Friday
We did it! Charlie is free! I would not say this to anyone, especially Oliver, but this has been the hardest but most rewarding week I have ever had at the Post Office. Solving this has been better than any coding conundrum that Direct Line Operations has ever thrown up. But back to Charlie. Our bribes and threats worked, and Jerry Polevich DID HIS JOB and now Charlie is free. I am so proud of us!
Sometimes I swear that Oliver O'Toole makes me feel like an insect under a microscope, ready for dissection. Who talks of revolutionaries and believers? Of faith and forgiveness? Why am I explaining myself to him? And why do I include Rita and Norman in these conversations? Urgh! Somehow, I have shared more with these three than I have with Becky or Alex, or definitely Steve. I am afraid that these three know me better than anyone, and that shakes my world to its foundations – especially when we are about to be disbanded, sent to the winds of Pueblo or the Terminal Annex. What was Oliver talking about when he mentioned East Tincup? Maybe he really is a time traveller? Not that I was interested, but I googled, and East Tincup closed in 1963. Ha! Recent history for Oliver O'Toole!
But enough of that. Today was a day of miracles. Oliver, Rita, Norman and I took Charlie to Washington Park to close this case. It just felt right to go back to where it all began. The greatest miracle? Kelly was not dead! She kept her word, and was there to meet Charlie one year to the day after they parted. It had all the feels of 'An Affair to Remember'. If anyone had ever said to me that they had fallen in love in one day before this, I would have laughed in their face. Such a thing was not possible. But seeing Charlie and Kelly makes me … almost … a believer. '
A heart to love, and in that heart
Courage, to make's love known.'
I am sure there is something significant in Oliver giving Charlie a sewing kit from Washington's Holiday Inn. And why do I care what he calls me? (I absolutely refuse to analyse what his use of my first name makes me feel – just no!)
I think I will miss us too, Norman.