by Sara Craven
Olivia came to sit opposite her at the table. 'Perhaps it isn't as bad as you think.'
'Not as bad?' Barbara stared at her tragically. 'Do you know what I did? I was given this disk, and told to download it on to another master disk. They asked if I knew how, and I said yes, because it never occurred to me that Scriptec was that different. I thought I'd be able to work it out But I couldn't, and I started to panic, and I ended up wiping both of them.'
A tear trickled down her face. 'And now they'll tell the agency, and Sandra will probably sack me, and I'll have to go home and tell them all that I've failed.'
'Don't get upset,' Olivia said gently.
'I can't help it You see, I was really thrilled to be working on this project, because the man fronting it is one of my favourites. He's a real professional. I watch all his programmes, but Derek, my husband, has never been keen. He's always said that he reckoned he could be really nasty—and that he wouldn't like to cross Mm. And now I have,' she added on a little wail.
'Not necessarily,' Olivia said patiently. 'Do you know how genuinely hard it is to lose things permanently inside a computer?'
'And besides,' she went on, warming to her theme, 'it's partly his own fault. If he was a real professional he'd keep back-up disks, and if he hasn't he's an incompetent idiot'
She gave Barbara an encouraging smile, but the older woman wasn't even looking at her. She was staring past Olivia towards the doorway, with an expression that suggested another Nightmare on Elm Street was being enacted in front of her.
Olivia suddenly felt very cold. She turned slowly in her chair, and found herself looking straight into the blazing eyes of Declan Malone.
For a moment she stared at him, unable to believe her own eyes or speak. Praying that she was suffering some kind of brainstorm—and that this wasn't really happening.
Oh, God, she thought wretchedly. Out of all the jobs in London, what vicious trick of fate had brought her here— to his production company?
'Don't stop there, Miss Butler.' His tone made ice appear human. 'I'm sure you have other valuable insights into working practice to share with us.' He paused. 'Come on, now. Don't tell me you're lost for words.'
Behind him, Olivia could see Carol, looking horrified, and a number of other people totally agog. She wanted to run, but pride insisted she stand her ground. Brazen it out.
'Not at all, Mr Malone.' Her voice was equally frigid 'I was just recalling what they always say about eavesdroppers. And I stick to what I said earlier. Even a beginner knows you must use back-up on computers.'
His mouth tightened angrily. 'It was an oversight. Up to now my faith in the secretarial service here has always been justified.'
Olivia cast a swift look at Barbara, who had her head buried in her hands, then got to her feet, facing Declan, her hands balling into fists at her sides.
'Start taking responsibility for your own mistakes,' she said tersely. 'And keep your bullying tactics for the television screen. It's less impressive in private.'
She reached across and touched Barbara's sleeve. 'Come on.' she said quietly. 'Let's forget the recriminations, and see what we can salvage instead'
Carol pushed her way forward. 'I instructed this young woman to send fen: a technician, Declan. It seems that she's as incompetent as her colleague. But neither of them will work here again, and if Sandra Wilton wants our business in future then she'll have to fire them.'
'I left a message on the machine at Hogarth's,' Olivia returned steadily. 'But they haven't come back to us yet.' She hesitated. 'But I'm quite prepared to see what I can do.'
Carol said grimly, 'I think you've done enough already. And Mrs Wilton will get a full report, I promise you.' She turned to the grimly silent man beside her. 'Declan, I can't tell you how sorry I am about all this. And this girl's attitude simply adds insult to injury.'
'Oh, I'm accustomed to that,' he said softly. 'Miss Butler and I are old antagonists.' He looked at Olivia, and the white-faced Barbara standing beside her. 'What do you know about computers?'
'Enough,' she said 'Your data's locked into it somewhere. All I have to do is find the key.'
'Nonsense,' said Carol. 'Trust me, Declan. I'll convince Hogarth's to send a technician as a matter of urgency.'
'But if they're not answering their phone, that could take hours. And Miss Butler is here now.'
'You're surely not going to turn her loose on the computer?'
