by Emlyn Rees
‘Sure. I’ve just done one. I’ll leave it with you this afternoon.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she says.
I hope she means it. I don’t want to leave. I’ve been so busy helping out with the secretarial work, I haven’t had a chance to show them how interested I am in the business.
On Friday morning, everyone gets called into a company meeting and I’m left alone in the office. I look around me, feeling nostalgic already. I’m really going to miss this place.
Elaine calls.
‘They like you,’ she says, as if it’s the biggest surprise in the world.
‘I like them too,’ I admit. ‘You haven’t got any more jobs up your sleeve like this one, have you?’
‘Nothing. It’s all gone quiet.’
Back to square one then, I think, as the door buzzer goes.
‘Everyone’s in a meeting,’ I say to the man when he comes up the stairs. ‘Can I help at all?’
‘I’m here to see Fabian,’ he says, looking around the empty desks. ‘Do you mind if I wait?’
‘Not at all,’ I smile, showing him to the sofa by the window.
He can wait any time he wants. He’s extraordinarily good looking, with short blond hair, sexy stubble and a honey-coloured tan to match. He must be in his late thirties, judging from the laughter lines around his eyes. ‘Can I get you a coffee?’
‘Please,’ he says, relaxing back, as I make for the kitchen.
A model. Definitely a model. Can’t be anything else. I can see why Fabian wants to see him, he’s perfect for Jenny’s new collection.
There seems to be no point pretending to work with everyone in the meeting, so when I return with his coffee, I sit on the edge of the desk and smile.
‘So, what’s Friers like?’ he asks.
‘It’s a brilliant fashion house. The clothes are fab – the classic stuff anyway – and the people are great. I’ve only been here a few days,’ I add, ‘but I wish I wasn’t leaving.’
‘Leaving?’
I shrug. ‘I’m just the temp.’
He raises his eyebrows at me. I know I shouldn’t talk to him, since he’s a complete stranger, but I’m feeling so depressed after my conversation with Elaine that my frustrations are out before I know it. I tell him all about sending in my CV three years ago and how I’d hoped that temping here now might lead to something permanent.
‘So why here and not some other house?’ he asks, after a while.
‘Potential. There’s so much I’d love to do here.’
‘Like what?’
I tell him about my ideas and my shopping expedition. When he keeps asking questions, I launch into my theories on window dressing and how Friers should go upmarket. I tell him about the conversations I overheard in the boutique and my magazine research. I even tell him about the clothes that Jack wears.
He nods as I burble on and I feel overwhelmingly flattered that someone is listening to me at last. Shame he’s just a model.
‘Just a few ideas,’ I say when my monologue has ended.
‘Have you told Fabian what you think?’ he asks.
‘Fabian! God no! He hasn’t said two words to me. I’m just the temp,’ I remind him.
‘You’re wasted,’ he says honestly.
I nod, my attention distracted by the people filing back into the office. I jump off the desk.
‘Sorry to go on to you,’ I say, smoothing down my skirt.
‘The pleasure’s all mine,’ he says, inclining his head. I like his American accent. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Oh, um, Amy,’ I say. ‘I’ll tell Fabian you’re here.’
I turn to go, and then stop abruptly. I turn round slowly and screw up my face.
‘Your name would help.’
He stands up. ‘Jules. Jules Geller.’
Once everyone is back at their desks, it’s obvious that the atmosphere has changed. When I get a moment, I go through to the cutting room. Jenny, Sam, Andy and Louise are out on the fire escape.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, standing by the door.
‘Just as we thought,’ says Jenny. ‘Friers have been bought by A&M.’
‘Who are A&M?’
‘They’re another fashion house. They’re mostly based in America, but their collections have been selling well over here,’ explains Sam. ‘They’re bringing over a new boss.’
‘I can’t believe we’re going to get him,’ says Jenny excitedly. ‘He’s fantastic!’
‘I’m sure he’ll get rid of Fabian, if he’s going to head up the whole thing from London,’ adds Andy.
‘Did you see the collection he did in Paris?’ asks Louise.
