry about; it’ll all be sorted today.’

  ‘And that blasted car taking your space again!’ Mrs Paterson went on. ‘Why are you not at work?’ She was on top form today.

  ‘I’ve got a wee holiday today.’ Kat couldn’t bring herself to tell the truth about the panic attack and hospital stay. It would elicit many more questions. Hopefully, Mrs Paterson wouldn’t notice the small band of stitches on her head.

  ‘Do you want to come in for a cuppa?’

  ‘Thanks for the offer – maybe another time, Mrs Paterson.’

  ‘Anytime, Kat – you know my door’s always open… if you need a wee chat or for anything – anything at all,’ Mrs Paterson said. She meant it as well.

  Kat thanked her elderly neighbour again whilst backing away and opening the door to her flat.

  She didn’t need a chat and a c
up of tea with Mrs Paterson. All she needed now was a glass of wine and her bed. In that order.

  9

  It worked out even better than I could have expected.

  The fat cow did her usual, sloping off to the toilet for a good greet. She must think we don’t know she goes in there to get away from us. It happens most days.

  I followed her in with two plans. Plan A was to smash her fat face off the wall. Not exactly subtle but it got the point across well enough. She was already hiding inside the cubicle though, so Plan B was put into action. Plan B was to lock her in the toilet. Not the best plan ever but needs must. She should do the sensible thing and just quit because I’m not going to stop until her life is ruined. Although, even if she does quit, it won’t end – I know where the fat bitch stays.

  A panic attack! What a laugh. That wasn’t part of the plan, but it turned into an unexpected bonus. Pathetic. I could hear her whimpering and shouting for help; I just turned the light off and started to head out of there. Then I heard her hit the floor. Lucky there’s not a big dent in it now. It would’ve been better if she’d lain in there for longer, but ten minutes later that daft Angie Stevenson came running out saying Fat Kat needed an ambulance. Who knows how she got the door open. The fat cow must’ve forced it open when she fell. Everyone thought she’d had a heart attack the way Angie was screaming and shouting and flapping her stupid arms about. No such luck. An ambulance for a poxy panic attack. What a waste of taxpayers’ money, but that summed her up – she wasted everything she was ever given.

  Some people in there pissed me off though. Coming up to me, asking if I’d done anything to Kat in the toilet. I never even admitted it – just smiled at them. There was nothing to prove that I did anything to her, but next thing you know, they’re saying I went too far. That we need to stop all of this, that they don’t want any part of it. No one asked them to get involved. What do they know anyway? Too far? I’ll show them too far. They ain’t seen nothing yet.