Chasing Dreams Page 5

  ‘Well I won’t be telling him anything he doesn’t already know,’ Craig grinned.

  ‘Don’t take any notice of him,’ Jodi told Sandy, starting to push Craig out the door. ‘He’s got a vivid imagination. If Michael calls I’ll tell him you want to speak to him,’ she said to Craig, ‘now get lost.’

  As Craig passed the window he looked in and blew Jodi a kiss.

  ‘If I didn’t love him I’d kill him,’ Jodi muttered.

  Sandy was laughing. ‘He’s really easy-going, isn’t he?’ she said. ‘And he looks really young to be an agent.’

  Jodi sighed. ‘Doesn’t he just,’ she said. ‘How old would you put him at?’

  ‘Twenty-four, twenty-five,’ Sandy guessed.

  ‘Thirty-two,’ Jodi corrected. ‘Doesn’t it make you sick? It’s the blond hair and baby-blue eyes that do it, and those rosy red cheeks. But if you think he’s good looking you wait ’til you see Michael.’ She thought about that for a moment, then said, ‘Well, I suppose it depends on your taste. Craig’s blond, Michael’s dark. Craig’s gay, Michael’s straight. In fact the only thing they’ve got in common is their age and being an agent.’

  ‘Craig’s gay!’ Sandy said.

  ‘Strictly,’ Jodi replied. ‘Sorry to disillusion you, but I’ve seen too many fall into that trap to want to see it happen to you. He’s really friendly, gets on great with women, but when it comes to true love and the dastardly deed he only leans one way.’

  Sandy looked across to Craig’s office again, and seeing his assistant carrying a pile of paperwork up the steps she said, ‘Are he and Bertie …?’

  Jodi laughed. ‘God, no. Craig’s much more subtle than that. In fact I don’t even know if Craig’s got a boyfriend. No one seems to know anything about his private life. He never talks about it, but it’s hard to imagine someone who looks like him going without, don’t you think?’

  Sandy nodded. ‘What about Dan?’ she asked. ‘Michael’s partner. What’s he like?’

  ‘Dan,’ Jodi answered, sitting back down at her desk, ‘is an absolute sweetheart. He’s married to Michael’s sister, Colleen. They’ve got two kids, another about to arrive, and Michael’s mother Clodagh more or less lives with them.’

  Sandy smiled. ‘They sound like a close family,’ she remarked, sitting down too.

  ‘Oh, they’re definitely that,’ Jodi confirmed. ‘Clodagh calls at least once a day, which is generally an excuse to have a gossip with whoever answers the phone, because she usually ends up forgetting to ask for Michael. She’s a doll, though. Everyone loves her. Bit mad, but she’s Irish so what do you expect? There’s another son, Cavan. He’s in his early twenties and the real darling of the family. He’s got a different father to Michael and Colleen, but you’d never know it. They all dote on that boy. Every one of them. And if you met him you’d know why. It’s not something you can put into words, it’s just like something you feel, you know. Like you just love him, because he’s the most lovable person you ever met. He looks a lot like Michael, but younger, and the last I heard he was rescuing otters somewhere in Norway.’ She frowned. ‘I might have that wrong. You never know with Cavan, he’s always into something weird. Not that otters are weird, but you get my drift. Hello, Michael McCann’s office,’ she said into the phone.

  By the end of the morning Sandy was feeling much more confident and at home than she’d ever have dared hope when she first arrived. Everyone was so open and friendly and eager to show her how things were done that her initial shyness had almost completely vanished and she hoped it wouldn’t be long now before she managed to laugh without blushing. In fact, she was feeling so good and enjoying answering the phones and learning the computer so much that she had all but forgotten that she had no more money in her purse than it took to get home. Indeed, she might not have remembered until it was time to leave, had Dan’s assistant, Shirley, not called her into her office to go over her records.

  Sandy’s misery was total as she sat in the spacious, shiny office with the same view of the river as hers and Jodi’s, watching Shirley enter all her lies into a computer. The ridiculous part about it was now she was getting to know them she didn’t think these people would mind that she was a no one. In fact, she couldn’t imagine them thinking that way about anyone, no matter who they were. Well, perhaps Bertie might, and Janine and Frances were pretty thick with him, but on the whole these were the easiest-going people she’d ever met. Even Adrian Fisher, the bloke who hosted the morning breakfast show, had been really nice to her on the phone when he’d rung in earlier. In fact, he’d said he was looking forward to meeting her, but whether he meant it or whether he was just being polite, she wasn’t too sure.

