Twenties Girl

by Sophie Kinsella

5) Leave very, very swiftly.

  6) Do not give my name under any circumstances. That way I can run away and blank the whole thing from my memory and nobody will ever know it was me. Maybe he’ll even think he dreamed it.

  The whole thing will take thirty seconds max and then Sadie will have to stop pestering me. OK, let’s get it over with. I approach the door, trying to ignore the fact that my heart is suddenly galloping with nerves. I take a deep breath, raise my hand, and knock gently.

  “You didn’t make any sound!” exclaims Sadie behind me. “Knock harder! Then just walk in. He’s in there! Go on!”

  Squeezing my eyes, I rap sharply, twist the door handle, and take a step inside the room.

  Twenty suited people seated around a conference table all turn to look at me. A man at the far end pauses in his PowerPoint presentation.

  I stare back, frozen.

  It’s not an office. It’s a conference room. I’m standing in a company I don’t belong to, in a great big meeting I don’t belong to, and everyone’s waiting for me to speak.

  “Sorry,” I stammer at last. “I don’t want to interrupt. Carry on.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I’ve noticed a couple of empty seats. Barely knowing what I’m doing, I pull a chair out and sit down. The woman next to me eyes me uncertainly for a moment, then pushes along a pad of paper and pen.

  “Thanks,” I murmur back.

  I don’t quite believe this. No one’s told me to leave. Don’t they realize I don’t belong here? The guy at the front has resumed his speech, and a few people are scribbling notes. Surreptitiously, I look around the table. There are about fifteen men in this room. Sadie’s guy could be any of them. There’s a sandy-haired guy across the table who looks cute. The man giving the presentation is quite good-looking too. He has wavy dark hair and pale blue eyes and the same tie I bought Josh for his birthday. He’s gesturing at a graph and talking with an animated voice.

  “… and client satisfaction ratings have increased, year-on-year-”

  “Stop right there.” A man standing at the window, whom I hadn’t even noticed before, turns around. He has an American accent, a dark suit, and chestnut-colored hair brushed straight back. There’s a deep V-shaped frown between his eyebrows, and he’s looking at the wavy-haired guy as though he represents some great personal disappointment to him. “Client satisfaction ratings aren’t what we’re about. I don’t want to perform work that a client rates as an A. I want to perform work that I rate as an A.”

  The man with wavy hair looks wrong-footed, and I feel a stab of sympathy for him.

  “Of course,” he mumbles.

  “The emphasis in this room is all wrong.” The American guy frowns around the table. “We’re not here to perform tactical quick fixes. We should be influencing strategy. Innovating. Since I’ve been over here…”

  I tune out as I notice Sadie sliding into the chair next to me. I scribble WHICH MAN? and push my pad across.

  “The one who looks like Rudolph Valentino,” she says, as though surprised I even need to ask.

  For God’s sake.

  HOW WOULD I KNOW WHAT BLOODY RUDOLPH VALENTINO LOOKS LIKE? I scribble. WHICH ONE?

  I’m betting on the wavy-haired man. Unless it’s the blond guy sitting right at the front; he looks quite nice. Or maybe that chap with the goatee?

  “Him, of course!” Sadie points to the other side of the room.

  THE MAN GIVING THE PRESENTATION? I write, just to confirm it.

  “No, silly!” She giggles. “Him!” She appears in front of the American man with the frown, and gazes at him longingly. “Isn’t he a dove?”

  “Him?”

  Oops. I spoke out loud. Everyone turns to look at me, and I hastily try to sound as though I’m clearing my throat: “Hmrrrm hrrrmm.”

  SERIOUSLY, HIM? I write on my pad of paper as she returns to my side.

  “He’s delicious!” she says in my ear, sounding affronted.

  I survey the American guy dubiously, trying to be fair. I suppose he is quite good-looking in that classic preppy way. His hair springs up from a broad, square brow, he has the hint of a tan, and dark wrist hair is visible inside his immaculate white cuffs. And his eyes are penetrating. He’s got that magnetic quality that leaders always seem to have. Strong hands and gestures. As he speaks, he commands attention.

