by Kiki Archer
“Oh, okay.” Andi straightened the papers on her desk and dropped her eyes. “So you have ambition then?”
“Of course.”
“And will this job be a stepping stone to bigger and better things?”
“I hope so.”
“Such as?” Andi was aware that her questions should be focusing on personality and compatibility, but she felt thrown by Pippa’s honesty.
“Eventually I’d love to become campaigns director here at Proud Unity.”
Andi smiled. “Okay. That’s okay. Good answer.” She studied Pippa sitting confidently on the hardback chair. She looked composed and eager to respond. She wasn’t fiddling, or twitching, or glancing around. She was just sitting and waiting with a smile on her face. “What’s your favourite quote, Pippa?”
“The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.”
Andi smiled. “I’ve never heard that before.”
“Well, it was a toss-up between that and boring women have clean houses. But I thought the mouse one illustrated the need to sometimes stop for a second and plan your response.” She acknowledged her own previous error. “Something I might need to work on.” Pippa smiled. “However, if I got this job then I’m sure my housework will also be put on the back burner.”
“Do you house share?”
“No. I live alone.”
“You’re twenty two, right?”
“Yes, but I have my own place in West Hampstead.”
Andi unintentionally raised her eyebrows. “Wow. That’s impressive. Not a bad commute then? Jubilee and Bakerloo?”
“Yes, it’s perfect. Twenty minutes tops.”
“I get on at St John’s Wood.”
“Oh fantastic!” Pippa paused. “It would be handy being so close.”
Andi thought about it. Stella was a good forty minutes by tube, but she often found herself making the round trip to collect paperwork, or hold impromptu meetings. Having Pippa so close would indeed be a bonus. She made a mental note to check exactly where Elizabeth lived. She glanced at the clock, conscious of the time. “Right, let’s carry on. Who do you admire the most?”
“Strong women.”
“Anyone in particular?”
Pippa thought about it for a moment. “Suran Dickson, the ex PE teacher, who started the Diversity Role Models Charity. She’s brilliant. She’s made it her mission to go into schools and tackle homophobic bullying.”
Andi nodded in agreement. “Yes, I admire her too.”
“I think it’s the grassroots women who make the difference.” Pippa paused. “In fact it’s anyone who’s out and proud in their day to day life.”
“Are you?”
Pippa laughed. “With bells on!”
Andi couldn’t help but warm to the light-hearted openness of Pippa’s endearing manner. “Moving on then, when is it okay to lie?”
“I think it’s okay to lie if you’re saving someone else’s feelings.”
“Really?”
“As long as they won’t ever find out otherwise, then yes. Why intentionally hurt someone if it can be avoided?” She paused. “You don’t agree?”
Andi realised she was frowning. “I’m not sure. I think I believe honesty’s always the best policy.”
“Even if your partner asks you if she’s looking plump? Which hypothetically, she is. You’d tell her the truth?”
Andi smiled. “Okay, I see your point.”
“I’m not a liar, and in fact I think it’s one of the worst traits that a person can have. I just don’t like intentional meanness disguised as honesty.”
“Right then. I’ll try to be as kindly honest as I can, in response to your next task.”
Pippa smiled. “Which is?”
“I’d like you to entertain me for the next five minutes. I’m not going to say anything. I’d just like you to entertain me.”
Pippa nodded to herself, as if gearing up for her big moment. “No problem.” She stood from her seat and straightened her black Hobbs skirt, bowing slightly and addressing Andi as if she was an audience of a thousand. “The song that I’m going to sing to you is called Listen. It only lasts for three minutes and forty seven seconds, so I’ll fill in the time by introducing it and explaining why it means so much to me.” She looked to Andi who gave nothing back in response. “So it’s called Listen and was sung originally by Beyonce when she was in the film Dreamgirls.” Pippa smiled. “I’m a tortured ballad singer at heart and I have a passion inside me that only ever comes to life when I’m singing. I’m not the best, hence why I’m here looking for a day job, but I hope it’s not so dreadful that you stop me mid-flow.” She grinned. “Well you won’t, will you, because you’re sitting there not saying a word!” Pippa moved the hard backed chair to the side of Andi’s desk and took a huge breath. “So, this is Listen, and I love it because it perfectly describes my life so far. I never seem to do anything for myself and I guess I’ve never fully believed in my own abilities.” She paused and closed her eyes. “Until now.”