  ‘So, you’re a Shropshire lass,’ Shirley beamed, her lined, powdered face reminding Sandy of her mother. Not that her mother ever smiled like that, but she wasn’t much good at putting powder on either. ‘Such a lovely part of the country,’ Shirley said. ‘My sister lived there for a while, we used to go to visit every summer.’

  Sandy continued to smile, while silently begging God not to let Shirley ask if she knew anywhere in Shropshire. She wondered now why she had chosen it, when she didn’t know the first thing about it. In fact, for all she knew, it could be even worse than Beddesley Heath. It seemed not, though, from the look on Shirley’s face.

  ‘And you and your father ran a bookshop,’ Shirley said, consulting the screen in front of her. ‘What a wonderful thing to do. I’ve always fancied it myself, retiring to the country and surrounding myself with books.’

  ‘It had its moments,’ Sandy responded, astonishing herself with such a slick reply.

  Shirley’s eyes twinkled. Then, returning to the screen she said, ‘OK, we have most of your background details, so what we need now is to confirm where you’re living in London and get a home telephone number for you and one we can call in case of emergency.’

  Sandy’s smile remained, but the warmth was draining. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, thinking fast. The address she could give, as she’d found herself a poky little bedsit in Barking with shared shower and toilet and there was a phone box on the landing that took incoming calls. But the number for emergencies was a problem as she didn’t know anyone yet, never mind their telephone number, and she’d said at the interview that she had a cousin in London. Quickly she gave the details she could, then added the first eleven-digit number that came into her head, for emergencies.

  Shirley was nodding happily. ‘Lovely,’ she said, hitting the enter key. ‘I’m glad you managed to find yourself a place so quickly. I’m not familiar with Barking. Is it nice?’

  ‘Oh, very,’ Sandy lied. ‘I mean, my flat isn’t anything special, but it’ll do until I find somewhere else.’

  Inside she was crying, for the crummy little bedsit had cost her four hundred pounds in advance rent, with another thousand payable in four weeks to cover the following month’s rent and a security deposit. She was lucky that the landlord had agreed to wait for the deposit, though where on earth she was going to find a spare six hundred pounds when finally she got paid she had no idea. But that was four weeks away yet, and right now she had more to worry about than rent, when she was ravenously hungry and all that was in her purse was enough to cover her fare home at the end of the day. If she could she’d walk, but even if she knew the way, which she didn’t, it would take her half the night and by the time she got there she’d have to turn around and come back.

  She looked at Shirley and was right on the point of asking for an advance when her nerve failed. What reason could she give for needing an advance, when she had just sold a bookshop and presumably inherited whatever other assets her father had owned? Come to that, with all that money, why would she be living in a place like Barking? She wished desperately that she’d never told those lies now, but she couldn’t think of a way to take them back.

  ‘Oh, just one last thing,’ Shirley said. ‘Sandy? Is that Sandra or Alexandra?’

  ‘Alexandra,’ Sandy replied, lyi
ng again.

  Shirley typed it in, then clicked a few times on the mouse. ‘OK, well that’s us done,’ she said, getting up. ‘I hope you’re going to be very happy here at McCanns. We aren’t without our faults, but on the whole I think you’ll find us a pleasant bunch. Dan should be in tomorrow, I’ll introduce you then. Michael, I believe, is due in any minute.’

  Sandy nodded and felt her heart turn over at the prospect of meeting her new boss.

  As she returned to her office Jodi was on her way out. ‘Ah, there you are,’ she cried, tugging on her coat. ‘Michael’s just arrived. He’s in his office with Zelda. I’ve got to go and get some sandwiches, can you take them in a coffee and answer the phones while I’m gone?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Sandy said, hiding her panic well. ‘Uh, what kind of coffee do they take? Black? White? Sugar?’

  ‘They both take black, no sugar. Zelda likes to have her own mug. It’s the dark-green one next to the coffee machine. Can I get you a sandwich while I’m there? They do everything. Tuna, prawn, chicken, you name it.’

