Piano scowled, but said no more. Ellie sorted out a couple more questions and felt pretty pleased with herself. It was going well. Then she came across one that didn’t need much updating. Your best friend asks you to go on holiday with her, but you’ve already said you’ll do something else.
She stared at the words in front of her and gave a huge sigh. Oh dear. What should she have said?
Do you:
A. Agree straight away and cancel your other plans.
B. Tell her that you’d love to another time.
C. Say you have more important things to do.
She was very afraid that the answer she’d given to Hannah fell under the category of “C”.
Ellie stifled a groan. She risked a glance in Piano’s direction, but Piano was hard at work on her article and hadn’t noticed Ellie’s distress. Well, thank goodness for that! Ellie reached into her bag and brought out her phone. There was still no text. By now, surely, Hannah’s plane would be far away. Ellie looked out of the window. As she gazed at the sun shining on buildings she saw a plane in the distance. It must have just taken off from the airport, because it was climbing steeply up into the sky. She could have been doing that, instead of sitting here.
Piano’s voice jerked her out of her reverie. “I suppose you’ve forgotten the coffee run, as usual.”
Ellie summoned up as much dignity as she could, turned away from the window and stared at Piano. “Of course I haven’t.” She wasn’t being strictly truthful. She didn’t usually forget. Piano’s remark was just Piano being typically sniping, but on this occasion the coffee run had almost slipped Ellie’s mind. It was only when checking her phone just now that she’d realized how late it was. She’d spent longer than she’d thought working on the quiz. Still, she was in plenty of time to fetch the midmorning coffee order, and there was no need to rush. That would only make Piano crow. Ellie ostentatiously typed Q.5. on her laptop before saving the file and closing the lid. She took her bag and left the office.
Fetching the coffee was the job of the lowliest member of staff, but Ellie didn’t usually mind. If she was in the middle of writing an article it could be annoying, but today she was only too pleased. Coffee time meant an opportunity to mention her idea to Francesca, preferably when Piano was out of earshot so she couldn’t rubbish it.
Going out into the busy street, she turned right, towards Coffee! Coffee! Invariably, when she was on this errand she felt a delicious sense that while she knew that she was working for one of the most popular teen magazines in the country, and had met and interviewed some very famous people, none of the passers-by had a clue who she was, or what she did. It made her feel secretly special, and she wanted to giggle.
While in the queue at the coffee shop, Ellie gave her new idea some serious thought, so she’d be ready to explain it to Francesca. She’d been trawling through some celebrity websites recently, looking for inspiration, when she couldn’t help noticing how some people of about her age were included in quite a few of the shots. They were the children of major film stars, or musicians who were big in her mum’s day, and were still touring. Some of these teenagers were already stars in their own right, but others seemed to slink along behind their parents, looking grumpy, embarrassed or just plain fed up. Ellie wondered what it would be like having such famous parents. Was it cool being part of the media frenzy, or did they wish it would all just go away? If they wanted to follow their parents into stardom was it made easier for them, or harder?
Ellie had come across a picture of the movie star Elizabeth Broadstairs. The caption said she was arriving in New York with her daughter. For a second Ellie hadn’t even noticed the daughter, Albion. While Elizabeth seemed to revel in the limelight, striding through the airport, accompanied by huge amounts of luggage, her daughter Albion was dragging along in the background, hiding behind an enormous pair of sunglasses and a floppy hat. While she’d been thinking of Hannah and her parents waiting for their plane, something had clicked. Why not interview the daughter? If she could persuade Albion to talk she might have a really interesting piece. She could see it now. My Life with my Famous Mum. If Ellie presented the idea well, Francesca, and hopefully Angel, would see that it was a perfect interview for Ellie to do!
She hurried back along the street with the coffee order as quickly as she could. In the office she put the tray down on her desk and took Angel’s through to where she was busy working in her own, opulent office. Ferdinand, Angel’s little dog, was curled up in his basket by the side of her desk. Later on it would be Ellie’s job to take him out for his walk, but for the moment he seemed happy. He wagged his tail at her a couple of times and sighed noisily before closing his eyes and covering his nose with his paw.
