The Golden Anklet

by Beverly Hansford

  Jane made her way to her tiny office, passing Amy as she went. Jane had hardly greeted her before Amy burst out, ‘Queen Bee’s got the draft of the Angus Pike article. It was the first thing she asked me for. I had to give it to her.’ She looked anxiously at Jane.

  Jane reassured her. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll go and see her in a minute.’

  She felt a bit sorry for her younger colleague, who, though quite capable, appeared to be easily intimidated by Annette. In her first few months in the job, Jane had also experienced Annette’s interference, but she had quickly established a working relationship with her and ignored her brusque, overbearing manner. It usually fell to Jane to keep an eye on things while Annette was out of the office or on holiday.

  Five minutes later, coffee in hand, Jane was at her desk. Being late for work had upset her plans for the start of the day. With Annette returning from holiday that morning, she had intended to be in the office extra early so that she could have everything ready for the inevitable discussion with her. Now she knew she was fighting time until the summons came.

  Her assumption was correct. She had only taken a few sips of her coffee before the buzzer on the internal telephone sounded. She picked up the receiver and gave her usual answer: ‘Jane.’

  ‘Ah, good morning, Jane. You are there. Can we get together?’

  Jane answered as cheerfully as she could. ‘Good morning, Annette. Yes, of course. Now, if you like.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Annette put the phone down. She was not accustomed to wasting words.

  Jane sighed. She would have liked more time to get everything together, but in the circumstances she would do the best she could. Collecting as much of the paperwork as she thought she would need, coffee in hand, she made her way up to the next floor.

  She hesitated before the slightly open door marked ‘Annette Burrows B.A. Editor-in-Chief’. She could hear her boss talking on the phone. She waited until she heard her finish the call, and then she pushed open the door and entered.

  ‘Good morning again. Did you have a nice holiday?’ She deliberately tried to sound cheerful as she sat down on the chair opposite Annette.

  Annette shuffled some papers on the desk before looking up and giving Jane her attention and answer.

  ‘Weather was awful. What’s been happening while I’ve been away?’ It was almost as if the reply and question were all part of the same thing.

  Jane smiled inwardly. That was typical of Annette. Rarely did she speak about her private life and activities. All the staff knew was that she lived in Greenwich with two dogs and a henpecked partner for company. She had told Jane before leaving that she was going to Cornwall, but that had been all. Jane took her time and started to relate the fortnight’s activities, answering Annette’s questions as she went along.

  Suddenly, Annette interrupted her. ‘I’ve got the draft here of the Angus Pike article.’ She picked up the paperwork from the side of her desk and placed it in front of herself. She scrutinised it for a few seconds before looking at Jane again. ‘It looks quite good. Of course there are one or two things that could be altered.’

  That was inevitable, Jane thought. She had been down this road many times, but all she said in reply was, ‘That’s just the draft, based on my interview with him.’

  ‘When did you see him?’

  ‘The week before last.’

  ‘How did the meeting go?’

  Jane hesitated before answering, recalling her meeting with the artist. She chose her words carefully. ‘Hmm. A bit difficult at first, but in the end he was quite agreeable. I got everything we wanted.’

  ‘What about photos? What have we got?’

  ‘At first he didn’t want any pictures at all, but in the end I managed to get four from him and the go-ahead to use them.’

  Jane extracted the photos from her file and placed them on the desk in front of Annette. ‘I thought we might use this one of him just under the header, and at least two of the others among the text,’ she suggested.

  Annette studied the images for a few seconds and then stared straight at Jane, a look of reproach and horror on her face. Jane waited for the comments she knew were bound to follow.

  ‘We can’t use these in our magazine. They’re almost pornographic.’ These seemed to be her final words on the subject.

  Jane already had an answer ready. ‘I think they may be OK among the text, and they won’t be that big,’ she suggested confidently.

  Annette shook her head. ‘I don’t like them. Can’t you ask him for something else?’ she demanded.

