‘Roger,’ I said, ‘please don’t do that again. It’s troubling.’
‘All in the tongue action.’ He winked at me. ‘Chicks dig it.’
‘No, they most certainly do not,’ I said with a shudder. Things really had slid. ‘Where are you getting all this stuff?’
If anyone thought he was getting it from me, my business was ruined.
‘Books,’ he said vaguely.
‘Roger,’ I said sternly, ‘I think I need to take you in hand again. And with a very firm grip too.’
Roger choked on his cornet, spraying molten ice cream everywhere.
‘What?’ I demanded. ‘What?’
Roger was saved in his spluttering by Nelson yelling, ‘Mel! Over here, Mel!’ in a voice that could carry through fog.
We looked up, to see Nelson waving me over in his best kindergarten manner. Gabi had disengaged from his neck, and was busying herself checking her mascara.
‘At least you’re wanted,’ said Roger, somewhat sourly.
I went over, and gave Nelson a hug. ‘Take care,’ I said. ‘No showing off to the children.’
‘Of course not.’ He hugged me back and I buried my head in his broad chest. Nelson was great to hug. He made me feel all tiny and petite. ‘And you take care too, in America.’ He pushed me away so he could look into my face. ‘And if anything happens with Remington Steele . . .’
‘I’ll let you know,’ I promised. ‘I’ll send a pigeon or something. But, honestly, nothing’s going to go wrong. I know it won’t.’
‘You email me,’ he repeated. ‘I’ll turn the ship round, and come and get you. I mean it.’
‘OK,’ I said, slightly embarrassed by the intensity of his look. ‘And if you sink, let me know too. If the little children stage a mutiny with table forks or something.’
‘I’ll die first. Now, I’ve left a list of all the things you have to lock before you leave, all right? And the details for the builders and the electricians. I’ve made a very specific plan of action, that Gabi’s in charge of implementing, and I’ve asked my brother if he’ll pop over and—’
‘Nelson,’ I said firmly, ‘we are all perfectly capable of carrying out your every wish.’
‘I know. Well . . . OK, I know.’ He looked over my shoulder, then dropped his voice. ‘I haven’t told Gabi, but this is my emergency number, if you really need to get hold of me.’ He hugged me again and slipped a piece of paper into my jacket pocket.
I bit my lip. Even though I was secretly glad he’d given me the number and not Gabi, I still felt a bit awful. It wasn’t much fun trying to work out where we all stood these days.
‘In case the workmen blow up the house, right?’ I said.
‘Er, yes,’ said Nelson. ‘That sort of thing. But, seriously, Mel—’
A loud whistle from the ship interrupted the rest of the conversation.
‘I’ve got to go,’ he said. ‘I’m meant to be organising the crew.’ He straightened his shoulders. ‘In fact, they’re giving the wrong whistle. I need to get that sorted out before there’s a terrible misunderstanding.’
Roger, Gabi and I stood on the quayside as Nelson self-consciously walked up the ramp onto the deck.
‘Ship ahoy!’ shouted Gabi and waved her hankie. It had clumped where she’d blown her nose into it.
I reached into my capacious handbag and discreetly passed her a fresh one.
‘Au revoir!’ she bellowed, undeterred by the curious looks we were getting from other crew well-wishers. ‘Bon voyage, Nelson!’
‘Come on,’ said Roger, tugging at my arm. ‘Before people start thinking she’s got some kind of Lady Hamilton complex.’
‘Bye, Nelson!’ I yelled and waved.
He waved back, then vanished gratefully below deck.
Gabi stood firm.
‘Gabi,’ I said patiently. ‘It’s not like the Queen Mary. It’s not suddenly going to slide down into the dock while someone crashes a bottle of champagne over it.’
‘Won’t it?’ She looked surprised.
‘No. It could be ages yet before they go. They get a little tugboat to . . .’ I trailed off, seeing she was still gazing up at the portholes. ‘Didn’t Nelson make you watch his tall ships videos?’
She nodded and sighed. ‘I wasn’t really concentrating on the boats, though.’
‘Gabi,’ I said, sliding my arm through hers, ‘let’s go home, and have a pot of tea and watch Upstairs, Downstairs.’
