Twenties Girl

FIFTEEN

I’m not panicking. Even though it’s Wednesday and I still don’t have a solution and Janet Grady is on the warpath.

I’m kind of beyond panic. I’m in an altered state. Like a yogi.

I’ve been dodging calls from Janet all day. Kate’s told her I’m in the loo, at lunch, trapped in the loo, and then at last I heard her saying desperately, “I can’t disturb her, I really can’t disturb her… Janet, I don’t know who the candidate is… Janet, please don’t threaten me…”

She put the phone down, shaking. Apparently Janet’s in a vicious mood. I think she’s become a bit obsessed by this short list. So am I. Résumés are swimming in front of my eyes, and the phone feels like it’s welded to my ear.

Yesterday I had a flash of inspiration. At least, it felt like inspiration. Maybe it was just desperation. Tonya! She’s tough and hard and ironlike and all those scary qualities. She’d be a total match for Janet Grady.

So I called up and casually asked if she’d thought about returning to work, now the twins had turned two. Had she thought about moving into marketing, maybe? In sportswear, perhaps? Tonya was quite senior at Shell before she had the boys. I bet her résumé looks really impressive.

“But I’m on a career break,” she objected. “Mag-da! NOT those fish fingers. Look in the bottom drawer of the freezer-”

“You’ve had enough of a break, surely. A woman with your talents-you must be dying to get back to work.”

“Not really.”

“But your brain will go soggy!”

“It won’t go soggy!” She sounded affronted. “You know, I do Suzuki music every week with the boys. It’s stimulating for both children and parents, and I’ve met some other great mums there.”

“You’re telling me you’d rather do Suzuki music and drink cappuccinos than be a top marketing director.” I tried to inject an incredulous note, even though I would a million times rather be doing Suzuki music and drinking cappuccinos right now than dealing with all this.

“Yes,” she said flatly. “I would. Why are you approaching me, anyway, Lara?” Suddenly her voice was more alert. “What’s going on? Have you got a problem? Because you can always talk to me about it, you know, if things are going wrong…”

Oh God. Not the fake-o sympathy.

“Nothing’s going wrong! Just trying to do my big sister a favor.” I left it a moment or two before adding casually, “So, those mums you’ve met at Suzuki music. None of them used to be a top marketing director, did they?”

You’d think out of eight formerly professional mothers there’d have been one marketing director with retail experience who wanted to return to work at once. You’d think.

Anyway. So much for that bright idea. In fact, so much for all my ideas. The only possibility I’ve found is a guy in Birmingham who might move if Leonidas Sports pays for his helicopter commute every week. Which is never going to happen in a million years. I’m doomed. All in all, you’d think now would not be the best time to be glammed up and going to a party.

Nevertheless, here I am in a taxi, glammed up and going to a party.

“We’re here! Park Lane!” Sadie peers out of the window. “Pay the driver! Let’s go!”

Bright flashes from cameras are filling our taxi, and I can hear the hubbub of people greeting one another. I see a group of about ten people in evening dress arriving on the red carpet leading up to the Spencer Hotel, where the Business People dinner is taking place. According to the Financial Times, four hundred of the top business talents in London are going to be gathered here tonight.

As one of those talents, I was all set to cancel, for many, many reasons:

1. I’m back with Josh now and shouldn’t be attending dinners with other men.

2. I’m too stressed out by work.

3. I mean, really stressed out.

4. Janet Grady might be here and yell at me.

5. Clive Hoxton, ditto. Not to mention:

6. Have to talk to Mr. American Frown all night.

But then it hit me. Four hundred businesspeople, all together in one room. Some of them have got to be top-level marketing executives. And some of them have got to want a new job. Surely.

So this is my last-ditch plan. I’m going to find a candidate for Leonidas Sports tonight, at the dinner.

I double-check that my evening bag is well stocked with business cards and glance at my reflection in the window. Needless to say, Sadie took charge of my outfit again. I’m in a black sequined vintage dress with fringed sleeves and beaded Egyptian-style medallions at the shoulders. Over this I’m wearing a cloak. My eyes are heavily kohled, I have a long gold snake bracelet, and even a pair of original stockings, just like Sadie used to wear, apparently. And on my head is a close-fitting diamanté mesh cap, which Sadie found at some antique market.

Tonight I feel a lot more confident, though. For a start, everyone else will be dressed up too. And even though I protested about the cap, I secretly think I look quite cool. I look kind of glam and retro.

