by Kiki Archer
Melody flared up with embarrassment and turned to leave the office, pausing at the door and flicking her head over her shoulders. She spoke with force, “Fine. But it’ll be your loss in the end.”
“I never lose,” said Zara shaking her head. “Seriously Melody, you need to learn some office etiquette. You’re showing yourself up. We’re all in high profile positions. We all work in this stressful environment. A little light relief here and there is to be expected.” She scowled. “But acting like a silly school girl is not.”
Melody rolled her eyes. “Has anyone ever stood up to you?”
Zara raised an eyebrow. “No one’s been that stupid, and I don’t advise you try it.”
Melody shrugged and pulled open the door. “I like trying new things.”
Zara watched her employee strut out into the corridor and was about to yell a final warning, but the heavy office door swung closed too quickly, leaving her cursing under her own breath instead.
****
The funky female photographer stepped away from the camera and surveyed the background, consisting of Andi’s desk, a flow chart on a flip board, and a newly erected Proud Unity banner. “I’ll need you ladies closer together.” She placed her hand on her hip, chinking the mass of bangles on her wrist, and tilting her head. “Closer. Yep, closer still.” She smiled. “It has to be intimate.”
Andi and Pippa shuffled sideways, both stopping at the touch of their shoulders. Pippa kept her eyes on the female photographer but whispered under her breath. “Why does it have to be intimate?”
“She means natural,” smiled Andi.
“Oh,” nodded Pippa.
The photographer returned to the camera, bending into the lens. “Andi, turn to the side. You’re instructing, you’re empowering, you’re divulging.” She looked back up at Pippa. “PA, you’re absorbing, you’re grasping, you’re enthralled.”
Pippa turned to face Andi, who was literally inches away. She whispered through closed teeth. “Do we ever stand this close when I’m absorbing?”
Andi stifled a laugh. “Do I ever enthral?”
“No, but I’m close enough to grasp.”
Andi and Pippa laughed just as the photographer started to click.
“Perfect, perfect. A couple more.” The flashes continued, as did the natural flushing of their cheeks.
“Brilliant.” The funky photographer stepped backwards and unlocked the camera from its tripod, lifting it to her eye line and scanning the pictures on the small screen. “Got it. That was perfect. So natural. So intimate. So empowering.”
Andi immediately stepped backwards and leaned against her desk. It suddenly felt rather hot in the office. She ran her fingers through her short blonde hair and looked at the clock. “Are these for the brochure or the website?”
The photographer placed her camera back into the padded bag that was resting on the comfy chairs. She picked up the briefing sheet and scanned the information quickly. “The ones in here were for ... let me see ... the Out Magazine promo.”
Pippa looked over her shoulder at her boss and pulled a face. “Why did I need to be in them?”
The female photographer answered the question. “It’s their piece on Andi Armstrong, the empowerer. I wanted to show her divulging and enthusing, with an aura of magnetism.”
Pippa laughed. “And me stood there like a doughnut showed that, did it?”
The photographer signalled them over, once again jangling the array of bangles on her wrist. “Yes, and you were far from doughnut-like.” She lifted the camera back out of its bag and pressed the replay button. “Look.”
Andi and Pippa made their way over to the camera and tilted their heads together at the outstretched screen. Snapshots of an intense, but pleasurable connection trailed across the display. The photographer pressed the pause button. “This is my favourite.” She passed the camera to Andi. “Look at the way she’s listening to you, absorbing your comment and lighting up in response.”
Andi grinned teasingly. “Oh she is, isn’t she!”
Pippa angled her head to get a closer look. “You just made me laugh, that’s all.”
The photographer took the camera back. “She had an effect on you. That’s what the article’s about. There’s a real chemistry between you.”
Andi didn’t want to see Pippa’s reaction, so she ignored the observation and turned to the photographer instead. “I thought all the shots were for the website?”
The photographer zipped up the camera bag and began to fold down her tripod. “No, a whole host of places. You’ve got them going off here there and everywhere. I just followed the briefs.”
