Mirror, Mirror

by Patricia Scanlan

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘But Madeleine, she’s a damn good PR woman,’ Victor Conway blustered as he buttered his toast and spread a generous helping of marmalade on top. His wife had just informed him that he was to get rid of Alexandra Johnston as his PR woman and give his business to one of the male partners in Stuart and Stuart’s. None of them could touch Alexandra for talent and brains and get-up-and-go. He liked Alexandra. She was a bright, sexy woman with a lot of spark and she knew her stuff. She’d a great ass too, he thought longingly, staring across the table at his spouse, who did not look a million dollars first thing in the morning. In fact Madeleine had never looked a million dollars. She’d been a handsome woman in her prime, yes. But that wasn’t today or yesterday. Sexy . . . never. Victor thought of Alexandra sitting opposite him in a black lacy negligee and almost choked on his toast. Chris Wallace was a damn lucky blighter. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Victor. There are plenty of good advertising people around. But our continued association with her is tantamount to endorsing . . . even condoning, her despicable behaviour. I will not allow that.’

  ‘Madeleine, these things happen all the time. It’s none of our business. She does a good job and that’s all I care about. Now are we meeting the Kavanaghs for dinner on Wednesday?’

  ‘Don’t change the subject, Victor. If you don’t switch to someone else, I’m going to phone Mona MacDonald and insist that she tell Malachy to get rid of her. In fact I think I just might do that anyway. That old fool only employs her so he can ogle her legs.’

  Victor threw his eyes up to heaven. Madeleine was off and there was no stopping her. She had a bee in her bonnet about Alexandra Johnston. But then again his wife knew Chris Wallace’s wife. And it was obvious she was taking sides.

  Trust women! In his view no man cheated on his wife without good reason. It was a long time since he’d had the opportunity of cheating, he thought regretfully as he speared a sausage and doused it liberally with tomato ketchup.

  He could argue as much as he liked – he knew from experience that the moment Madeleine had fixed her gimlet eye on the divine Alexandra, her fate was sealed.

  ‘Miss Johnston, Mr MacDonald would like to see you in his office. He’ll be free at eleven.’ Peggy Kinsella gave Alexandra a saccharine smile. Even first thing on Monday mornings, Peggy always managed her ‘professional’ smile.

  ‘Fine, Peggy.’ Alexandra hid her irritation. After all, Malachy was the big cheese, she couldn’t very well let a junior member of staff think she was anything but in awe of him.

  Damn! Alexandra thought as she swept into the lift. Usually when Malachy wanted to see her, he had some grandiose scheme that was invariably way off beam and she’d have to spend valuable time humouring him, massaging his ego and deflecting his nonsense when she could be doing her own, far more important work.

  Really it was time the old buzzard retired. He’d been around since Noah. Advertising was a hell of a lot different from when he’d started out. Getting him to move with the times was like banging her head off a stone wall.

  Why he was kept on as chairman and MD at his age amazed Alexandra. Something about shares, she’d heard on the grapevine.

  Malachy’s avuncular geniality belied a sharp brain. And when it came to his own survival he was ruthless. The rumour was that years ago he’d persuaded a trusting, gullible spinster aunt of the Stuarts to sell him her shares at a less than fair price. Combined with his own, the shares had given him control of the company. There was consternation when it happened. The Stuarts had threatened legal action. But Malachy was a devious operator and had made sure that his back was covered. He’d promptly married the aunt – despite the fact that she was forty and ten years older than him – and shut them all up. The company was well and truly under his thumb. And the Stuarts, father and son, had to bite the bullet and get on with it.

  Life was not all a bed of roses for Malachy, however. The aunt, once the novelty of having a gold ring on her finger and being a ‘Mrs’ had worn off, cast off her mantle of Sweet-Timid-Little-Woman-who-Deferred-to-Big-Strong-Men and turned into a nagging, iron-willed termagant. Malachy might be a devious, back-stabbing, sharky operator in the business world, but he’d well and truly lost the battle at home. He was firmly under the rule of thumb. Mona’s thumb.

  Alexandra had met Mona MacDonald once. A very tall, thin rake of a woman who exuded an air of dissatisfaction and gloom. Privately Alexandra christened her Hatchet-Face.