Andi didn’t know where to look. She was desperately trying not to laugh. Not out of amusement for Pippa’s choice of entertainment, but out of nerves. Nerves for Pippa and nerves for herself. She held her breath and decided never again to make such a ridiculous request during an interview. Andi finally raised her eyes to Pippa, who immediately opened her own and locked them together as she started to sing.
“Listen, to the song here in my heart. A melody I start but can’t complete.”
Andi couldn’t break the eye contact. The endearing eyes were penetrating and intense, as if Pippa was singing just to her. Andi chastised herself internally. Of course she was singing just to her, there was no one else in the room.
“Listen, to the sound from deep within. It’s only beginning to find release.”
Pippa had started to sway and Andi could feel herself rocking gently backwards and forwards in her padded chair. Still their eyes remained locked.
“Oh, the time has come for my dreams to be heard. They will not be pushed aside or turned, into your own, all cause you won’t, listen.”
Andi swallowed. It was absolutely brilliant. Pippa was about to reach the chorus and Andi was unsure whether she would be able to stop herself from standing up, grabbing her pencil holder and bursting into song with her.
Pippa closed her eyes, threw her arms to the side and belted out the chorus. “Listen, I am alone at a crossroads. I’m not at home in my own home, and I’ve tried and tried to say what’s on my mind. You should have known.”
Andi slammed her hands onto the desk. “And stop!”
The silence was deafening and Pippa clasped her hands together in front of her skirt. “I’m so sorry. I just tend to get carried away.”
Andi signalled to the chair. “Please, sit down.” She waited for Pippa to pull the chair back in front of the desk and take a seat. “Pippa, that was brilliant and as much as I love Beyonce, I just wanted to see how you handled the request.”
“Too OTT?” quizzed Pippa, nervously.
Andi allowed herself to laugh. “No, but certainly one I’ll remember.” She smiled, slightly flushed from the onslaught. “Okay, one last thing before your final written assessment, could you please turn your chair around and face the wall.”
As with each other question and request, Pippa did as instructed.
“Right, without looking, could you describe what I’m wearing?”
Pippa nodded, giving Andi a view of her bouncing brown curls. “I’ll start at the bottom. You have a pair of effortlessly chic faux snakeskin court shoes on. Some tan tights, probably around ten denier. A perfectly fitted grey pencil skirt that drops just below your knee. Tucked neatly into that is your quirky, but stylish dog and polka dot pattern white blouse, which is buttoned right up to the neck. You have a single breasted grey jacket, which matches the skirt, but is not done up. And you also have a beautiful pair of tiger-eye gemstone earrings that complement the unique red-brown colouring of your eyes.” She paused
. “Amber. Yes, I’d say you had amber eyes. Your hair is naturally blonde and cut into a modern pixie style with a sweeping fringe that accentuates your small, but perfectly formed features and wide intuitive eyes.”
Andi bent her head and lifted her pen. She pretended to write. “Thank you, Pippa. Janet will be waiting outside and she’ll talk you through the last assessment.”
Pippa stood from her chair and lifted it back into position. She walked slowly towards the desk and stood still, forcing Andi to look up. “Thank you for your time.”
Andi looked at the outstretched hand. She stood up and shook it, conscious of her fully exposed blushing cheeks. “Great interview, thank you.”
Pippa smiled and turned to leave.