“All done though?” asked Andi, hopeful for a reprieve of the staged scenarios.
“Yes, you two are done. I’m off to take photos of the rest of the staff now.” She stretched out her hand. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Andi, and I do hope Proud Unity use me again.”
“Of course.” Andi shook the hand with warmth. “Great meeting you too.” Andi had in fact lost count of the number of photographers used by Proud Unity. To her they all seemed much of a muchness, but to Maggie in Media, the use of a range of well-known photographers was essential to maintain the image and status of the organisation as a current and relevant force to be reckoned with. Or so she had been told. Andi smiled to herself, making a mental note to Google the name of this latest one.
Pippa waited for the photographer to collect her belongings and leave the room, before turning to Andi and smiling. “I think she’s right. You do have an effect on me.”
Andi walked to the drinks machine and reached for a mug. She placed it under the two silver spouts. “Really?”
“Yes, you make me happy.”
Andi fumbled with the buttons and adjusted the position of the mug.
Pippa walked up to her side, forcing Andi to turn back around and give her her full attention. “You do. You make me happy. And this job makes me happy. My whole life at the moment is brilliant and I just wanted to say thank you for employing me, Andi.”
Andi smiled. “Oh Pippa, that’s such a sweet thing to say.”
“I mean it. You’re a brilliant boss to work for and that photo does capture a level of awe in my eyes.” She grinned. “I’ll have to work on disguising my feelings from now on though!”
“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of mutual admiration,” said Andi with a nod.
“It’s my hair. I know. You admire my hair and its bouncy fabulousness.”
Andi lifted her cup. “I admire your ability to make me so nervous that I end up asking this machine for an oxtail soup.”
Pippa sniffed the steam rising from Andi’s mug and laughed. “I don’t know what I’m more impressed with. The fact that I can make you nervous, or the fact that this machine does oxtail soup.”
“Okay, maybe not nervous, just embarrassed,” smiled Andi, daring to sip the hot drink and immediately wincing at the taste. “You’re so open and honest. I would never dare tell Janet that she makes me happy.”
Pippa tilted her mass of brown hair. “Janet makes you happy? I thought Elizabeth was more your type?”
Andi slapped her playfully on the arm. “Stop it! You know what I mean. Your openness makes me nervous. I never know what you’re going to say.”
Pippa grinned. “This is me on my best behaviour! I’ve been holding it all in for nine months! You wait until Saturday night when I’m allowed to let loose!”
Andi placed the mug of soup back on the counter and folded her arms. “Oh no! Prepare me! What can I expect?”
Pippa stepped in closer. “Have I ever told you I like your eyes?”
“Right, I get it, you’re one of those!” Andi laughed. “Come on, I’m sure there must be some work for us to do.”
Pippa lifted her hand. “And your hair. It’s so blonde and funky and it frames your face and your beautiful little features perfectly.”
Andi rolled her eyes and started to walk back towards her desk, but Pippa trott
ed teasingly behind her.
“Not to mention that figure. You’re so dainty, yet in proportion, and very, very se-”
The office door crashed open. “LADIES!!! WE HAVE A SITUATION!”
Andi jumped and Pippa immediately dropped her loyal puppy impersonation.
Janet was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. “WE’RE ON THE SIX SHOW!” She flustered into the office, followed quickly by Elizabeth and her infamous brown handbag, and took a seat on the comfy chairs. “Well, you are Andi. That gives us about three hours to prepare. They want us there at four thirty.” Janet looked up over the rims of her rectangular glasses. “Well, they want you there at four thirty, Andi.”
Andi joined Janet and Elizabeth at the chairs, sitting down and paying full attention. “Today?”
Janet nodded. “Yes. The Six Show want us to discuss our take on the bishop thing.” She pushed her drooping glasses higher onto her nose. “Well, they want your take, Andi.”
Pippa sat down opposite them. “Okay, Andi’s up front, but it’ll be a team effort. Right, let’s start. Have they given us any questions?”
