Francesca pushed the other sheet of paper in Ellie’s direction. “So anyway. I’ve marked up the article. Go and start putting things right. As soon as Piano has finished she can take over and make sure it’s fit to be seen.”
A commotion at the front desk made them both turn round. A man with a trolley was backing in through the door. Carlotta was remonstrating with him, but he waved a bit of paper at her.
“You wanted this water!” he shouted before swerving to get past her. “It’s your usual order.”
“No, we didn’t,” yelled Piano, joining in. “We cancelled because you never deliver on time.”
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” muttered Francesca. “Do I have to do everything myself?” She left Ellie and strode angrily towards the man with the trolley.
Ellie was aware of the commotion, but she didn’t turn to look – she was desperate to see what had gone wrong with her article. How on earth could Francesca have misread it so badly? The answer jumped out at her as soon as she began to read the printout more carefully.
“Someone has altered it!”
The first sentence was in her own words, but as Ellie scanned down the page she could see that a few references to the Lowthers had been changed, so the tone of the article was subtly different from the way she had written it. It was amazing what damage a few changed words could do. Pop was cold and distant to her sister, which wasn’t true at all. In the article, Ellie had referred with amusement to arguments the twins had told her they’d had while at school, but someone had taken out the added information that, although Pop laughingly admitted she could be argumentative, both girls had told Ellie that they never fell out for long. The bit Ellie had put in about them obviously being very fond of each other, and being totally on each other’s wavelength, had vanished.
When it came to Lolly, Ellie almost burst into tears. She had been such a warm, lovely person, and to Ellie it had seemed obvious that she had a real vocation for medicine, but now the article suggested that she was going to university almost to spite her twin sister. Ellie felt like sobbing. She put her head in her hands and stared at the red pen marks scribbled over the words some unknown person had inserted instead of hers. Then she looked up through her fingers at the continuing argument at the door. Francesca was dealing with the situation in her usual efficient way, and Carlotta was taking a call.
It seemed wrong that office life was carrying on while she was so devastated, but she had to pull herself together. The article could be salvaged, and she would be sure to print it out so it couldn’t get sabotaged again – and it would be plain to Francesca that Ellie could deliver the sort of writing that was wanted. She’d be out of here at the end of the week and whoever had been horrible enough to alter her article wasn’t worth worrying about. Even so, she couldn’t help wondering who it had been.
Ellie decided that she wouldn’t be surprised if it was Piano’s idea of a joke. She pretended she was so superior, but Ellie was sure she’d been just as jealous as Carlotta about the interview with the Lowthers. Then another thought struck Ellie. Francesca had said she’d get Piano to tidy the article up once Ellie had done her best with it. Maybe Piano hadn’t meant the alterations as a joke at all. Maybe she’d done it so she could write it instead of Ellie! If there was one thing Ellie knew about journalism it was that the more high-profile articles you got published, the better your chances of making a name for yourself. Maybe Piano had decided it would be a waste for a mere student to get her name on the piece, and that she could make better use of the prestige.
That thought made Ellie get on with restoring her article as quickly as she could. She was determined to make it perfect, so that Piano wouldn’t have the slightest excuse to take it over. She didn’t go down to have a cup of tea with Sophie that afternoon. She didn’t have time. She needed to stay where she was and get it sorted. As soon as she had finished, she read the piece over one last time and then printed it out. She took it over to Francesca, who was back at her desk again.
Ellie waited anxiously while Francesca quickly read what she had written. “Much better,” said Francesca, looking pleased. “When you’re not sniping, you can write really well.” Ellie was tempted to protest her innocence again, but decided against it. The most important thing was that the Deputy Editor liked her work. Hopefully Angel would too, and the article would appear. It was far more exciting thinking of that, rather than brooding on someone’s spitefulness.
Her mum was still out when Ellie got in after work. She made herself a drink and took it up to her bedroom. Hannah was online, so she settled down for a good long chat.
