Authors: Faith Bleasdale
They worked through lunch, getting the desk assistant to fetch them sandwiches. Sarah gave Clara research, reports and magazines to study. She put them in a pile to take home. Then they moved on to the client orders. Clara listened as Sarah spoke to clients, took orders, wrote tickets, shouted to traders, got confirmations, gave confirmations. Although this was stressful, and sometimes it seemed that the traders messed up, there was a methodical pattern, which Clara filed in her brain as well as taking notes.
Then Sarah gave her the opportunity to take an order herself. Clara spoke to the client, took the order, double-checked that the numbers were correct, shouted the order across, filled in a ticket, and ten minutes later called the client to tell him the order had been successfully filled. The buzz that Clara felt when she put the phone down was immense.
Sarah smiled at her.
“There’s hope for you yet.”
Clara had been so caught up in her new-found enthusiasm that she hadn
’t noticed Tim return to the office. He watched her, puzzled that she and Sarah seemed so chummy, especially as the other day Sarah had made plain her feelings about Clara. He had brought Clara perfume and chocolates – he had even been to his favourite underwear shop and purchased some sexy lingerie. He was looking forward to the evening when he would see her in it. He had told his wife that he would not be back until late. She would probably be so busy with the children and homework that she wouldn’t even notice what time he got home. Even if she did question him, Tim would tell her that he had been with clients. As Constance liked the money his position gave them, she would never push further. Tim smiled to himself as he realised how well he had organised his life.
Just before five that afternoon, Clara was calling all her clients to give them an end-of-day round-up. She smiled, she laughed, but she also gave them some interesting information. When she hung up at the end of each conversation, they were all a little confused: Clara never talked to them about anything other than lunch or dinner.
Tim came up behind her and felt desire flood him. Clara didn’t turn round but she caught his reflection in her screen. He paced round the desk, asking each of his salespeople in turn how they were doing.
“
Have you got a client dinner booked tonight?” he asked Clara.
Clara
’s hair stood on end: she understood the code. Although she wanted to read her research and have an early night, she also needed cocaine. It would be a while before she could ditch him.
“
No, I’m going to stay in and study the markets.” She smiled at him innocently: she was the old Clara again.
She left at six that evening, after making her usual visit to the downstairs ladies
’. On her way home she popped into Harrods, where she bought handmade chocolates for Sarah.
As soon as she got into her flat, she draped her coat over the armchair, poured a glass of red wine and started reading. She found it interesting, although she had to reread some sentences a number of times. She was still immersed in it an hour later when the doorbell rang. She opened it to find Tim standing there.
He kissed her sloppily on the lips and walked in, handed her a bottle of Krug, and an expensive-looking shopping-bag. Then he took back the champagne and marched into the kitchen. Clara followed him, wishing that he didn’t behave as if it were his flat.
As he poured two glasses of champagne, she opened the bag. In it was Chanel perfume, the kind he always bought her. Clara was astounded at how much perfume he must think she wore because she had loads of unopened bottles. The reason they were unopened – apart from the fact that he gave her so many – was that Tim, an expert adulterer, gave her the same perfume his wife wore, which Clara didn
’t like as it made her smell ‘wifely’. She always wore her own perfume and, not as clever as he thought, Tim had never noticed.
Next she found French chocolates, which she put in the fridge; she regretted her trip to Harrods – she could have given these to Sarah. Lastly, wrapped in tissue paper, she found the flimsiest, laciest underwear she had ever seen.
“Go and put it on. I’ll line up,” Tim ordered.
Clara took it to the bedroom. She prised herself into the black bra, pants and suspender belt (she had to cut the top off a pair of tights because Tim hadn
’t bought her any stockings). When she finished, she reapplied her lipstick, doused herself liberally in her own perfume and slipped on her sexy stiletto shoes. When she glanced in the mirror she had to admit that she looked like a whore – but a damned sexy one.