Elizabeth shook her head as another wiry orange hair sprang free from her bun. “It’s an audience and phone in segment. Andi will be on a panel, along with one of the bishops who is anti-women-bishops.”
“Which one?” asked Andi.
Janet cut in. “They don’t know yet. But whoever they get will certainly be anti-gay marriage too. And that’s definitely the route the segment will take.”
Andi lifted a pen and pad of paper from the centre of the coffee table. “If only they were all as sensible as the Bishop of Buckingham.”
“Yes, let’s quote him,” said Pippa reaching across the table for the laptop. “He’s the only one who seems to talk any sense.” She tapped in a quick Google search. “Here we go.” She tilted the laptop so Andi, Janet and Elizabeth could see the screen. “Look, he’s just recorded an Out4Marriage video saying that the Church of England risks squandering a precious opportunity to get real by backing same-sex marriage.”
Andi started to make notes on her pad. “That’s just it. The Church does need to get real. Let’s focus on the bishop question first. Can you find me a list of those high up in the clergy who were against allowing female bishops and a few of the ridiculous things they’ve said about it?”
Pippa tapped the keyboard quickly. “I’ll also get you a list of the countries who already allow female bishops.” She clicked the mouse and scrolled down the screen. “We’ve got Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Cuba, obviously the US.” She paused and shook her head. “Wow. They’ve even got a female Bishop of Swaziland in South Africa.”
Andi continued to scribble. “Exactly. I mean, what the bloody hell is our country playing at? We’re meant to be a world leader. A trend setter. A pinnacle for equality and democracy.”
Janet stood up and made her way towards the small clothes closet in the corner of Andi’s office. “They’ll say it was a democratic vote within their own institution.” She pulled at the small round handles and nodded at the contents of the cupboard. “Great. Your Hobbs Marion jacket and skirt are back from the dry cleaners. You always look the business in these.”
Pippa looked up and nodded. “I take pride in every part of my job description, even the dry cleaning pick-ups.”
Andi smiled. “Thank you.”
Janet reached for a suit bag, hanging the camel coloured jacket and skirt inside, and adding Andi’s favourite tight-fit black polo neck to a hanger. She bent down and lifted up Andi’s size four black suede ankle boots and placed them in a bag along with a new pair of ten denier tan-coloured tights. Janet walked to the office door and hung the bags on the back of the handle. “We’ll get a car to take you. Pippa, you can help her change when you get there.”
“Now that’s a part of my job description I have yet to relish,” smiled Pippa with a fully exposed cheek dimple.
Andi noticed the twinkle in Pippa’s eye and raised her eyebrows. “The teasing stops now. This is business. Janet, sit down, please.” She ripped a piece of paper from her pad and placed it on the coffee table, pushing it in Janet’s direction. “I need these facts from you please.” She then did the same for Elizabeth and Pippa. “And these from you two, please.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to make a list of potential questions and possible answers. We could really get the upper hand if today goes well. I just need to be prepared.”
“When are you not?” said Janet, Pippa and Elizabeth, almost in unison.
Chapter Thirteen
Andi had enjoyed the afternoon thrill of last minute preparations. It was always the same when it came to unplanned, live, appearances. There was a feeling of nervous apprehension at the questions that could be asked, and a sense of anxiety at the host and audience hostility levels. But today, both had seemed to add to her excitement. Possibly because she knew the argument to disallow female bishops was so weak, and, in fact, supported by so few. The Six Show was unlikely to be biased one way or the other and Andi had met the hosts at various other formal occasions. They were a male and female team who liked to play good cop bad cop; deliberately being provocative for the sake of good ratings. But still, she felt positive. Janet, Pippa, and Elizabeth had quizzed her over and over from the mundane to the ridiculous. She felt prepared.
Around ninety percent of Andi’s appearances for Proud Unity were planned. They would receive a list of possible questions that would be asked and a rough guide about how the interview would flow. This evening’s show, however, which included questions from the audience and a telephone call in, meant that anything could happen. Andi closed her dressing room door, pleased to be out of hair and make-up. The run-through with the hosts, Rita and Mike, had been easy enough and the bishop did indeed look, and sound, like he had been dragged out of the dark ages.
