Authors: Merryn Allingham
‘There’s an opportunity,’ she began, ‘a great opportunity. But you’ll need to play your cards right.’
He’d stopped drinking his coffee and was listening to her intently.
‘
Art Matters
has a staff position going. They’re not advertising, but I think you should try for it.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’m friendly with one of the directors.’ Suddenly she was a little coy. More nepotism, I thought. She’s sleeping with the guy and is about to call in a favour for her brother.
‘And he is?’
‘Rodney Finkel.’
If he was anything like his name, she was welcome to him. But Nick had fastened on the job and not the name.
‘A staff job, you say. Wow!’
‘I’ve brought some papers with me. They’ll tell you all you need to know about the company—its structure, vision, personnel, that kind of thing. You can get quite a bit from the website, but some of this stuff is confidential.’
‘Insider trading.’
‘Perhaps, but I know you can do the job or I wouldn’t be setting up the interview.’
‘I’ve got an interview?’
‘Thursday at ten. You’ll need to smarten up, though.’
‘That could be difficult.’
‘I’ll bring a few things round tomorrow evening.’
Rodney’s, I wondered? I hoped he’d enjoy seeing his wardrobe paraded in front of him at the interview.
Lucy got up to go and smiled distantly at me. She was trying hard to remember who I was. ‘It’s been nice to meet you…Grace.’
I did her a disservice. You don’t get on in PR without remembering names. I smiled as distantly, and she clicked her way towards the front door.
‘Don’t let me down, Nick. It’s your big chance. And let me have the Royde report as soon as you can. The Society has begun to breathe down my neck just a little.’
‘Sure thing. Thanks a million, Luce, you’re a pal.’ And he watched her up the steep stairs to Thetford Road.
When he turned back to me, his face was ablaze. ‘How about that, then!’
I didn’t want to disappoint him, but I felt he needed some caution. ‘It sounds good, but you don’t yet know what the job is.’
I gestured to the file of papers Lucy had left carefully balanced on the table. ‘Why don’t you have a look while I fight the shower?’
‘Great,’ he murmured absentmindedly, and I left him to his reading.
When I found him again, his face was blazing even more excitedly. ‘It’s an editor’s job. Grace, an editor! I can’t believe that.’
‘But you’ve never been an editor.’
‘I’ve edited my own stuff, haven’t I? How difficult can it be?’
‘I imagine more difficult than simply editing what you’ve written yourself. There’s the whole business of commissioning writers who’ll make a profit for the magazine.’
‘Don’t be a pessimist. Wish me well.’
‘I do.’ I kissed him soundly. ‘You know that I do. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up if you’re not qualified for the job.’
‘Lucy thinks I am,’ he said pugnaciously.
‘Lucy is your sister.’
‘So?’
‘She’s bound to favour you. She’s got you the interview, but it’s you that will have to perform.’
‘And I will. Luce was right, this is a chance in a lifetime and I’m going to take it. I’m going to spend the next two days reading this stuff and anything else I can get my hands on. I’ll be so well primed I might even go off pop—but not before I’ve got the job.’
‘And Royde?’
‘What about him?’
‘We were going to research the newspaper archives at Colindale, remember.’
‘
You
were going to. Let’s put Royde to one side. This is more important.’
‘Yesterday it was a priority.’
‘Yesterday I hadn’t had this honey drop into my lap.’
His tone brooked no argument. There was nothing I could do but let him get on with it. I thought of carrying on the Royde research by myself, but I was scarily aware that I had fifty pounds in the bank and no way to feed myself once that was gone. I’d already begun to realise that Nick wasn’t so carefree about money as he’d first appeared, but his eagerness to join the corporate world still surprised me. It also made me determined to find work as soon as I could. Solid work, permanent work, not dribs and drabs of research. Research didn’t clear the bills and I had no intention of being a financial drag on Nick.
* * *
I spent the next two days looking for jobs that didn’t exist, traipsing between different agencies and ringing contacts in universities and libraries. I even cold-called a few galleries, but everywhere the same story. By Wednesday evening I’d had enough. If Nick was lucky enough to get the job, and I didn’t discount the possibility since Lucy obviously wielded influence in that quarter, it would give me a breathing space. I was still perching, I knew, still unsure of my direction, but until I found work, I had few choices—unless, of course, I was prepared to go cap in hand back to Oliver, and I wasn’t. It seemed extraordinary and rather sad that after long years of living together, I hadn’t missed him for a minute. I’d missed the comfort of a beautiful home, the smooth certainty of life in Lyndhurst Villas, but I hadn’t missed Oliver, I hadn’t missed the man himself.