  ‘I don’t approve of women working,’ she’d declared coldly when Malachy introduced her. ‘It’s unladylike. But Malachy seems to be very impressed with you . . . for some reason.’ The unspoken But I’m not . . . hung in the air between them.

  ‘Malachy’s got good taste.’ Alexandra had tried a joke.

  ‘That’s a matter of debate,’ Mona had retorted cuttingly. Her nostrils had flared with distaste and she’d eyed Alexandra up and down.

  Alexandra had instantly realised that Mona saw her as a threat. Malachy liked to think of himself as a suave, sophisticated ladies’ man. It was all in his own mind, however. Certainly in her case. Malachy was the last man on earth she’d think of in those terms.

  ‘Some of us have to work,’ she’d responded evenly. ‘We don’t have husbands to keep us.’

  ‘I’m sure you’d have no trouble getting a husband,’ Mona had sniffed.

  ‘Sometimes it’s easier said than done.’ Alexandra had smiled sweetly. If it wasn’t for your shares, you wouldn’t have got one, she’d longed to retort. But she’d restrained herself. Mona MacDonald could block her way up the ladder of success.

  Today, though, she wasn’t in the humour for Malachy. She had a hell of a hangover and she was up to her eyes preparing a presentation for Marcus Lynn. It had to be perfect. She was going to make her move on him soon. Chris was getting on her nerves. She’d had enough of him. Once she was sure of Marcus she was going to send Chris packing. He could go back to Suzy. It might stop the woman doing crazy childish stunts like posting abusive cards.

  Alexandra was still as mad as hell about that. It had really made her position at work extremely uncomfortable. She found it hard to believe that Suzy was capable of such spite. She’d always deferred to Alexandra when they were friends. Alexandra had been the leader, Suzy the follower. This new, vicious Suzy was unsettling.

  The only thing that kept Alexandra going was the hope that Marcus would fall for her. That and her trip to London for Christmas. She was going to stay for the sales and she was going to have a ball shopping. Buying in the sales made good economic sense. She invariably got designer labels reduced to a fraction of their full price. She always bought the basics of her wardrobe each year at the sales. Maybe the day would come when she’d be able to pay the full price instead of scrimping. If she became Mrs Marcus Lynn, that would certainly be the case. Maybe Marcus might set her up in her own agency. Wouldn’t that be a thought?

  Her eyes sparkled at the idea. Just imagine telling that suspicious little tight-arse, Ron Evans, where he could stick his expenses. On second thoughts, no . . . that might give him some pleasure, Alexandra thought nastily. She really loathed that furtive slug. If she ever had her own agency she’d make sure to employ an accountant who didn’t have a devious mind and who was competitive, with-it and had some business sense.

  She spent the next twenty minutes imagining that Marcus had made a takeover bid for Stuart and Stuart’s and she was experiencing the enormous pleasure of sacking Ron, Malachy and half the typing pool. It was such a satisfying fantasy she was still smiling when she rapped briskly on the boss’s door for her eleven a.m. appointment.

  ‘Alexandra, my dear,’ Malachy greeted her effusively. ‘Come in, like a good girl.’

  Alexandra gritted her teeth. Malachy was a dreadful chauvinist. Good girl, indeed. She hated it when he addressed her so.

  ‘You’re looking ravishing today.’

  ‘You look pretty dishy yourself, Mal.’ She returned the compliment as indeed he fu
lly expected her to. It was always quid pro quo with Malachy.

  Malachy simpered and fiddled with the carnation he always wore in his lapel. One of his many little affectations. ‘That’s very kind of you, Alexandra. At my age one doesn’t expect compliments.’

  Oh get on with it, you vain old goat, Alexandra urged silently.

  ‘Malachy, you have the get-up-and-go of a man half your age. Don’t give me that nonsense,’ she retorted briskly. He loved it when she spoke to him like that.

  Malachy gave an amused chuckle and gave her a pat on the arm. ‘Oh to be young and single again,’ he twinkled.

  Thank God you’re not. Alexandra tried not to shudder. It must be a real bummer of a plan if he’s this geed up, she reflected. The more crazy and unworkable the plan, generally, the more manic Malachy tended to be.

  ‘Make yourself comfortable, my dear.’ Malachy indicated the chair opposite his desk. ‘I’m afraid I have something to tell you that you may not like.’

  ‘Oh!’ Alexandra frowned.