Andi settled on the small seat in the private dressing room and turned to Pippa. “Oh bugger, I’ve got the black polo neck. I should have put it on before I let them slap all of this foundation on me!”
“Are they trying to make you look more tough with that spike?”
Andi twisted in her seat and looked at herself in the small mirror above the dressing table. She laughed. “I’ve got a hairbrush in my bag.” She started to flatten her hair with her fingers. “Any chance you could reach it out?”
Pippa crouched down next to Andi’s red work bag and started to finger through its contents. She lifted a number of files and flicked away the stray tampons, lip balms and body sprays until she felt the soft bristles of Andi’s hairbrush. She lifted it out, noticing a small photo-booth picture stuck to its handle. She pulled it off and wiped it clean, handing the hairbrush to Andi and studying the picture. “How old is this? You two look so young.”
Andi glanced over her shoulder, immediately recognising the photo. “It was from our first date. I don’t know why, but I transfer it from bag to bag each time I get a new one.”
“I do that with my picture of Gee-Gee.”
“Your auntie?”
Pippa smiled. “Yes. But she’s not half as good looking as you two. Zara looks so different.”
Andi used the brush to gently coax her hair back into its usual position. “That’s Zara pre-work.”
Pippa opened her mouth in shock. “No way! You’ll be telling me that nose isn’t hers next!”
“It’s not. She wanted to have a slight ski jump effect. Look closely, you can see her original nose was hooked.”
Pippa laughed. “Andi Armstrong! What’s going on? Giving away the family secrets! Next you’ll be telling me the pair of you row like the rest of us!”
Andi spun around on her swivel chair, displaying her perfectly styled hair. “Those are the two biggest lies that people tell.”
“What are?”
Andi stuck out two fingers, grabbing one at a time. “One, when people say their children sleep through the night, and two when people say they don’t argue.”
Pippa
laughed. “And you have lots of friends with children, do you?”
“Yes, and they’re all Moasters.”
“Moasters?”
Andi stood up and started to unzip her suit bag. “Yes, Moasters. They spend the whole time moaning about their partners and boasting about their children. Claiming they sleep through the night and eat all of their vegetables. They’re Moasters.”
Pippa laughed. “I hope I’m a Moaster one day.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, I love children. I just need to find myself a partner to moan about!”
Andi laughed. “Be careful what you wish for.” She nodded towards the black polo neck jumper that was folded over the back of the chair. “You’re going to have to help me with that, sorry.”
“Okay,” said Pippa, disappointed that her planned smart remark was halted by a loud knock on the door.
The producer popped his head into the small but adequate dressing room. “If you could be up on stage in ten minutes, Andi, that would be great.”
“No problem,” smiled Andi feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline. She waited for the door to close and unbuttoned her white work blouse, passing it to Pippa who fastened it onto one of the spare hangers and placed it back inside the suit carrier. Andi unbuttoned her black pencil skirt and slid it to the floor, stepping over it and lifting it to her PA. “I think these tights will be fine.” She looked over her shoulder and kicked out her legs at the back. “I haven’t got any ladders, have I?”
Pippa swallowed involuntarily. Andi was twisting and turning in front of her in just a pair of see-thru tan tights and a black g-string and bra set. “Bend over, I think you’ve got one there.” Pippa laughed as her cheeks flushed. “Sorry, no I didn’t mean it like that. I meant,” she paused, “look, I think you’ve got one there.” Pippa pointed to a tiny hole just above the back of Andi’s right knee.
“Oh bugger. Okay, don’t worry. I’ll take them off.” Andi sat back down on her swivel chair and started to roll down the tights, pulling them over her small feet and dropping them into the metal bin underneath her dressing table. She turned back to Pippa and took the outstretched box of ten denier. “Are you warm? It’s warm in here, isn’t it?”
