by Jill Mansell
All the ladies were super-efficient, incredibly organized, and vastly experienced. But if there was such a thing as crimplene overload, he was suffering from it. Even when they hadn’t been wearing any, they still exuded the aura of crimplene. Each of them had been in their mid to late fifties, with sensible hair and minimal—if any—makeup. Smart interview outfits. Below-the-knee skirts. Low-heeled shoes. Clipped, unvarnished fingernails. Basically, Barbara had provided him with half a dozen clones of herself. Zack knew why she’d done it, and in theory he agreed, but the prospect of choosing one of them, it had to be said, didn’t fill him with joy.
Fifteen minutes later he emerged from the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Heading downstairs to the office, he flipped back through the notepad on his desk until he found the page he was looking for.
There was the number he’d scribbled down, the one belonging to the friend of the unsuitable girl who had so alarmed Barbara last week. Smiling slightly at the memory of her reaction, Zack dialed the number. He knew nothing about the girl, other than that she didn’t sound as if she wore crimplene.
It was picked up on the third ring. ‘Hello? Whoops.’ There was a clatter followed by a big thud. ‘Sorry about that. Hello.’
‘What happened there?’
‘I reached over to pick up the phone and rolled off the sofa. Who’s that?’
‘Zack McLaren.’
‘Oh! Look, can I just say I’m so sorry about last week? I really put my foot in it, didn’t I? Your poor PA, I hope you weren’t cross with her.’
Amused, Zack said, ‘I’m never cross. Listen, you sounded pretty enthusiastic before. I just wondered if you’d like to come over for an interview tomorrow morning?’
‘Really? Oh, wow, that’d be fantastic! But I can’t do tomorrow; I’m catching the first train up to Glasgow.’ She sounded genuinely apologetic. ‘It’s my gran’s eightieth birthday and she’s having a surprise party and I can’t miss it. But I’m back on Sunday night.’ Hopefully she added, ‘Could we make it next week instead?’
Damn. ‘Sorry, I’ve already seen all the other applicants. I promised to let them know by tomorrow.’
‘Oh.’ There was a pause. ‘Well, I’m not doing anything right now. Apart from falling off the sofa. How about if I just throw some clothes on and come round in thirty minutes?’ Another pause. ‘Um, that makes it sound as if I’m naked. I’m not naked, I’m wearing pajamas. Oh God, this is too much information. Shall I see you in thirty minutes, fully clothed?’
Zack caught sight of his reflection in the office window. He didn’t tell her that apart from the towel slung around his hips, he wasn’t wearing anything either. Anyway, that was beside the point. ‘I can’t do it. I have a business dinner this evening.’ He’d called her number on impulse but there was no way he would employ someone without meeting them first. And he was the main guest speaker at tonight’s dinner so he couldn’t be late. ‘Well, we gave it a try, but I guess we’ll have to leave it after all. Just a case of bad timing.’ Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was eight o’clock. Seeing as his car would be here in ten minutes, he needed to get a serious move on. ‘Thanks anyway.’
‘OK.’ The girl, Ellie, sounded disappointed. ‘Well, thank you too, for thinking of me. It was nice of you to call. It’s a shame we couldn’t meet up.’
She had an attractive voice, clear and musical, the kind that would be a joy to listen to. If you had time. ‘I’m sorry too. And good luck with finding another job,’ said Zack. ‘Bye.’
Chapter 10
‘How’s your new woman doing?’ Next to Zack in the passenger seat, Louisa pulled down the sunshield and checked her lipstick in the mirror. ‘Settling in?’
Zack nodded. He’d gone for Christine in the end, out of the six applicants, and she was proving every bit as efficient as Barbara. Christine was in her late fifties and uninterested in fashion; with bushy eyebrows and a penchant for pleated skirts, stylishness wasn’t her raison d’être. But she typed so fast her sausage fingers became an actual physical blur. She also brought packed lunches to work and ate egg mayonnaise sandwiches at her desk, swilling them down with weird-smelling herbal tea.
‘Still eating the egg sandwiches?’
‘Every day.’
