Shopaholic Takes Manhattan
Page 108
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“A new PR company? Based here?”
“As far as I know, yes. They’ve taken a big space on the second floor.”
Thoughts are sparking round my head like fireworks.
B and B. Bridges and Billington. Billington and Bridges.
“Do you…” I try to keep calm. “Do you know what sort of PR?”
“Ah! Now, this I do know. It’s financial. Apparently one of their biggest clients is Bank of London. Or will be. Which must be a nice little earner… But as I say, we haven’t met them yet, so…” He looks at me and his face changes expression. “Hey. Are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” I manage. “I think. I just have to… I have to make a phone call.”
I dial the number of the Four Seasons three times — and each time hang up before I can bring myself to ask for Luke Brandon. At last I take a deep breath, dial the number again, and ask to speak to Michael Ellis.
“Michael, it’s Becky Bloomwood here,” I say when I’m put through.
“Becky!” he says, sounding genuinely pleased to hear from me. “How are you doing?”
I close my eyes, trying to keep calm. But just the sound of his voice has taken me back to the Four Seasons with a whoosh. Back to that dim, expensive lobby. Back to that New York dreamworld.
“I…” I take a deep breath. “I’m fine. You know… back to normal life… busy, busy!”
I’m not going to admit I’ve lost my job. I’m not going to have everyone feeling sorry for me.
“I’m just on my way to the studio,” I say, crossing my fingers. “But I wanted a quick word. I think I know why there’s a rumor going around that Luke’s going to lose Bank of London.”
I tell him exactly what I overheard in the office, how I went to King Street, and what I’ve discovered.
“I see,” says Michael at intervals, sounding grim. “I see. You know, there’s a clause in their contracts forbidding employees to do this? If they poach a client, Luke could sue them.”
“They talked about that. They seem to think he won’t sue because he’d lose too much face.”
There’s silence — and I can almost hear Michael thinking down the line.
“They have a point,” he says at last. “Becky, I have to talk to Luke. You did a great job finding out what you did…”
“That’s not the only thing.” I take a deep breath. “Michael, someone’s got to talk to Luke. I went into the Brandon Communications office, and it was completely dead. No one’s making any effort, everyone’s going home early… it’s a whole different atmosphere. It’s not good.” I bite my lip. “He needs to come home.”
“Why don’t you tell him this yourself?” says Michael gently. “I’m sure he’d like to hear from you.”
He sounds so kind and concerned, I feel a sudden prickle in my nose.
“I can’t. If I ring him up, he’ll just think… he’ll think I’m trying to prove some point, or it’s just some more stupid gossip…” I break off, and swallow hard. “To be honest, Michael, I’d rather you just kept me out of it. Pretend someone else spoke to you. But someone’s got to tell him.”
“I’m seeing him in half an hour,” Michael says. “I’ll talk to him then. And, Becky… well done.”
Miss Rebecca Bloomwood
c/o Four Seasons Hotel
57 East 57th Street
New York 10022
October 3, 2000
Dear Miss Bloomwood:
I was delighted to meet you at Nina Heywood’s luncheon the other day. It was a great pleasure to meet such a cultured and well-connected young lady as yourself.
I write because I am coming to England in two weeks’ time and I was very much hoping that you might be able to introduce me to Prince William and, if possible, the queen? I would be honored to take the three of you to dinner, whenever is convenient.
I look forward to hearing from you.
With kind regards,
Marion Jefferson (Mrs.)
P.S. If not the queen, then maybe Prince Philip?
Fifteen
AFTER A WEEK, I give up on hearing anything from Michael. Whatever he’s said to Luke, I’m never going to hear about it. I feel as though that whole part of my life is over. Luke, America, television, everything. Time to start again.
I’m trying to keep positive, and tell myself I’ve lots of avenues open to me. But what is the next career move for an ex— television financial expert? I rang up a television agent, and to my dismay, she sounded exactly like all those TV people in America. She said she was thrilled to hear from me, she’d have absolutely no problem finding me work — if not my own series — and that she’d ring back that day with lots of exciting news. I haven’t heard from her since.