  ‘Well, no point in beating about the bush. Victor Conway phoned me this morning. He’d like Thomas Scully to take over his account—’

  ‘I don’t believe it! The ungrateful old twit!’ Alexandra exploded.

  Malachy held up a restraining hand. ‘Let me finish, Alexandra. It seems that Madeleine, his wife, is a friend of . . . er,’ he paused. ‘I believe she’s friends with a lady called Suzy Wallace . . .’

  Alexandra stared at him in horror as the blood drained from her face.

  ‘Oh! Oh I see.’

  ‘There’s no need for me to continue then,’ Malachy said silkily. ‘Other than to say that Victor asked me to tell you that he was very happy with the work you did for him and he wishes you continued success.’

  Alexandra stood up. ‘Well, if that’s all, Malachy, I’ll get back to work,’ she said calmly.

  ‘Fine, fine,’ Malachy agreed.

  Alexandra walked gracefully to the door.

  Great carriage, magnificent chassis, Malachy thought admiringly as he held the door open for her. He liked a woman with good carriage. Most young women today had no idea how to carry themselves. Clumping around in those dreadful platform shoes. He wondered if he could ban them as unsuitable office wear.

  ‘Good morning, Malachy.’ Alexandra walked out, head held high. Inwardly, she was in turmoil.

  That sly bitch had gone whingeing to Madeleine-Interfering-Cow-Conway. Alexandra still couldn’t quite believe that her former friend was capable of such vindictiveness. That was low. Worse than the card. She was stunned and very much unnerved. What else was Suzy going to do to get revenge? The sooner Alexandra kicked Chris out of her life, the better. It was imperative that she get to work on Marcus Lynn as soon as possible.

  She saw Thomas Scully emerge from Ron Evans’s office. He gave her a smug smile. Alexandra wanted to kick him in the goolies. She gave him a saccharine smile back. Not for diamonds would she let on that she was ruffled.

  ‘Can’t wait to get my hands on the Conway account.’ Thomas didn’t even have the cop-on to pretend he was cool about the whole affair. He was like a little boy.

  Alexandra laughed. ‘Darling,’ she drawled in her most condescending tone, ‘you’re welcome to it. It’ll be something for you to cut your teeth on. We all need to start somewhere.’

  Thomas reddened. ‘Yeah, well some of us are on the up and others are definitely on the slippery slopes.’

  Alexandra eyed him laconically. ‘You know something, Tommy? You’ll make a good PR some day . . . when you grow up. A tip while you’re growing . . . gauche behaviour is not on. Develop some equipoise. And if you don’t know what that means, look it up in a dictionary.’

  ‘Sarky bitch,’ Thomas sneered. But he was raging with himself for letting her see how delighted he was to have snaffled the Conway account from under her nose.

  Alexandra smiled sweetly and carried on to her own office. Once inside, her own composure crumbled. What a bloody way to start a week. She rooted in her bag agitatedly. She needed a cigarette. Her fingers shook as she lit up and drew deeply, inhaling down into her lungs. Victor Conway’s account was a prestigious one and she’d worked damn hard on it. Now it was snatched from her and given into The Boy Scully’s sweaty, grasping little palms. It was sickening.

  What business had Madeleine Conway got sticking her big prudy nose into Alexandra’s business and making judgements about her. It wasn’t a one-sided affair, yet Chris wasn’t being punished. It really was a man’s world. Well, she wasn’t finished with them all yet. Not by a long chalk. She picked up Marcus Lynn’s file and dialled his number with one immaculately manicured finger that still trembled slightly. His secretary answered the phone.

  ‘Good morning, Maggie, it’s Alexandra Johnston, can you put me through to Mr Lynn, please?’

  ‘Just one moment, Miss Johnston, I’ll tell him you’re on the line,’ the younger woman said. For some reason it made her feel old. Maggie had always called her Miss Johnston and Alexandra had taken it as a sign of deference. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

  She pulled open her desk drawer and pulled out the ornate antique hand-mirror that Suzy had given her as a gift one Christmas, years ago. How ironic that it was Suzy’s gift. She studied her reflection in the mirror. Horror of horrors, there were several grey hairs in her gleaming tresses, and the signs of ageing around her eyes were a cause for grave concern. The lines that ran between her nose and mouth were deeper than she cared to admit. She’d be a facelift case soon, she decided, depressed by the image that was reflected back at her.