‘Oh well, maybe she’ll move on, give cheese and tomato a try. Can you pull up over here?’ Waving her hand at the rank of shops ahead, Louisa said, ‘I need a couple of mags for the journey.’
Zack’s heart sank a couple of notches. He’d been seeing Louisa for almost three months now and she had a lot going for her—she was confident, glamorous, and strikingly attractive. But stopping at the newsagents, he had learned from bitter experience, meant that she would be spending the next couple of hours reading bits aloud to him from magazines. For some reason she thought he would be as fascinated as she was to hear the items of celebrity gossip, words of wisdom from relationship experts, and which brands of mascara made your lashes look longest. They were heading down the M4 to the wedding of one of Louisa’s friends in Bristol and if he tried to listen to the radio she would reach over and turn it down each time she needed to relay some new and vital piece of information, like had he heard about Victoria Beckham taking up knitting? And why on earth would Russell Brand be having lunch with Kate Winslet?
He drew up at the curb, parking on double yellows behind a blue Volkswagen. Louisa, in her chic, pale gray wedding suit and pink frilled shirt, jumped out of the Mercedes and disappeared inside the newsagents on Regents Park Road.
***
Ellie was queuing to pay for her newspaper and a packet of Rolos when she glanced across at the racks of magazines and saw a cover featuring a large black girl in a gold bikini and a white-blond wig. The caption shrieked, ‘Dolly Deeva: Bigger, better, and back with a splash!’
Only last night, Roo had been wondering how Dolly was doing these days. Ellie darted out of the queue and reached for the magazine, the last one on the rack. She’d buy it for Roo.
‘Whoops, sorry!’ Her elbow was jogged by another customer and the magazine almost slipped to the ground. Clutching it to her chest, she smiled apologetically at the elegant redhead in the pink and gray outfit, even though it hadn’t been her fault. The redhead graciously accepted the apology with a nod and said, ‘Where did you get that mag?’
‘Up there.’ Ellie pointed to the empty space and the redhead heaved a sigh of annoyance.
‘You mean there aren’t any more?’
‘I don’t know.’ Was she seriously expecting her to hand it over? Ellie said pleasantly, ‘I’m sure they’ll have them in another shop.’
A couple of minutes later, having paid at the counter, she made her way out of the newsagents and paused for a moment on the pavement to flick through the pages of the magazine. There was the interview, spread over two pages, with Dolly insisting that her boob-flashing days were behind her and, what’s more, she was now a born-again Christian who didn’t go anywhere without her Bible. Squeezing between a dark gray Mercedes and a sky-blue VW Beetle, Ellie crossed the road and headed up the hill towards Nevis Street. From what Roo had told her about Dolly Deeva, she’d have a good laugh about that.
***
‘There you are! I thought the car was empty.’
Zack straightened up. ‘I was just sorting through the glove compartment. Found some CDs I’d forgotten about.’ He showed her what he’d unearthed. ‘And a bag of Liquorice Allsorts!’
‘Ugh, don’t eat them, they’ll be moldy.’ Louisa settled herself into the passenger seat. ‘I couldn’t get the mag I wanted, some girl grabbed the last one. So annoying. Anyway, I found some others instead.’ She patted the three glossy magazines on her lap. ‘These’ll keep me going until we get to Bristol.’
‘Good.’ Zack slotted his long-lost Gogol Bordello CD into the machine, pressed Play, and started up the car. ‘Have you heard this before? It’s brilliant.’
Less than two minutes later, Louisa reached out and turned it down. ‘Ooh,
can you believe it? What a liar!’ She jabbed her finger at the photograph of a well-preserved former Bond girl. ‘She’s fifty-five if she’s a day, and she says she’s never had Botox!’
***
‘Zack, I’m so sorry. I just can’t cope anymore. I thought I could, but I can’t. It’s too much.’
‘Really?’ Zack’s first reaction was amazement; his second, relief. It hadn’t occurred to him that he was that demanding an employer. On the other hand, no more egg mayonnaise sandwiches.
Thank God.
‘It’s my husband.’ Christine wavered, her pale eyes beginning to swim. ‘He’s not… himself anymore, you see. He goes to a day center while I’m at work, but it’s at night that he’s really difficult. Wandering around the house, trying to find a way out. I’m just not getting enough sleep and I’m exhausted. So my doctor’s told me to give up work. I can’t tell you how bad I feel, letting you down like this when you’ve been so lovely to work for.’