'Why not?' He shrugged. 'She can't actually make things any worse.' He looked at Olivia, his eyes glittering like burnished silver. 'You're on, Miss Butler. We'll go to my office.'
Olivia followed him up the stairs to the second floor, nerves tying knots in her stomach. She was dismally aware that she might have bitten off more than she could chew as Declan led her along a narrow corridor, lined on both sides with rooms hardly bigger than cubicles.
His was a corner office, and slightly larger, with a window offering a view over the yard at the back, a desk littered with papers, and another desk holding a state-of-the-art computer.
'It's all yours, Miss Butler.' Declan held the chair for her to sit down with elaborate courtesy. His smile was tight, and faintly scornful. He was waiting, she realised, seething, for her to fall flat on her face.
'Thank you,' she returned with equal politeness, keeping her own expression impassive. She leaned forward, switching on the power, allowing the machine to boot up. 'I can't promise this will be quick.'
'Take whatever time is necessary, of course.' He paused. 'Is there anything you need?'
'You can leave that to me, Declan.' Carol had followed them. 'I intend to remain and supervise Miss Butler while she's still in the building.'
'No,' Olivia said, swiftly and decisively. 'I have to concentrate, and I can't do that with someone breathing down my neck. I must be on my own.'
'Now just a moment—' Carol began pugnaciously, but Declan halted her with a raised hand.
'She's the expert,' he murmured, his mouth twisting. 'I suggest we go, and leave her to get on with it.'
'Just one thing,' Olivia said as he turned to go. The name of the missing files?'
'They're all listed under "ExPrime".' His faintly bored tone indicated that this information would probably not be required, which needled her still further.
We'll see about that, she told him silently as the door closed on him and the mutinous Carol.
But it wouldn't be easy. Scriptec wasn't a program she'd encountered much in the past, although she could see its attraction for media people. But it was undeniably tricky, and poor Barbara had been thrown in at the deep end.
But she should have asked for help, Olivia thought. Just as Declan should have copied his files. And now she had to sort out the resultant mess. Which she would do. She was completely determined about that in the face of Declan's overt scepticism. She had something important to prove..
With a sigh, she clicked on to the Scriptec program, and began methodically to search.
A computer's memory was rather like one of those Russian dolls, she thought a couple of hours later. No matter how many layers you removed, there were always more, just waiting to be discovered. And this machine had a big memory.
She was conscious of someone—it could have been Declan—bringing her a beaker of black coffee at some point, and later this was replaced by a tuna salad sandwich, and a carton of fresh orange juice.
She ate and drank on autopilot, her eyes ceaselessly scanning the screen, hunting for the block of data that was buried somewhere.
Her head was aching and her shoulders screaming with tension when she hit pay-dirt at last. Hardly daring to breathe, she brought the files on to the screen—checked them through to make sure they were complete, then carefully and meticulously saved each one in turn.
Only then, as she leaned back in her chair, did she allow her tired mouth to relax into a triumphant grin.
The door behind her opened, and Carol said sharply, 'The technician from Hogarth's is here,
and he'll be taking over. So you can go.'
'My pleasure.' Olivia got up, stretching. 'But I've retrieved the scripts and they're now on disk, so make sure he doesn't lose them again.'
'You found them? I don't believe it.'
Olivia shrugged. That's your problem. Thankfully, I've solved mine.'
As she walked past Carol to the door she found her way blocked by Declan.
He said incredulously, 'You've got the scripts back? Show me.'
'You know which keys to press, Mr Malone.' Olivia lifted her chin. 'I'm out of here.'
She heard him say her name, but she took no notice, marching along the passage and down the stairs, pausing only to collect her jacket on the way out.
Mimi called to her. 'Olivia—they want you back on the second floor.'
'Tough,' Olivia returned succinctly, and kept going.
There was a bus stop just round the corner, and a bus coming along the road as she reached it Olivia boarded it, not even looking to see where it was headed, and asked for the terminus.
Traffic was heavy, and it was a slow, grinding journey, giving her time to unwind a little.