Footsore, I made my way back to Thetford Road and its dreary rooms. At least, I comforted myself, a glass of wine awaited. But so did Lucy. As soon as I let myself in, the expensive smell of Shalimar hit me and I knew she was there. Brother and sister were not speaking but had moved the two armchairs together and were sitting side by side reading from what looked like the same script. Two pairs of intensely blue eyes looked up as I stumbled into the room.
‘Hallo, Grace,’ she said pleasantly. ‘Had a good day?’
‘Not exactly.’
Nick got up and gave me a reassuring hug. ‘Forget it and come and have a drink. Lucy’s compiled some questions and answers for the interview. With a bit of luck, some of them will come up tomorrow.’
Especially if Rodney has been suitably primed, I thought spitefully. But I really shouldn’t grouse. After my spectacular lack of success in landing any kind of job, it was more important than ever that Nick did well.
Perhaps Lucy guessed something of what was going through my mind because she said, ‘We can’t depend on Rodney asking these questions, but I know they’re the sort of thing he’ll want to know. One of my employees went for a job at
Art Matters
last year and remembered some of the stuff that came up.’
‘Did she get it?’ I asked brusquely, subsiding into a hard wooden chair and propping myself against the scruffy table that was overflowing with Nick’s reminders for the next day. At least
he’d
achieved something in the last forty-eight hours.
‘Unfortunately not. Or rather, I should say, fortunately. She came to us instead and has been brilliant at PR. Horses for courses,’ she remarked brightly.
‘Are you going to learn the script by rote?’ I could hardly believe he would, but I wasn’t at all sure with Lucy stage-managing the affair.
‘It just gives me a flavour of what to expect.’ His tone veered towards the defensive. ‘And Lucy has got me some togs to wear. What do you think of them?’
Togs? Where did that come from? It sounded boarding school, country gent, sherry at six; it didn’t sound like Nick. I looked over at the suit he’d indicated. It was pretty sharp and the shirt and matching tie had been chosen with obvious care. He was on track to get the prize for elegance, if not for editing.
‘You’ll look wonderful,’ I tried to enthuse. ‘Do we have any wine?’
I was dying for a drink and that worried me. I hadn’t needed alcohol so much as this since I left Lyndhurst Villas. It felt almost like old times. Nick brought me a bumper glass and I was halfway down it before I realised. I saw Lucy eyeing me askance. She was probably deciding that her brother’s new girlfriend was a lush and definitely not Heysham family material.
Nick was more forgiving. ‘Was it lousy?’ he asked, referring to my abortive job search.
‘Yes, lousy.’
‘You’ll find something soon.’ He tried to sound cheerful. ‘You can’t fail. All those qualifications plus experience.’ But his voice tailed off and I couldn’t blame him for losing heart. He was looking at an image of failure. He went back to his sister’s side and waved a crib sheet in the air. ‘In any case, there’s no mad hurry.’
‘You might not get the job,’ I warned.
‘I might not, but there is something I
have
got. We’ve got.’ And once more he bounded out of his seat and came to the table. For a few seconds he rummaged in the litter and then picked out a sliver of paper, which he tossed into my lap.
‘Payment for all your hard work, Dr Grace.’
I looked blankly at the slip. It was a cheque for a pretty sizeable amount, and it was signed by the secretary of the Royde society.
‘What’s this?’
‘What do you think it is?’
‘I think it’s a cheque from the Royde Society but I don’t understand why. We haven’t finished researching yet.’
‘
I’ve
finished researching.’
I must have looked bewildered because he said with some irritation, ‘It’s done, Grace, over. I banged out a report yesterday while you were out. I detailed all the stuff we discovered and our conclusion that the plans, if they ever existed, were no longer around. Luce got the report to them pronto, and they obliged this afternoon with this nice fat cheque.’
I was so taken aback that I simply sat and stared into space while he carried on breezily. ‘So no worries, sweetheart. We can eat for a few weeks. And if I get the job tomorrow, even more weeks.’