Sadie’s dolled up too, in a fringed dress, all turquoise and green, with a peacock feather shawl. She’s wearing about ten necklaces, and on her head is the most ludicrous headdress, with a diamanté waterfall cascading past her ear. She keeps flipping her evening bag open and shut and seems in a manic mood. In fact, she’s been manic ever since she told me that story about her old dead lover. I’ve tried to ask her more about it, but no dice. She just glides away or vanishes or changes the subject. So I’ve given up.

“Let’s go!” Her legs are twitching. “I can’t wait to start dancing!”

For God’s sake. She’s obsessed. And if she thinks I’m dancing with Ed in the middle of the bar for a second time, she needs to think again.

“Sadie, listen,” I say firmly. “It’s a business dinner. There won’t be any dancing. I’m here to work.”

“We’ll find some,” she says confidently. “You can always find dancing.”

Yeah. Whatever.

As I get out, people in evening dress are everywhere, shaking hands confidently and laughing and posing for the cameras. Several of them I recognize from Business People photo spreads. For a moment I feel all twingey with nerves. But then I glance at Sadie and raise my chin, just like she does. So what if they’re important? I’m as good as they are. I’m a partner in my own company. Even if it consists of two people and a dodgy coffee machine.

“Hi. Lara.” Ed’s voice greets me from behind, and I turn. There he is, looking as square-cut and handsome as I might have expected. His dinner jacket fits him perfectly; his dark hair is brushed back perfectly.

Josh never wears a standard DJ. He always wears something offbeat, like a Nehru jacket over jeans. But then, Josh is really cool.

“Hi.” I take Ed’s hand before he gets any idea of kissing me. Not that I think he would. He’s looking my outfit up and down with a quizzical expression.

“You look very… twenties.”

Well spotted, Einstein. “Yes, well.” I shrug. “I like twenties clothes.”

“No kidding,” he says, deadpan.

“You look delicious!” says Sadie joyfully to Ed. She flings herself at him, wraps both arms around his chest, and nuzzles his neck.

Urgh. Is she going to do that all night?

We’re approaching a small group of photographers, and at a signal from a lady with an earpiece, Ed stops with a slight roll of his eyes. “Sorry. I have to do this, I’m afraid.”

“Shit!” I say in panic as the camera flashes blind me. “What do I do?”

“Stand a little side-on,” he murmurs reassuringly. “Chin up and smile. Don’t worry, it’s natural to freak out. I did media training for this stuff. The first time, I was so stiff I looked like a Thunderbird puppet.”

I can’t help smiling. Actually, he does look a bit like a Thunderbird, with his square jaw and dark brows.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says, as the flashes keep coming. “I look like a Thunderbird anyway. It’s OK. I can take the truth.”

“I wasn’t thinking that!” I say unconvincingly. We move on to another group of photographers. “How come you know about Thunderbirds, anyway?”

“Are you kidding? I saw it when I was a kid. I was obsessed. I wanted to be Scott Tracy.”

“I wanted to be Lady Penelope.” I glance up at him. “So you’re interested in one piece of British culture, at least.”

I’m not sure if a children’s TV show counts as “culture,” but I can’t resist making my point. Ed looks surprised and draws breath as though to answer-but before he can, the earpiece lady comes to escort us onward, and the moment’s gone.

As we head into the hotel, I’m looking around, trying to suss out all the people, trying to see if there’s anyone I could approach about the Leonidas Sports job. I have to circulate quickly, before everyone sits down to eat.

Meanwhile, Sadie has been glued to Ed’s side, stroking his hair and rubbing her face against his and running her hand over his chest. As we come to a halt in front of a reception table, she suddenly dips down and pokes her head into his dinner jacket pocket. I’m so disconcerted, I jump.

“Sadie!” I mutter furiously behind Ed’s back. “What are you doing?”

“Having a look at his things!” she says, standing up. “There wasn’t anything very interesting, just some papers and a pack of cards. I wonder what’s in his trouser pockets… hmm…” Her eyes focus on his crotch, and a gleam appears.

“Sadie!” I hiss in horror. “No!”

“Mr. Harrison!” A woman in a chic navy cocktail dress has swooped down on Ed. “I’m Sonia Taylor, head of PR at Dewhurst Publishing. We’re so looking forward to your speech.”

“Pleased to be here.” Ed nods. “May I introduce Lara Lington, my…” He looks at me dubiously, as though searching for the word. “Date.”

“Hello, Lara.” Sonia turns to me with a warm smile. “What line are you in?”

Oh wow. The head of PR at Dewhurst Publishing.