Well, she'd burnt her boats at Academy Productions, she thought, and probably with the agency too, which was worse. But she'd talk to Sandra and speak up for Barbara if she got the chance. Because having to work under some-one like Carol was enough to zap anyone's confidence and efficiency, she told herself. The woman was a bully.
But then she was in good company, Olivia muttered silently, with Declan Malone stalking around like Attila the Hun. And if I'd had the least idea he worked for Academy Productions I wouldn't have gone near the place. No amount of money is worth the aggravation.
Although there was every chance she wouldn't be paid a penny for today's efforts, of course, she realised, pulling a face.
In the meantime, she needed some fresh air to clear her head—or what passed for fresh air in London.
She left the bus near Regents Park, and wandered round for an hour or so, enjoying Queen Mary's Gardens and taking a look at the Open Air Theatre. Maybe she could persuade Jeremy to bring her to a production here. It occurred to her that she had no real idea whether he liked the theatre at all, let alone whether he preferred classical drama to modern plays or musicals to opera.
But that's all part of our learning process about each other, she reminded herself as she turned back to begin her tortuous journey home.
She was just leaving the park when her mobile phone rang.
'Where on earth are you?' was Sandra's greeting. 'And how does it feel to be the heroine of the hour?'
Olivia halted. 'What do you mean?'
'Apparently you dashed off before they could hand out your medal.' Sandra laughed. 'But it seems one of the girls is about to go off on maternity leave and they want you to fill in for her, so they must be impressed.'
'You're joking.' The words burst from her.
'No, I'm perfectly serious, and so are they. I heard about how you rode to the rescue, and I'm full of admiration too. So what skill I tell them?'
Olivia bit her lip. 'Can I think about it and let you know?'
'Well—yes,' Sandra said slowly. She sounded astonished 'But what's the problem? I mean, this could be a really good contract for you—and it's a nice environment to work in.'
'Is it?' Olivia asked drily, thinking of Carol. 'Have you asked Barbara about that?'
Sandra sighed 'Sending her there was my mistake. I'm finding her a more conventional slot, where she'll be able to relax and enjoy using her skills. But you're a different proposition. I—I really thought you'd jump at the challenge.'
'Perhaps I'd prefer a more conventional slot too,' Olivia said She hesitated 'Will I be black-listed if I say no?'
'Of course not. There's plenty of work about.' Sandra sounded deflated 'But nothing as interesting.'
'Perhaps it all depends on your interests.' Olivia paused. 'But I'll be in touch as soon as I've decided.'
She switched off the phone and put it back in her bag, her mind whirling. This was the last thing she'd expected It would almost be worth taking them up on the offer simply to see Carol's face. Except that she'd find herself looking at Declan Malone at the same time.
And that, she knew, was not a good idea, for all kinds of reasons that she didn't want to examine too closely.
If I never see him again it will be too soon, she told herself firmly.
And wondered why she had to keep convincing herself of something so self-evident.
CHAPTER SIX
She was still deep in thought when she turned into Lancey Terrace, and had nearly reached the house when she realised that a familiar figure was lounging against the railings.
She stopped dead, her brows snapping together in a swift frown.
'So there you are at last' Declan came towards her.
'And here you axe for no reason at all,' she countered.
'I have an excellent reason,' he said. 'Believe it or not, I've come to thank you.'
'Consider it said,' Olivia told him curtly. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have a shower and something to eat.'
'And also to ask you to have dinner with me.' He was blocking her way. 'And don't tell me you have a prior engagement, because it's clear you haven't'
'No,' she said 'But a subsequent one is always a possibility.'
'I think Jeremy is tied up with some work thing tonight' He paused, then smiled at her. For the first time it seemed to her that he was seeing her as a real person, and—more disturbingly—a woman. She was aware of an odd frisson— something between pleasure and apprehension. An internal voice seemed to be telling her to step back—to distance herself. And yet she found that she was standing her ground.
He said gently, 'Olivia—I'm really grateful for what you did today, and I'd like to express it in some tangible way. Have dinner with me, please?'