Andi counted the seconds that it took for Pippa to exit the room. Her walk across the office and departure into the hall seemed to take forever. She watched as the door handle finally clicked back into place. Andi immediately pushed herself backwards on her chair and opened her mouth in a colossal silent scream. She frantically fanned her face and lifted her phone. She dialled Stella’s number and was relieved when she picked up. “Are you in labour, Stella? ... No? ... Good, I’m coming round after work ... I need your help ...Yes ... Yes, it’s about the candidates ... No, not over the phone ... How did you guess? ... Right, see you at six!” She returned the receiver and fanned her face once more, trying to slow her breathing and gain some composure. She took another deep breath, stood up and walked to the coffee machine, making herself a frothy cappuccino with extra sugar. She waited for the whirring to finish and carried it carefully back to her desk, placing it on her question sheet and biting her bottom lip. She shook her head, unsure of quite what it was she was feeling.
Janet’s familiar rasp sounded at the door, followed by her predictable first sentence.
“Only me,” said Janet walking quickly into the room. She flapped a piece of paper in her hand. “One of the candidates has finished the essay. I’ve told her we’ll contact her by 8.00 p.m. this evening.”
“Elizabeth? Wow, that was quick. What’s she had? The half hour that I’ve been in here with Pippa? Forty five minutes at the most? She was allowed all afternoon.”
Janet raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “She’s still in there. This is Pippa’s.”
Andi reached out her hand. “Pippa’s? What? It can’t be.”
“It’s Pippa’s essay.”
Andi looked at the sheet. Both candidates had been given the same question and had at least two hours to write their responses. She read the title of the essay question: “What is Bravery?”
Pippa had written two words: “This is.”
Chapter Eight
Stella shovelled another heaped forkful of curry into her mouth, chewing hungrily and swallowing with gratification. It was her latest attempt at inducing labour. She’d tried the walks, the pineapple, the blowing up of balloons and she’d even tried her mother’s slightly embarrassing suggestion of nipple stimulation, all of which had failed. An order of the hottest curry she could handle had been picked up by Andi, en route, and Stella had everything crossed, apart from her legs that was. She paused her eating and looked up at Andi from the carpet of her lounge. “It takes bloody balls to do that!”
Andi was sitting on Stella’s sofa, nibbling at the crust of an oversized naan bread. “I guess it takes bravery.”
“Exactly!” Stella took a long slug of sprite. “The question you set them said: ‘What is bravery?’ and if that’s not bravery then I don’t know what is!”
“Is it cockiness?”
“No, it’s not. It answers the question perfectly. It demonstrates that bravery is about risking everything. Pippa Rose has risked her chance of getting the job she so clearly wants, by writing a two worded answer to an essay that should have taken about two hours to complete.”
Andi sighed. “The purpose of the essay was to see how well the candidates could form an argument and articulate themselves. We hoped they would link it to the bravery of the LGBT community and give us an idea of their ability to produce good sound bites for press releases and so on.”
“Did you tell them that?”
Andi shook her head. “No, we just set them the question.”
“So, she answered the question in a manner that I think is quite frankly genius!” Stella reached for the bag of onion bhajis and tipped four onto her already overflowing plate. “I’m being a pig, I know, but this could be my last ever meal.”
“You’re not dying.”
“No, childbirth is more painful.” Stella popped the whole bhaji into her mouth and somehow still managed to talk. It reminded Andi of the scene from the film Junior where Arnold Schwarzenegger was pregnant and binging on all manner of foods. She thought about mentioning it, then realised that no pregnant woman would ever want to be compared to a greedy, pregnant, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Andi opted for: “Pardon?”
“Sorry, mouthful! I said, what did Elizabeth write?”
Andi pulled the three thousand word essay from her work bag. “This.”
Stella eyed the wad of paper. “Any good?”
“Yes, it is actually. I read it on the tube over here. Elizabeth is clearly intelligent, articulate and able to form a good argument.”
“But...”
Andi smiled. “But I’m not sure how well we’d get on.”
“Elizabeth was Janet’s front runner.”
“Really?”
“Yes, women of a certain age I think.”
Andi reached back into her work bag and pulled out Elizabeth’s CV. “She’s only in her thirties.”