Hi! Good day?
Brilliant! replied Hannah. More chicks hatched. They’re so sweet. How was your day?
Interesting! wrote Ellie. Someone ruined my article.
No way!!!! Tell all.
Ellie’s fingers flew over her keyboard. She told Hannah what had happened, who she suspected, and how hard she had worked to get it right again.
Good for you, Hannah wrote approvingly. Anything else exciting?
Just some water that turned up after it had been cancelled.
Ha! Your office sounds a shambles! wrote Hannah. They need you in charge.
Ellie paused before she replied. She wanted to defend the magazine. The Editorial Department wasn’t a shambles. Angel and Francesca set very high standards and they achieved them too. Piano and Carlotta could be spiteful, but that didn’t seem to affect their work. The water company messing up was just a nuisance. That sort of thing could happen to anyone. Then she remembered Angel’s and Francesca’s reactions to Sapphire missing the important fashion shoot. That wasn’t just a nuisance. It was a really big deal. They had obviously been shocked as well as angry.
Not a shambles, she wrote, just bad luck, but it’s stressful enough meeting tight deadlines without stuff going wrong.
Hannah had to go for her dinner, so they signed off and Ellie put her computer to sleep. She sat with her chin in her hands, staring at the blank screen. It probably was mostly just bad luck, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep her eyes and ears open. After all, her article had been altered deliberately, and she had no proof against Piano. What if, instead of just playing a nasty trick on Ellie, someone was intent on harming the magazine? She’d thought the article had been a personal attack. What if it wasn’t, what if it was part of something bigger…like the cancellation of the shoot? Together, those two things had caused a lot more work and had threatened the look of the next issue. Ellie would feel terrible if she didn’t act on her instinct. Because that’s what it was, instinct; and Ellie Ixos was sure as anything that a good journalist should always be prepared to trust her instinct.
Now Ellie was on the lookout for a troublemaker, she knew she would have to be careful. Instinct was one thing but proof was quite another, and if there really was someone messing things up she would need to be able to prove it; she couldn’t accuse anyone without proof. The first thing to do was to write everyone’s names down and see who she could eliminate. She got the notebook out of her bag and turned to the page where her father had written Trust your instincts.
Ellie stared at the phrase. Okay, but she also needed not to take anyone at face value. Proper detectives had to be capable of seeing what people were really like, not how they wanted you to see them.
Ellie took her best pen and thought for a moment. Then she wrote a list of the people she knew who worked for Heart.
Angel, Francesca, Piano, Carlotta, Flynn, Sophie, Joe, Uncle Patrick. Of course, lots of other people worked for the magazine in different departments, but she only knew people in editorial, the post room and Flynn who – as one of the IT people – worked in all the departments. She made a note to ask Sophie if anything was going wrong in other offices. She or Flynn would know. Then Ellie remembered that even they were suspects and asking that sort of question might alert them. It wasn’t proving very easy, being a detective.
After staring at the list and not having the proof to clear a
nyone of at least a tiny bit of suspicion, she decided to bide her time and not let her imagination run away with her. Two things going wrong, however annoying, didn’t necessarily make a conspiracy against the magazine. She only had another four days left working there, and her concern would almost certainly come to nothing. Besides, she couldn’t think why anyone would make trouble. She wasn’t living in a detective story. Things didn’t happen like that in real life.
In the morning, Ellie arrived a bit late. Heavy traffic had held her bus up, so it wasn’t her fault, but she fully expected someone to tell her off. However, that was the last thing on anyone’s mind. Piano and Francesca were crouched in front of the water cooler, and Ellie could see a large patch of wet carpet. What on earth had happened?
“Ellie!” called Francesca, as soon as she noticed her. “Run and fetch more paper towels from the loo. Hurry!”
She took the towels Ellie brought and used them to soak up a little more water. “Here,” she said, standing up and straightening her skirt. “You and Piano carry on. Angel will be here in a minute and I need to get ready. Just do what you can.”
