She clicked to end the call and breathed a deep sigh of relief.
‘That sounded rough,’ Ellie said from opposite her, smiling over the flimsy partition between their workstations. ‘I could hear him blow-harding at you from over here.’
‘I’ve had worse,’ Rosie said, shrugging. ‘At least he didn’t swear at me. He was just your typical “obviously in the wrong but determined to dig in” kind of caller. He owns a car worth at least fifty grand, yet lied when he took out the insurance for the sake of saving about seventy quid. Now he’s pissed off about the price of the spare parts he’ll have to shell out for.’
Ellie made a face. ‘What a knobhead.’
Rosie nodded, laughing as she removed her headset and logged off her computer. Ellie’s Lancashire accent, which Rosie adored, rang with casual disdain in a way her own Essex twang never could.
‘You here late tonight?’ she asked.
Ellie nodded and grimaced, her pretty face contorting in dismay. ‘On till ten.’
‘Ugh,’ Rosie said. ‘Commiserations. The good news is, there are doughnuts in the break room. Just avoid the ones masquerading as chocolate-filled – they’re coffee-flavoured and unspeakably disgusting.’
Ellie laughed, then asked: ‘You in tomorrow?’
‘Yeah. Short shift, ten till four. You?’
‘Same, see you then. Now get out of here while you can.Saveyourself. Martin’s stomping about upstairs with a face like a smacked arse. If I were you, I’d disappear pronto.’
Rosie shuddered, briefly wondering what fresh hell awaited them at their next ‘quick team catch-up’. Shaking the thought away, she pulled her coat from the back of her swivel chair and shrugged into it.
‘See you tomorrow,’ she said to Ellie as she headed for the exit.
‘’Night,’ Ellie said, pressing a button to pick up a new call.
As the office door swung shut behind her, Rosie heard her friend brightly utter the words that punctuated their work days: ‘Thank you for calling Cover 4 U Insurance. How can I help you this evening?’
About half an hour later, Rosie tumbled into a booth in her favourite Italian restaurant, sweaty and dishevelled from rushing. It was a small, family-run establishment just off Wanstead High Street – a no-frills diner that offered delicious, freshly made fare in old-fashioned but comfortable surroundings.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ she told her best friend, who was already sipping from a large glass of red wine. ‘I got stuck on a call and then the bus took forever to turn up.’
‘Not a problem,’ Niamh said, waving a hand. ‘Let’s get you a drink, shall we?’
‘Please,’ Rosie sighed, shoving off her navy-blue coat and thinking, not for the first time, that it had definitely seen better days.
Niamh – fashionably attired in a loose jersey minidress that subtly highlighted her height and slenderness – caught the attention of a waitress, beckoning her over so Rosie could order a glass of iced water and her own red wine.
‘So,’ Niamh said as the drinks arrived a moment later. ‘Is it safe to assume you were dealing with a less-than-satisfied customer?’ Rosie loved Niamh’s voice – she still sounded unmistakably Irish, despite the fact that she’d spent nearly twenty years in the UK.
‘A classic,’ Rosie nodded. ‘Some rich old duffer who’d lied when he took out his policy, ranting at me because it wouldn’t pay out …’
‘I’ve no idea how you put up with it,’ Niamh said.
‘It pays the bills,’ Rosie shrugged. ‘And I don’thateit.’
‘Hardly a ringing endorsement.’ Niamh’s eyebrow arched as she looked at her friend.
‘Come on, now, we can’t all be high-flying marketingslash-events innovators.’
Rosie put air quotes around the final four words, grinning widely as Niamh cringed.
‘You know that isn’t what I callmyself,’ she argued. ‘It’s just what they put on the company website.’
‘Didtheyput it on your LinkedIn profile, too?’ Rosie asked, raising an eyebrow mischievously.
‘Oh, shut up,’ Niamh laughed, and threw a piece of breadstick at her.