Angel barely acknowledged Ellie or the coffee, and Ellie didn’t hang around. She didn’t want to risk pitching the idea to Angel without running it past Francesca first.
Back at her desk, Piano and Francesca had already helped themselves to their drinks. Debbie preferred to make her own tea in the office, and so that left one paper cup on her desk – a latte, which was Ellie’s.
As soon as Piano went back to her desk and started to work, Ellie seized her chance. Making sure her back was to Piano, so that hopefully she wouldn’t be able to overhear, Ellie went to Francesca, who was taking a few seconds to enjoy her drink.
Quickly, Ellie outlined her idea to the Deputy Editor. “So, you see it would be perfect!” she said, letting her enthusiasm show. “There may well be all sorts of inside stuff that our readers would love to know!”
Francesca sipped her coffee and then set the paper cup down. “I agree that it would be a great story,” she said. “But I think the chances of it working are very slim. Most celebrities are zealous about keeping their children’s lives private. You probably won’t get past the agent, because they’ll have instructions to refuse any approach to children.”
“But this girl isn’t a young child,” said Ellie. “She’s practically grown up…like me.”
Francesca smiled. “So she is, but all the same, she’s still going to be under eighteen, so the chances are it’ll be a blind alley for you.” She looked at Ellie’s crestfallen expression. “How are you doing with the quiz?”
“Um…I’m pretty well halfway through.”
“Okay, well that must be finished first, but afterwards, if you like, see how far you can get with setting up an interview with this girl. If the answer is yes I’ll certainly clear it with Angel, but I’m not going to trouble her with the idea unless it looks as if it’s going to come off. Is that fair?”
Ellie’s eyes lit up. “That’s great, Francesca. Thanks!”
“Right then. Finish that quiz by lunchtime, and you can use the afternoon to make contact with Elizabeth Broadstairs’s daughter, whatever her name is.”
“It’s Albion,” said Ellie, quick to demonstrate that she already knew about her subject.
Francesca shook her head. “Albion Broadstairs? Poor kid,” she muttered to herself before dismissing Ellie with a wave of her hand and getting back to work.
Ellie was thrilled. True, Francesca had thrown up a possible problem that Ellie in her haste hadn’t thought of, but she’d been given the go-ahead to try, that was the important thing. She did have to finish the quiz first though. She took a gulp of coffee and raised the lid of her laptop. Question Five, she thought to herself breezily, here I come!
Your best friend has bought a dress that looks awful on her. Do you:
A. Tell her it looks lovely.
B. Tell her it’s not the best she’s ever bought and if she decides to return it, you’ll happily go with her.
C. Tell her it looks dreadful.
That was good, but she could change dress to tunic and leggings, or maybe shorts and leggings. In Ellie’s opinion, they definitely didn’t suit some people! Ellie and Hannah had always been good at helping each other with clothes, and Ellie knew that if they had been doing this quiz together they would both have answered hone
stly and helpfully. There was no point in saying something looked cool, if it didn’t. As the clothes looked totally awful, the right answer had to be B. A true friend would never be untruthful about that sort of thing. It would be far better to get her money back and spend it on something that did suit her. And it usually helped to have a friend to give an opinion when buying clothes.
Ellie took another gulp of coffee. Honesty was important as well as loyalty. Hannah had to understand how much this job meant to her. Surely she would, given time? Meanwhile, Ellie was determined to crack on and get a scoop for the magazine once she’d finished the quiz. And when the summer was over, she’d make it up to Hannah. She didn’t know how, but she’d find a way, somehow. For now though, she had a job to do!
Ellie didn’t manage to finish the quiz before lunch. She had to take Ferdinand for his walk, and Angel told her to collect some dry cleaning while she was out. Ellie wouldn’t have minded, but the dry cleaner’s was in the opposite direction to the park where she walked Ferdinand. It wasn’t far, but it ate into her time, and she couldn’t help feeling just a little resentful.
“Honestly,” she grumbled to herself, putting Ferdinand’s lead on after his run. “It’s not as if I’m not doing something useful in the office. Why does it always have to be me doing all these jobs?” Ferdi wagged his tail in response, and Ellie sighed. She knew the reason really. As the most junior member of staff of course she was expected to run errands.