“Hi, Sonia.” I shake her hand in my most professional manner. “I’m in recruitment; do let me give you my card-No!” An involuntary cry leaves my lips.

Sadie has bent down and plunged her face into Ed’s trouser pocket.

“Are you all right?” Sonia Taylor looks concerned.

“I’m fine!” My eyes are darting all around, anywhere but at the sight in front of me. “Fine. Really, really fine…”

“That’s good.” Sonia gives me a slightly strange look. “I’ll just find your name badges.”

Sadie’s head reappears briefly, then plunges back in again. What’s she doing in there?

“Lara, is something wrong?” Ed turns to me with a puzzled frown.

“Um… no!” I manage. “It’s all good, all good…”

“Goodness!” Sadie’s head suddenly reappears. “I got a good view there.”

I clap a hand over my mouth. Ed eyes me suspiciously.

“Sorry,” I manage. “Just… coughing.”

“Here we are!” Sonia turns back from the table and hands us each a badge. “Ed, can I steal you for a moment to run through the order of events?” She smiles stiffly, then leads Ed away.

At once, I pull out my phone as camouflage, then wheel around to Sadie.

“Don’t do that again! You put me off! I didn’t know where to look!”

Sadie raises her eyebrows wickedly. “Just wanted to satisfy my curiosity.”

I’m not even going to ask what that means.

“Well, don’t! That woman Sonia thinks I’m a complete flake now. She didn’t even take my business card.”

“So what?” Sadie gives an insouciant shrug. “Who cares what she thinks?”

It’s as if a switch flips inside me. Doesn’t she realize how desperate I am? Hasn’t she noticed me and Kate working thirteen-hour days?

“I care!” I round on her furiously and she shrinks back. “Sadie, why d’you think I’m here? I’m trying to build up my business! I’m trying to meet important people!” I gesture around at the milling hall. “I’ve got to find a candidate for Leonidas Sports by tomorrow! If I don’t do something soon, we’ll go bust. We practically are bust. I’ve been totally stressed out and you don’t even care. You haven’t even noticed.” My voice is suddenly shaking a bit, which must be because of all the double-shot lattes I’ve drunk today. “Anyway. Whatever. Do what you like. Just stay away from me.”

“Lara-” Sadie starts to speak, but I stride away from her toward the double doors to the main banqueting room. Ed and Sonia are on the podium, and I can see her explaining the microphone to him. Around me, tables are filling up with dynamic-looking men and women. I can hear snatches of conversation about markets and retail sectors and TV campaigns.

This is my big chance. Come on, Lara. Plucking up all my courage, I take a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, then approach a group of business types, all laughing merrily away about something.

“Hi!” I plunge in brightly. “I’m Lara Lington, L &N Executive Recruitment. Let me give you my card!”

“Hello,” says a friendly-looking man with red hair. He makes introductions around the group, and I hand cards to everyone. From their name badges, it seems they all work for software companies.

“So, does anyone here work in marketing?” I ask casually. All eyes turn to a blond-haired man.

“Guilty.” He smiles.

“Would you like a new job?” I blurt out. “It’s at a sports-equipment company-great benefits, a really fab opportunity!”

There’s silence. I can’t breathe for hope. Then everyone bursts into laughter.

“I like your style,” says the red-haired guy, and turns to his neighbor. “Can I interest you in an Asian software subsidiary, only ten years on the clock?”

“One careful owner,” quips another guy, and there’s more laughter.

They think I’m joking. Of course they do.

I hastily join in the laughter too. But inside, I feel like a total moron. I’m never going to find a candidate. This was a ridiculous idea. After a little while I excuse myself and move away, to find Ed approaching me across the floor.

“How’s it going? Sorry to abandon you.”

“No worries. I was… you know. Networking.”

“We’re at table one.” He leads me toward the stage and I feel a flicker of pride, in spite of my low mood. Table 1 at the Business People dinner!

“Lara, I have a question,” says Ed as we walk. “Please don’t take this the wrong way.”

“I’m sure I won’t,” I say. “Fire ahead.”

“I just want to get something straight. You don’t want to be my girlfriend. Is that right?”

“That’s right.” I nod. “And you don’t want to be my boyfriend.”

“No,” he says, emphatically shaking his head. “Uh-uh.” We’ve arrived at the table by now. Ed folds his arms and surveys me as though mystified. “So what are we doing here together?”

“Er… well. Good question.”

I’m not sure how to answer. The truth is, there is no sane reason.

“Friends?” I suggest at last.

