Charlie would be upstairs. He was a creative; the creatives were not attached to any particular account team. They had a floor of their own, and minds of their own. While everyone else was suited up, slick and professional, the creatives wandered around like aging uni students in beards, khakis and grotty Dunlops, wearing T-shirts with subversive, witty or just plain mystifying slogans, or else wildly patterned Hawaiian-style shirts. They sat in front of humungous, gleaming Apple Mac computers and were surrounded by every dazzling new piece of CGI wizardry thus far known to man.
Charlie did not wear a beard or a loud shirt; he was more modest and unassuming, in every way. And he was patient and sweet and a little shy, despite being far and away the smartest guy in the place. If you wanted a group of twelve to become a crowd of twelve hundred, he could do it; if you wanted a scarf to turn into a snake and slither down from the neck of a model, he could do that too, without her ever having to come into contact with the reptile. He could remove somebody from a scene, or add someone in, make animals speak, change the entire colour palette, turn day into night, a half-moon into a full moon. There was nothing Charlie Lambert couldn’t do.
And there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Gemma. Everyone knew Charlie had a crush on her, Gemma best of all, and she had used that knowledge to her own advantage, a little shamelessly at times. But she couldn’t help it. She was fascinated by the workings of the creative department even though she didn’t have a hope of joining the inner sanctum; she did not even approach their level of computer skill and it would take too long to play catch-up at this stage. At the same time she had discovered an innate talent for storyboarding; while everyone else was throwing around ideas and concepts, Gemma was already seeing them in pictures and narrative. And not only that: it appeared she had a knack for communicating this with the creatives. She didn’t know how they did what they did, but she knew what they needed to know to be able to do it. She had become the team’s unofficial creative liaison, spending long hours perched at Charlie’s side, talking him through as he moulded and crafted ideas into images on the screen. They became like a team unto themselves, excluding and largely ignoring anyone else’s input, bouncing only off each other, pulling regular all-nighters, finishing each other’s sentences.
That was until Luke came onto the scene. Charlie closed off after that; he became stilted and curt with Gemma, and they couldn’t work effectively together any more. By that stage she hadn’t really cared – she already had one foot out the door. She’d stopped feeling part of the place for that last month or so. But standing here now, she was hard-pressed to understand how Luke had had such a hold over her. Why had she let this all go so easily, treated it with contempt when she had loved every minute of it?
Gemma suddenly became aware that all eyes were upon her. She smiled her most dazzling smile at them as she swiped her card in the slot and pushed through the door.
‘Well, lookie here,’ Justin drawled. He swivelled his chair around to face her and reclined back, one leg slung casually across the other. ‘If it isn’t the prodigal daughter returned.’
‘Jesus, Justin, your originality is truly breathtaking,’ said Mel. Mel said whatever she liked whenever she liked to whomever she liked. That’s how she’d got to where she was, she used to tell Gemma, there was no point pussy-footing around. Gemma had liked working with her – you always knew where you stood with Mel. She called a spade a great big tool for shovelling dirt and she didn’t take shit from anyone.
‘So, Gem, what brings you here?’ she was asking.
Gemma took a deep breath. ‘Well, I’m back on the payroll.’
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. ‘I thought there was a moratorium on staff; the teams aren’t supposed to be hiring.’
‘I won’t be on a team,’ said Gemma. ‘I’m replacing Joanne Dwyer.’
‘You’re going to be PA to the MD?’ Justin remarked, lifting an eyebrow. ‘Ha, that should be fun to watch. What’s that line about an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force?’
‘Have you been reading the cliché handbook again, Justin?’ said Mel. ‘The MD’s not so bad, Gem. You’ll get on fine.’
‘Yeah, if you’re into tyrannical control freaks, he’s a real doll,’ said Justin. ‘So what happened to your Prince Charming?’
Gemma decided to put an end to the gossip before it started by giving them nowhere to go. ‘He dumped me,’ she said simply. ‘Obviously I wasn’t good enough for him.’
Mel laughed. She got it.
