The Debt & the Doormat by Laura Barnard Page A

leprechaun to bring us good luck,’ Victor laughs.
    I wonder who’s safe and who’s not.  Paul the salesman has just bought a new house and Jeremy’s wife has just had twins. 
    ‘I know!’  Victor exclaims, pulling me out of my thoughts.  His eyes grow wide as he stares at me.
    ‘Tea?  Coffee?’ I offer again, my smile strained. 
    ‘Why don't you give us a little Irish jig?’ Victor suggests, his eyes dancing at the idea.
    Irish jig?  Is he serious ?
    ‘Oh yes!  Goody.  I do like a show,’ Mrs Dewitt says, clapping her hands together.
    ‘I...I can't,’ I stammer, my legs going wobbly at the thought.
    ‘Of course you can Poppy,’ Victor says, smiling with his mouth, but warning with his eyes. 
    Please don't make me, I try to communicate back.
    ‘Have you got enough room?’ Mrs Dewitt asks, pulling her chair out of the way.
    ‘I...I...’ 
    I can't speak!  I cannot do this!  I cannot dance around the room like an idiot.
    ‘Take your shoes off Poppy,’ Victor instructs.
    Why don't I just take off all of my clothes and have an actual nightmare?  Mrs Dewitt bends over and starts pulling at my shoes.  I’m tempted to kick her in the face and run for the hills.
    ‘My goodness, what small feet you have!’ she shouts, as she prises my un-willing feet out of them.  ‘What size are you?’
    ‘I’m a five.’
    ‘My goodness - so small!’ 
    Size five is average actually.  Not like your size 9 clown feet.
    ‘Let me Google a tune for you,’ Victor says, already on his iPhone.
    This can't be happening.  This cannot be happening.
    ‘Here we go!’ Victor says happily, as the rooms fills with a tune.  It reminds me of my childhood in Irish bars drinking red lemonade and eating Tato crisps.
    ‘Go Poppy!’ Victor shouts, clapping his hands together. 
    ‘But....I’m really not – ‘
    ‘Go!  I said GO!’
    His snarl is enough to pull my body into action.  I jump to my tip toes immediately and try to forget about them staring at me.  I jig around, quickly remembering the steps, flinging my legs in the air, all the time wishing I was dead. 
    ‘Brilliant Poppy!’ Victor shouts, encouragingly. 
    I smile back, the old steps becoming clearer with each one I take.  Why should I even be embarrassed?  I’m good at Irish dancing!  I won loads of medals when I was younger.  I mean, granted, I was seven at the time, but still! 
    ‘Yes, thank-you Poppy,’ Victor says abruptly, his playful mood over.  ‘Two coffees.’
    I stop abruptly, panting, out of breath.  Well, he changes his mind bloody quickly.  Just when I was getting into my stride.  I pick my shoes up and walk out of the meeting room, heading for the kitchen.
    ‘Oh, Poppy thank God!’ Lilly says, rushing towards me.  ‘I have an important message for you.’
    ‘Really?  What?’
    The worst thoughts go running through my head.  My Mum, my Dad; are they ok?
    ‘Michael Flatley called.  He wants his moves back.  Something about you stealing them?’
    My face freezes in embarrassment. 
    ‘Oh ha bloody ha,’ I say hitting her on the shoulder.  ‘You saw then?’
    ‘Not just me!  Victor e-mailed a video of it to everyone in the company.’
    My stomach hits the floor and I can suddenly hear my heart thumping hard.
    ‘Please, please tell me you’re joking,’ I plead.  I need to run away and escape.
    ‘I wish I was.’  She eyes me sympathetically.  ‘Yeah, good luck with the rest of the day.’  She smiles wickedly, walking away.
    I make the coffees, my hands still shaking and take them towards the meeting room.
    ‘Top of the morning to ya!’ Jeremy says, as he walks past.
    ‘Oh, fuck off.’
    *                             *                            *
     
     
    The minute I get back to the house I throw my shoes at the wall and lie on the lumpy sofa.  Those damn fucking shoes!  They’ve given me angry, vicious looking blisters at the back of my