‘I know. He’s really good. God, I hope he keeps us all on.’
‘Who?’ I ask, as they all continue their conversation.
‘Jules Geller,’ says Jenny, finally taking some notice of me. ‘Jules Geller is our new boss. Isn’t that great!’
I stumble back to my desk. Jules Geller is the new boss.
The same Jules Geller I have just spilled my guts out to.
Well done Amy. No, well done. You’ve really made a good impression there. Upstart temp, pitching your ideas to a man who from the look on Jenny’s face practically owns the whole bloody industry.
Shit.
I keep a low profile for the rest of the afternoon. Fabian’s meeting seems to go on for ages and Jenny and Sam are called into his office. I avoid eye contact with everyone, trying to ignore the tension in the office. When I come back from the post office, I’m not sure whether Jules has left or not, but I’ve decided that, come what may, I’m going to hide under the desk rather than let him see me.
At five-thirty, Jenny comes in and I give her the latest batch of work I’ve done along with my timesheet.
‘This is the last time I’ll be doing this,’ she says with a sigh.
‘To be honest, it’s just as well I’m going,’ I say, before explaining what I’ve done. She shakes her head at me and laughs.
‘Nothing is ever as bad as you think.’
‘No, it’s worse,’ I say, tucking my timesheet in my bag.
‘You’d better say goodbye to Fabian before you leave.’
She hugs me goodbye and there are thanks all round. Everyone seems to be looking at me strangely. Either I’ve got a stamp stuck to my chin, or I’m being paranoid. I check my chin.
Paranoia it is.
‘We’ll keep in touch,’ promises Sam, crossing her fingers at me. They stand by the door, smiling at me as I knock on Fabian’s door.
‘Is he in there?’ I ask, turning round to them. They look as if they’re about to crack up laughing.
‘Go on,’ urges Jenny.
I push open the door.
‘Ah, just the person I wanted.’ Jules is standing behind Fabian’s desk. ‘Come in,’ he says.
‘I came to see Fabian,’ I stutter.
‘Fabian, I’m afraid, has gone. You’ll have to talk to me, instead.’
I ease myself down into the chair. I know I’m blushing and he smiles at me with genuine amusement.
‘I shouldn’t have said anything earlier. I didn’t know you were the new boss, or anything. I never usually—’
Jules puts his hand out to stop me. ‘It’s okay, Amy. You don’t have to apologise.’
‘But—’
‘No buts. I happen to think your ideas are great. I also happen to know you’re just what I’m looking for. I need a personal assistant to help me set things up here and I think you’d be perfect. How’s your typing?’
I’m about to go into autoblag, but stop myself. I close my mouth abruptly. This is real, I’m not going to bullshit this time. ‘Not great,’ I reply, ‘but I’m sure I could brush up.’
‘I’ve had a word with Jenny and Sam and they both seem to think you’re the best organiser there’s ever been around here. I’ve also been having a look at your CV.’ He holds it up. ‘I’m impressed.’
Thank you, Sam.
; ‘So how about it? Are you going to save me the hassle of interviewing some terminally dull secretaries, or will you give me a go?’
Will I give him a go?
After celebrating in the pub with Jenny and Sam, I rock up to Jack’s with a bottle of champagne.
‘You’ll never guess what,’ I announce, when he opens the door.
‘What?’
I pull out the champagne from behind my back. ‘You can be a house husband, after all!’
Jack and Matt are delighted with my news. We sit in the kitchen drinking whilst I gush on about Friers.
‘When do you start?’ asks Matt.
‘That’s the best bit. Not for a couple of weeks. Which means we can go on holiday.’
‘Holiday?’ asks Jack.
‘Of course. Why not? Once I start the job, there’ll be no time. I thought about it on the way over. Let’s go somewhere hot for a week.’
‘Isn’t that a bit sudden?’
‘Well you’ve got a week to think about it,’ I say. ‘Come on, Jack. You can afford it, we’ll have such a laugh.’
Jack doesn’t seem convinced.
‘You can’t go next week,’ says Matt. ‘It’s Alex’s stag do.’