‘Hey, does Charlie know you’re back?’ asked Justin. ‘Somebody buzz Charlie.’
‘I already have,’ came a voice from further down the table, either Nathan or Tom.
As if on cue, a pair of well-worn sneakers appeared at the top of the spiral staircase that unravelled its way from the floor above into a corner of the room. As the shoes descended, the rest of the body duly followed until his face came into view, and his eyes landed on Gemma with a thud.
‘Hey Charlie, how are you going?’ she asked, trying to be chirpy and warm and sorry all at once.
Gemma hadn’t thought too much at the time about the effect her leaving might have had on Charlie; she had been too caught up with her own issues, namely Luke. Now the brittle expression on his face was giving her a fair idea of how he must have felt. She’d never meant to hurt him.
‘It’s really good to see you, Charlie,’ she said sincerely.
He swallowed. ‘When did you get back?’ he managed to say, though his voice didn’t venture far from his lips.
‘Just in the last month,’ Gemma replied. He looked so guarded, so wary of her. She wanted to give him a big, reassuring hug, except he’d die if she did anything so demonstrative in front of everyone. But he was the best friend she’d had at Bailey’s, and she could certainly use an ally at the moment. ‘We should do lunch one day . . .’
Now he just looked embarrassed. Gemma turned around. ‘Everyone, we should get together for lunch, soon.’
There was a lukewarm murmur around the table. Mel had replaced her glasses and was already focused again on the screen in front of her. ‘Email me,’ she said without looking up. ‘We’ll make a date. I’ll bring you up to speed on what’s been going on around here.’
‘Okay, that’d be great.’ Gemma looked at her watch. ‘Well, I’d best go on up. I don’t want to be late on my first day.’
A mumbled, automatic chorus of ‘see you around’ and ‘good luck’ followed her to the door. She turned to look at Charlie, but he was already halfway back up the stairs.
All in all, that hadn’t been so bad. Charlie was going to need some work, but the others appeared more or less disinterested. Her dramatic departure had not had such a dramatic impact, apparently. Gemma supposed that was a good thing.
She took the lift up to the fifteenth, floor from where upper management surveyed their domain. They got to have their own offices up here, communal desks and disbanded hierarchies were not for them. They were all very aware of everyone’s position on the totem pole; how else could they know who to step on as they climbed their way up?
Gemma walked along the corridor past the strip of executive assistants, like battery hens in their little cubicles. She almost had to do a full circuit of the floor to get to the office of the MD, flanked on one side by the assistant’s workstation. It was an open area, which didn’t allow for much privacy, but on the other hand she wouldn’t have to feel cooped up like a chook either. A tired, dark-haired woman glanced up from the computer screen in front of her as Gemma approached the desk.
‘Hello. Joanne?’
‘Gemma?
‘That’s me. Good to meet you,’ she added, putting out her hand.
Joanne heaved herself onto her feet, and Gemma was confronted with the full horror of late-term pregnancy. The woman resembled an over-inflated balloon with legs. And it wasn’t only her stomach: her face and hands looked like they’d been inflated beyond the recommended capacity as well.
‘Please, d
on’t get up,’ Gemma insisted.
Joanne dropped heavily back into her chair with a weary sigh. ‘Thanks.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Oh sure, I’m just so exhausted these days. It’s getting harder to sleep with this.’ She patted the ominous bulge. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to make it through till the end of the week.’
‘Look,’ said Gemma, grabbing a chair and dragging it over to the side of the desk, ‘I’m here now, and I’m a fast learner. Give me a day or two and I can take over if you like.’
Joanne eyed her dubiously. ‘I think it’s going to take more than a day or two to show you the ropes. The MD has a certain, very precise way of doing things. I’m not even sure I’ve got it all down pat yet. But he said it was my responsibility to make sure you know what you’re doing, seeing as I’m the one who made it necessary.’ Joanne sighed. ‘Anyway, he doesn’t want to have to waste any time – he said the changeover has to happen without missing a beat.’
What had Justin called him? Tyrant was putting it mildly.
‘Well, at least don’t go getting up and down so much,’ said Gemma. ‘I can be your gofer this week, make things a little easier for you.’