  Remembering the struggle she had had to obtain the pictures, Jane was not enthusiastic about the suggestion. ‘It was quite difficult getting these. I don’t think he would be very cooperative,’ she replied.

  Annette thought for a few seconds. Suddenly she snapped into action. ‘Give me his phone number,’ she demanded. ‘I’ll contact him and get something different.’

  ‘Of course.’ Jane searched in her file for the artist’s number and scribbled it on the desk pad. She and Amy had discussed the images in detail and agreed that all except the one of the artist were explicit, to say the least. Each was a photograph of a painting that featured one or more pretty young women suffering some sort of ordeal or indignity. The fact that all the subjects were fully or nearly naked added to their erotic nature. Jane and Amy had deliberated over the pictures and in the end had decided that they would use them. After all, this was an article about the celebrated artist, and this was the sort of painting he created. At the same time they had both anticipated problems with Annette.

  Jane handed the phone number to Annette, who gave it a cursory look and then placed it in the top drawer of her desk. She turned to Jane again, at the same time glancing at the clock on the wall. ‘We’ll have a meeting later on about the Pike feature,’ she announced. ‘What else have you got for me?’

  Jane sighed to herself. It was quite clear that she and Amy were held up on the feature until Annette had contacted Angus Pike. She knew that the exercise was doomed from the start. Annette’s overbearing manner and the artist’s irritability were certain to clash head-on. She just hoped that the editor-in-chief’s interference didn’t blow things apart after all her efforts.

  Jane’s report on the happenings in the office during Annette’s absence lasted over an hour, but at last Annette looked at the wall clock again and announced that she was going to be late for an appointment. It was a signal that the meeting was over. Jane gathered her files together, picked up her mug and took her leave. As she passed by Amy’s desk on the way back to her office, Amy looked up enquiringly.

  ‘We’re going to have a meeting later on with Annette about the Angus Pike feature,’ Jane replied to the silent question.

  ‘What about the pictures?’ Amy asked in a hushed voice.

  Jane leaned towards her. ‘Annette’s going to phone him to see if she can get something different,’ she replied. She added almost to herself, ‘I just hope she doesn’t ruin everything.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ wailed Amy.

  Jane grinned at her colleague as she offered a few words of reassurance. ‘I expect we’ll end up using the ones we have.’

  Amy made a face and grabbed her mug from the desk. ‘I’m going to make myself some tea,’ she announced, getting up from her chair. ‘Do you want one?’

  ‘Please.’ Jane handed Amy her mug and then, glancing at her watch, announced, ‘And I’d better get on with some work. I’ve got some calls to make first.’

  She retreated to the privacy of her tiny office. Dumping the files on the end of the desk, she picked up her notepad ready to start work. First, though, it had to be those phone calls, and one in particular. She reached into her bag and took out a business card: Bob Harker – Freelance Photographer.

  Holding the card brought back memories of the night she had spent at his house. He had been so sweet to her. Goodness knows where she would have ended up if he hadn’t rescued her.

  Despite her ini
tial anxiety about sleeping in a strange man’s house, she had experienced a restful night. She had woken up early and waited until she heard Bob in the bathroom and then his footsteps going downstairs. After a few seconds she had dived into the bathroom.

  Back in the bedroom, she had been fully dressed except for her shoes when she heard Bob coming back up the stairs. A second later there had been a tap at her door followed by Bob’s voice: ‘Are you awake? I’ve brought you some tea.’

  ‘Hang on a second.’ She put down the pyjamas she was folding and hurried to the door. She flung it wide open. Bob stood there, a steaming mug of tea in one hand. ‘Good morning. Did you sleep well?’ he asked, smiling.

  ‘Good morning. I had a marvellous sleep, thank you.’ Smiling broadly, she glanced at the mug of tea. ‘And such room service. Fantastic.’

  Bob grinned at her and turned the mug round so that she could grasp the handle. ‘I guessed no sugar and not too much milk,’ he announced.

  Jane took the mug. ‘Super. Just what I need.’