As we moved away towards where my car was parked, I sensed a dishevelled presence on my other side.
‘Can I, er, can I come back as well?’ mumbled Roger. ‘Only I forgot to go shopping this week and, er . . . you know.’
I put my arm through his too. ‘Of course you can, Roger. Nelson left us all a shepherd’s pie to remember him by.’
And so the three of us made our way back to the now very empty flat. When no one pointed out the historical inaccuracies in the scullery maids’ uniforms, it felt emptier still.
There was only one other task to be got out of the way before I could fly out, and I was looking forward to that even less than waving Nelson goodbye.
I had to hand over the office to Gabi and Allegra.
The one bright spot, though, was that Gabi’s moping around the place lasted exactly as long as two episodes of Upstairs, Downstairs. By the time she turned up at the Little Lady Agency for her briefing on Monday lunchtime, she was almost back to her normal pre-Nelson self.
By which I mean she was carrying two carrier bags from Topshop and had spent the past hour dunking my chocolate biscuits in her coffee, while divulging the most appalling gossip about the tabloid editor whose house was being sold through the estate agency.
‘Right,’ I said, checking my watch for the sixth time, ‘let’s make a start, shall we? No point in waiting any longer for Allegra – she’s obviously decided she’s got better things to do. So. These red files are for wardrobe shopping trips—’
‘Just tell me where the wig is,’ wheedled Gabi. ‘I promise I won’t use it.’
‘No!’ We’d been in the office for an hour and the more I thought about the prospect of leaving Gabi, let alone Allegra, to run free among my confidential files, the more I was beginning to think I shouldn’t actually go at all. ‘The wig is strictly, and I mean strictly, out of bounds!’
Gabi pouted. ‘But I only offered to do this because of the wig.’
I looked at her imploringly. ‘Please, Gabi. I’m relying on you here. I’m about to put my livelihood into the hands of an egomaniac with the social graces of an underfed tiger, and only you can keep her from decimating my client list. Please. At least wait until I’m out of the country before you start going through the drawers.’
‘OK.’ Gabi tapped her French manicure on the arms of her chair. ‘But if she’s not here in the next ten minutes, I’m going to have to go. Selfridges isn’t open all night. And,’ she added beadily, ‘I want you to know that I wouldn’t spend two weeks’ bonus holiday on anyone else but you.’
‘I know. I am grateful beyond words. So is Nelson,’ I added in a shameless appeal to Gabi’s weak spot. ‘More coffee?’ I suggested. ‘You’ll need to know how the coffee machine works. Especially if Allegra’s going to be in.’
At that point the door opened with a theatrical flourish and Allegra herself shimmied in, bearing three carrier bags from Peter Jones, a venti iced coffee and a parking ticket.
‘I can’t believe the traffic wardens in this country,’ she spat by way of a greeting. ‘They’re evil! Evil!’ She slammed the ticket on my desk, rattling the Bakelite telephone in its cradle. ‘Can we claim this? It’s a business expense.’
‘You’re an hour late,’ said Gabi. ‘Unless you’re here for a different appointment?’
Allegra swivelled in surprise.
Actually, I did too.
‘And you are?’ she demanded.
‘Gabi Shapiro,’ said Gabi, extending her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you. We’ll be working t
ogether.’
Allegra turned and looked at me, with an interrogative raise of her Paloma Picasso eyebrows.
‘Gabi is my, em, usual assistant,’ I fibbed quickly. ‘She’s very familiar with how the agency operates, so I’ve asked her to come in while I’m away. To show you the ropes, as it were.’
‘Are you saying I can’t manage?’ demanded Allegra. ‘Are you implying I might need . . . supervision?’
‘No!’ I protested, my resolve melting in the force of her personality. ‘But, you know, Allegra, it’s very delicate, some of what I do, and it really helps to—’
‘Delicate how exactly?’ asked Allegra, checking my desk ornaments for price labels. ‘Just giving a load of slack-jawed wasters a kick up the arse, isn’t it?’
‘No, it isn’t!’ I objected, as my heart plummeted.
‘Yes!’ said Gabi. ‘That’s about the size of it.’