“What happened?” asked Ellie, wadding up the towels as best she could, though the paper quickly became soggy and useless.
“Some idiot jammed a load of cups in the cooler so all the water leaked out,” said Piano. “You, no doubt.”
“Of course I didn’t!” protested Ellie.
“Well, since you’ve been here, all sorts of things have gone wrong,” said Piano, getting up. “And as far as I can see, that makes it your fault.” She stormed off to her desk, and Ellie watched her go.
How dare Piano blame me, Ellie thought furiously. Then a chill ran through her body. Most of the things that had gone wrong could be blamed on a useless person, rather than a vindictive one. If Piano chose to blame her, might the others do the same? Ellie couldn’t prove that she hadn’t jammed cups under the water cooler, and from Piano’s remarks it was obvious that soon everyone would be looking for someone to blame for all their recent misfortune. If Ellie didn’t want to be made into a scapegoat she needed to find out who really was to blame…and quickly.
And then things got a whole lot worse. A scream of anguish came from the direction of Piano’s desk and Francesca, Carlotta and Ellie all stared. Piano had her hands up to her mouth and was staring at the computer screen. “My article! It’s all gone Wingdings!”
Francesca got up and went over to Piano. “Whatever do you mean?”
Piano didn’t reply. She just pointed one trembling finger at the screen.
Francesca looked. For a moment she paled, then she looked cross. “For goodness’ sake, Piano. You’ve pressed a wrong button or something. Change it back to your usual font.” Francesca went back to her desk and picked up a few sheets of paper. “Ellie, take these into Angel’s office and put them on her desk, please. And make sure the cushions on her sofa are properly plumped up. She hates it when they look untidy.” She looked thoughtfully at the still-sodden carpet. “I’ll put a chair in front of the cooler until the carpet dries out, so no one stands on it.”
As Ellie took the papers, Francesca gave her a piercing look. Ellie tried to look as innocent as she felt. Who on earth would have flooded the carpet? And how could she prove that it hadn’t been her?
In Angel’s office, Ellie was just about to put the papers on the Editor’s desk when she noticed a few specks of black dust. Ellie brushed the specks away with her hand. To her horror, instead of disappearing, the specks smeared over the blonde wood of the desk, leaving nasty, black marks. Hastily, Ellie reached into her pocket for a tissue and tried to wipe the desk. But there were more of the tiny black specks everywhere, and the more Ellie rubbed, the worse they got. Ellie tried not to panic, but it wasn’t easy. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in Angel’s office, smearing black marks over her pristine desk!
Then she remembered the cushions. Francesca had reminded her to plump them up. She went over to the sofa, but realized that her hands were covered in black marks. There was no way she could touch the powder blue cushions with hands like that! And with her heart in her mouth she noticed something else. On the white leather of the sofa were more black specks and there were more still on the white carpet. Surely this wasn’t meant as a joke? As Ellie heard Angel approaching she looked at her blackened hands and was sure that she was going to be accused, tried and judged without any means to defend herself.
Angel paused at the entrance to her office and glared disapprovingly at Ellie. “What are you doing skulking in my office?”
Ellie tried to hide her dirty hands behind her back. “Um…Francesca asked me to put some things on your desk and to look at your cushions but—”
“But you couldn’t simply do it and clear out, you had to poke about in case you found something interesting to report to your uncle.”
“No!”
“Get out then. I’ll see to the cushions myself.”
“But there’s…”
Angel plonked Ferdinand in his basket and took off her pale yellow coat. She made to throw it onto the sofa but Ellie yelled just in time.
“Don’t!”
Angel stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t put your coat on the sofa. It’s all dir—”
But just then another piercing, Piano-voiced scream came from the outer office. Both Angel and Ellie froze and then Angel threw her coat at Ellie. “Hang it up. And then get back to your desk and don’t move until someone tells you to. Now!”
