'I couldn't,' Jolene interrupted her, and guessed, when she saw Miss Caldicott appear to study the application form she had completed over six months ago, that in reality the woman must be searching for some kind way in which to tell her that it was Mr Welsh or nothing.
Realising that she had as good as said that already, Jolene wished she had saved her pride and had driven straight out of the car park. She got to her feet, intending to spare Miss Caldicott the trouble of finding more tact, when she saw that the personnel officer seemed to be suddenly arrested by something on her application form.
In the next instant the birdlike woman was darting a look at her, and was bidding her a quick, 'If you'd like to wait, I won't be long.' And, so saying, Miss Caldicott had left her desk and was making for the door marked 'Chief Personnel Administrator'.
Jolene had been watching the door that had closed after Miss Caldicott for a few minutes on and off when her attention was again drawn to it as it opened. This time, however, Miss Caldicott left the door open as she smiled, stood to one side and, placing a hand on the door-panel, said, 'Mr Raven will see you now.'
Jolene had been mystified as to why the woman should have taken her file in to the high-up administrator, but she was doubly mystified as to why he should agree to see her. The way she saw it, if Miss Caldicott knew that there were no secretarial vacancies, then she could not see how Mr Raven, purely by virtue of being in a senior position, was going to conjure one up. But, since she was there, and since she had nothing else to do with her time that morning, she returned Miss Caldicott's smile and went into Mr Raven's office.
'Good morning, Miss Draper,' he stood from his desk to greet her affably, and as Miss Caldicott closed the door on them he invited, 'Take a seat.' He then took his own chair. 'Miss Caldicott tells me you're having problems getting on with Mr Welsh,' he opened.
Wondering what she had started, and although she did not seriously consider that Tony Welsh would come out of this other than smelling of roses, Jolene did not see how she could blacken his name when he had a wife and children to support. What could she say anyhow? Tony had never said a word which, when repeated, would not sound totally innocent. His brushing against her, his touching her at every opportunity, would be scoffed at too as no more than accidental contact.
'He...' she began. 'His...' she amended, and still felt too sick inside to want to tell anyone about Rosalind Welsh's visit that morning, and all that had taken place. 'His ways aren't Mr Neale's ways,' she managed lamely.
'But you've always been so adaptable. I've a progress report here after your trial period which states how very adaptable and quick and eager to learn Mr Neale found you.'
What could she do? What could she say? While she felt warmed that Mr Neale had obviously said nice things about her, she still wanted to shut that morning's happenings away in a dark corner.
'I'd—rather work for someone else, other than Mr Welsh,' was what she did say, and, knowing that with or without Rosalind Welsh's visit it would have probably come to this anyway, Jolene began to think that she was wasting not only her own time but Mr Raven's too, since clearly he could not do any better than Miss Caldicott in finding her a vacancy.
Then suddenly, while she was preparing to get to her feet yet again, she was aware of Mr Raven giving her a very severe scrutiny.
'What are you like in the "confidentiality" department?' he enquired solemnly.
'As close as the grave,' Jolene assured him, changing her mind about getting up and leaving when she saw that Mr Raven was not the sort of man who asked questions purely for the fun of it.
Then, making her blink, he flipped a quick glance at her file, which was open in front 6f him, then remarked, 'I see that you speak Russian.'
To say that she was a little staggered was putting it mildly. She almost said 'Pardon?' But she had heard him perfectly plainly, and since he appeared to be quite serious she quickly got herself together, to recall that the application form which Templeton's had given her had insisted on knowing what academic certificates she had, regardless of whether she thought them relative or not.
'I've a small qualification in Russian,' she agreed, remembering how she had taken Russian at school, had scraped through her exam with a pass, and had then dropped the language as a subject when she had started secretarial college. 'But there's not much' call for Russian around here,' she said with a smile.
He smiled back, and almost threw her again when, 'Do you have a current passport, Miss Draper?' he wanted to know.
'Yes,' she replied. 'A ten-year one.'