When he saw her Tim
’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He snorted his line, let her have hers, then ripped at her tiny pants and thrust himself straight into her.
After the
‘passion’ ended, Clara made herself another line and poured another glass of champagne. Tim did the same.
“
Darling, you are so sexy.” He tweaked a nipple.
Clara giggled, feeling the effect of the cocaine.
“So are you, Timmy,” she replied, and kissed him.
Tim was still half dressed – he never took all his clothes off because he was always so desperate for Clara.
“I’m going away this weekend. Taking the girls to Scotland to see Constance’s parents. I wish I could be with you, though.” His voice was soft, he was being nice, and Clara almost liked him when he was nice.
“
I’ll miss you,” Clara lied.
“
Of course you will. Come on, give me a blow job.” Clara stifled a sigh. Nice Tim had disappeared again, as he forcefully pushed her head down to his crotch.
He left at midnight, after more sex, cocaine and champagne. He had also left Clara with four grams, which would get her through the weekend. She went to bed smiling. She had cocaine, she had her new ambition, and she had a weekend without Tim. Life was looking up.
At half past five, Ella was in the gym. The horror of yesterday had passed and she felt human again. She had decided to write off yesterday. Today she was not only working out, she was mentally preparing herself to make money, and she intended to make a lot. As she walked into the shower room, Ella sang. She was in a very good mood.
By the time Ella got started the markets were flying. Once again, trading activity was the way she liked it: fast and aggressive. Two hours later, she had traded millions of pounds worth of stock and her account glowed with profit.
“
Ella, I need to discuss Johnny with you.” She hadn’t seen Jeff creep up behind her.
“
In your office?” she said, cringing inside. She had been hoping for a nice salad and the
Financial
Times
. Now she had to have a discussion with Jeff on the man she had mentally written off.
“
No, I thought we’d discuss it over lunch. My secretary has booked a restaurant.” Jeff’s tone suggested that this was not optional.
“
What time?” Ella asked.
“
One.” He strode back to his office.
“
Oh, lunch with the boss! Who’s special?” John teased.
“Maybe
Jeff has a more than professional interest in you,” Liam teased.
“
Or maybe he has a more than professional interest in the new cupcake guy. After all, I don’t remember him being so anxious about any of us,” Trevor suggested.
“
He’s probably just worried that after one week with you, Johnny’ll leave the firm and never want to come back. And who would blame him?” They all laughed and Ella glared at them, then giggled.
“
Yes, Miss Boss Lover. We’d better watch what we say in front of you,” Jimmy shouted.
Ella had time to read the
Financial
Times
quickly before Jeff came for her. She pulled on her jacket and followed him. She glanced back to see her desk all standing up making faces at her. She stuck two fingers up behind her back and quickened her pace to catch up with Jeff.
The restaurant was a fifteen-minute walk away and Jeff spent the time asking her how she felt things were going on the desk. Ella told him how happy she was; Jeff nodded and smiled.
They reached the restaurant, which was a typical City lunch spot: white tablecloths, wooden floors and anxious waiters. They sat down and Jeff ordered a bottle of red wine. Ella respected Jeff, but his management method included doing as he liked without asking anyone. With Johnny, Ella had been
told
she would be his mentor, not
asked
. The funny thing was that, where it mattered, Ella trusted Jeff’s judgement, so she didn’t mind. But she also felt she should give her opinion, even if it was ignored.
Ella took a sip of the wine and studied the menu – a salad to start, she thought, and chicken for her main course. She hoped that Jeff wouldn
’t want dessert – she wouldn’t be able to work that afternoon if she ate too much.
“
We’ve had a great week,” Jeff said.
“
Certainly have, in fact one of my best.”
“
Yes, actually, Ella, it is one of your best, and one of our best. Well done.”
Ella glowed. She was like a little girl when it came to praise; she basked in it. The waiter approached and they ordered the food.
“What did you think of Johnny?” Jeff asked, when the waiter had left.