  Sandy’s mouth watered. ‘Uh, no thanks, I’m not hungry,’ she said. It was now almost twenty-four hours since she’d last eaten and she didn’t even want to think about how much longer it was going to be to the next time.

  ‘Jodi, are you still there?’

  Jodi turned and running back to her desk pushed a button on the intercom. ‘Still here,’ she confirmed, winking at Sandy. ‘Michael,’ she mouthed.

  ‘Bring me in the file on Don Portman before you go,’ he said, ‘and make sure his number in the Cotswolds is there.’

  ‘Will do,’ Jodi responded and let the button go. ‘The file is in the second drawer over there,’ she said to Sandy, spinning her Rolodex. ‘If you get it … Ah, here we are, Don Portman, Tetbury.’ She passed the card to Sandy. ‘Write that number on the inside cover of the file and take it in with the coffee. I’ll be back in ten minutes, fifteen if there’s a queue.’

  Sandy did as she was told, her hands shaking slightly as she wrote down the number, then went to pour the coffee. Her face felt strained and there was a slight dizziness in her head and strangeness in her stomach that had as much to do with nerves as it did with hunger. She so desperately wanted to make a good impression on her new boss, yet she felt almost sick with apprehension at the prospect of meeting him.

  The file was tucked securely under one arm as she carried two mugs of coffee the short distance to his office. The inner circle was emptying for lunch now and none of those left appeared to notice her, and even if they did they’d never guess how she was feeling. Perhaps if she weren’t so hungry she’d have a better grip on herself, but feeling so empty and weird inside she was finding it difficult to keep her mind on one track.

  Fortunately the door was slightly ajar, so giving it a gentle nudge with her foot she peeped round to see if it was all right to go in. There was no sign of anyone, then a voice behind the door, the same voice she’d heard on the intercom, said, ‘I hear what you’re saying, Bob, but I’ve got the schedule in front of me and it’s not looking good. He’s shooting in Sunderland all that week. Hang on, let me see … It’s dated a couple of weeks ago, so yeah, things might have changed. I’ll check it out and get back to you. OK? Yeah, later today.’

  Sandy stayed where she was, half in, half out of the door, not knowing which way to go. She couldn’t knock, because her hands were full, but she didn’t feel right about going in unannounced.

  ‘Beep, beep,’ someone said behind her.

  Sandy started, slopped the coffee and turned to find Zelda smiling down at her. Her heart filled with relief.

  ‘Och, it’s Sandy!’ Zelda exclaimed, her round, sparkly eyes reflecting the warmth in her throaty Scots voice. ‘How are you, dear? Glad you managed to get here all right. Settling in OK, are you?’

  ‘Oh, uh yes, thank you,’ Sandy stumbled. ‘Um, I was just bringing you some coffee.’

  ‘Terrific,’ Zelda intoned, already gesturing for Sandy to go on in. ‘Have you met Michael yet? Where is he?’

  ‘Right here,’ Michael answered, pulling the door open wide.

  ‘Michael,’ Zelda said, ‘this is Sandy, our new recruit. Sandy, this is Michael McCann.’

  Sandy turned to look at him. For the moment she could only see his profile as he was standing over a table behind the door, his chin resting on a mobile phone while he studied a chart in front of him. He lifted a hand and pushed it into his untidy dark hair, then pulled a face as he muttered something under his breath and scratched his chin. Sandy wondered if she should say something, but he seemed so deep in thought that she didn’t like to interrupt.

  At last he seemed to sense she was there and turned to look at her. The confusion in his arresting blue eyes was only fleeting as he belatedly registered what Zelda had said. Immediately he broke into a smile. ‘Hello, Sandy,’ he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and steering her towards the desk. ‘How are you settling in? Have you met everyone? Here, why don’t you put those down there?’

  Sandy put the coffee down, then took the file from under her arm. She waited as he walked around the desk, saying something to Zelda who was talking on the phone. Sandy’s heart was pumping faster than ever, her face felt unbearably hot and all her senses seemed to be reeling.