“Friends,” he echoes doubtfully. “I guess we could be friends.”

He pulls out my chair and I sit down. By every place is a program with Guest Speaker: Ed Harrison written across the bottom.

“Are you nervous?”

Ed’s eyes flicker, then he gives me a tiny smile. “If I were I wouldn’t say.”

I flick to the back of the program and feel a little kick when I find my own name in the list. Lara Lington, L &N Executive Recruitment.

“You don’t strike me as a typical headhunter,” says Ed, following my gaze.

“Really?” I’m not quite sure how to react. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

“You don’t seem obsessed with money, for a start.”

“I’d like to make more money,” I say honestly. “Lots more. But I suppose that isn’t the main point for me. I’ve always seen headhunting as a bit like-” I break off, embarrassed, and take a sip of wine.

I once told my headhunting theory to Natalie, and she said I was crazy and to shut up about it.

“What?”

“Well. Like matchmaking. Matching the perfect person with the perfect job.”

Ed looks amused. “That’s a different way of looking at it. I’m not sure most people around here would say they were having a love affair with their jobs.” He gestures around the crowded room.

“Maybe they would if it was the right job, though,” I say eagerly. “If you could just match people up with exactly what they want…”

“And you’d be Cupid.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not.” He shakes his head firmly. “I like it as a theory. How does it work in practice?”

I sigh. There’s something about Ed that makes me lower my guard. Maybe it’s because I honestly don’t care what he thinks of me.

“Not great. In fact, right now, pretty shit.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Even worse.” I take another drink of my wine, then look up to see Ed watching me quizzically.

“You’re in a partnership, right?”

“Yes.”

“So… how did you decide who to go into partnership with?” he says lightly. “How did that all happen?”

“Natalie?” I shrug. “Because she’s my best friend and I’ve known her forever and she’s a very talented top headhunter. She used to work for Price Bedford Associates, you know. They’re huge.”

“I know.” He seems to think for a moment. “Out of interest, who told you she was a very talented top headhunter?”

I stare at him, feeling slightly wrong-footed. “No one had to tell me. She just is. I mean…” I meet his skeptical gaze. “What?”

“It’s none of my business. But when you and I first…” Again he hesitates, as though searching for the word. “Met.”

“Yes.” I nod impatiently.

“I did a little asking around. Nobody had even heard of you.”

“Great.” I take a slug of champagne. “There you go.”

“But I have a contact at Price Bedford, and he told me a little about Natalie. Interesting.”

I feel a sudden foreboding at his expression. “Oh, really?” I say defensively. “Because I bet they were pissed off to lose her. So whatever he said-”

Ed lifts his hands. “I don’t want to get into this. It’s your partnership, your friend, your choices.”

OK. Now I have a bad feeling.

“Tell me.” I put my glass down, all my bravado gone. “Please, Ed. Tell me. What did he say?”

“Well.” Ed shrugs. “The story went that she lured a number of high-profile people onto a list for some anonymous ‘blue-chip job’ that didn’t exist. Then she tried to offer them up to some less-than-blue-chip client and claim this was the job she’d meant all along. The shit hit the fan, big-time. The senior partner at her firm had to step in, calm things down. That’s why she was fired.” Ed hesitates. “But you knew this, right?”

I stare at him, speechless. Natalie was fired? She was fired?

She told me she’d decided to quit Price Bedford because she was undervalued and she could make far more money working for herself.

“Is she here tonight?” He’s looking around the room. “Will I meet her?”

“No.” I eventually manage to find my voice. “She’s… not around at the moment.”

I can’t tell him she’s left me in the lurch to run the company all by myself. I can’t admit that it’s even worse than he thinks. Blood is ebbing in and out of my face as I try to process all this.

She never told me she’d been fired. Never. I can still remember her first pitching the idea of our company to me, over champagne at some fancy bar. She told me everyone in the industry was dying to set up with her, but she wanted to link up with someone she really trusted. An old friend. Someone she could have fun with. She painted such an amazing picture and dropped so many big names, I was bowled over. I quit my job the next week and took out all my savings. I’m such a gullible … idiot. I feel tears trembling on the brink of my lashes and quickly take a gulp of champagne.

“Lara?” Sadie’s shrill voice comes in my ear. “Lara, come quick! I need to talk to you.”

I really don’t feel like talking to Sadie. But nor can I keep sitting here with Ed looking at me with so much concern. I think he’s guessed this is all a total shock to me.