Ella thought for a few seconds about how to respond. Then she said,
“I’m going to be honest with you. I was disappointed at the way he dismissed me. It was a typical sexist reaction. He looked at all the men before looking at me. He obviously thought I was a secretary. And when you told him I would be his mentor, he was horrified.”
“
I agree. Listen, Ella, Johnny is a very clever boy. First from Oxford, MBA from Harvard – he’s definitely SFH material. We want the best and Johnny fits the bill. Now, I know none of you interviewed him, but I did and there’s no question he’s bright. He knows about the markets, he understands how the City works. The only thing I don’t know about him is whether he can trade. And if he can’t we’ll deal with it, but at the moment he’s our junior trader and I want you to try your best. The sexism is something we can overcome easily.”
Ella smiled.
“Fine, but I don’t think you’re as taken with this guy as you make out.” She knew this was a bold statement, but she made it anyway.
“Maybe
you’re right, Ella. But I’m supporting him, and I suggest that, if you see yourself in my position one day, you do too.”
Ella smiled again. She understood everything now, and she liked the feeling it gave her. Jeff was still behind the scenes directing her career – he cared about her as a mentor should – and she resolved then and there to do her best with Johnny, to try to make it work.
“Jeff, if I can be half the mentor to Johnny that you’ve been to me, he’s one hell of a lucky man.” She raised her glass in a toast and Jeff smiled at her affectionately.
“
I may be a bully, but I do have your best interests at heart.”
“
Isn’t that the sort of statement Hitler made?” Ella teased, and they both laughed.
After lunch, they walked back to the office in companionable silence, and Ella enjoyed the sun on her back and the warmth of her boss.
As she left the office to spend Friday night alone in her flat, she knew that soon she would be ready to find herself a social life – However, it would never be as important to her as her career.
***
Virginia was at work even earlier than normal. She was so excited about the prospects Helena had suggested might be there for her that she couldn’t sleep. She had spent most of the night daydreaming about getting interviews and being promoted. She wondered where she might work, and who with, and she pictured Isabelle’s face when she found out that her secretary was good enough to be a salesperson. She couldn’t wait to prove her wrong. It was time for Virginia to start taking control of her life, which she had never done before. From now on she would be a success, and would do it for herself. Because of her nervous excitement, she ensured that she stuck to her routine. The timing was off, but she still had her shower while the kettle boiled; she made tea as soon as she was out of the shower. She watched the breakfast news as she drank it. She got dressed. She left the house. She drove to work.
The only change in routine was that she bought a copy of the
Financial
Times
on the way into the office and read it. Normally Virginia waited until mid-morning when free copies were given out. She wanted to make sure that she knew what was going on. She also checked out the markets, which she usually did but today she felt she had a real reason for doing so. She smiled as the office filled, and was rewarded with a couple of impersonal grins.
As the morning progressed, she grew more nervous. She knew that at any moment an e-mail might come through from Helena, but she didn
’t know when. She kept telling herself to be patient, Helena had said these things took time. Virginia had been waiting years; she felt that, with discipline, she could last a little longer. She had to slow her breathing consciously: she felt as if she might hyperventilate. She counted: one, two, three, four. By four she was calm. She hadn’t had these feelings for such a long time, value, opportunity, optimism. It had been such a long time since she’d faced anything like this: she had no controls in place to deal with it.
If she got an e-mail today and it contained good news, she hoped she could contain her excitement – she didn
’t want anyone else to know, especially the dreaded Isabelle. As the panic rose, she began to think of ways to avert it.
She caught up on all her work, the filing and outstanding expenses, but her ten-minute checks on her e-mail led to nothing. At lunch-time she went on her usual walk, to the usual sandwich shop and bought her usual sandwich. When she returned to her desk, her e-mail box was as it had been when she left.