I spun round and regarded her with horror. Honestly, I could feel the blood draining from my face.
‘But . . .’ I began.
‘She’s no worse than Carolyn,’ whispered Gabi. ‘I can handle her, no problem.’
Carolyn was our old office manager. She was dreadful, but not in the same Wagnerian league of dreadfulness as Allegra.
‘Sit down, Mel!’ insisted Gabi before I could disabuse her, pushing me cheerily into one of the comfortable leather library chairs I kept for clients. ‘Relax! Now, you can tell me and Allegra exactly what you’d like us to do while you’re away. Can’t you?’
I swallowed.
‘Yes, do tell us,’ drawled Allegra, temporarily looking up from the desk. ‘Then you can tell me what you thought you were doing when you bought this revolting desk tidy.’
I looked at the pair of them. I was leaving my business with these two? I must be mad.
‘Right,’ I said, getting a grip of myself, ‘take some notes, please.’
They both stared at me.
‘Notes.’ I nodded towards the antique roll-top desk I’d bought at Lots Road Auction House and made Nelson drag back for me. ‘If you look in there, Gabi, you’ll find notebooks and pens.’
‘You made your very own stationery cupboard,’ she breathed disbelievingly. ‘I knew you were psycho about the one at the office but . . .’
‘Everyone needs somewhere to keep things neat,’ I said. ‘Now, have you both got a pen? OK. First of all, daily routine. First thing you do in the morning is check the messages. I tend to get a lot of people phoning during the night. In crisis. Phone them back first, and let them know I’m not here, but I’ll be back in—’
‘We have to wait until you’re back?’ said Allegra. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’
I fixed her with a look. ‘Allegra, this isn’t a fun situation. This is work. And, yes, you do have to wait until I’m back. I’m only going to be away for a week or so.’
‘Fine,’ said Gabi brightly. Too brightly. She looked as if she had a plan, but I couldn’t see what on earth it could be, and that was worrying.
‘So, yes, check the phone messages, then the post. There might be some bills, in which case they go into the pink bill file. There might be some cheques, in which case they go into the green cheque file. There might be some invoices which go into the blue—’
‘Invoice file,’ chorused Allegra and Gabi.
‘Well, quite,’ I said, discomfited.
‘This office work business seems pretty straight-forward to me,’ said Allegra, stretching out her long legs. ‘I should have done it years ago. Piece of cake. The fuss you make, Mel, I thought you’d be slaving away.’
‘What do you want us to do if anyone phones up wanting an appointment?’ asked Gabi quickly.
‘Look in my appointments diary, which is right in front of you on the desk.’ I didn’t mention that I’d already photocopied it three times, just in case of accident. ‘I’ve made a list of how long each standard service takes – wardrobe consultation, general date coaching, that sort of thing – but if it’s anything more complicated, then call me.’
‘Call you? What if you’re in the middle of a romantic moment with Dr No?’
That was a good point. I’d more or less promised Jonathan that I’d be taking a holiday. And I knew he was getting tetchy about my ‘work priorities’.
On the other hand . . .
‘Text me,’ I said. ‘Keep it brief and I’ll let you know roughly how long it’ll take, then book them in for when I get back.’
‘Right.’ Gabi made a note.
‘But remember we don’t do any of that pretend girlfriend stuff any more,’ I added. ‘You have to be really firm about that. I still get about three calls a week from people and some of them can be quite pathetic, but you just have to be firm.’ I paused. I had one slightly masochistic client who thought the refusing was all part of the service. He’d bombarded the office with literally hundreds of red roses, until I’d abandoned diplomacy and got Nelson to phone him up, pretending to be the police.
They’d both enjoyed that a bit too much, actually.
I shook myself. ‘The right kind of firm, obviously. It, er, just encourages certain people, but I’ll leave it up to you.’
‘What else?’
‘Don’t forget to get some fresh flowers every other day – Nelson lets me budget for that in my accounts. Whisk a duster round this place, because it’s really important to keep it clean for people coming in. Check the diary for birthday and anniversary reminders – clients get three reminders, one a fortnight in advance, one three days in advance and one the day before to leave time to send flowers if they’ve completely forgotten. If they’ve completely forgotten,’ I added, ‘offer to send the flowers for them. And be delicate with the anniversaries. You never know when they might have . . . hit a rough patch.’
