by Tanya Allan
Several of the male asylum seekers had attempted to form a romantic relationship with the tall girl, but all had been successfully repelled. Two Iranians had failed to take no for an answer, and were now in traction in the local hospital. The police thought they had jumped out of a third floor window as protest at being refused entry. Only the two men and Michelle knew the truth, but no one was telling.
Michelle scoured the papers each day for jobs, as she was finally now able to apply.
There was one that caught her eye.
INTERPRETER WANTED BY LONDON BASED COMPANY
Must have English, Russian and a third language, preferably French.
To operate as personal interpreter for the C.E. of a progressive Communications Company that is opening an installation in Eastern Europe. With plants in the UK, USA and France, the successful applicant must be fluent in spoken and written languages, and of a smart appearance. Must be prepared to travel extensively, and with little notice, and also be prepared to work long and sometimes anti-social hours.
She went to the payphone and called the number on the ad.
Keeping her accent, she asked about the job, and was relieved to hear that it was still open.
She asked where the company was based, writing down the address. She explained that she was a recent arrival in the country, and had no CV, but was prepared to come in person to the company and take any tests they wanted.
The personnel officer was unaware that a little manipulation was being undertaken as she pencilled in Michelle’s name as an applicant for interview that very afternoon. They completed the application form over the phone.
Michelle packed her bag and walked out of the centre without a backward glance.
Gordon Fenwick was fed up. His company was doing well, so he was optimistic about the inroads they were making into new markets. His company’s computer and communications package was a desirable product, which actually was a potential money saver for emerging and new businesses. However, the language barrier, and the skills of the agency interpreters who had no vested interest in the company restricted getting it across to customers who had no English. They were paid for the job, and were not interested if a sale was made or not.
He was in the Fulham office for a week, before flying out to a couple of meetings in New York. He had wanted to be able to have an interpreter on board by then, as they were due to be in Paris for the International Computer and Communications Fair the week after.
So far, the interpreters had all been middle-aged women with children or young graduates whose practical skills were just not up to the task. He spoke French well, and had a basic understanding of Russian, but not enough to deal as an equal. He really wanted someone who could act as his representative and be able to really make an impact.
He arrived back from his lunch and went into his office. He checked his Emails, and made a call to his mother.
He was a big man, six foot six, and broad. He had short slightly unruly fair hair and a slightly battered face from his rugby days. He had been almost good enough to play Rugby for England a few years ago, but his work came first, and he decided to stick to his job, and was now a very wealthy young man. He would turn out for the occasional game for his club, the Saracens, but was not often available. He was thirty, and nurtured an image of respectable power. Always dressed in the best suits, and driving the best cars, he was the epitome of the successful yuppie.
On a personal basis, he was rather lonely. He told himself that he didn’t need the complications of a relationship, and indeed his lifestyle was hardly conducive for a stable domesticated relationship with a woman and children.
However, in his heart, he yearned for a family. He longed to have a woman to whom he could come home, and children to whom he could pass on the skills and knowledge of life. He also craved love and affection.
His secretary came into his office with some mail.
“Thank you, Mary, any more interpreters?”
“Just one, Glenda called to say there was a girl booked for three o’clock.”
“Girl, how old?”
“I think she was early twenties, I’m not really sure. Glenda put the details on your desk.”
“She’s probably another insipid bloody graduate with no experience of life. Well, we can only give her a try.”
“Yes sir.”
Mary then left the office. She was wary of her boss, as although he paid well, he was prone to sudden mood swings. When things were going well he was great, but he was very unpredictable when things went badly.
At two thirty, she was completing a document on the computer when the personnel manager, Glenda, came into the office. Following close behind her was the tallest girl she had ever seen; she was also the most stunningly beautiful.
She was wearing a very smart looking suit, in navy with a pinstripe, comprising of a skirt and jacket. Her pale blue blouse was silk, and she wore a stylish cravat/scarf at her throat. Her long blonde hair was neatly arranged up, appearing to have been recently set, and very professionally too. Her make up was discreet, yet accentuated her amazing blue eyes and high cheekbones. Mary noticed the girl’s long, elegantly shaped nails were varnished, but in a clear, natural hue.
Everything about her screamed ‘elegant sophistication’ and she smiled warmly at Mary, who felt positively dowdy in comparison.
Michelle had spent nearly all the money she had on her hair, makeup and clothes. Being so tall presented quite a problem on the clothes front, as she had found only a couple of stores that catered for the taller woman. She had nowhere to stay, and just enough money left for one decent meal.
“Mary, this is Miss Czakan, she is here for the three o’clock interview. Is Mr Fenwick in?” Glenda said.
“Yes, I’ll see if he is free.”
Mary knocked and entered the office, seeing her boss staring out of the window.
He didn’t turn round.
“Yes Mary?”