Angel watched as Ellie hung the coat up as carefully as she could without smearing it with the black from her hands. She stood to one side to let Ellie out of the office, then she followed Ellie to find out what all the fuss was about.
Francesca was on the phone and Piano had her face in her hands. Carlotta was nowhere to be seen.
“What is all this noise about?” demanded Angel.
Francesca put the phone down and faced the Editor. “Something has gone wrong with the formatting of the magazine articles. I thought it was just a simple mistake when Piano first showed me, but it looks as if it’s worse than that. Every article has changed. And when I tried to change the font back from Wingdings to our usual ones, the format was still all wrong. I’ve just called IT for help.”
Angel had a face like thunder, but she spoke calmly, totally in control. “So the content is all right. It’s just the formatting that needs redoing?”
Francesca nodded. “So far as I can tell. It’s going to take time, but seems to be retrievable. I’d like IT to see if they can find any other nasty surprises though.”
“Good thinking.” Angel’s sharp gaze raked the outer office, like a captain might view his ship in a storm, taking everything in. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed the chair in front of the water cooler. “Piano, stop being hysterical and put that chair back where it belongs. It looks untidy.”
Francesca hardly flinched. “I put it there.”
Angel narrowed her eyes. “I assume there was some sort of reason why you wanted to make it difficult for my staff to get a drink of water?”
Ellie found herself feeling sorry for Francesca, but the Deputy Editor was made of stern stuff. “There’s been a leak,” she said briskly. “The carpet is wet and I didn’t want it stepped on until it dries.”
Angel frowned. “If anything else goes wrong in this office I shall consider that someone is trying to seriously disrupt the production of our magazine and take steps to get rid of them immediately.”
Ellie wanted to voice her agreement, but Angel turned her gaze in Ellie’s direction, and she found herself shrinking back against the wall instead. She didn’t utter a word until Angel had disappeared into her office. Then she knew she simply had to speak. “Francesca!”
“What now?”
“Angel’s office. When I went in there was a load of black specks everywhere.” She opened her hands. “I tried to clean them off the desk but they smeared. I…I don’t know what it is but
I managed to stop her throwing her coat on the sofa… Someone has got it in for this office. Obviously I know it’s not me, but I don’t know who it is…”
Francesca had stopped listening. “Make yourself scarce, Ellie. I can do without your ‘help’.” Without another word she hurried towards the Editor’s office with an extremely worried expression on her face.
Piano was sitting at her desk looking shocked, while Carlotta was still absent from hers. If Francesca didn’t want her, there was only one place that Ellie wanted to be. She headed out of the office and made for the lift.
Fortunately there was no one in the lift, and Ellie had a chance to collect her thoughts. She didn’t care any more about being a detective and eliminating all suspects. She was going to trust her instincts on this one. She needed a friend to talk to, and that friend was Sophie. No way could she have caused all the havoc in the editorial office. She was as innocent as Ellie herself.
On the basement floor Ellie left the lift and headed to the post room. Sophie would know what to do.
In the post room, Sophie greeted Ellie with her usual grin, but it soon faded when she saw the expression on Ellie’s face.
“Whatever’s the matter?”
Ellie skirted round a huge cardboard box that had been delivered from a famous fashion designer and dodged behind Sophie’s desk. She slumped down at the table and pushed aside a pile of post that Sophie had been sorting.
“I thought I was coming to a brilliant place to do my work experience, but it’s a madhouse!”
Sophie grabbed the biscuits and put them in front of Ellie. Ellie took one and bit into it, speaking through the crumbs. “I tried really hard to be objective, but it’s impossible to discover what’s going on. I’m sure you and Flynn aren’t responsible, but I can’t work out who is! I thought it was Piano for a while, but she’s gone all hysterical, and then I began to wonder if Francesca had some sort of vendetta going on because of not getting Angel’s job like you said, but she’s been quite nice to me.”
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