‘I know,’ says Jack.
I’ve been on such a high, emotional and alcoholic, that it takes me a moment to notice the eye contact between them. I have a feeling I’m missing something.
‘I’ll work something out,’ says Jack to no one in particular. He gets up and goes to the fridge.
‘I’m off out,’ says Matt, suddenly.
‘Don’t go,’ I say.
‘Sorry. Have to. Enjoy yourselves,’ he says before leaving. He shuts the door behind him.
‘Did I say something wrong?’ I ask.
‘No, don’t worry.’
‘You don’t have to come on holiday if you don’t want to.’
‘Of course I want to. Alex is more a friend of Matt’s than of mine. I’ll sort things out with him.’
‘Excellent.’ I slip off the stool and give Jack a big hug. ‘I’m so excited.’
‘Me too,’ says Jack, but he doesn’t sound as convinced as I want him to.
Why is it that my social life only happens on about seven of the 365 days in the year, and on each of those seven, forty billion things compete for my time? This Saturday is a prime example.
I’m stressed even before I wake up. Having a hangover doesn’t help.
It’s Aunty Vi’s fiftieth birthday party in Hemel Hempstead. An event I have been invited to with Jack (Mother’s scheming influence, I suspect), but I’d rather die than introduce him to my cousins. I don’t want him to draw premature conclusions about my dodgy gene pool. Aunty Vi is quite a laugh though, and normally I’d be looking forward to seeing her. She’s having a bouncy castle in the back garden.
I’ve told mum that I’ll go, but as I go back to my flat on Saturday morning, I know I’m going to have to ring her and duck out. She’s not going to be happy.
Aunty Vi’s clashes with H’s dinner party which she’s having tonight for Gav’s birthday. H has been banging on about menus and guest lists for ages and she’ll flip if I don’t go. I’ve also promised that I’ll help her cook.
However, the real problem is that Chloe is having a barbecue and Jack got really grumpy this morning when I told him I was going to H’s.
‘But everyone will be there,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to come. Matt and I are cooking.’
‘But I promised H.’
‘It’s not her birthday. It’s only dinner. She won’t mind if there’s one less mouth to feed.’
‘She will.’
‘Go then,’ Jack sulked. ‘I think you’re being a bit selfish though. I’m giving up a stag weekend to come on holiday with you, the least you could do is come to this with me. I want to show you off.’
There are three messages on the machine from H when I get through the front door. I know that I’m going to go to Chloe’s, but there’s no way I can tell her the truth. I feel shit about it, but I’m going to have to lie.
When she calls again, I put on my most miserable voice.
‘Where’ve you been?’ she asks. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning. We’re going shopping, remember?’
‘I don’t feel well,’ I answer.
‘Is Jack there?’ she asks, sceptically.
‘No. I’ve been throwing up.’
‘Hangover?’
I’m dying to tell her about my new job, but I’ve already started on my lie. ‘I don’t think I’m up to coming shopping.’
‘But you promised.’
‘I know, but I feel awful. Honestly.’
She sighs. I can tell she’s pissed off. ‘Okay, but get better for tonight. Jack’s coming, isn’t he?’
‘He can’t. His aunt’s birthday, or something.’
‘But I’ve planned it all! You could have said.’
‘Sorry. I’ve got to go, I’m going to throw up again.’
I go into the bathroom and stick my tongue out at myself. I’ve made myself feel ill. I know I’ve created a mess and have a nasty suspicion it’ll get worse. I never lie to H. And anyway, I’ve bought Gav a birthday present. I’ll have to ‘get better’ for tonight. Jack will have to lump it.
I mooch around all day, feeling disgruntled. Jack calls at six o’clock. He’s on Matt’s mobile.
‘Where are you?’ he asks.
‘I’m just getting ready…’
‘Be here soon. The food’s looking great. I’ve told Chloe you’re coming.’
‘Jack …’ But he’s already rung off.
For a while I think about going to H’s and then leaving to go to Chloe’s, but the more I think about it, the more I know it’ll just make things worse.