She smiled. ‘Thanks. I just can’t seem to get comfortable whatever I do. My feet swell if I sit for too long, but if I put them up I get really bad pains in my groin. And walking, or should I say waddling, is a whole other thing . . .’
Gemma grimaced. ‘So this is what I have to look forward to . . .’
Alison looked at her, frowning. ‘Pardon?’
‘Um, you know,’ said Gemma, flustered. ‘One day, that is.’
‘If you have twins.’
‘Oh, you’re having twins,’ Gemma exclaimed, unable to disguise her relief.
Joanne was still frowning at her, not surprisingly. ‘Okay, well,’ she said, ‘maybe we should get started?’
‘Absolutely.’ Gemma pulled her chair in closer.
‘First up, the MD holds a lot of meetings, and I mean a lot. That seems to be where he spends almost the entire business day, and then he catches up on paperwork in the evenings.’
‘So what are all these meetings about?’ Gemma asked. ‘Drumming up new business?’
Joanne shook her head. ‘A little, but mostly they’re with staff. He meets with each team at least once a week.’
‘What for?’
‘He likes to keep his finger on everybody’s pulse, if you know what I mean.’
‘You mean he’s a control freak.’
Joanne shrugged.
‘This’ll certainly be different,’ Gemma said. ‘The guy before him was . . . well, let’s just say he was a little more relaxed.’
‘Yeah, and he almost sent the place to the wall,’ Joanne reminded her.
‘True.’ Though Gemma doubted it was because he didn’t run seven thousand meetings every week.
‘Anyway, the MD’s very meticulous about his schedule,’ said Joanne. ‘He uses a three-tiered system – daily, weekly and monthly.’ She turned the screen of her computer towards Gemma. It was opened to a diary page that was divided into fifteen-minute intervals, with colour-coded entries written in some kind of shorthand.
‘How on earth does he follow that?’ asked Gemma.
‘He came up with it,’ Joanne replied. ‘It’s linked to his computer and his BlackBerry, so whenever he adds an appointment it sends me an alert, and vice versa. But don’t ever commit him to anything without running it by him first, even if it’s a meeting he always takes and his schedule is free at the proposed time.’
Gemma was gobsmacked. ‘He really is a control freak.’
‘I don’t know,’ Joanne mused, leaning her chin on her hand. ‘Sometimes I get the impression he’s only trying to keep his head above water.’
Great, so he was incompetent as well.
‘He’s very capable though, don’t get me wrong,’ Joanne added. ‘He’s certainly put this place back on track. But he works so hard, he doesn’t stop, he won’t delegate . . . It’s almost like he feels he has to personally keep a handle on everything or it’ll all fall apart.’
‘That’s a bit arrogant.’
‘Oh, but he’s not arrogant, that’s the thing,’ said Joanne. ‘I don’t think he gets off on the power at all; in fact, sometimes I think it overwhelms him.’
Gemma was beginning to wonder whether Joanne didn’t have a little crush. ‘Where is he by the way?’ Gemma asked.
‘Well, let’s check the schedule, give you an idea how it works.’ Joanne traced her finger down one of the columns. ‘As you can see, he’s out of the office for most of the day.’
Gemma had no idea how she could see that.
Joanne looked at her blank expression. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll pick it up eventually. In the meantime, he said not to worry if he didn’t catch up with you today; I should just get on with training you.’
They spent most of the morning unlocking the secrets of the schedule, but Gemma felt barely any the wiser. It seemed unnecessarily complex to her; she didn’t know why he couldn’t write simple, straightforward notes, instead of truncating everything into inscrutable codes and abbreviations. If she had her druthers she’d be dumping the whole system and starting over, but she wasn’t going to have that choice. Her primary role here was to hold onto her job, which meant putting up with whatever he could throw at her.
At twelve-thirty, Gemma shooed Joanne off to lunch, insisting she take a long one. Joanne accepted, gratefully, but only on the proviso that Gemma answered the phone and did some basic filing and nothing else. She must not alter or add to the schedules in any way, or commit to anything, or decide on anything. Just take messages and file.
