Before she could shift her focus, he looked up and stared right at her. She hated that his eyes still had the power to shock her. The vivid green in them was clear even at this distance, framed by thick chestnut-coloured lashes and set off perfectly by the rich, biscuity shade of his sweater. The sweater looked warm, butter-soft and expensive. It was cashmere, Rachel supposed, and for a few seconds she allowed herself to wonder how it might feel beneath her fingers.
She turned back to her computer screen, feeling as if a jolt of electricity had just passed through her.
Less than an hour later, Rachel made her way to the small meeting room on the far side of the office. She had a calming cup of herbal tea to take in with her: a medicinal distraction. At the very least, holding it would give her something to do with her hands if, as she feared, she was about to be given bad news.
Isaac was already inside, chugging coffee from a takeaway cup as tall as his head. He was a roundish fifty-something man with wild curly hair that had once been ink-black but now boasted fine streaks of silver. He was in charge of what he called the ‘pro-social’ division of the business – the part that worked with charitable organisations or government departments to help promote the public good, rather than simply rake in profit.
‘Thanks for coming, Rachel,’ he said. ‘Please don’t look so worried. I’m pretty sure what I have to tell you isgoodnews. Did you see Jack on your way over here?’
‘No,’ she replied, stiffening. ‘Er – do we need him, though? I mean, I’m assuming this conversation is about my job – what it’s going to be, if I still have one.’
‘Absolutely,’ Isaac said, smiling. ‘But this concerns both of you.’
What the hell didthatmean?
Rachel felt an unspecific creeping dread begin to lap around her ankles, an incoming tide of fear that she couldn’t run away from.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ Jack said as he appeared in the doorway. ‘I had a call that ran over.’
Isaac performed a ‘don’t worry about it’ hand-flap, indicated that Jack should sit down and then asked him, ‘Is this your first time meeting Rachel?’
Rachel felt her face crumple slightly and knew that Jack had noticed. She braced herself for his ‘we were students together’ shtick.
Jack cleared his throat loudly, then ran a hand through his hair. ‘We met last Friday,’ he said, ‘but only briefly. I shadowed Greg at a client meeting and Rachel was kind enough to help me keep up.’
‘Then allow me to introduce you properly.’ Isaac smiled. ‘Rachel Ryan, this is Jack Harper. He’s going to be in charge of client relationships here on the pro-social side of the business, reporting to me as of next week. Jack, Rachel has been recommended to me as the ideal person to head up editorial strategy for the team. Greg assures me there’s no one better. I’m hoping she’ll work alongside you – be your opposite number, if you like.’
Rachel was suddenly reeling. Too much was happening at once. Unlike last Friday, Jack was pretending not to know her – apparently out of consideration for her feelings. Meanwhile, Isaac seemed to be offering her a new job … But one she’d never have applied for in a million years.
Isaac looked from Rachel to Jack with an expectant expression, and it was only when Jack leaned forward with his arm extended that she realised they were supposed to shake hands. She let him take her fingers and pull them into his. His palm was cool and soft, and she kept her eyes down.
‘So what do you think, Rachel?’ Isaac said. ‘Are you ready to jump out of the commercial copywriting pool? I’m sure it won’t shock you to hear that it’s likely to shrink over the next few months – though of course that isn’t common knowledge yet. This is a brand-new position: a chance for you to own it, really show off what you can do. You’d be working with Jack in much the same way as you’ve always done with Greg.’
Rachel felt a strangled, horrified little shriek forming in her throat. She swallowed it, then wiped her sweaty palms on her denim-clad knees.
Isaac was offering her the kind of opportunity she’d wanted for months: more meaningful work, a better job title – perhaps even more money. But this was the Salvador Dalí version of the promotion she’d been aiming for: distorted, strange and surreal.
Yet Rachel hadn’t missed Isaac’s implication that, if she didn’t jump for the role he was offering, she might end up pushed out of the agency. Not only were there apparently more writers on the payroll than were needed; she’d look lazy and unambitious if she turned down the chance to do something more challenging than knock out content about cauliflowers.
She glanced at Jack, but couldn’t get a read on what he was feeling. His face was a handsome mask: blank and impassive, gorgeous but expressionless. She thought she could detect tension in his shoulders. Perhaps he was frightened she’d freak out, make a scene and scream that she couldn’t do it … Or maybe he was worried she’d say yes.
Rachel felt her head nodding. Her lips moved and a string of grateful, affirmative words floated from her mouth. At this moment, she realised, she had nochoicebut to say yes to Isaac. Yes to a new, more interesting role, but also to working in partnership with someone who – up until last week – she’d hoped never to see again. She was backed into a corner, and there was only one way out.
‘Superb!’ Isaac boomed, patting Rachel’s shoulder and clapping his hands. ‘I’ll send a full job description and salary details across to you now, and provided that’s all A-okay we’ll shift you over to our team first thing next week. There’s a little bump in pay to reflect the extra responsibilities you’ll be taking on.’
He winked at Rachel, pushed his chair back noisily, then stood up and flashed a toothy grin at Jack. Rachel cringed.
‘I can’t wait to put you two to work,’ Isaac said. ‘Something tells me you’ll beperfecttogether.’
10
After the meeting, Rachel ran to the ladies. Leaning on the basin, she saw in the mirror that she was flushed and wild-eyed – her pupils swollen to dark pools by the adrenaline rush she was riding.
She locked herself inside a cubicle and sat for what felt like a year on the lid of the toilet, cradling her head in her hands and trying not to hyperventilate. Finally, grateful that nobody else had come into the bathroom during her meltdown, Rachel patted cool water from the tap onto her face, dried under her armpits with a paper towel and went back to her desk.
Jack had been pulled into a long discussion with Isaac, Toby and Greg. Rachel felt him glance at her more than once through the glass wall of the large meeting room and wondered what he was thinking. Surely he couldn’t be any happier about this than she was? Or had he known what was coming and chosen to keep his mouth shut?
She told herself she’d come up with something – that there’d be a way she could get out of this without trashing her professional reputation or ripping an unemployment-shaped hole in her already threadbare finances. She just needed time tothink.