  ‘It’s just coming up to seven. I thought you might like some breakfast before you go for the train.’

  ‘Oh, yes, please.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll get that going. Toast and marmalade OK?’

  ‘Great. I’ll be right down.’ She turned to go back into the bedroom.

  ‘The snow’s gone,’ Bob called as he went down the stairs.

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ she called back.

  Bob had insisted on driving her to the station. One of the last things she had done before leaving his house had been to pick up one of his business cards from the holder next to the telephone. Even then she had considered inviting him out to lunch one day as a sort of thank you, but with Annette being away she had had to put the thought on the back burner. Now that Annette was back there was no reason why she should not carry out her plan. She wanted to meet him again and find out a bit more about him. A lunch date would give her the opportunity.

  She had just dialled his number when Amy pushed open the door and put a mug of tea on her desk. Jane put up her hand to thank her. The phone rang for a long time, and she was just about to put the receiver down when there was an answer.

  ‘Bob Harker.’

  Jane felt a bit excited. ‘Bob, it’s Jane, your unexpected guest. Remember me?’

  ‘Of course I do. How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. I was wondering when you’ll next be in London.’

  ‘Actually, I’ll be there tomorrow.’

  There was a note of expectation in his voice. Jane felt her strategy was working. ‘Could an appreciative guest take you out to lunch?’ she enquired hopefully.

  ‘I’d like that very much,’ he replied enthusiastically. ‘Where shall we meet?’

  Jane thought quickly. She hadn’t worked out the details, but the choice of venue was relatively easy. ‘Do you know The Green Man in Elbon Street?’ she asked.

  There was a pause on the other end of the telephone.

  ‘I know Elbon Street, but not The Green Man – but I’m sure I can find it OK,’ he added quickly. ‘What time?’

  ‘Twelve-ish? It’ll be quieter then.’

  ‘Great. I’ll look forward to that.’

  ‘Terrific. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I’d better get on with some work now.’ As she replied, Jane glanced at her watch.

  ‘Me too. Bye for now.’

  ‘Bye.’

  Mission completed, she sat thinking for a few seconds. She was rather pleased with her strategy and planning. The thought of meeting up with Bob again was appealing.

  Chapter 4

  Bob was looking forward to meeting Jane again. It was something he had been thinking about a great deal, ever since the morning when he had delivered her to Tatting Green station. He had kicked himself afterwards for not arranging at the time to see her again, but he had hesitated in the rush of things, and the opportunity had been lost. He had planned to try to contact her at work, but her phone call the previous day had changed everything.

  He walked along Elbon Street and found The Green Man easily. It was a pleasant-looking pub with tables and chairs on the pavement, though the current cool weather did not encourage lingering outside for any length of time. He entered the building. It had a bright and cheery atmosphere. He glanced at his watch and then around the room. It was coming up to midday and he wondered if he was a bit early. Then he saw Jane. She was sitting at a table in a corner looking at a menu card. He hurried over to her and she spied him almost at the same time. She jumped up, smiling cheerfully.

  ‘Bob, it’s lovely to see you again.’ She grasped his hand and offered her cheek.

  ‘It’s great to see you again, Jane.’ He smiled at her politely.

  Jane dropped back into her chair, and as he sat down opposite her she handed him the menu. ‘Now, this is all going to be on me. Just a small thank you for rescuing a little girl lost in the snow.’ She laughed.

  ‘Hey, I should pay for something,’ he protested, grinning.

  She shook her head and feigned an astonished look. ‘Absolutely not. Goodness knows what would have happened to me if you hadn’t come along that night.’ She looked at him for an instant and chuckled. ‘I can see the headlines in the newspaper: “Unknown female found frozen to death at Tatting Green station”.’

  Bob shared her mirth and was about to reply when she took control again. ‘What would you like to eat? I am going to have a glass of apple juice and a tuna salad.’

  A quick glance at the menu, and Bob made up his mind quickly. ‘I’ll have the same to eat, but I’ll have half a pint of lager.’

