Pulpy and Midge. Jessica Westhead

when he sat down.’

      ‘Hmm,’ said Midge.

      ‘Let’s see …’ Pulpy fished around. ‘How about a quarter?’

      ‘That’s fine,’ said Dan. ‘Hand it over.’

      ‘Have some more mini-pizzas.’ Beatrice handed Pulpy the snack tray she’d prepared.

      ‘Thanks,’ said Pulpy. ‘They’re really good.’

      ‘The way he’s going on about it,’ said Beatrice, ‘it’s like he’s never had food cooked for him before!’

      ‘He’s had food cooked for him,’ said Midge.

      ‘Of course he has. What kinds of things do you make for him, Midge?’

      ‘Oh, simple things.’ Midge frowned down at her skirt.

      ‘Simple but good,’ said Pulpy.

      ‘We’re just so glad to have you two here!’ said Beatrice. ‘Dan and I haven’t had a chance to get the lay of our neighbourhood yet, so we don’t know too many people.’

      ‘It’s a nice neighbourhood,’ said Midge.

      ‘Oh, it’s a lot like yours, I’m sure.’

      ‘It’s a bit nicer.’

      ‘Is it?’ Beatrice smiled.

      ‘Lots of good people in the office, though, hey Pulpy?’ said Dan.

      ‘It’s a good office.’ Pulpy glanced at Midge, who was observing Beatrice.

      Beatrice was looking at Pulpy’s hands. ‘Your fingers are very long,’ she said.

      ‘Pulpy has a gift for charades,’ said Midge. ‘He has magic charade hands.’

      ‘Midge,’ Pulpy said, and reddened.

      Beatrice giggled.

      ‘You watch,’ said Midge. ‘He’ll draw the thing in the air, just like that. No “sounds like” or “first word, second word,” or anything like that. He’ll just draw it. It’s amazing. Even complex things. You just watch.’

      ‘He is amazing,’ Dan agreed, taking the quarter. ‘Who’s heads?’

      ‘We are!’ Beatrice declared, grabbing Pulpy’s hand and waving it in the air.

      Pulpy smiled at Midge. ‘Midge is ambidextrous,’ he said. ‘She can write my name with both hands. Show them, Midge.’ He looked around. ‘Is there a pen she can use?’

      ‘Never mind, Pulpy.’ Midge was blushing. ‘Let’s just play the game.’

      ‘Here we go!’ Dan let the coin fly.

      They all watched it go up and then come down. It landed at their feet, rolled on the gleaming hardwood for a short distance and then was still.

      ‘Heads!’ Beatrice squealed. ‘We win!’

      ‘Ha, ha,’ said Dan. ‘You don’t win. You just get to go first.’

      ‘Oh, right.’ Beatrice smiled slyly. ‘I guess I was getting ahead of myself. I have great faith in my partner, that’s all.’

      ‘As well you should,’ said Dan. ‘I can see you becoming a real driving force in the office, Pulpy.’

      ‘You can?’ said Pulpy.

      ‘We can,’ said Beatrice. ‘You’re going to be instrumental in our workplace makeover!’

      ‘I am?’ he said.

      ‘Do you work there too?’ Midge said to Beatrice.

      ‘Beatrice starts tomorrow,’ said Dan.

      ‘Probably tomorrow,’ said Beatrice. ‘I’m not sure yet.’

      Dan looked at her, then took two mini-pizzas and ate them quickly.

      ‘Oh,’ said Midge. ‘I didn’t realize you were both working there.’

      ‘Dan’s turning things around,’ said Beatrice. ‘He’s going to organize a potluck.’

      ‘That’s right.’ Dan nodded. ‘Staff parties, and potlucks in particular, are proven team builders.’

      ‘We heard about your party,’ said Beatrice.

      ‘What party?’ said Pulpy.

      ‘Your Christmas party!’ said Dan. ‘Al told me all about it. Ho-ho, sounds like it was quite the shindig!’

      Midge made a sound in the back of her throat, and Pulpy said, ‘We don’t really like to talk about it, actually.’

      ‘Sure.’ Beatrice smiled at Midge. ‘We had this parakeet once, at our old place, that liked to eat chicken! Can you believe that?’

      ‘Nobody could believe it!’ said Dan.

      ‘Nobody could. But all he would eat was chicken. Anyway, one day I was cleaning his cage –’

      ‘She was using the vacuum,’ said Dan.

      Beatrice gave him a sideways look. ‘And I was using the vacuum,’ she said, ‘and I sucked him up! I was cleaning the cage and – whoops – up he went. Trying to get rid of one mess and ending up with another.’ She shook her head. ‘So we can relate.’

      ‘I miss that chicken-eating bird,’ said Dan.

      Beatrice nodded. ‘We all do.’

      Pulpy looked at Midge, who was looking at her skirt again. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘that’s quite a story.’

      Beatrice nodded, and elbowed him. ‘Now let’s see those magic charade hands in action!’

       A few weeks before last Christmas, Midge had befriended a pigeon that was roosting in their backyard flowerpot. She earned the bird’s trust gradually, progressing from breadcrumb-lobbing to offering crusts at arm’s length. Pretty soon the pigeon was accepting whole pieces of toast from her palm.

       One day Pulpy walked into their small square of backyard, and Midge was sitting on a lawn chair in her winter coat, with the pigeon perched on her head.

       ‘Shh,’ she whispered. ‘Mrs. Wings is sleeping.’

       ‘Her eyes are open,’ said Pulpy.

       Midge lifted her arm to check her watch, careful not to startle the bird. ‘Well, she hasn’t moved for half an hour.’

       ‘That’s quite a while.’

       She beamed at him. ‘Isn’t it?’

       Pulpy smiled at her and the pigeon, and left them alone.

       A few weeks later, Midge hosted a Christmas fondue-and-candle party for Pulpy’s office mates.

       ‘It’ll increase my sales and your visibility,’ she told him. ‘If we’re going to advance in this world, we need to take the initiative.’

       Unfortunately, Al and his wife brought their schnauzer. By the time Midge thought to check on Mrs. Wings after performing her clean-burning-wick demonstration and then cutting a loaf of bread into little cubes, there wasn’t much left of her pet pigeon but a few bloody feathers.

       Al had promised Pulpy a promotion the next day.

       TWO

      ‘Did I tell you they got my underwear stuck