“As far as I know, yes. They’ve taken a big space on the second floor.”
Thoughts are sparking round my head like fireworks.
B and B. Bridges and Billington. Billington and Bridges.
“Do you…” I try to keep calm. “Do you know what sort of PR?”
“Ah! Now, this I do know. It’s financial. Apparently one of their biggest clients is Bank of London. Or will be. Which must be a nice little earner… But as I say, we haven’t met them yet, so…” He looks at me and his face changes expression. “Hey. Are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” I manage. “I think. I just have to… I have to make a phone call.”
I dial the number of the Four Seasons three times — and each time hang up before I can bring myself to ask for Luke Brandon. At last I take a deep breath, dial the number again, and ask to speak to Michael Ellis.
“Michael, it’s Becky Bloomwood here,” I say when I’m put through.
“Becky!” he says, sounding genuinely pleased to hear from me. “How are you doing?”
I close my eyes, trying to keep calm. But just the sound of his voice has taken me back to the Four Seasons with a whoosh. Back to that dim, expensive lobby. Back to that New York dreamworld.
“I…” I take a deep breath. “I’m fine. You know… back to normal life… busy, busy!”
I’m not going to admit I’ve lost my job. I’m not going to have everyone feeling sorry for me.
“I’m just on my way to the studio,” I say, crossing my fingers. “But I wanted a quick word. I think I know why there’s a rumor going around that Luke’s going to lose Bank of London.”
I tell him exactly what I overheard in the office, how I went to King Street, and what I’ve discovered.
“I see,” says Michael at intervals, sounding grim. “I see. You know, there’s a clause in their contracts forbidding employees to do this? If they poach a client, Luke could sue them.”
“They talked about that. They seem to think he won’t sue because he’d lose too much face.”
There’s silence — and I can almost hear Michael thinking down the line.
“They have a point,” he says at last. “Becky, I have to talk to Luke. You did a great job finding out what you did…”
“That’s not the only thing.” I take a deep breath. “Michael, someone’s got to talk to Luke. I went into the Brandon Communications office, and it was completely dead. No one’s making any effort, everyone’s going home early… it’s a whole different atmosphere. It’s not good.” I bite my lip. “He needs to come home.”
“Why don’t you tell him this yourself?” says Michael gently. “I’m sure he’d like to hear from you.”
He sounds so kind and concerned, I feel a sudden prickle in my nose.
“I can’t. If I ring him up, he’ll just think… he’ll think I’m trying to prove some point, or it’s just some more stupid gossip…” I break off, and swallow hard. “To be honest, Michael, I’d rather you just kept me out of it. Pretend someone else spoke to you. But someone’s got to tell him.”
“I’m seeing him in half an hour,” Michael says. “I’ll talk to him then. And, Becky… well done.”
Miss Rebecca Bloomwood
c/o Four Seasons Hotel
57 East 57th Street
New York 10022
October 3, 2000
Dear Miss Bloomwood:
I was delighted to meet you at Nina Heywood’s luncheon the other day. It was a great pleasure to meet such a cultured and well-connected young lady as yourself.
I write because I am coming to England in two weeks’ time and I was very much hoping that you might be able to introduce me to Prince William and, if possible, the queen? I would be honored to take the three of you to dinner, whenever is convenient.
I look forward to hearing from you.
With kind regards,
Marion Jefferson (Mrs.)
P.S. If not the queen, then maybe Prince Philip?
Fifteen
AFTER A WEEK, I give up on hearing anything from Michael. Whatever he’s said to Luke, I’m never going to hear about it. I feel as though that whole part of my life is over. Luke, America, television, everything. Time to start again.
I’m trying to keep positive, and tell myself I’ve lots of avenues open to me. But what is the next career move for an ex— television financial expert? I rang up a television agent, and to my dismay, she sounded exactly like all those TV people in America. She said she was thrilled to hear from me, she’d have absolutely no problem finding me work — if not my own series — and that she’d ring back that day with lots of exciting news. I haven’t heard from her since.