  But honestly. He’s so totally not my sort. Too intense. Too frowny. And everyone else in the room seems terrified of him.

  “Speaking of which.” He picks up a plastic folder and skims it deftly across the table toward the goatee-beard guy. “Last night I put together some points with regard to the Morris Farquhar consultation. Just a memo. Might help.”

  “Oh.” Goatee-beard guy looks utterly taken aback. “Well… thanks. I appreciate it.” He flips through wonderingly. “Can I use this?”

  “That’s the general idea,” says the American guy, with a smile so wry and brief you’d miss it if you blinked. “So, regarding the final point…”

  From my place at the back, I can see goatee-beard guy leafing through the typed pages, agog. “When the hell did he have time to do this?” he mutters to his neighbor, who shrugs.

  “I have to go.” The American guy suddenly consults his watch. “My apologies for hijacking the meeting. Simon, please continue.”

  “I have just one question.” The sandy-haired man hurriedly raises his hand. “When you’re talking about innovating procedure, do you mean-”

  “Quick!” Sadie’s voice suddenly resounds in my ear, making me jump. “Ask him on a date! He’s leaving! You promised! Do it! Do-it-do-it-do-it-”

  OK!!!!!! I scrawl, flinching. JUST GIVE ME A SECOND.

  Sadie stalks to the other side of the room and watches me expectantly. After a while she starts making impatient Come on! gestures with her hands. Mr. American Frown has finished answering the sandy-haired guy and is pushing some papers into his briefcase.

  I can’t do this. It’s ludicrous.

  “Go on! Go on!” Sadie’s voice blasts my eardrum again. “Ask!”

  Blood is pulsating around my head. My legs are trembling under the table. Somehow I force myself to raise a hand.

  “Excuse me?” I say in an embarrassed squeak.

  Mr. American Frown turns and surveys me, looking puzzled. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m in a hurry-”

  “I have a question.”

  Everyone around the table has swiveled to look at me. I can see a man whispering “Who’s that?” to his neighbor.

  “OK.” He sighs. “One more quick question. What is it?”

  “I… um… It’s just… I wanted to ask…” My voice is jumpy and I clear my throat. “Would you like to go out with me?”

  There’s a stunned silence, apart from someone spluttering on their coffee. My face is boiling hot, but I hold steady. I can see a few astounded looks passing between the people at the table.

  “Excuse me?” says the American man, looking bewildered.

  “Like… on a date?” I risk a little smile.

  Suddenly I’m aware of Sadie beside him. “Say yes!” she shrieks into his ear, so loudly that I want to flinch on his behalf. “Say yes! Say yes!”

  To my astonishment, I can see the American man reacting. He’s cocking his head as though he can hear some distant radio signal. Can he hear her?

  “Young lady,” says a gray-haired man curtly. “This really isn’t the time or place-”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt,” I say humbly. “I won’t take up much time. I just need an answer, one way or the other.” I turn to the American man again. “Would you like to go out with me?”

  “Say yes! Say yes!” Sadie’s yelling increases to an unbearable level.

  This is unreal. The American man can definitely hear something. He shakes his head and takes a couple of steps away, but Sadie follows him, still yelling. His eyes are glazed and he looks like he’s in a trance.

  No
one else in the room is moving or speaking. They all seem pinioned by shock; one woman has her hand clapped across her face as though she’s watching a train wreck.

  “Say yes!” Sadie’s starting to sound hoarse as she screams. “Right now! Say it! SAY YES!”

  It’s almost comical, the sight of her yelling so hard and only getting the faintest reaction. But as I watch, I only feel pity. She looks so powerless, as though she’s shouting behind a sheet of glass and the only one who can hear her properly is me. Sadie’s world must be so frustrating, I find myself thinking. She can’t touch anything, she can’t communicate with anyone, it’s obvious she’s never going to get through to this guy-

  “Yes.” The American man nods desperately.

  My pity dies away.

  Yes?

  There’s a gasp all around the table and a hastily stifled giggle. Everyone immediately turns to gape at me, but I’m temporarily too dumbfounded to reply.

  He said yes.

  Does this mean… I actually have to go on a date with him?