I’ll have to blow H out. I can’t let Jack down. Not after everything he’s done for me recently. I rehearse my lines before I pick up the phone.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asks.
‘Worse.’
‘Have you eaten anything?’
‘No. I can’t keep anything down. I think it must be a stomach bug. There’s been one going round at work.’
‘Do you want me to come and get you? You can stay here if you want. It doesn’t matter if you don’t eat anything.’
‘I can’t H.’
‘But it’s Gav’s birthday.’
‘I know, but I feel dreadful. I’d be no fun. You’re better off without me.’
‘You’re not coming then?’
‘I think it’s better if I just go to bed.’
‘I’ll call you later then to check you’re okay.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll probably be asleep. You have fun. Give my love to Gav.’
That’s it. I’m going to hell.
It takes me ages to get to Chloe’s and I’m not in the mood for a party. Her flat is on the ground floor of a large Victorian house. When she greets me at the door and shows me through to the garden, I look through to the living room. It’s all stripped floorboards and tasteful art. Even the garden is perfect.
Jack and Matt are doing their chef thing by the barbecue and there are about forty people milling about the garden. The stereo is blaring Aretha Franklin and everyone seems to be pissed.
‘Glad you made it,’ says Jack, kissing me.
‘Good,’ I reply, looking around the garden and seeing H’s brother, Martin. He’s talking to a group of people and when he sees me, he waves his glass. I wave back, feeling sick. I’ve really done it this time. He’s bound to tell HI was here.
I turn back to Jack.
‘Want some food?’ he asks, his mouth full of the hot sausage he’s just bitten into.
‘No thanks, I’m fine.’
Jack puts his arm around me. ‘Cheer up. It’s a party.’
Cheer up? With my social life now up in flames?
I smile weakly at him. ‘Who is everyone?’ I ask, forcing myself to make an effort.
He points out people around the
garden.
‘That’s Stringer, he works in the gym. Damien, old mate from school,’ he starts, reeling off a list of names I’m never going to remember.
‘Oh, and that’s Jons,’ he says eventually, having done a tour of the garden. He points to a bloke in leather trousers. He’s very good looking, but obviously knows it by the way he’s standing. ‘Watch out for him. He’s coked off his tree. Oh God, they’re coming over.’
The girl walking towards us with Jons looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place her. Maybe she’s a model or something because she’s very thin with long blonde hair and the kind of good looks that make you want to give up and have a sex change.
‘Jack, you’re doing a great job,’ she smiles, flashing him a bright smile.
I bet she’s never had lipstick on those teeth before.
‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ she asks, looking at me curiously.
Jack looks shifty. He turns over a steak on the barbecue.
‘Course. Amy, this is Jons.’ He waves a fish slice between us.
‘Hi,’ I say, looking at Jons. Jack’s right. Just from looking at him you can tell he’s taken far too much coke.
‘And Sally,’ mumbles Jack.
It takes a moment for it to sink in and then a horrible feeling lurches in the pit of my stomach. Jack has painted her? With no clothes on?
‘Oh!’ I gush. ‘You’re the Sally, the one in the painting. I thought I recognised you.’
I’m surprised I don’t slap my thigh to accompany the false trill of laughter that issues forth from my mouth. Sally is looking at her feet, but damn her if she thinks I’m going to be embarrassed.
‘What painting is this?’ asks Jons.
‘Oh you know!’ I say, smiling as if my face is going to crack. ‘The nude Jack’s doing. It’s really very good—’
‘Woah!’ Jons interrupts, holding up his hand. He’s wearing a particularly nasty silver skull ring on his index finger. ‘Woah!’ he says again, shaking back his hair.
‘Oh God!’ I say, clasping my hands to my face. ‘Was it meant to be a surprise? You were going to give it to him?’ I grimace at Sally. ‘Of course you were, it is kind of … well … intimate.’
It’s come out wrong.
Very wrong.
Very, very wrong.
Sally is staring at Jack, her face like thunder. There is a split second of silence and then Jons loses it. He looks as if his head is going to explode. He grabs Jack by the neck of his T-shirt.