“Never!”
“Let me work this out.” Andi looked at the date of birth and did a quick bit of mental arithmetic. “Thirty nine next year.”
Stella gulped down another mouthful of Sprite. “No! I’d have put her in her fifties, easily! That frizzy orange hair does her no favours.”
Andi puzzled. “She must have had something that everyone on the panel liked?”
“I wasn’t privy to all of the interviews, but from what I saw, I’m confident that she’ll be a hard worker. She’ll be reliable. She’ll be good at her job.” Stella studied Andi. “She’ll make you a good PA.”
Andi nodded and picked the naan back up. “Yes, you’re probably right. Janet and the team said exactly the same thing.” Andi reached down to the carpet for her fork. Stella had insisted that the floor was the only place where she could get herself comfortable to eat, surrounded by cushions, with legs spread wide. “Did Elizabeth mention her sexuality in the panel interviews?”
Stella chewed over her words. “The fact she’s straight?”
Andi nodded. “Yes.”
Stella swallowed and wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “She brought it up actually and used it to her advantage, saying that it would give us another insight into how we could bite back at the critics. I think she said she’d represent the ‘supportive straights,’ or something like that.”
“We have straight people working for us.”
“Do we?”
Andi shrugged.
“I know you, Andi Armstrong; you don’t want her, do you?”
“I know I should choose her.”
“Why?”
“She’s the safe option. She’s been a PA before. She’s had experience. She’ll do what it says on the tin.”
Stella stuck out her tongue. “Boring ... and I always hated that advert.”
“I’m just not sure about Pippa.”
“Why not?”
Andi laughed. “Because she stood up and belted out a Beyonce classic!”
“That’s the first thing you told me!” Stella tipped the remainder of the pink coloured masala onto her plate. “It sounded great! I would’ve loved to have seen it.”
“It was great. It was hilariously great. She’s a real character. Bursting with life. Quick witted. Easy to talk to. Thought provoking.”
Stella grinned with freshly pink teeth. �
��And exactly which thoughts did she provoke in you, Mrs Andi Armstrong?”
“Oh behave.”
Stella spooned in another mouthful of masala. “She’s gorgeous though, isn’t she?”
Andi lifted her eyebrows with nonchalance. “Do you think so?”
“Being married doesn’t stop you from appreciating someone else’s beauty.”
Andi laughed. “And Sandy agrees with this, does she?”
Stella patted her huge bump. “At this very moment in time, my wonderful wife would agree with anything.” Stella grinned. “She’d even nod if I claimed cat shit was a delicacy.”
Andi laughed again. “Sandy’s doing and saying all the right things then?”
Stella placed her plate back down on the carpet. “She pretty much did already, but yes, she knows not to disagree with a heavily pregnant lady! But stop avoiding the question, you!”
Andi tore a small strip off the naan bread. “Whether Pippa Rose is, or isn’t, a bouncy haired, buxom beauty, makes no difference to me.” She popped the sweet tasting bread into her mouth and nodded in decision. “I think she’s too young.”
“Look, she passed all of the aptitude tests with flying colours. Her typing and computer skills were off the scale. She shows initiative. She’s got ideas. She’s got drive. But most of all she’s got passion. It was her passion for equality that struck me when we chatted. Yes she’s young, but she’s young, free and single and you need someone like that who can drop everything the instant that you need them.” Stella grinned. “Not everyone’s partner is as accepting as mine.”
Andi reached down and gently squeezed her friend’s rather plump thigh. “Oh Stella, you really have been the best. I’m going to miss you so much.”
Stella put her hand on top of Andi’s and squeezed back in return. “No you’re not. You’re going to be far too busy swanning off to the karaoke with Pippa Rose.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, and saving the world, like you always do.”
Andi put the shredded piece of naan bread back down on her plate. “I’m not sure she’s the sensible choice.” She bit her bottom lip, embarrassed by the admission. “She seems quite flirty.”