‘Mighty Mike? On news?!’
Mike O’Driscoll was the butt of many office jokes. He had the physique of an undernourished gnome and suffered from severe sincerity overkill. Alec only offered her another shrug. Joanna stomped back to her desk and sat down.
‘Problem?’ asked Alice.
‘You could say that. I’m being swapped with Mighty Mike onto Pets and Gardens.’
‘Blimey, give theExpressdetails of a scoop, did you?’
‘I’ve done absolutely bugger all,’ moaned Joanna, folding her arms and resting her head on them. ‘I just can’t believe it.’
‘You think you’ve got problems – I’ve got Mighty Mike moving to the desk next to mine now,’ said Alice. ‘Oh well, no more freezing your tits off on someone’s doorstep, just gentle little articles on canine psychology and what time of year to plant your begonias. I wouldn’t mind a rest like that.’
‘Nor would I, when I’m sixty-five with a great career as a journalist behind me. Jesus!’
Joanna began to type aggressively, too upset to concentrate. Ten minutes later, there was a tap on her shoulder and a huge bouquet of red roses was pressed into her hand by Alec.
‘These should cheer you up.’
‘Alec, I didn’t know you cared,’ she quipped harshly as he returned to his desk.
‘Blimey!’ Alice looked at her with envy. ‘Who’re they from?’
‘A sympathiser, probably,’ Joanna muttered as she tore the small white envelope from the cellophane and opened it.
These are to say good morning. I’ll call you later.
Yours ever, M x
Despite her bad mood, Joanna could not help but smile at Marcus’s note.
‘Come on then, spill the beans. Who is it?’ Alice studied her. ‘It’s not . . . is it?’
Joanna blushed.
‘It bloody well is! You didn’t, did you?’
‘No, I didn’t! Now, will you just shut the hell up!’
Joanna finished her particularly uninspired article on Marcus and the memorial fund, feeling guilty that she wasn’t giving it everything, despite the flowers and how good he’d been to her. Then she cleared her desk and traipsed her belongings to the other side of the office.
Mighty Mike was virtually hopping up and down with excitement, which made the whole thing even worse. It transpired that it wasn’t the news desk he was looking forward to, but the prospect of sitting next to Alice, whom he’d had a crush on for months.
At least that’ll pay her back a little, thought Joanna bitchily as she sat down at Mighty Mike’s recently vacated chair and studied the photos of cute pooches he’d pinned on the cork board.
That night, the thought of going home alone to an empty flat was just too much, so she went with Alice to the local to drown her sorrows in a few gin and tonics.
Forty-five minutes later, she saw Alec arrive. She left Alice and made a beeline for him. She perched on a bar stool next to him as he ordered his whisky.
‘Don’t even start, Jo. It’s been a hell of a day.’
‘Alec, answer me one question: am I a good reporter?’
‘You were shaping up nicely, yes.’
‘Okay.’ Joanna nodded, trying to collect her thoughts and doing her best not to slur her words. ‘How long exactly does a junior usually stay on your section before being moved on?’
‘Jo . . .’ he groaned.