“The applicant is here, she is a little early, do you want for her to wait?”
He looked at his watch.
“No, I’ll see her now. Send her in.”
Mary retreated, yet he was still staring out of the window.
“He will see you now,” she said, rolling her eyes to Glenda to show the mood of their boss.
“Thank you,” said Michelle, heading straight into the office. Mary closed the door behind her.
Gordon was still staring out of the window.
He turned and looked at the latest applicant.
For a moment, he was completely stunned, as he had already formed an impression in his mind’s eye of a small shrew like creature, with a squint and bad teeth. Nothing prepared him for the vision that stood before him, staring him straight in the eye from the same level.
Feeling confused and embarrassed at being so wrong footed, he fumbled for the necessary forms on the desk.
“Please sit down, Miss, ah, ah, Miss Czakan,” he said, mispronouncing the awkward name as Cha-kan, as he found the document. He sat behind the desk, and watched as she sat in the chair opposite him, and delicately crossed her silk clad legs. He felt increasingly uncomfortable under her direct and seemingly unshakable stare.
“That is pronounced Zha-kan,” she said.
He read the form and asked some basic questions about her background. Michelle enjoyed the feeling of power she held over this man. He was so obviously surprised by her appearance, and also apparently attracted to her, that he was slightly tongue tied and rather awkward.
She spoke in perfect English, allowing a slight American accent to sneak in along side the Ukrainian. Many East Europeans leaned English from an American source so that it was not unusual.
“May I call you Michelle?”
“I’d prefer it,” she said with a smile, so he smiled in return.
“Parlez vous francais?”
“Certainement monsieur,” she said, without hesitation, and with a faultless accent.
He conducted part o
f the interview in French, and then switched to Russian. His Russian was basic and not fluent, whereas he recognised that she was both fluent and very used to it. He began to warm to the girl. Not only did she look wonderful, but she also had all the language skills he had been so desperately seeking.
Part of the package involved the scrutiny of documents, and so he passed her a legal document written in Russian.
“Can you translate that for me?”
“Of course, into English or French?”
He smiled.
“Both?” he said, and she smiled calmly, proceeding to rapidly read the document in English, and then in French. Her translation was perfect, so Gordon found himself grinning broadly.
“Wonderful, when can you start?”
She smiled. “I have exactly eleven pounds to my name, how about now?” she said.
She explained her passport difficulties, which caused Gordon to frown. The United States were awkward about such problems, but he had had dealings with the Home Office before, so knew someone in a position who may be able to help.
“You have the job,” he said.
They spent some time discussing salary and other related matters. As soon as he mentioned a salary in excess of £30,000, she had to calculate it across in to dollars. It came to around $55,000 a year. That was more than she earned as a cop.
“I have to admit to being concerned about your immigration status, particularly in respect of the USA, so if you wait a moment, I’ll see what I can do about your passport. Leave me the H.O. reference numbers, and go and have a seat. I hope this won’t take long.”
She left his office, leaving him the papers, as instructed. Gordon rang his friend in the Home office.
She was on her second cup of coffee when Gordon came out of his office to see her. Mary frowned, as this was unusual, for he would normally have people ushered into his office, rarely coming out to them. She glanced at the girl and smiled. No wonder, he was smitten, she thought.
“Michelle, good news, I’ve arranged for your passport to be hurried through. They’ll send it by special delivery to this office, so it should be here in a couple of days. It’s rare for anyone to have their papers processed as quickly as yours seem to have been. What extra deal did you make?” he asked with a smile.
She simply smiled and his heart melted.
“I just asked nicely,” she said.
“Ah, where are you staying?” he asked.
“I’m between places right now,” she admitted.
Mary found she had some urgent business in the post room and left them to it.
“Well, I’ve a spare room in my flat, if you don’t mind sharing?”
“That is very kind of you, but I couldn’t impose on you.”
“It’s no imposition, it would be my pleasure,” he said, grinning like a schoolboy.
I know what’s on your mind, buster, Michelle thought.
“Then I will accept. Thank you.”
“No problem, I’m delighted that you’re now part of the company.”
She smiled, standing up and shaking the hand he held out to her.
He liked the firmness of her handshake, but she was still soft and so very feminine. He held her hand for a long time; eventually, reluctantly, releasing her.
He felt awkward again, yet took the plunge.
“Are you free for dinner, tonight?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling again at his transparency.
“Then, I’ll give you a lift to the flat, and then we could go out to a nice little restaurant I know.”
“I’d like that, thank you,” she said, and he received a warm glow whenever she smiled.
“Have you any luggage?”
She looked at the small bag by the secretary’s desk.
“That’s all I have in the world,” she said, as another poor sucker fell for her charm.
Mary returned to see her boss leaving with the tall girl. She smiled, as perhaps the man had met his match at last.