  ‘Right. I’ll only be a minute,’ she replied promptly. Grabbing the menu, she was off to the bar to order before he could protest.

  He watched her walk away, taking confident steps in her high heels. She was wearing a figure-hugging business suit, which suited her trim figure, he observed. Her cheek had been soft and warm when he bent to kiss her, and there had been a faint scent of perfume about her. She was, he thought, a very attractive woman.

  Jane returned and placed the drinks on the table. ‘They’ll bring the food over to us,’ she said.

  She held her glass aloft. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers,’ Bob seconded. Then he enquired, ‘Do you often come here?’

  ‘Just occasionally. It’s a nice place to bring anybody, and the food and service are very good.’ As an afterthought she added, smiling, ‘And it’s not far from my office.’

  ‘How is life at the office? How did the Angus Pike article go?’

  ‘Life’s been pretty busy, work-wise. My boss, Annette, has been on holiday and when she’s away lots of things get dumped on my desk.’ She hesitated for a second. ‘As to the Angus Pike thing, Annette, who has the final say, didn’t like the pictures I had.’

  Bob nodded sympathetically. ‘So what’s going to happen now?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s going to phone him and ask for something different. I just hope she doesn’t upset things.’

  Bob thought for a moment. ‘I doubt it.’ He smiled. ‘But she’ll most likely find that any other pictures of his work will be pretty similar.’

  They continued chatting about Jane’s job until the arrival of their meal enabled Bob to steer the conversation in the direction he desired. He was keen to know more about Jane’s private life away from the office. ‘So what do you do in your spare time?’ he asked.

  Jane smiled. She thought for a second and then replied, thinking as she spoke, ‘Well, I go swimming sometimes, I play a bit of tennis in the summer; I like to go jogging or walking along the river close to where I live. Weekends? Well, there’s always shopping to do and occasionally I visit friends. Other than that, I lead a very quiet life.’ She ended with a little laugh.

  ‘What about nightlife?’

  She smiled again. ‘Oh, just the occasional theatre visit or a film.’ She felt that she had to add, ‘Most nights I’m tucked up in bed with a good book by half past ten.’

>   ‘What about family? Do you have any brothers or sisters?’ Bob was determined to know more about his companion.

  Jane shook her head. ‘I’m an only child and an orphan,’ she replied.

  ‘That’s a hard start to life,’ he remarked sympathetically.

  Jane nodded. She sipped her drink. ‘It was. I was in an orphanage until I was thirteen and then I went to live with a middle-aged couple in Bristol.’ She paused for a second, seemingly deep in thought, and then she went on. ‘They were so kind to me. They treated me almost like their own daughter. I think that was the first love I experienced from anybody.’

  ‘How long were you with them?’

  ‘Until I left school. I knew a girl from the orphanage who went on to university and I was determined to do the same. I worked very hard to get there.’

  Bob was pleased he had asked his questions. He was beginning to get a different impression of Jane. By the sound of it she had had a bit of a raw deal from life, but oddly enough she appeared to remain quite cheerful, though he had noticed the sadness that had crept in briefly when she mentioned the orphanage. Gosh. That was a bit different from his early life surrounded by family and friends.

  He would have liked to ask her more, but she butted in breezily, ‘Hey, I’ve been talking all about me. Tell me a bit about you.’

  ‘You’re quite right,’ he replied with a grin. ‘Sorry about the interrogation.’

  Jane swallowed a mouthful of food and then rushed in, almost apologising. ‘No, no. It’s quite all right – really.’

  ‘What would you like to know about me?’ asked Bob.

  ‘Were you born in the Tatting Green area?’ Jane asked.

  Bob shook his head. ‘No. I was born and brought up in Kent – Canterbury. I did the usual sort of things – grammar school and then university.’

  ‘And then you became a photographer?’

  Bob nodded. He dealt with a mouthful of food before answering. ‘Yes, but not straight away. I studied fine art at first, but then decided that I was better at photography.’