  “Great!” I try to gather my wits. “So… let’s be in touch, shall we? My name’s Lara Lington, by the way, here’s my card…” I scrabble in my bag.

  “I’m Ed.” The man still looks dazed. “Ed Harrison.” He reaches into his inside pocket and produces his own business card.

  “So… um… bye, then, Ed!” I pick up my bag and hurriedly beat a retreat, to the sound of a growing hubbub. I can hear someone saying, “Who the bloody hell was that?” and a woman saying in an urgent undertone, “You see? You just have to have the guts. You have to be direct with men. Stop the games. Lay it out there. If I’d known at her age what that girl knows…”

  What I know?

  I don’t know anything except I need to get out of here.

  EIGHT

  I’m still in a state of shock as Sadie catches up with me, halfway across the ground floor reception lobby. My mind keeps rerunning the scene in total disbelief. Sadie communicated with a man. He actually heard her. I’m not sure how much he heard-but obviously enough.

  “Isn’t he a peach?” she says dreamily. “I knew he’d say yes.”

  “What went on in there?” I mutter incredulously. “What’s with the shouting? I thought you couldn’t talk to anyone except me!”

  “Talking’s no good,” she agrees. “But I’ve noticed that when I really let off a socking great scream right in someone’s ear, most people seem to hear something faint. It’s terribly hard work, though.”

  “Have you done this before? Have you spoken to anyone else?”

  I know it’s ridiculous, but I feel the tiniest bit jealous that she can get through to other people. Sadie is my ghost.

  “Oh, I had a few words with the queen,” she says airily. “Just for fun.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Maybe.” She shoots me a wicked little smile. “It’s hell on the old vocal cords, though. I always have to give up after a while.” She coughs and rubs her throat.

  “I thought I was the only person you were haunting,” I can’t help saying childishly. “I thought I was special.”

  “You’re the only person I can be with instantly,” says Sadie after pondering a moment. “I just have to think of you, and I’m with you.”

  “Oh.” Secretly, I feel quite pleased to hear this.

  “So, where do you think he’ll take us?” Sadie looks up, her eyes sparkling. “The Savoy? I adore the Savoy.”

  My attention is wrenched back to the present situation. She seriously envisages all three of us going on a date together? A weird, freaky, threesome-with-a-ghost date?

  OK, Lara. Stay sane. That guy won’t really claim a date. He’ll tear up my card and blame the incident on his hangover/drug habit/stress levels and I’ll never see him again. Feeling more confident, I stride toward the exit. That’s enough craziness for one day. I have things to do.

  As soon as I get back to the office, I put a call through to Jean, lean back in my swivel chair, and prepare to relish the moment.

  “Jean Savill.”

  “Oh, hi, Jean,” I say pleasantly. “It’s Lara Lington here. I’m just calling about your no-dog policy again, which I totally understand and applaud. I can absolutely see why you’d wish to keep your workplace an animal-free zone. But I was just wondering why this rule doesn’t extend to Jane Frenshew in room 1416?”

  Ha!

  I’ve never heard Jean so squirmy. At first she denies it altogether. Then she tries to say it’s due to special circumstances and doesn’t set any precedent. But it only takes one mention of lawyers and European rights for her to cave in. Shireen can bring Flash to work! It’s going to be put in her contract tomorrow, and they’re throwing in a dog basket! I put down the phone and dial Shireen’s number. She’s going to be so happy! Finally, this job is fun.

  And it’s even more fun when Shireen gasps incredulously over the phone.

  “I couldn’t imagine anyone at Sturgis Curtis taking the same trouble,” she keeps saying. “This is the difference when you work with a smaller outfit.”

  “Boutique,” I correct her. “We have the personal touch. Tell all your friends!”

  “I will! I’m so impressed! How did you find out about the other dog, by the way?”

  I hesitate briefly.

  “Ways and means,” I say finally.

  “Well, you’re brilliant!”

  At last I put the phone down, glowing, and look up to see Kate gazing at me with avid curiosity.

  “How did you find out about the other dog?” she says.

  “Instincts.” I shrug.

