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wearing a sleeveless top covered in buckles that seemed to have no practical purpose.

      ‘Hi … Pulpy?’ Beatrice had dark, chin-length hair that was mostly straight, with a few strands jutting out in various directions. The effect unsettled him.

      ‘It’s a nickname,’ said Dan. ‘Isn’t it great?’

      ‘What does it mean?’ she said, and at the same time she looked Pulpy up and down, starting at his feet.

      Pulpy’s hands flattened out and he pressed them to his sides. No one had ever looked him up and down like that before. ‘It’s to do with orange juice.’

      ‘Ah.’ Beatrice nodded, still looking.

      ‘How’d you like my speech, Pulpy?’ said Dan.

      ‘Oh, fine. It was a fine speech.’

      ‘People were already eating the cake, can you believe that? They’d eaten half of it before Al walked over with the special knife.’ Dan frowned. ‘I said they’d get cake. I said they’d get it at the end.’

      ‘It was a delicious cake,’ said Pulpy. ‘I heard.’

      ‘Beatrice picked it out. She knows how to pick a winner, ha!’

      Beatrice rolled her eyes. She pointed her doughnut at Pulpy. ‘These are really good. Dan says you brought them?’

      ‘Oh, well, it’s nothing. They’re just doughnuts.’

      ‘Mmm. Well, they are yummy.’ She licked some powdered sugar off her bottom lip and popped the last bite into her mouth.

      Pulpy’s eyes widened a little and he quickly turned to admire the shiny red ‘You Made It!!’ balloons taped up in the corners of the boardroom. Then he took a deep breath and looked back at Dan. ‘I don’t think the receptionist got an invitation to this.’

      ‘That’s the way it goes,’ said Dan. ‘Somebody has to cover the desk.’

      ‘Maybe she didn’t want to come,’ said Beatrice.

      ‘But she should’ve been invited,’ said Pulpy.

      ‘Must’ve been an oversight.’ Dan shrugged. ‘I told you I’m bringing Beatrice in, didn’t I?’

      ‘We’ll get things sorted out,’ said Beatrice.

      ‘We’re doing an overhaul,’ said Dan. ‘I like the way that sounds.’

      Pulpy noticed that one of Dan’s big square hands was clamped around a plastic water bottle and his other hand was just opening and closing around nothing. ‘Overhaul?’

      Beatrice made a face for him, squishing out her lips and shaking her head.

      Dan chuckled. ‘Beatrice is calling it a makeover but I’m going with overhaul. Overhaul says everything we need to say.’

      ‘What, uh –’ Pulpy’s voice hitched, and he swallowed. ‘What do you need to say?’

      ‘Hey, there’s the man of the hour!’ Dan waved across the room to Al, who was kissing his wife under some of the balloons and a banner that read ‘Congratulations Al! Relax, Enjoy, Celebrate!’

      ‘Oh, will you look at that,’ said Beatrice. ‘Old and still in love.’

      ‘Pulpy has a wife,’ said Dan.

      ‘Do you now?’ Beatrice said to Pulpy. ‘Well, just look at you – how could you not?’

      ‘Um,’ said Pulpy.

      ‘So what do you say, Pulpy?’ said Dan. ‘Are you excited about the regime change? Out with the old and all that?’

      Pulpy looked at his old boss frolicking under his decorations. He’d written ‘Spread your wings and fly!’ in Al’s retirement card, hoping it would jog his memory, but Al hadn’t opened the envelope yet and by the time he did, he wouldn’t be in charge anymore. ‘In with the new,’ he said, and blinked in the glare of Dan and Beatrice’s white grins.

      When Pulpy got home, Midge had the fireplace video going.

      He stood in front of their small TV set and watched the flames dance across the screen, and then Midge was behind him.

      ‘I pulled the space heater up,’ she said. ‘For added effect.’

      Pulpy looked down at their little square heater pushing orange warmth out of its criss-crossed wires.

      ‘It’s a new video. I had to buy a new one because the last one was wearing out. Even with the head cleaner.’

      ‘It looks the same,’ he said.

      ‘That’s the best part! You can’t tell.’

      ‘It’s a good video.’

      Midge took a step back. ‘Don’t say video.’

      ‘What? But you said video.’

      ‘Not once we get into it. Once you get into it you have to pretend.’

      He nodded.

      ‘Did you eat? Because I bought this new product – it’s a way to make a whole meal all in foil. And then you just throw the foil away afterwards with no fuss and no scrubbing!’

      ‘Sounds good,’ said Pulpy, ‘but I had a bunch of doughnuts.’

      ‘Sit on the rug with me,’ she said. ‘I’ll play you something.’

      They sat on their rug and Midge pulled their new electronic keyboard out from under the coffee table. She frowned down at the array of buttons along the top, then pressed one. A mournful string of notes drifted out of the tinny speaker.

      ‘That’s not a very happy song,’ he said. ‘I usually think of keyboard music as more uplifting.’

      ‘That must be the dirigible. The man at the store said there was one in there. Dirigibles aren’t supposed to be happy.’

      ‘I think you mean a dirge,’ he said.

      ‘Yes, yes, a dirge. What did I say?’

      He smiled. ‘You said a dirigible. A dirigible is a boat.’

      She flung her hand at him. ‘Oh, you music people with your music knowledge.’

      ‘I’m not a music person,’ he said. ‘I work in an office.’

      ‘If you make music and you’re a person, then you’re a music person. Here, let me find you something more tinkly.’ She ran her thumbs over the keys. ‘It played the prettiest ballad earlier.’

      ‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘I believe you.’

      ‘Look at me, I’m hogging it!’ She lifted the keyboard and put it in his lap. ‘Go ahead – experiment!’

      Pulpy felt the weight of the keyboard on his legs, and thought of Dan, and Dan’s wife, who along with Dan was going to do an overhaul. He put the keyboard on the floor. ‘I guess I’m just not feeling very musical right now, Midge, I’m sorry.’

      ‘Oh.’ She slid the keyboard back under the coffee table. ‘Well, that’s okay.’

      They watched the fire on TV together for a while and then he said, ‘Al never said anything.’

      Midge moved closer to him. ‘Oh, Pulpy.’

      Pulpy stared at the embers. He felt tired and soft. ‘How could he forget?’

      ‘And the new boss didn’t say anything?’

      ‘He said some things, but not about the promotion.’

      ‘Well,’ said Midge, ‘I bet it’s only a matter of time.’

      He looked at her hopeful face and imagined he could see the yellow

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