Half an hour later, Jolene was driving out of the Templeton car park, scarcely able to believe her luck. Of course it might not happen, she steadied herself as she headed her car in the direction of Priors Aston, and it very probably would not happen, but—she had been put on standby to go to Russia!
Mr Raven had only been able to give her a sketchy outline, and of course it was all very confidential, but it seemed that a secretary, a Russian-speaking secretary, might well be needed to accompany someone of the higher echelon to Russia.
Jolene felt like singing, that a morning that had started so disastrously should have turned out the way it had. For if she wanted proof that her interview with Mr Raven had really taken place, she had it in the fact that he had sent her home to collect her passport. Apparently there was no time to be lost in applying for a visa for her, so once she had picked up the passport she had to go and have some photographs taken.
Jolene was still trying to hold down her excitement when, with both passport and photographs in her shoulder-bag, she later returned to the Templeton building.
Her instructions had been that she must deal with either Mr Raven or Miss Caldicott and none other, and it was Miss Caldicott who instructed her to sign her visa photographs and also her visa forms, then told her, 'I'll see to the rest of it. Now,' she said, and it was back to the mundane and the ordinary when she went on, 'Unfortunately, one of the secretaries in Purchasing has gone home with a back problem. We don't know yet how long she's going to be off sick, but could you go, along and fill in for her?' Miss Caldicott was smiling again as she added, 'In the meantime, I'll keep my eyes open for something more permanent for you.'
Jolene worked happily for Gordon Hutton that first week. She could not in truth have said that her work in the purchasing department actually sent her into ecstasies, but if the work she did was just a shade on the dull side, then she was kept busy, and besides, she still had the inner glow of knowing that she might, she just might, be going to Russia.
She had always been selective over boyfriends, but if there was no one she fancied going out with then she had quite enough to do with keeping her bungalow and garden in good order. But when the second Friday since she had worked for Gordon Hutton came around, and still no word came from Miss Caldicott about the Russian trip, a lot of Jolene's inner glow began to fade. She had been so busy mugging up on her Russian that she had not been out in the evening for two weeks; not that she had wanted to, but that was not the point. The point was, was her nightly poring over Russian textbooks a complete waste of time?
When the following Monday rolled around, Jolene had spent the weekend doing some more swotting and telling herself that if she had not heard anything from Personnel by Wednesday, then she would go along and see Miss Caldicott to ask what was happening.
Wednesday came and went, however, without Jolene contacting the personnel department. For one thing, Mr Hutton seemed to have found her a backlog of work, which gave her very little time to do anything but the job in hand. And, for another, Jolene had reminded herself that it had never been definite that she would be called upon to go anyway, and that she had only been put on standby.
By the following Monday she had put away her Russian textbooks and had put out of her mind any idea of going to Russia. She parked her car and entered the Templeton building having made the decision that she would go and see Personnel, though. Not about Russia, she reckoned she could forge
t about that, but about the prospect of working somewhere else other than in Purchasing.
All thoughts of going to Personnel went from her head, however, when as she was turning into the corridor which led to her own office she saw Tony Welsh coming towards her.
She had not clapped eyes on him since she had walked out of her job as his secretary, and she felt then that the most she could manage in the way of civilities would be a curt nod as they passed. But she did not get far. For, 'Hello, Jolene,' he said warmly, and, while his eyes reassessed her proportions, 'I've missed you so much.'
'Really?' she replied coolly, and would have walked by him had he not come and planted himself squarely in front of her.
'Don't be like that,' he said, and to make her squirm, and to hold her there, he took hold of her arms. 'I couldn't help Roz coming in that day, but she won't do it again. Nor,' he added quickly, his hold on her tightening when she tried to break his grip, 'will she be divorcing me, as she said.'
'Will you let me go?' Jolene started to snap, then to her disgust, not to say alarm, she saw a lustful light coming into his eyes.
'Stone me, I fancy you!' he said in a thickening voice, and before she could stop him he had pushed her against the wall, and she was revolted to feel his vile wet mouth against hers.