Typically, Gordon had a Range Rover, not because he ever went off-road or towed anything, but because it matched his ego. London was packed to overflowing with cars, so his answer was to have the biggest and most inefficient he could get. The V8 engine rarely got more than twelve miles to the gallon the way he drove, but it reflected his attitude to everything - big, expensive and in control.
Michelle appreciated the ample legroom, as a very tall girl, she found the smaller cars too short, so was pleased to be able to stretch out in comfort. She noted the windows were smoked; therefore no one could see inside. She smiled, as this car was the exact mirror of its owner.
She watched as London streets flitted past and was interested, having never been here before. Gordon glanced at his passenger and smiled slightly.
She was the most beautiful girl he had ever met, so found himself falling for her in a big way. Either most of the women he met were little more than prostitutes supplied by companies as softeners for his use, or otherwise, they were girls whom his mother decided he ought to consider as potential wives. He had never actually managed to attract and hold onto a woman all by himself, so he thought that perhaps he never would.
He suddenly remembered his mother.
“Damn!” he said, making Michelle jump slightly. She had been following his thoughts, but the suddenness of his expletive surprised her.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve just remembered, my mother is dropping in this evening.”
“Then I will go to a hotel,” she said.
“No, don’t be silly. It’s just that we will all have to go out.”
“I could cook for you?” she offered.
Gordon was silent, and Michelle smiled as she read his mind. Never had his mother been round when a girl he had been seeing had cooked a meal. He smiled as he tried to gauge her reaction.
“I couldn’t expect you to do that,” he said, half-heartedly.
“You are helping me, so I help you, and you pretend that you at last have a domestic girl friend,” she said with a wicked smile.
He stared at her in surprise, but then started to laugh.
They stopped off at a supermarket, so for the first time in his adult life, Gordon went round pushing a trolley as Michelle selected various products. She took her time, as it was no act that the products were unfamiliar to her. He paid by credit card, unaware whether she had bought cheap or expensive items.
The flat was in a select mews in Kensington, and he even had two garages, one for the Range Rover and one for his 1969 MGB roadster.
He put the car away and unlocked the front door.
It was a beautiful flat, thoroughly modernised internally. It had four spacious bedrooms and two bathrooms, a modern kitchen (which had rarely seen food prepared), a dining room and a large living room with small study to the rear.
They carried the groceries and her small case into the house, so he showed her to the largest spare room. She placed her case on the floor, and gratefully went to the bathroom.
He went and tidied up a little, so when she appeared again, they were both surprised.
She was surprised that the living room was now tidy, and he was surprised at her change in clothes.
She had taken off the suit, so now wore a very fetching black dress, and let her gorgeous hair down. Gone was the efficient P.A., and in her place was a veritable angel.
“My God, you look lovely!” he said, and then was embarrassed that he had vocalised his thoughts.
“Thank you,” she said and smiled, blushing delightfully.
She went to the kitchen and started to sort through her purchases. Back in her previous life, she had been a good cook, and was always adventurous with new dishes. It had been a way of relieving stress, so the skills were still there. Her speciality was Thai food, as she adored red and green curries.
She calmly and efficiently made the curry paste, and then started to prepare the dish.
It was only five o’clock, so once all the ingredients were prepared, she put th
em in the fridge, and thumbed through the microwave instructions and recipe books. She looked through the cupboards and using the ingredients that were there, she prepared a chocolate sponge cake.
“Do you like chocolate?” she asked.
“Yes, why?”
“I was wondering.”
He was on the computer, checking his Emails, so she walked over to where he sat. Gently, she began to massage his shoulders with her long fingers. He stiffened slightly at her touch, but then relaxed.
That felt so good, Gordon suddenly felt euphoria hit him, but was at a complete loss to understand what was happening to him. Michelle frowned, as she had yet to even attempt any mental manipulation on this man, he was falling for her so fast and hard, yet with no help whatsoever. He was sexually attractive, in an aggressive and dominant way, but his personality was minimal, as his life was his work, so, as a consequence, there was very little left to be the real Gordon.
She delved deeper into his mind, and found that underneath the cool-headed and somewhat ruthless businessman, was a little boy who was rather shy, and socially immature. She looked into his heart, and liked what she saw.
Under her skilled fingers, Gordon relaxed more than he had in ages. He adored feeling her touch.
“You work too much,” she said, with an almost critical tone. However, he nodded, as he agreed, for he did work too much, but then it was important. Wasn’t it?
Suddenly, she allowed him a glimpse of what was really important, so he saw that there actually was a lot more to life than work. There was family, friends, children, home, fun, hobbies and relationships. He frowned, as he experienced a feeling of loss, so looked up at the girl behind him.
“Do you have family?” he asked.
“They are all dead,” she said, in a way that dissuaded any further discussion.