“I’ll be back in a second!” I say overbrightly, and push my chair back. I head across the crowded room, trying to ignore Sadie, who’s pursuing me, jabbering in my ear.

“I’m very sorry,” she’s saying. “I thought about it and you’re right, I was selfish and thoughtless. So I decided to help you, and I have! I’ve found you a candidate! A wonderful, perfect candidate!” Her words interrupt my painful, circular thought pattern.

“What?” I turn. “What did you say?”

“You may think I’m not interested in your work, but I am,” she announces. “You need a trophy, and I’ve found you one. Aren’t I clever?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been listening in on everyone’s conversations!” she says proudly. “I was starting to think it was hopeless, but then I heard a woman called Clare whispering to her friend in a corner. She’s not happy. It’s the power games, you know.” Sadie opens her eyes at me impressively. “Things are getting so bad at her place, she’s thinking of quitting.”

“Right. So the point is-”

“She’s a head of marketing, of course!” Sadie says triumphantly. “It was on her badge. I knew that’s what you wanted, a head of marketing. She won an award last month, you know. But her new ‘chief exec’ didn’t even congratulate her. He’s a total pig,” she adds confidingly. “That’s why she wants to leave.”

I swallow several times, trying to stay calm. A marketing head who wants to move jobs. An award-winning marketing head who wants to move jobs. Oh God. I would die and go to heaven.

“Sadie… is this for real?”

“Of course! She’s over there!” Sadie gestures at the other side of the room.

“Is she into sports? Exercise?”

“Brawny calves,” says Sadie. “I noticed them at once.”

I hurry to a nearby board and look through the list of guests. Clare… Clare…

“Clare Fortescue, marketing director of Shepherd Homes?” I feel a jab of excitement. “She was on my new long list! I wanted to talk to her, but I couldn’t get through!”

“Well, she’s here! Come on, I’ll show her to you!”

My heart is thumping as I cross the crowded room, searching all the faces for someone looking like a Clare.

“There!” Sadie is pointing at a woman with glasses in a royal blue dress. She has cropped dark hair, a mole on her nose, and is on the short side. I probably wouldn’t even have spotted her if Sadie hadn’t pointed her out to me.

“Hi!” I walk up to her and take a deep breath. “Clare Fortescue?”

“Yes?” she says briskly.

“May I have a quick word?”

“Well… OK.” Looking a bit puzzled, Clare Fortescue allows me to draw her away from the group she’s in.

“Hi.” I give her a nervous smile. “My name’s Lara, and I’m a recruitment consultant. I’ve been meaning to make contact with you. Your reputation has spread, you know.”

“Really?” She looks suspicious.

“Of course! In fact… I must congratulate you on your recent award!”

“Oh.” A pink tinge comes to Clare Fortescue’s ears. “Thanks very much.”

“I’m recruiting for a marketing director position right now”-I lower my voice discreetly-“and I just wanted to mention it. It’s a really exciting sportswear company with massive potential, and I think you’d be perfect. You’d be my number-one pick.” I pause, then add lightly, “But, of course, you may be very happy where you are right now…”

There’s silence. I can’t tell what’s going on behind Clare Fortescue’s glasses. My whole body is so tense, I can’t even breathe.

“Actually… I have been thinking about a move,” she says at last, so quietly I can barely hear. “I might very well be interested. But it would have to be the right situation.” She gives me a bulletlike look. “I’m not compromising myself. I have standards.”

Somehow I manage not to whoop. She’s interested and she’s tough!

“Great!” I smile. “Maybe I can call you in the morning. Or if you had a few minutes to spare right now?” I try not to sound desperate. “We could have a chat? Just quickly?”

Please… please… please please please…

Ten minutes later I walk back to the table, giddy with joy. She’s going to send me her résumé tomorrow. She used to play right wing in hockey! She’s a perfect match!

Sadie seems even more thrilled than I am as we head back to the table.

“I knew it!” she keeps saying. “I knew she’d be right!”

“You’re a star,” I say joyfully. “We’re a team. High-five!”

“High what?” Sadie looks perplexed.

“High-five! Don’t you know what a high-five is? Hold up your hand…”

OK. It turns out high-fiving a ghost is a mistake. That woman in red thought I was trying to hit her. Hastily, I resume walking. I arrive at the table and beam at Ed. “I’m back!”

“So you are.” He gives me a quizzical look. “How’s it going?”

“Brilliantly, since you ask.”

“Brilliantly!” echoes Sadie, and jumps into his lap. I reach for my champagne glass. Suddenly I’m in the mood for a party.