‘You mean, when they’ve split up?’ growled Allegra, with a toss of her dark hair.
‘Well . . . yes.’
‘Fine,’ said Gabi. ‘In which case I’d just get a new set of details for the mistress in the diary, right?’
I blinked. Gabi’s relentless practicality might be more of an asset than I’d reckoned. ‘Well, yes,’ I said again, ‘but for God’s sake, be nice. You have no idea how much this business depends on being firm but nice to people.’
I swung my most beseeching gaze between Allegra and Gabi, two women known for their firmness, but not necessarily for their niceness.
Gabi looked affronted. ‘You don’t have to tell me that, Mel. I’m the soul of discretion.’
We both knew this was a complete fib. However since Allegra didn’t – yet – I let it go.
‘So, apart from checking your diary, answering your phone and buying flowers, that’s it?’ said Allegra. ‘And for this, you’re going to pay me—’
‘No!’ I said quickly, before she could reveal her astounding Daddy-subsidised wage to Gabi. ‘No, er, of course not! That would be awfully dull for you. Um, there are lots of birthdays and September weddings coming up, and with your combined shopping experience, I’m sure you could handle buying some presents, couldn’t you?’
Gabi’s eyes lit up.
‘Check with the client first,’ I went on, ‘and get them to make you a wishlist, just to get an idea of how much they want to spend. I mean, you can more or less ignore the actual wishlist if the gift’s for a woman, because they’ll put stuff like socket sets and power drills on it.’
‘Unless the woman in question is a rally driver,’ Allegra pointed out, with an arch glance towards Gabi. ‘My friend Dagmar is a well-known Swedish rally driver and I’ve always bought her the best spark plugs money can buy. Or art. I wouldn’t insult her with perfume.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever been insulted by a present,’ mused Gabi. ‘But then when you earn your own salary, you tend to be more appreciative of the value of money, don’t you think, Mel?’
‘Well, clearly, between the pair of you, there shouldn’t be any problem finding some really wonderful gifts!’ I said hurriedly. ‘Jus
t make sure you put a note of what you got, who it was for and how you sent it in the purple present file, then I won’t accidentally send them something similar next year.’
Allegra smiled patronisingly. ‘I doubt it, Melissa. I don’t think you and I have very similar tastes.’
I was about to remind her that it wasn’t about our tastes so much as the gift-giver’s when the phone rang and saved me.
‘Now, listen,’ I said, putting on my tortoiseshell glasses. ‘This is what I want you to do.’
They both rolled their eyes, which wasn’t the response I was after at all.
‘Hello, the Little Lady Agency,’ I said, mentally picturing a cup of hot chocolate. My old Home Ec teacher had taught us that tip for projecting a really enthusiastic phone manner. ‘How can I help you?’
‘Mel, it’s Roger.’
A skin appeared on the hot chocolate and I had to make a real effort to keep my voice alluring, more for Gabi and Allegra’s benefit than Roger’s.
‘Hello, Roger, how are you?’
‘Fine. Look, I know what you said before, but I really do need to talk to you about this Hunt Ball. I cannot go with Celia. My eczema’s come back just thinking about it. I’m begging you, just put on that lovely blonde wig and—’
‘I’m sorry, Roger,’ I said, pushing the spectacles up my nose. ‘As I explained before, I don’t offer personal services like that any more.’
Gabi and Allegra sniggered.
I ignored them.
‘Not even for a mate?’ Roger demanded huffily. ‘Nelson’s not here. He’d never know.’
‘It’s not about Nelson. Look, Roger, I’d love to help you out, but I can’t. I just can’t. We’ll talk about this later, all right? I’m sure we can come to—’
Roger put the phone down.
‘Honestly,’ I said. ‘He needs a girlfriend, as soon as possible. And a real one at that.’
‘What did he want?’ asked Gabi. ‘Fumigation recommendations? Or a dentist?’
‘He wants me to go with him to a Hunt Ball. As Honey,’ I said, rearranging the papers that Allegra had riffled through on my desk. ‘And did you see how I said no?’
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