  Michael was looking at Zelda, listening to what she was saying. Then he turned back to Sandy and smiled again. His teeth were slightly uneven, but seemed only to make his smile more striking. His nose was in perfect proportion to the rest of his face, his eyebrows were thick and almost joined at the centre, and his eyes were so intensely blue that she almost missed the way they were simmering with humour. He needed to shave and his tie was skewed to one side, but there was no question in Sandy’s mind that he was the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on.

  ‘Is that Don Portman’s file?’ he asked.

  Sandy looked down at the hand he was holding out. His fingers were long and slender, there was hair on the back of his hand. ‘Um, yes,’ she said, passing the file over.

  His smile grew wider and Sandy blushed so hard it hurt. There didn’t seem much doubt that he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on her, which was probably, Sandy guessed, the same effect he had on every woman he met. The idea of how glamorous and sophisticated those other women must be in comparison with her made her feel faintly sick inside. Yet being different might be just what would attract him to her.

  ‘Why don’t you go and get yourself a coffee, then come and let us get to know you?’ he said, sitting down and opening the file.

  To Sandy’s dismay, no sound came out as she made to answer. She tried again. ‘I have to answer the phones while Jodi’s out,’ she said quietly.

  He was looking down at the file. ‘It’s lunch-time,’ he said, ‘there won’t be many calls. Tell him the deal didn’t go through,’ he said.

  Sandy frowned, then belatedly realized he was talking to Zelda. She continued to stand awkwardly where she was, not sure what to do now. He was leafing through the file again and Zelda, perched on the edge of his desk in a huge, flowery dress and beaded headband, was engrossed on the phone. In the end she decided to go back to her office.

  As she sat down at her desk she could hear him talking in the next room and wondered if she should do as he’d said and get herself a coffee to take back. A part of her wanted to desperately, but another part was telling her that he had already forgotten he’d mentioned it. She poured herself a coffee anyway to help ease the hunger pangs which, for the moment, didn’t seem quite so acute as they had.

  A fax came in for Bertie so she took it to his desk. The lower circle was deserted now: everyone, it seemed, had gone for lunch. She went back to her office and carried on entering addresses into the computer.

  ‘Sandy, are you there?’ Michael’s voice suddenly came over the intercom.

  Sandy leapt to her feet and leaned quickly across to Jodi’s desk. As her finger hit the button her arm hit the coffee. ‘Yes, I’
m here,’ she said, whisking a set of photographs out of the way before the coffee could reach them.

  ‘See if you can get hold of Pat Roseman at Freeman Banks, will you?’ he said. ‘The number should be on the Rolodex, probably under F or R. If it’s not, come back to me and we’ll try again.’

  Sandy found the number, dialled it and asked for Pat Roseman. The voice at the other end told her that Mr Roseman was at lunch. Sandy asked her to hold and buzzed through to Michael. ‘Pat Roseman is at lunch,’ she said, ‘shall I leave a message for him to ring back?’

  ‘Yes, why not?’ Michael said. ‘Tell him it’s about the Mantree project.’

  Sandy went back on the line, gave the message, then rang off. She felt so ridiculously proud that she had suggested the message that she couldn’t stop herself grinning. And what luck to have had the opportunity to show off her initiative so early.

  ‘Are you joining us?’ Michael said. ‘Or are you too busy cleaning the furniture?’

  Sandy stopped mopping up the coffee and stared at the intercom. How on earth did he know what she was doing? Then realizing he was standing behind her she turned and started to laugh. ‘Sorry, I thought …’ she said, waving towards the intercom.

  He grinned. ‘No, it’s the real thing. Any sign of Jodi with those sandwiches? I’m starving.’

  ‘Not. yet,’ Sandy answered. ‘Shall I go and see if I can find her?’

  ‘No need, she’s here,’ he said as the lift doors opened and Jodi came rushing out. ‘I forgot to tell you,’ he said to Jodi as she bounded up the steps towards him, ‘I saw Butch Wilkins this morning, he said to send his love.’

  ‘Very droll,’ Jodi remarked.

  Michael was laughing.

  ‘I hope you’re not intimidating Sandy,’ she said, dropping the sandwiches into Michael’s hand and starting to take off her coat. ‘You’ve got mine there as well, before you go,’ she told him. ‘Did you remember to call Kate?’

  Michael pulled a face.

  Jodi sighed. ‘She specifically said you were to call her before one o’clock,’ she said.