OK, now he felt ashamed; he was selfish beyond belief. Zack shook his head and said, ‘Please, don’t feel bad. There’s no need to apologize. I’m sorry about your husband. I had no idea. Of course you need to save your energy if you’re looking after him.’ Riddled with guilt, he realized that she did look exhausted; there were dark circles under her eyes. ‘And look, don’t worry about having to work out any notice. I can manage.’
Christine gazed at him and fumbled up her sleeve for a tissue as a tear brimmed over. ‘Oh, Zack, that’s so kind. But I couldn’t do that to you. I can’t leave you high and dry.’
‘Hey, what’s more important? A bit of typing and filing, or your health? In fact, why don’t you go home now?’ Rising to his feet, Zack reached for his keys. ‘Come on, I’ll give you a lift.’
***
‘OK, this is another long shot.’ Zack McLaren’s voice echoed down the phone. ‘You’ve probably found another job by now. But just in case you haven’t, the lady I took on has had to leave. So I’m looking for someone else, and I thought I’d let you know.’
Zack McLaren. Was this fate? Sitting cross-legged on the sofa, Ellie put down her mug of tea and said, ‘She had to leave after a fortnight? Does that mean you’re the boss from hell?’
He sounded amused. ‘I’m not, I promise.’
‘So you’re inviting me along for an interview?’
‘If you’re still interested.’
Ellie smiled to herself. Was she? Two weeks ago she’d been determined to escape the friendly but claustrophobic confines of Brace House. Yet once the initial embarrassment of having to see Michael again had been overcome, it had simply been easier to stay where she was. Lassitude, her GP had assured her, was all part of the grieving process. Sometimes you knew changes needed to be made but just couldn’t summon up the energy to make them.
But now Zack McLaren was calling her, giving her another chance, and she was going to take it. ‘Oh yes, I’m definitely interested. When do you want to see me?’
She heard him say, ‘As soon as you like. How about now?’
‘You’re on.’ Ellie was already scrambling off the sofa, shaking pins and needles out of her left leg. She might get there and discover she didn’t want to work for this man. But some inner instinct told her she would.
***
Bloody hell.
Bloody hell.
It was her.
The shock of it jerked Zack back from the upstairs window. He felt as if he’d been punched in the chest… no, it was like someone creeping up behind and performing the Heimlich maneuver on you without warning. It took a lot to shock him but this had managed it. The girl currently making her way along Ancram Street was the one he’d seen at the Ivy. She’d made such an impression on him back then—when had it been? Over two months ago—that he could still remember every single detail about that lunchtime. He had even skillfully engineered the ending of his own meeting so that they’d exited the restaurant at more or less the same time. Emerging onto the pavement, he had watched her jump into a taxi with Tony Weston and had experienced an almost uncontrollable urge to yank open the door and pull her back out again.
He hadn’t of course. He had controlled himself. Apart from anything else, this was the kind of behavior that got you arrested. Instead, he had stood there in the rain, watching the taxi disappear off up the road and thinking that Tony Weston was old enough to be her father.
But now she was here, walking towards his house when he’d assumed he’d never see her again, and the chances were that in less than a minute she would be ringing his doorbell. Because this girl, in her white shirt and narrow, on-the-knee blue skirt, was surely dressed for an interview.
Which meant she had to be Ellie Kendall.
Zack’s mouth was dry. Emotional complications were the last thing, the very last thing he needed in his working life. Everyone knew that getting involved with your PA was asking for trouble.
So how was he supposed to deal with a situation like this?
Chapter 11
Whoever had said that getting pooed on by a pigeon was lucky had to be deluded. As she climbed the steps to the front door, a dollop of white fell past Ellie’s field of vision and landed with a splat on the ground, just inches from her right foot. Darting belatedly to the left, she took it as a hopeful omen. Narrowly avoiding being pooed on by a pigeon was surely what counted as good luck.