Panicking wildly, she was ready to scream blue murder. But suddenly a harsh, cold, never-before-heard voice gritting, 'What the hell...?' broke through her panic, and as that voice registered with Tony Welsh too, he abruptly let her go. They both turned to stare at the tall, bronzed, extremely well-tailored, icy-eyed man who was looking at them both as if they had just crawled out of the woodwork. Jolene was still trying to recover when that harsh voice came again, and in no uncertain terms clipped, 'If the pair of you want to indulge in sex-play, get off the company's premises! You're paid to work here, not to come here to work off your carnal desires.'
Jolene was still in shock when the man, somewhere around his mid-thirties, she would have said, gave her and then Tony Welsh a contemptuous look, then strode off.
'Hell, it had to be him!' she heard Tony say, but she was suddenly over her panic. She was recovering fast too from her shock at being so spoken to by—whoever he was. for she had never seen him before—and she was all at once furious with both Tony Welsh and the superior-looking autocrat who had just strode off.
In fact, she felt furious with the whole male population just then as she hissed at Tony Welsh, 'You dare, ever dare to touch me again, or even lay so much as a finger on me, and I swear, by all I hold holy, that I'll take out a private summons against you for assault! Have you got that?' she snapped, and when she could see from his expression that he was now more taken aback than lustful, she went storming to her office.
She was angry on and off throughout that morning whenever she thought about the horrible incident. As well as Tony Welsh earning himself some of her ire, the immaculately suited male who had happened by came in for some of her wrath too. How dared he accuse her of indulging in sex-play? Who the blazes did he think he was?
By early afternoon, though still angry whenever she thought about it, Jolene had simmered down quite a lot. She was able to give Mr Hutton her usual smile at any rate when around two-thirty he called her into his office.
'I don't want you to take dictation,' he told her genially when he saw that she had brought her notepad with her. 'I've just taken a call from the top floor—Miss Frampton would like to see you.'
'Miss Frampton?' Jolene queried, the name, although vaguely familiar as though she had heard it since she had worked at Templeton's, otherwise not meaning anything to her. 'Who's Miss Frampton?' she asked.
Mr Hutton's eyes positively twinkled as he revealed, 'Only the very highly esteemed private and personal assistant of none other than Mr Cheyne Templeton, our chairman and head of company himself. Perhaps,' he hinted, 'it might be an idea if you went now.'
Jolene took his hint, along with his directions, and made her way to the top floor. She hardly dared to let herself get excited that this could be something to do with the Russian trip, lest, since that ghastly man this morning seemed to have some authority, she had been reported higher up and was now being summoned to be told off by Miss Frampton.
It couldn't be the latter, could it? Miss Frampton had better things to do, surely, she pondered as she found the door which Mr Hutton had directed her to. If it was, though—she began to bridle—then she would not stay working for Templeton's another minute.
Trying not to get cross before she started, Jolene knocked at the door and then entered the most sumptuous of offices, to be immediately disarmed when a pale-looking woman of about forty looked up and smiled.
'Jolene Draper?' she queried, leaving her desk and coming to shake her hand as she said, 'I'm Gillian Frampton. Come and take a seat.' Jolene was still taken with the effortless charm of the woman when, seated in a chair beside hers at the desk, Gillian Frampton asked, 'How's your Russian?'
'I'm going...' Jolene took a grip on the excitement that suddenly surged in her, to rephrase her question and ask, 'Am I going, then?'
The highly esteemed PA nodded. 'On Wednesday. I'll...'
'On Wednesday!' Jolene exclaimed. 'You mean—this Wednesday?'
'I'm sorry to spring it on you at such short notice,' Gillian Frampton apologised. 'And I take all the blame that Mr Raven couldn't tell you more. But, since I wasn't certain whether you would be required to go, I expressly asked him not to say too much. You can manage to be ready by Wednesday?' she asked.
'Oh, yes,' Jolene said eagerly, knowing that for a trip like this she could be ready by tomorrow if necessary.
'You'll be a great help to Mr Templeton, I feel sure. You'll...'