‘But we still had work to do on it,’ I finally spluttered into life.
‘It wasn’t going anywhere. You know that.’
‘I don’t know it.’
‘Oh, come on, Grace, we’ve got the money. Let’s forget it.’
‘The Royde Society was delighted,’ Lucy put in. ‘Disappointed naturally that they couldn’t use a replica of the Exhibition pavilion as their venue but delighted to have all the new information you uncovered.’
I couldn’t bring myself to speak, but a thread of anger began its slow and fiery course through my entire body.
‘Lucy says that she might be able to do something for you—jobwise,’ Nick added rashly.
‘What!’
Lucy rushed in, aware—how could she not be?—of the fury in my voice.
‘The Society was so impressed with your work, Grace, that I took the liberty of mentioning your other experience in the field and the fact that currently you’re at a bit of a loose end.’
She was trying to be nice, trying to be helpful, but if I heard any more, I knew I would have to strangle her and very slowly. Instead I did the cowardly thing. ‘I have a bit of a headache. I’m going to rest for a while.’
Lying on the uneven bed, staring at the ceiling cracks above, I tried to regain some calm. I was surprised at how angry Nick had made me, how committed I felt to the quest. Why hadn’t he told me that he’d written the report? He’d done it while I was out job hunting, but he could have shared it with me when I returned. But he hadn’t. He’d kept quiet, gone behind my back, and stitched it up with his sister. He must have known that I wouldn’t agree to send an incomplete account. It was a blow to realise that he was capable of deception, a blow to realise that the fee was all-important. Once he’d got the Society’s cheque, he had no further interest in Royde whereas I was caught in history and felt compelled to find the truth of what had happened a century and a half ago. A discomfiting gap was beginning to yawn between us.
And it got even wider. By the time I’d regained a measure of self-control and thought it time to return to the living room, I found Lucy still there and wandering down memory lane with her brother.
‘You’ll never guess who I saw this morning: Charlie Patterson!’ she was saying. ‘I was crossing Westminster Bridge to go to a meeting at the Marriott and there he was.’
‘Charlie?’
‘Surely you remember, Nick. He was a friend of Rob’s. The one with big feet and a large Adam’s apple.’
‘Oh yeah. Always wore drainpipes. What’s he doing in the badlands? The last I heard he was running Daddy’s business in Gloucester.’
‘He was or rather he is. I could only speak to him for a few minutes—running late, as always. He said he was in town to catch up with a few friends. In fact, he’d just been to see Rob. He’s in St Thomas’, Rob, I mean—liver disease—and not doing too well, according to Charlie. He looked very down about it.’
‘Poor old Rob. Do you remember him at that amazing party the olds threw just before I graduated? Him and Charlie.’
‘Of course I remember. Nobody could forget.’
I’d been sitting in silence, my face growing blanker by the minute. Lucy tried to help me out. ‘They dressed up as the Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis characters in
Some Like It Hot
. It was killing, Grace.’
I smiled politely.
‘Then Rob fell off his four-inch heels as they were doing a final sashay down the front steps. High as kites of course. He landed face first in the fountain!’
A fountain? What kind of home did Nick come from? My wintry smile withered and died.
‘Charlie tried to haul him out,’ Nick said, beginning to chuckle, ‘and then he fell in, too.’
Lucy gave a shout of laughter. ‘His wig fell off and Daddy found it the next day floating somewhere around the bottom. One of the fish had got tangled up in it, and he got very annoyed.’
‘The fish?’
‘Not the fish, stupid. Well, perhaps the fish, too. It was a great party.’
‘The best.’
They eventually stopped laughing sufficiently to wipe the tears from their eyes, but it took some time. I must have been giving off an arctic blast because when the last chortle had faded, they both turned as one towards me, four intense blue eyes registering a mixture of surprise, awkwardness and dismay.
‘I’m sorry.’ Lucy had got up from the chair and was ineffectually patting the one cushion Nick owned. ‘This must be very boring for you, Grace.’
‘Yes,’ I said.
She flushed a little and then said brightly. ‘I’ll be on my way then. Good luck for tomorrow, Nicky.’
I didn’t get up and Nick went with her to the front door. I knew that I’d behaved badly, but I couldn’t make myself feel sorry.