Twenties Girl

Anyway. No point dwelling on that now.

“OK.” I slap my hand on the desk. “I’m going to make some calls.”

“I’ll make you a fresh coffee.” Kate springs into action. “We’ll stay here all night if we have to.”

I love Kate. She acts like she’s in a film about some really thrusting multinational company, instead of two people in a ten-foot-square office with moldy carpet.

“Salary, salary, salary,” she says as she sits down.

“You snooze, you lose,” I respond.

Kate got into reading Natalie’s mantras too. Now we can’t stop quoting them at each other. The trouble is, they don’t actually tell you how to do the job. What I need is the mantra telling you how to get past the question “May I ask what it is in co

I swing my chair over to Natalie’s desk to get out all the Leonidas Sports paperwork. The cardboard file has fallen off its hangers inside her drawer, so with a muttered curse I gather all the papers together and pull them out. Then suddenly I stop, as I notice an old Post-it which has somehow attached itself to my hand. I’ve never seen this before. James Yates, mobile is written in faded purple felt-tip. And then a number.

A mobile number for James Yates. I don’t believe it! He’s marketing director at Feltons Breweries! He’s on the long list! He’d be perfect! Whenever I’ve tried his office, I’ve been told he’s “abroad.” But wherever he is, he’ll have his mobile, won’t he? Trembling with excitement, I push my chair back to my own desk and dial the number.

“James Yates.” The line is a little crackly but I can still hear him.

“Hi,” I say, trying to sound as confident as possible. “It’s Lara Lington here. Can you talk?” This is what Natalie always says on the phone; I’ve heard her.

“Who is this?” He sounds suspicious. “Did you say you’re from Lingtons?”

I give an inward sigh.

“No, I’m from L &N Executive Recruitment, and I was phoning to see if you’d be interested in a new position, heading up marketing in a dynamic, growing retail company. It’s a very exciting opportunity, so if you’d like to discuss it, perhaps over a discreet lunch at a restaurant of your choice…” I’m going to die if I don’t breathe, so I stop and gasp for air.

“L &N?” He sounds wary. “I don’t know you.”

“We’re a relatively new outfit, myself and Natalie Masser-”

“Not interested.” He cuts me off.

“It’s a marvelous opportunity,” I say quickly. “You’ll have a chance to expand your horizons; there’s a lot of exciting potential in Europe -”

“Sorry. Good-bye.”

“And a ten percent discount on sportswear!” I call desperately down the dead phone.

He’s gone. He didn’t even give me a chance.

“What did he say?” Kate approaches, her hands clutched hopefully around a coffee cup.

“He hung up.” I slump in my chair as Kate puts down the coffee. “We’re never going to get anyone good.”

“Yes, we will!” says Kate, just as the phone starts ringing. “Maybe this is some brilliant executive who’s longing for a new job…” She hurries back to her desk and picks up the phone with her best assistant’s ma

I suppose strictly speaking it was Natalie’s triumph, since she made the placement, but I’ve been doing all the follow-up work. Anyway, it’s a company triumph.

“Hi, Shireen!” I say cheerfully. “All set for the new job? I just know it’s going to be a great position for you-”

“Lara.” Shireen interrupts tensely. “There’s a problem.”

My stomach plunges. No. No. Please no problems.

“Problem?” I force myself to sound relaxed. “What kind of problem?”

“It’s my dog.”

“Your dog?”

“I’m intending to take Flash into work every day. But I just phoned human resources about setting up a basket for him, and they said it was impossible. They said it wasn’t their policy to allow animals in the offices, can you believe it?”

She clearly expects me to be as outraged as she is. I stare at the phone in bewilderment. How has a dog suddenly entered the picture?

“Lara? Are you there?”

“Yes!” I come to. “Shireen, listen to me. I’m sure you’re really fond of Flash. But it’s not usual to take dogs into the workplace-”

“Yes, it is!” she interrupts. “There’s another dog in the building. I’ve heard it every time I’ve been in. That’s why I assumed it would be fine! I never would have taken this job otherwise! They’re discriminating against me.”

“I’m sure they’re not discriminating,” I say hurriedly. “I’ll call them straightaway.” I put down the phone, then quickly dial the HR department at Macrosant. “Hi, Jean? It’s Lara Lington here, from L &N Executive Recruitment. I just wanted to clarify a small point. Is Shireen Moore permitted to bring her dog to work?”

“The whole building has a no-dog policy,” says Jean pleasantly. “I’m sorry, Lara, it’s an insurance thing.”

“Of course. Absolutely. I understand.” I pause. “The thing is, Shireen believes she’s heard another dog in the building. Several times.”

“She’s mistaken,” Jean says after the tiniest of beats. “There are no dogs here.”

“None at all? Not even one little puppy?” My suspicions have been aroused by that pause.

“Not even one little puppy.” Jean has regained her smoothness. “As I say, there’s a no-dog policy in the building.”

“And you couldn’t make an exception for Shireen?”

“I’m afraid not.” She’s polite but implacable.

“Well, thanks for your time.”

I put the phone down and tap my pencil silently on my notepad for a few seconds. Something’s up. I bet there is a dog there. But what can I do about it? I can’t exactly phone Jean back and say, “I don’t believe you.”

With a sigh, I redial Shireen’s number.

“Lara, is that you?” She picks up straightaway, as though she’s been sitting by the phone, waiting for an answer, which she probably has. She’s very bright, Shireen, and very intense. I can picture her now, drawing that endless crisscross of squares which she obsessively doodles everywhere. She probably needs a dog, just to stay sane.

“Yes, it’s me. I called Jean and she says no one else in the building has a dog. She says it’s an insurance thing.”

There’s silence as Shireen digests this.

“She’s lying,” she says at last. “There is a dog in there.”

“Shireen…” I feel like banging my head against the desk. “Couldn’t you have mentioned the dog before? At one of the interviews, maybe?”

“I assumed it would be OK!” she says defensively. “I heard the other dog barking! You can tell when there’s a dog in a place. Well, I’m not working without Flash. I’m sorry, Lara, I’ll have to pull out of the job.”

“Nooo!” I cry out in dismay before I can stop myself. “I mean… please don’t do anything rash, Shireen! I’ll sort this out, I promise. I’ll call you soon.” Breathing heavily, I put the phone down and bury my head in my hands. “Crap!”

“What are you going to do?” ventures Kate anxiously. She clearly overheard the whole thing.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “What would Natalie do?”

Both of us instinctively glance toward Natalie’s desk, gleaming and empty. I have a sudden vision of Natalie sitting there: her lacquered nails tapping on the desk, her voice raised in some high-octane call. Since she’s been gone, the volume level in this office has dropped by about eighty percent.

“She might tell Shireen she had to take the job and threaten to sue her if she didn’t,” says Kate at last.

“She’d definitely tell Shireen to get over herself.” I nod in agreement. “She’d call her unprofessional and flaky.”

I once heard Natalie tearing a strip off some guy who had second thoughts about taking up a position in Dubai. It wasn’t pretty.

The deep-down truth, which I don’t want to admit to anyone, is that now I’ve got to know the way Natalie thinks and does business… I don’t really relate to a lot of it. What appealed to me about this job was working with people, changing lives. When we used to meet up and Natalie would tell me her stories of finding talent, I was always just as interested in the story behind the deal as the deal itself. I thought it must be so much more satisfying to help people’s careers than to sell cars. But that aspect doesn’t seem to feature highly on our agenda.