And Ellie was too excited about trying to get an interview with Albion Broadstairs to stay miffed for long. Even so, there was such a lot of dry cleaning to carry back she almost had to make two trips. “Angel’s cleaning bill must be enormous,” she said to Ferdinand as they struggled into the lift.
When she got back to her desk, Ellie soldiered on with the quiz. By lunchtime there wasn’t too much to do, and so, by eating lunch at her desk, and working steadily she soon got it finished. She emailed it to both Francesca and Piano, feeling very pleased with herself. There was still time to find out who Elizabeth Broadstairs’s agent was and give them a ring before the end of the day. Ellie googled the actress’s name and trawled through the long list of websites. It was easy to get distracted by all the pictures, fan sites and news items, but it was all valuable research. She stopped at a picture of Elizabeth snapped outside her daughter’s school. For once she wasn’t smiling, and Albion had her head ducked down, looking away from the camera. It must be lovely, thought Ellie, to be the centre of attention when you wanted it, but horrible if you didn’t. She was sure she could conduct a brilliant, in-depth interview with Albion. It would give the girl a chance to say how she felt about having a famous mother. All the highs and lows of her life would be described at last. If Ellie was Albion, she was sure she’d jump at the chance to have her say!
Totally fired up now, Ellie added “agent” to the search box and the computer obligingly came up with the agency’s website. It was a large company, with lots of big-name clients, so it took a few minutes to match one of the many agents with Elizabeth Broadstairs. As soon as she found the name she dialled the agency’s number. Her heart started thumping. All she had to do was convince the agent, Grant Thomas, that it was a good idea to interview Elizabeth’s daughter, and she’d be away!
Ellie refused to be put off by the switchboard, and insisted on speaking to Grant. She tried to sound so confident that the person on the other end would assume that she’d spoken to him before. Eventually she was told that she was being put through to his office. Her heart started thumping, and she took a deep breath. But the telephone wasn’t picked up by a man. It was a woman on the other end of the phone.
“Grant Thomas’s office.”
Ellie swallowed nervously. This must be his receptionist, or his PA. She wasn’t home and dry just yet.
“Could I speak to Mr. Thomas, please?” said Ellie.
“In connection with…?”
“In connection with Albion Broadstairs.”
“I’m sorry, we don’t have anyone of that name on our books.”
“But…” Ellie struggled to think of what to say. “But you represent her mother…don’t you?”
“Yes. We do.”
“Well…” she spoke in a rush. “Could I speak to him about her then?”
“Mr. Thomas is very busy.”
“I think he’ll want to know about this,” said Ellie. “I’m calling from Heart magazine.”
She heard what might have been a sigh from the other end of the line, and then the PA spoke again. “One moment, please.”
“Who am I speaking to?”
It was a man’s voice. Grant Thomas at last! Ellie rushed to speak. Everything depended on how she presented herself. She must get it right. “My name is Ellie Ixos,” she said. “I’m from Heart magazine and I would like the opportunity to speak to Albion Broadstairs because—”
“Ms. Broadstairs’s daughter doesn’t give interviews…”
“But, if I were her, I mean—”
“And if you read our website properly you’d know that.” He paused. “Are you still at school?”
“Yes…which is why I thought it would be a good idea…”
Ellie crossed her fingers, bit her lip and closed her eyes. If only he would say yes. She was sure he was wavering.
“I’m sorry. Ms. Broadstairs’s instructions are quite clear. No interviews.” His voice softened. “Nice try, my dear, but you’ll find that lots of the stars feel the same way about their children’s privacy.”
“That was why—”
But it was no good. He’d hung up. She was speaking to herself.
Slowly, Ellie replaced the phone. It had been a good idea. No, a great idea, and in spite of Francesca’s doubts she’d been almost sure that she could pull it off. Well, she’d been wrong. All she wanted to do now was to go home, but it wasn’t time yet. She couldn’t crawl off like a dog with her tail between her legs! She sneaked a glance in the direction of Piano’s desk, thinking how fortunate it was that Piano didn’t know what had happened. Unfortunately, Piano looked up at the same moment and caught Ellie’s eye.