She rang the bell and waited. When the door was opened, she knew from the images on Roo’s laptop what to expect, but in real life he was taller than she’d envisaged. And undeniably impressive. No wonder Roo had been so enthusiastic. Great eyes, and there were those killer cheekbones. Hopefully he also had a sense of humor. Especially if Roo were to make a less than subtle play for him. At least that wouldn’t happen as long as Niall stayed on the scene.
‘Ellie, hi. I’m Zack.’ He hesitated for a split second, then took her hand and shook it. ‘Good to meet you at last. Come along in.’
OK, best behavior, don’t tell him a pigeon just nearly pooed on your head. Clutching her shoulder bag, Ellie followed him through to the office on the ground floor. He was wearing jeans and a pale gray T-shirt. Roo would approve of that bum too. She might be immune to other males herself, but she could still acknowledge their good points.
‘I’ve brought along my CV.’ She took it out of her bag and handed it to him. ‘There isn’t much I don’t know about running an office. My typing speeds and computer skills are good. You can test me on them. And I’m really hardworking.’
‘Glad to hear it.’ Zack smiled briefly. For the next twenty minutes he explained the nature of the work she would be expected to carry out. He dictated a letter and she transcribed it. He showed her the filing system, which was straightforward. He asked her about Brace House Business Centre and she told him she’d been perfectly happy there for six years but that now she was ready for a change, and it would be nice to work just a few minutes’ walk away from her flat.
‘Oh, and can I just say something else?’ Ellie knew he couldn’t ask her the question himself but she’d spotted him glancing at her ring-free left hand. ‘I’m not married.’ If it helped her get this job, she was happy to reassure him he needn’t worry that she might announce she was pregnant and start demanding maternity benefits. ‘And I’m not planning on having any babies either. That’s not going to happen.’
‘Right.’ He looked relieved to hear it but was still watching her carefully.
She hesitated, weighing up the options. No, don’t tell him about Jamie. The whole point of changing jobs was to make a fresh start and not be treated any differently than other people. Other normal people…
‘Anyway, so that’s it. I’m single.’ Having made her point, Ellie changed the subject. ‘Am I allowed to ask what happened to the last PA?’
That was when Zack explained about Christine. Concluding the story, he said good-naturedly, ‘So if you don’t have an invalid husband to look after, that’s a bonus.’
This was good practice at bei
ng normal. Ellie summoned up a bright smile and said, ‘Well, I definitely don’t have one of those!’
Then he offered her a coffee and showed her through to the kitchen, which was all sage green and sleek stainless steel, and opened out through French windows on to a small walled garden at the back of the house.
But since it wasn’t that warm outside, they headed up the stairs to the living room, decorated in shades of deep red and dove gray and showing reassuring signs of actually being lived in. There were newspapers stuffed untidily into a rack, an empty Coke can on the coffee table, and a jacket flung over one of the chairs.
‘Have a seat.’ Zack indicated the sofa and sat down on one of the chairs opposite. He was being polite, charming even, and he’d invited her up here for a coffee, but there was still a faint but discernible edge of reserve. Ellie wondered if she already had the job in the bag, or had he not made up his mind yet?
‘Thanks.’ She concentrated on not spilling her coffee.
‘So, you live in Nevis Street. Very nice.’
‘I know. And being so close would mean I could be flexible.’ Selling herself didn’t come naturally but she wanted this job.
‘Excellent.’ After a moment, Zack said, ‘Share with other girls, do you?’
‘Um, no.’
‘Oh.’ He shrugged. ‘Just wondering. I mean, there must be a pretty big mortgage on a place like that.’
‘I don’t have a mortgage.’ Ellie prevaricated, caught off guard by the direction this was heading in. She’d never been asked these kinds of questions at an interview before.
‘Rent, then. The rent would be high. That would still be manageable, would it, on the kind of salary I’m offering?’
‘Well, ye-es.’ She felt herself begin to flush beneath his scrutiny. Telling him about Tony would only make matters more complicated, but he was gazing at her so intently now, she had to say something. ‘The thing is, I’m not really renting the flat either. I’m just… you know, living there. Kind of… looking after it.’ She swallowed and made an audible gulping sound in her throat. ‘For a friend.’