She was silent for a moment, then she threw back her head, staring him straight in the eye. 'I'll tell you how you could thank me.' Her voice shook slightly. 'You could get off my case.'
'Pardon?' His brows lifted.
'You heard me. If you're so grateful—do that for me. Give Jeremy and me some space to make a life together. You don't have to approve—just stand back.'
He was very still, his narrowed eyes fixed on her pale face. Then he nodded, giving her a swift, crooked grin.
'It's a deal.'
'You mean it?' She was astounded.
'Yes,' he said. And shrugged 'Qué será, será,' he added softly. 'And now a truce has been declared, will you agree to have dinner with me—at the third time of asking?
Instinct—reason—warned her to refuse. Words of polite denial were already forming in her mind.
Instead, she heard herself say primly, 'Thank you. I— I'd like that.'
'A slight exaggeration.' His grin widened. 'But—who knows? Maybe you'll come to mean it—one of these days.' He paused. 'Shall we say eight o'clock? I'll pick you up here.' His smile touched her startled eyes and parted lips. 'Until then,' he said, and walked away, leaving her staring after him.
As Declan let himself into his house Jeremy came out of the kitchen carrying a can of beer.
'Hi. Do you want one?'
Declan shook his head. 'I'm going out to dinner later.' He paused. 'I thought you were working tonight.'
Jeremy shrugged. 'I was supposed to be meeting a client, but it was cancelled, so I'm playing squash with Tom Bainbridge instead. I just came home to change.' He gave Declan a leering glance. 'So, who's the lucky lady tonight? One of your groupies?'
'On the contrary.' Declan felt a curl of distaste inside him. God, he thought, love must be a weird thing if it kept a sane girl like Maria wanting this oaf. And Olivia too.
'You mean she didn't fall on her back the moment you looked at her?' Jeremy gave a loud laugh. 'She must be unique.'
'Possibly.' Declan gave him a thin-lipped smile. 'Certainly deserving of my closest attention.'
'I get y
ou.' Jeremy winked. 'No worries, old boy. I'll be the invisible man when I come back tonight'
'Thanks,' Declan said drily. 'But that might be a little premature.'
'Playing hard to get, is she?' Jeremy's face darkened slightly. 'They're the worst'
Ah, thought Declan, suddenly alert. So things aren't going to plan in the romance of the century. How interesting. Yet he was with her the other night. Sasha is sure of it.
Aloud, he said lightly, 'I'm taking things gently. She's— currently involved.'
'And you're going to create a diversion?' Jeremy laughed again. 'My God, you can be a bastard sometimes. She won't know what's happening to her.'
Declan gave him a tranquil smile. 'I'm counting on it,' he said 'Now I'm going up to shower.'
'Before you go—' Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. 'I want you to know that I'm seriously looking for a place of my own.'
Declan halted, one foot on the bottom stair. 'Any particular reason?' he asked, brows raised.
Jeremy did not meet his eyes. 'It's been good of you to have me here—but it's time I want. You want your privacy, and I—I need my independence.'
Declan nodded expressionlessly. 'What does Maria think?'
Jeremy looked more uncomfortable than ever. 'Well, I haven't really discussed it with her. I thought I'd see a few flats—narrow the choice a little first' He gave an unconvincing laugh. 'After all—you know women.'
'I've known some,' Declan agreed, thoughtfully. 'Well— good luck with the hunt.'
'And good luck with yours too, old boy.' Jeremy lifted his beer can in a parody of a toast, then went back into the kitchen.
Declan went up to his room, thinking furiously. He'd lay odds that Jeremy wasn't planning to set up house with his wife, he told himself grimly. So his decision to make a play for Olivia, to use himself as bait to lure her from Jeremy, hadn't been made a moment too soon.
He wasn't sure when the idea had first come to him. But there was no denying that Olivia had been a thorn in his flesh since she'd arrived on his doorstep, blurting out her plans to wreck Maria's marriage.
His immediate impulse had been to kick Jeremy out of his house into well-deserved oblivion and tell Maria everything, but more rational thought convinced him that he should not be the catalyst in the destruction of his cousin's relationship.