“Ellie. Over here a moment.” Ellie’s heart sank. What could she want? Surely she hadn’t overheard any of that phone call? She got up and went reluctantly over to Piano’s desk, dreading being teased.
“Now you’ve sent me the quiz questions you must have time to take on another job.”
It was just as well Ellie didn’t ever expect praise from Piano, because she didn’t get it. “So they’re all right?”
Piano frowned. “They’ll have to do, I suppose. I’m too busy to make them better.” She paused. “Anyway, the Fashion Department is doing a piece on plaited hair, and Angel thought it would be fun to have a little item on the way plaits have featured in fashion through the ages.” She sighed. “It’s all very well Angel throwing out these ideas, but they take time to research. Have a trawl through the internet and see what you can come up with. That should keep you out of trouble for the rest of the day.”
“Okay,” said Ellie, turning to go. Then Piano caught hold of her sleeve.
“You weren’t making a personal call, were you?”
“Of course not!” said Ellie angrily.
“Well who were you calling then?” said Piano. “It seemed a very intense conversation. You weren’t speaking to a boyfriend, were you? You know personal calls aren’t allowed.”
Ellie was furious. How dare Piano spy on her? She had been going to shelve her interview idea, but Piano’s prying made her feel obstinate, as well as furious. Why not try some other celebrities who had daughters of the right age? Of course! She didn’t need to give up yet. She could make some more “intense” phone calls. That would infuriate Piano. If Piano was going to be so nosy she deserved to be teased. Except it wasn’t really teasing, not at all. Ellie would be totally within her rights to keep ringing people until she made her idea work. It was Piano’s problem, if not knowing who Ellie was calling infuriated her. She glared icily
at Piano. “It was a call Francesca knew I was going to make,” she said coldly, before stalking back to her desk. She plonked herself down in her seat and fumed silently. She’d show Piano that she could do more than refresh quiz questions, fetch coffee and research plaits. She also had brilliant ideas, and could carry them through…she hoped so anyway. She’d find a way. All she needed was a lucky break.
Meanwhile, she had work to do, and if she didn’t want more remarks from Piano she’d better get on with it.
That evening after work, Ellie spent some time at home on the internet, researching famous people’s children, and looking for likely candidates for her proposed interview. It wasn’t easy. She wanted to interview a girl, because it would be fun to talk about clothes and make-up, as well as privacy, and being the daughter of a famous star. But she needed a teenager, available in London, and not already famous in her own right. It was a behind-the-scenes interview Ellie wanted. Added to that, they had to have parents who didn’t mind them being interviewed. It wasn’t easy at all.
“It’s so annoying,” she muttered to herself. “Albion would have been perfect.”
By the time she was ready for bed, Ellie had a shortlist of four possible candidates. She jotted the names down in her notebook and thrust it into her bag, ready for the morning. Before she turned out her light she checked her phone one last time. Hannah would be in Spain now, and if she’d forgiven Ellie for not going with her she would surely have texted to tell her what it was like. There was no text. And maybe the hotel didn’t have much of an internet connection, because Hannah hadn’t been on Facebook, either. Ellie sighed, and put her phone by her bed.
She switched out her light and lay down. She wished she was in Spain with Hannah. Today hadn’t exactly been one of the best days ever. Working at Heart was usually so exciting, but somehow today it had lost some of its gloss. It was probably just because she missed Hannah, and because her big idea had so far come to nothing, but she couldn’t help the way she was feeling. For the first time, she found she wasn’t particularly looking forward to going to work in the morning. Finding information about plaits was tedious. She even wondered if Piano had made up the project just to keep her away from more interesting work. She was also worried that she’d draw a blank with the four names she’d found as possible interviewees. And instead of worrying about this she could have been on holiday! What was she trying to prove, pretending to be a journalist? Maybe she just wasn’t cut out for it. Grant Thomas had called her “my dear” and that had made her feel about six.
Best Friends Rock! Page 2