As her work was largely done, she decided to e-mail her penfriend, Susie. She started typing, asking questions about how she was, how her job was going – her friend was a research assistant for a pharmaceutical company – and how her family were. She had been writing to Susie since she was thirteen. Her English teacher had introduced the idea and had allocated each child in the class an address in a different country. Virginia was offered Canada, and for a while she was disappointed as she had hoped for America, Africa or even Australia.
After a while, she and Susie knew so much about each other that Virginia counted her best friend. They were soul mates. They wrote to each other regularly, exchanging secrets, news, troubles, and hopes for the future. If Virginia were less neurotic she would have seen that Susie was like herself: she would have recognised that they shared many characteristics. She would have seen that there was a good reason why, at thirteen, she had been given Canada. She would know it was fate, but no one could have guessed that this linking would lead to a lifelong friendship. When they started working, they had swapped letters for e-mails, which meant that their correspondence became easier, and more regular. They had never spoken or met, but that didn
’t matter. At least Virginia had someone to confide in.
Virginia told Susie of the latest development at work, then asked how the problem with Susie
’s boss had been sorted out. The message was long, and when she was satisfied that it contained no spelling errors she clicked on send. If she got a new job she would visit Susie in Toronto: she would love to go there, to see her only friend, and have a holiday. Yes, that was exactly what she would do. She would go on her first ever holiday. The excitement of planning for the future infected Virginia’s whole being.
At half past three on that Friday afternoon, her diligence and patience were rewarded by an e-mail from Helena saying that she was setting up an interview next week for her with the head of the Private Client sales department. She read it and re-read it, felt herself go pink and took a deep breath. Here in front of her was a real opportunity. An opportunity that might take Virginia to her dream job.
Virginia went through the directory and found out who worked in the Private Client department. She needed to make sure she had a full knowledge before the interview. It was on a different floor in the building, which made things easier. Then she found the Private Client site on the Internet and read all about SFH’s prestigious division. She was going to be prepared.
Just before half past five Helena e-mailed her more information about the position. There was an opening for a junior salesperson in the Private Client business. The division had its own floor, the second, due to the kudos attached to the SFH Private Client list. They were clients who carried a lot of money and influence. It was like a dream come true for Virginia. A real job, with real prospects. As she watched the others on her desk, she wished she could jump for joy.
She also wished she had someone with whom to share the news, but her parents would only ruin the moment, and she didn’t want to send another e-mail to Susie until she had heard back from her. The only thought that consoled her was that when she got her new job she would make friends. She would stop being surly, serious and insecure. If she got this job, and something told her she would, she would be friendly and she would learn how to be fun. She looked forward to that. She would be friends with her colleagues because she would be
someone
. She would
no
longer be a failure: she would be a salesperson.
After work Virginia went home and had her dinner. Then she got on to her scooter and went to the cinema to see a Hollywood blockbuster rather than an art-house film, which she usually chose. She sat on her own, eating popcorn and laughing at Julia Roberts interacting with a gorgeous actor on the big screen. She told herself that this was the beginning: she would become normal, and she would stop trying so hard to be someone she wasn
’t. The only flaw in her plan was that she still wasn’t sure what normal was. And she wasn’t sure how to find out. The other problem was that she didn’t have the first clue about who she really was.
***
When her alarm clock went off Clara woke up with a start. She looked at the time, which she couldn’t quite comprehend. Six a.m. She almost went back to sleep before she remembered about her new start. She crawled out of bed, jumped into the shower and washed quickly. She pulled on the suit she had put out the night before, and when the taxi-driver rang the doorbell at half past six she was ready.
She applied her makeup in the cab and was amazed at how short the journey was at this time of the morning when the roads were empty. She had to ask the driver to slow down a number of times. If this was the way things were going to be every morning, she might give up wearing mascara, she thought. She had just applied her lipstick when the cab arrived at her office.
As she walked to her desk she ignored the stunned faces. She smiled at Sarah and handed her the chocolates. Sarah looked touched. Clara pulled out the research that was always left on her desk and read it through before they all walked to the conference room for the morning meeting. When he saw Clara Tim’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. What was she doing there?