I paused for a second, football was not my thing.
‘To be honest, I might head off. My arm’s not feeling too good; I’m between painkillers at the moment.’
His jacket was on before I drained my glass. I caught him checking his watch again.
‘Big match is it?’
He rubbed at a bald patch on his cords, a faint flush colouring his cheeks.
‘Tottenham v Arsenal — local derby and grudge match.’ He might as well have been talking Swahili. I had no idea what he was on about. I good-naturedly rolled my eyes at him as he surreptitiously tried and failed to look at the time again.
‘Sorry.’ He grinned mischievously and led the way to the door, oblivious to my struggles to get my jacket on.
‘Well, it was nice seeing you,’ he said, as we stood outside the pub, me still trying to wriggle my arm into place. His foot was tapping.
‘And you,’ I responded politely, as he did another quick time check. I gave an Oscar winning ‘boys-will-be-boys’ laugh. ‘You’d better go. You don’t want to miss kick-off.’
‘I’ll be in touch.’ He half-raised his hand, put it down, raised it again, thought better and lunged in quickly. I felt a brush of stubble on my cheek and then he was gone with the words, ‘I’llemail. .. Maybe we could go for a drink on Friday... See you,’ floating over his shoulder as he scurried off.
Friday, I thought ruefully was probably Nag’s-Head night with Gram and Midge.
Chapter Nine
‘Do these belong to you?’ rasped a voice from behind a pair of bright blue, daisy-festooned wellies.
They were mine and were being held up by the big, big boss, David. The MD. Surely I hadn’t been summoned to his office on the top floor to discuss my taste in footwear?
‘Yes,’ I answered guardedly. What was he doing with them? They normally lived in the back of the company pool car. I’d bought them several months ago because there’s nothing worse than getting to a muddy construction site and having to borrow warm, sweaty boots.
David smiled his crooked gangster smile, his bright blue eyes piercing. As usual he was perfectly attired in a charcoal-grey suit with a tiny pinstripe running through the beautifully cut fabric. It was worth every penny, hiding his barrel-chested, dumpy shape to perfection.
‘No wonder those bastards at Collingwood Construction love you so much. A dolly bird turning up in girly wellies must brighten the lads’ day up no end.’ He guffawed with laughter. ‘They’re gonna have to do without you for a coupla weeks though. That lazy sod Max will have to get off his arse for a change.’
He shot me a shrewd look. ‘Didn’t think I’d noticed who did all the work on that account, did you?’
Poor Max, my immediate boss, a brilliant thinker but rubbish doer.
I didn’t answer, not that David expected me to.
Why had I been summoned? David wasn’t great on welfare; he didn’t do touchy-feely stuff, so it was nothing to do with the bandage on my arm. I would bet my entire annual salary that dealings with HR brought him out in hives.
It was only when a very red-eyed Fiona knocked at the door of David’s palatial office that all became clear. She was head of the beauty team and Emily’s boss. As always, she was dressed in a tight-fitting designer suit, the skirt skimming her knee to make the most of her ten-denier clad legs. Only her puffy lids spoilt the look.
‘You’re taking over Fiona’s team. She’s got a domestic crisis.’ In David speak this had to be a death in the family at the very least.
Without thinking I blurted out, ‘The beauty side! I don’t know anything about beauty stuff.’
‘What’s to know?’ dismissed David blithely, receiving a weary glare from Fiona. The poor girl looked completely done in.
‘Bright girl like you can manage that bunch of airheads. As of now you’re hanging up your wellies for a couple of weeks. You’re acting Account Director. Fiona’ll brief you. And if you wondering about your flower power boots, I’ve had to pinch the pool car — you won’t need it for a while. Some arsehole ran into the Porsche.’
With that he tossed the boots at my feet leaving me with Fiona.
‘Arrogant so-and-so,’ she said with feeling. ‘Unfortunately he’s right. I can’t trust them to get on with anything. Luckily, there’s nothing major on. Apart from the Luscious Lips launch.’
She sat down heavily in David’s chair, smoothing the tight skirt down her thighs. ‘I realise Emily’s your friend but unfortunately you’re going to have to find a way to manage her.’ Fiona shook her head, her lips curling. ‘Her attention to detail is truly appalling. We’re launching this season’s new colours ...’
I interrupted her holding up my hand. ‘I know all about it. Miranda has been the sole topic of conversation for the last week.’