  “Instincts?” echoes Sadie derisively, who has been wandering about the office throughout. “You didn’t have any instincts! It was me! You should say, ‘My marvelous great-aunt Sadie helped me and I’m extremely grateful.’”

  “You know, Natalie would never have bothered tracking down a dog,” says Kate suddenly. “Never. Not in a million years.”

  “Oh.” My glow dims. Suddenly, looking at the whole thing through Natalie-type business eyes, I feel a little unprofessional. Maybe it was a bit ridiculous, to spend so much time and effort on one dog. “Well, I just wanted to save the situation; it seemed the best way-”

  “No, you don’t understand.” Kate cuts me off, pink in the face. “I meant it in a good way.”

  I’m so taken aback, I don’t know what to say. No one’s ever compared me favorably to Natalie before.

  “I’ll go on a coffee run to celebrate!” Kate says brightly. “Do you want anything?”

  “It’s OK.” I smile at her. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Actually…” Kate looks awkward. “I’m a bit ravenous. I haven’t had a lunch break yet.”

  “Oh God!” I say, appalled. “Go! Have lunch! You’ll starve!”

  Kate leaps up, bashing her head on an open file drawer, and pulls her bag down off a high shelf. The minute she’s closed the door behind her, Sadie comes over to my desk.

  “So.” She perches on the edge and regards me expectantly.

  “What is it?”

  “Are you going to ring him?”

  “Who?”

  “Him!” She leans right over my computer. “Him!”

  “You mean Ed Whatsit? You want me to ring him?” I shoot her a pitying glance. “Do you have no idea how things work? If he wants to ring, he can ring.” Which he won’t in a million years, I silently add.

  I delete a few emails and type a reply, then look up again. Sadie is sitting on top of a filing cabinet, staring fixedly at the phone. As she sees me looking, she jumps and quickly looks away.

  “Now who’s obsessing over a man?” I can’t help a little dig.

  “I’m not obsessing,” she says haughtily.

  “If you watch the phone, it doesn’t ring. Don’t you know anything?”

  Sadie’s eyes flash angrily at me, but she turns away and starts examining the blinds cord, as though she wants to analyze every fiber. Then she wanders over to t
he opposite window. Then she looks at the phone again.

  I could really do without a lovelorn ghost trailing around my office when I’m trying to work.

  “Why don’t you go sightseeing?” I suggest. “You could look at the gherkin building, or go to Harrods…”

  “I’ve been to Harrods.” She wrinkles her nose. “It looks very peculiar these days.”

  I’m about to suggest that she go for a long, long walk in Hyde Park, when my mobile trills. Like lightning, Sadie is by my side, watching eagerly as I check the display.

  “Is it him? Is it him?”

  “I don’t know the number.” I shrug. “Could be anyone.”

  “It’s him!” She hugs herself. “Tell him we want to go to the Savoy for cocktails.”

  “Are you crazy? I’m not saying that!”

  “This is my date, and I want to go to the Savoy,” she says mulishly.

  “Shut up or I won’t answer!”

  We glare at each other as the phone trills again, then Sadie takes a reluctant step backward, her cheeks pouchy.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Lara?” It’s a woman I don’t recognize.

  “It’s not him, OK?” I hiss at Sadie. I make a shooing-away motion at her, then turn back to the phone.

  “Yes, Lara speaking. Who’s this?”

  “It’s Nina Martin. You left a message about a necklace? At the old folks’ jumble sale?”

  “Oh, yes!” I’m suddenly alert. “Did you buy one?”

  “I bought two. Black pearls and a red one. Good condition. I can sell them both to you if you like; I was planning to put them on eBay-”

  “No.” I deflate. “They’re not what I’m looking for. Thanks, anyway.”

  I take out the list and scribble off Nina Martin’s name while Sadie watches critically.

  “Why haven’t you tried all the names?” she demands.

  “I’ll phone some more this evening. I have to work now,” I add at her look. “Sorry, but I do.”

  Sadie heaves a huge sigh. “All this waiting is unbearable.” She swishes over to my desk and stares at the phone. Then she swishes to the window, then back to the phone.

  There’s no way I can sit here all afternoon with her swishing and sighing. I’m going to have to be brutally honest.