  ‘So, Alexandra. How’s it going?’ Marcus’s sexy voice shook her from her reverie. She loved his voice. It had a deep rasping timbre, a bit like Leonard Cohen’s, her favourite singer of all time. She’d listen to Marcus talk for hours. The thought of that sensual voice whispering sweet nothings in her ear was highly erotic. Usually she was sure of men. She could read them like a book. Marcus was an enigma.

  ‘Marcus, good to hear you. Listen, I’ve come up with an idea I’d like you to check out. How are you for lunch any day this week?’

  ‘Um . . . let’s see. I’m in London tomorrow. Wednesday’s good.’

  ‘Not for me, I’m afraid.’ Always let them think you’ve someone or something more important than them. Another of her golden rules. ‘How’s Thursday?’

  ‘I do have a meeting scheduled at one-thirty. Hold on a second, Alexandra, and I’ll speak to my secretary to see if she can do some juggling.’ Alexandra heard a murmured conversation down the line.

  ‘I’ve rescheduled that one for twelve-fifteen. How does one-thirty in the Burlington suit?’

  ‘One-thirty’s fine. The Burlington . . .’ She made a face. ‘I was there three times last week. Will you trust me to pick somewhere nice and I’ll phone Maggie with the arrangements?’

  ‘Sounds good to me. We can catch up on all the news and gossip. Looking forward to it, Alexandra.’ She could sense that he was smiling.

  ‘Me too, Marcus. See you then.’ Alexandra smiled back and hung up. Always hang up first was her motto. If all went to plan, it would be more than lunch she’d be having with Marcus Lynn. In time it might even be breakfast, dinner and tea!

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘It was the least I could do, Suzy.’ Madeleine’s voice came crisply down the telephone wires. ‘I don’t like that kind of behaviour. Victor was more than happy to tell Malachy he wanted someone new. I must have a word with Eleanor O’Shea. She’s a friend of mine. Her husband is a client of Madam Johnston’s. I’ll give her a little word of warning. We women must stick together. You and I must have lunch some day soon, to get you out of the house. I’ll call again, sweetheart. Bye.’

  ‘Bye, Madeleine. Thanks.’ Suzy smiled as she hung up the receiver. She punched her fist in the air. So Madeleine had taken the warning to heart. Victor’s virtue was now safe and Alexandra was off the case, so to speak.

  How awkward it must be for her at work now. She’d h
ave no credibility left. First the postcard and now this. Suzy smiled grimly. Good enough for her. Suzy knew how hard she’d worked to get where she was. Alexandra had moaned about it often enough in the past. Just as she’d moaned about all the shits she had to work with. She had no time for them. They were holding her back, she felt. But she was just using them to get as high up the ladder of success as she could before moving on. She’d confided to Suzy, that she intended to build up a big list of clients before going out on her own.

  That’s what she thought, Suzy thought vindictively. Victor Conway was well and truly off her list. The first to go. If that friend of Madeleine’s persuaded her husband to drop Alexandra, that would be two down. If Alexandra kept losing clients she’d be out of Stuart and Stuart’s so fast her head would spin. One thing Chris used to say over and over was, there was no loyalty in business. Everyone was looking out for themselves. Even Alexandra’s famous sex appeal wouldn’t help her if she wasn’t bringing in the dosh.

  The phone rang. It was Chris.

  ‘What do you want?’ she demanded.

  ‘Look, Suzy, I think you should cut out the crap with Alexandra. Enough is enough. If she loses her job, I won’t be supporting her and I’ll have to come back home. I know you don’t want that. So give it a rest, OK?’ he said wearily.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chris. I couldn’t care less about Alexandra and her job, or whether she loses it or whether she keeps it. But one thing I do know is that you won’t be coming home here so forget it,’ she said snootily, furious that he’d phoned her to plead his precious Alexandra’s cause.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Suzy, we’ve two kids to think about. At least let me come home for Christmas and make a family thing of it for the children,’ he appealed.

  ‘We won’t be here for Christmas. So get lost, Chris. If you were so worried about our kids, like you pretend you are, you’d never have betrayed us the way you did, so cut the sanctimonious crap and fuck off, you lying skunk.’ Suzy slammed down the phone.