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MURPHY’S LAW

Tania O’Donahue

It was one of those mornings.  Murphy’s law as her dad called it. Pretty fitting since Jane’s surname was Murphy but she just wished it would quit. Whatever could go wrong would, and at the worst possible moment.

She missed her first dance recital when she was five because of a mouthful of cold sores. A frolic at age twelve because of a broken leg and her HSC when she was seventeen because of glandular fever. She was sure there would have been other things in between but they were the main ones.

And today, well, nothing was going right. Her car hadn’t started so she had had to take the bus, which of course she missed. By three minutes because her watch needed a new battery. She had forgotten her phone.

“Blast and bugger!” she cursed the bus as she seen it going around the corner. She’d seen two passerbys shaking their head at her talking to herself when she was listing all the things she planned to accomplish at work today as she walked as quickly as she could to the next bus stop.

There was the usual orders to get out, emails to be sent and the accounts to finish. Most of all she had promised to be there early to meet the workmen who were going to start on the roof repairs. Her boss was a lovely forgiving gentleman but Jane prided herself on her reliability and the ability to get the job done.

When she eventually arrived at her work, it was one thing after another. The photocopier broke down and she rang the repairman.

“I’m sorry Jane, but I won’t be able to get there until after lunch, busy day ahead,” he said over the phone.

She sat down to look at her emails and respond to incoming orders. Because of the photocopier breaking down, today’s orders wouldn’t be sent until tomorrow and the clients had to be notified as well. Murphy’s law. The internet was down. She dialled the phone company’s number and was told that it should be up and running by that afternoon.

“Well,” she muttered to herself. “Not much to do except have a cup of coffee…”

“Sounds lovely,” came a deep voice from the doorway. “But some of us have to work.”

Jane looked up into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. 

“Looking for a Jane Murphy,” he said.

“I am Jane,” she said, rising from her seat and taking in his height. She held out her hand.

“And you are?”

The man extended his large hand and engulfed her small one.

“Tom McGuire,” he replied.  “From McGuire’s Roofing. Bob called me and said some tiles need replacing. He said you’d know about it.”

“Yes, but I don’t exactly know which tiles…”
Tom laughed

“I didn’t expect you to get up there with us,” he said.  “Just reporting in before we start.”

Jane became flustered.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that. It’s just been a morning – anything that could go wrong has, at the worst possible moment…” she began and then stopped, wondering why she was gibbering.

He seemed amused.

“I’ll let you get back to your coffee,” he smiled. “Will give you an update at the end of the day.”

“Ok then, I’ll let you get on with it – thanks for reporting in…”

“Not a problem. Have a good day,” he smiled again. “And enjoy that coffee…”

Jane watched him walk out of the office.  Now that was what her friend Emma called ‘a specimen’.  He was devilish handsome and fit into his workclothes like a hand into a glove. Jane shook her head and walked to the coffee machine. Enough, she said to herself. Her and devilish handsome didn’t mix. She poured herself a coffee from the working machine and went back to her office. She would make some calls and finish the accounts manually until the internet was up again and the photocopier was working.

The day improved and was spent constructively. As promised, the internet returned and the photocopier was fixed. Manuals were copied, binded, labelled and sent to despatch. The workmen above her head added an upbeat rhythm to her work and she found herself humming as she sat again in her office late afternoon to enter the account information into the spreadsheet. She took a sip of her coffee and sat back in her chair. The day, which had started so badly had ended up productive and good.

All of a sudden Jane heard a workman above her head yelling. There was noise which sounded like the crash bang of thunder and she looked up in time to see a body crashing through the roof. Right into her lap. A pair of blue eyes she had seen earlier that day looked into her green ones.

“Murphy’s law,” they both said simultaneously and laughed.

After checking themselves for broken bones, they extricated themselves from their positions amid all the debris.

“What a way to end the day,” Tom said almost jovially after inspecting the damage to the roof and declaring it patchable until he and his workmen would return the following day. Jane smiled. He did, after all, promise to give an update at the end of the day.

“Murphy’s law,” her father intoned into her ear as he held tighter to Jane’s arm. The cake had been delivered lopsided and it was raining. The outdoor venue they had planned had been changed at the last moment to their local church. But as she walked down the aisle to where Tom was waiting for her, she leaned close to her dad and whispered: “I think it might be the luck of the Irish…”

Tania O’Donahue - Copyright 2020