'Mr Templeton? Mr Cheyne Templeton? The head of...'. Jolene broke off what she was saying as Mr Cheyne Templeton's private PA nodded, and started to smile.
'Come along,' she said, rising from her chair, 'I'll take you in to see him.'
Feeling more than a little winded that she, Jolene Draper, had been the one selected to go to Russia with the chairman of Templeton's, Jolene followed Gillian Frampton across the plush carpeting.
She swallowed nervously as the top-notch secretary in whose footsteps she had to stand for a short while popped her head around his door and asked, 'Is it convenient for you to see Jolene Draper?' Jolene reckoned that he must have nodded or made some sign that it was indeed convenient, for Gillian Frampton was pushing the door wider.
What his efficient PA said after that though, Jolene could not have said. For as, with a smile ready on her lips, she followed her into the room and looked at the man who had started to rise from the most, enormous desk, she was shaken rigid by shock.
Any semblance of a smile abruptly departed as she recalled how on her way to the top floor she had wondered if the ghastly man who had that morning been so insulting had reported her to someone higher up. But, as she looked across the room to the tall, bronzed and extremely well-tailored man, Jolene knew that he had no need to report her to someone higher up. The reason for that being—that they did not come any higher up! For that ghastly man—the man who had mistakenly thought he had seen her responding to Tony Welsh's passionate embrace—was none other than the chairman of the company, Mr Cheyne Templeton.
Somehow, going to Russia had suddenly lost some of its appeal.
CHAPTER TWO
FOR how long she stared at Cheyne Templeton in shaken silence, and for how long he stared at her as though of the opinion that his PA must have taken leave of her senses if she thought he was going to take this woman with him anywhere—let alone Russia—Jolene had no idea. Suddenly, however, just as he seemed about to erupt, he switched his gaze from her to Gillian Frampton.
Jolene, since her experience of him was that he did not hesitate to say what he thought, anticipated that Gillian Frampton would soon be on the receiving end of something not very polite from him. Her glance followed his to where in some trick of this different light in his office his P
A seemed to look more off-colour than merely pale. Then Jolene was staggered to hear his voice, gentle almost, as he quietly told his personal assistant, 'I'll take it from here, Gillian.'
'I'll see you later, Jolene,' Gillian Frampton smiled, and, clearly having missed the hate vibes that flashed between a pair of large green eyes and a pair of dark grey eyes, she left them to it.
It did not take long for the tone of voice Jolene had previously expected to enter the head of Templeton's voice. And she went more and more off the idea of boarding a plane with him on Wednesday when he snarled nastily, 'Ye gods, couldn't they get anyone else?'
It was touch and go at that precise moment that Jolene did not tell him what he could do with his job—and his plane trip. But from somewhere, she knew not where, she managed to find sufficient control to hang in there and tell him, 'I consider that remark most uncalled-for! What you saw this morning was none of my fault. It...' she broke off, seeing from the glint in his eyes that he was not exactly, thrilled that she was excusing her own behaviour by putting the blame on someone else. Again she came near to telling him what he could do with his job, but again she found some control. 'For your information, Mr Templeton,' she began bravely as she thought of all the hours she had spent just thinking about going to Russia and hoping that if she did a good job it might stand her in good stead should a senior secretary's job become vacant, 'I'm more career-minded than I'm man-minded. I'm good at my work too,' she drew a fresh breath to tell him.
'And have your eye to promotion, no doubt?' he queried before she could go on.
'I can't see anything wrong in that,' she replied stiffly. 'It's a woman's world today, as well as a man's.'
'When I want a lecture on the equality of the sexes, I'll ask for it,' he grunted, and, his manner dismissive, he commanded, 'Stand by to fly to Moscow on Wednesday.'
He had his phone in his hand and was already getting on with the next item on his work agenda before she had risen an inch from her chair. Jolene left his office not knowing whether she was glad or sorry that, by the look of it, she was going to act as his temporary—thanks to her knowledge of Russian—secretary.
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