That suited Gemma. As it turned out, there was only one phone call and that was from Joanne’s mother, who proceeded to apologise to Gemma for blocking the company phone line with a personal call, but she didn’t like to call Joanne’s mobile phone on account of the cost. Gemma assured her that the company had many phone lines and she was most welcome to call any time. Joanne’s mother reminded her that Joanne would only be there for the rest of the week, and then they had a nice chat in which Gemma caught up on all the news in Joanne’s family. She didn’t mind, it helped fill in some time at least. Gemma had assumed this job would be a lot busier. Frantic, in fact. She was sure she remembered Liz being flat out a lot of the time. Being PA to the managing director had seemed to carry a fair amount of responsibility and not a little excitement. Liz had attended meetings along with Jonesy, as well as regular power lunches and ritzy cocktail parties, as Gemma recalled. Not that she was up to all that at the moment. Perhaps that’s why the MD had taken to attending meetings alone – Gemma suspected Joanne was not up to it either.
When Joanne returned from lunch she insisted Gemma take the full hour as well. As there was apparently no chance of the MD showing up any time soon, Gemma agreed. She didn’t really feel like another scheduling tutorial, and there was little else to do. She’d finished all the filing.
She decided her time would be best spent breaking down some walls, or one wall in particular, and she might as well do that sooner rather than later. She caught the lift down to the creative department and swiped her card through the slot to release the glass door. It was quiet; most of them would still be out to lunch; some even liked to take a nap at this time of the day. These boys – and they were almost exclusively boys – did not follow schedules. She wondered how they got along with the MD.
Gemma spotted Charlie at the far end of the communal table seated in front of his computer. She could see his sandy, perpetually ruffled hair poking above the top of the monitor, and hear the constant clicking of the keyboard. As she walked closer he glanced up, paused for just a beat, then returned his eyes to the screen and the clicking resumed.
‘Hi, Charlie.’
He didn’t say anything.
‘I was wondering if you’re free for lunch? My shout.’
‘I’ve eaten,’ he said gruff
ly.
‘Oh, come on, Charlie,’ said Gemma, perching herself on the edge of the table.
‘I have work to do, Gemma.’
‘Can’t you take a break, just for a little while?’
‘No.’
She considered him. ‘You could if you wanted to.’
‘I know.’
Gemma pulled a face. ‘You can’t stay mad at me forever.’
He glanced at her briefly then once again returned his attention to the screen. The clicking became banging.
‘You can’t keep ignoring me either, Charlie. You know how persistent I am.’
His shoulders lifted and fell again in a defeated sigh and he rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘I really have a lot of work to do right now, if you don’t mind, Gemma.’
‘Just a cup of coffee?’ she pleaded. ‘I need to talk to you about something.’
He met her eyes. ‘What could you possibly need to talk to me about?’
She leaned in closer to him. ‘I can’t talk to anyone else about this, not around here.’ She dropped her voice. ‘You’re the only one I can trust.’
Charlie groaned. ‘Oh, no way, not this again.’
‘What?’ Gemma straightened up. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m not going to play your games this time, Gem – bringing me into your confidence, telling me all your little secrets . . .’ He sighed loudly, and with finality. ‘Enough, I’m not interested.’
She frowned at him. ‘This isn’t a little secret, Charlie, this is a big one. And it’s serious.’
‘Then you’d best keep it to yourself.’
With that he focused again on the screen, and the interminable clicking resumed. Gemma paced around behind him, then up the other side of the table, thinking. She hadn’t expected Charlie to be so resistant, so stubborn. Maybe she deserved it, but once he knew what this was about, he’d be sympathetic, Gemma was sure of it. Charlie was too good, too kind to turn his back on her when she was in such dire straits. That’s why she needed him now more than ever; she’d never had a better friend.
Gemma spotted a stick-it notepad on the table. She grabbed a pen, jotted down a couple of words and walked determinedly back to where he sat, peeled off the note and stuck it right in the centre of the computer screen.
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