Twenties Girl
Page 83
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“Not quite the only thing,” says Dad. “You know, the oak desk in the hall came from that house.”
“In our hall?” I stare at the phone in surprise. “I thought everything was lost in the fire.”
“A very few things were salvaged.” I can tell Dad’s relaxed a little. “They were put in a storage unit and left there for years. Nobody could face dealing with it. It was Bill who sorted it all out, after your grandfather died. He was at a loose end. I was doing my accountancy exams. Strange to imagine, but Bill was the idler in those days.” Dad laughs, and I can hear him take a sip of coffee. “That was the year your mother and I got married. That oak desk was our first piece of furniture. It’s a wonderful piece of original art nouveau.”
“Wow.”
I’m riveted by this story. I’ve walked past that desk about ten thousand times, but it’s never once occurred to me to wonder where it came from. Maybe it was Sadie’s own desk! Maybe it has all her secret papers in it! As I put the phone down, Kate is working industriously. I can’t send her on yet another coffee run. But I’m desperate to tell Sadie what I just heard.
Hey, Sadie! I type in a new document. Not everything was lost in the fire! There were some things in a storage unit! Guess what? We have a desk from your old house!
Maybe it has a hidden drawer full of all her lost treasures, I’m thinking excitedly. And only Sadie knows how to open it. She’ll tell me the secret code, and I’ll gently tug it open and blow off the dust, and inside will be… something really cool. I gesticulate at her and point at my screen.
“I know that desk was saved,” says Sadie, after reading my message. She sounds deeply unimpressed by the news. “I was sent a list of things at the time, in case I wanted to claim anything. Hideous crockery. Dull bits of pewter. Dreadful furniture. None of it interested me.”
It’s not dreadful furniture , I type, a little indignantly. It’s a wonderful piece of original art nouveau .
I look up at Sadie, and she’s sticking a finger down her throat. “It’s minging,” she says, and I can’t help giggling.
Where did you learn that word? I type.
“Picked it up.” Sadie gives an insouciant shrug.
So I told my dad about Josh , I type, and look at Sadie for a reaction. But she rolls her eyes and disappears.
Fine. Be like that. I don’t care what she thinks, anyway. I lean back, take out my mobile, and flip to one of Josh’s texts. I feel all warm and content, as though I just drank a cup of hot chocolate. I’m back with Josh, and all’s right with the world.
Maybe I’ll text Josh and tell him how pleased everyone is for us.
No. I don’t want to hound him. I’ll leave it half an hour or so.
Across the room, the phone rings, and I wonder if maybe it’s him. But a moment later Kate says, “I’ll put you on hold,” and looks up anxiously. “Lara, it’s Janet from Leonidas Sports. Shall I put her through?”
All the hot chocolate drains out of my stomach.
“Yes. OK, I’ll speak to her. Just give me thirty seconds.” I psych myself up, then lift the phone with my breeziest top-recruitment-consultant manner. “Hi, Janet! How are you? Did you get the short list all right?”
Kate emailed the short list to Janet last night. I should have known she’d call. I should have gone out for the day or pretended to have lost my voice.
“I hope you’re as excited by it as I am,” I add brightly.
“No, I’m not,” Janet says in her usual hoarse, peremptory tones. “Lara, I don’t understand. Why’s Clive Hoxton on the list?”
“Ah, Clive,” I say, trying to sound confident. “What a man. What a talent.”
OK, so here’s the thing. I know my lunch with Clive didn’t end brilliantly. But the truth is, he’d be perfect for the job. And I might be able to talk him around before the interview. So I put him on the list anyway, with provisional after his name in small letters.
“Clive’s a really bright executive, Janet.” I launch into my spiel. “He’s experienced in marketing, very dynamic, ripe for a move-”
“I know all that.” Janet cuts me off. “But I bumped into him at a reception last night. He said he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested. In fact, he was shocked to learn he was on the short list.”
Fuck .
“Really?” I summon tones of astonishment. “How… strange. How very strange. That’s not the impression I got at all. As far as I was aware, we had a great meeting, he was enthusiastic-”
“In our hall?” I stare at the phone in surprise. “I thought everything was lost in the fire.”
“A very few things were salvaged.” I can tell Dad’s relaxed a little. “They were put in a storage unit and left there for years. Nobody could face dealing with it. It was Bill who sorted it all out, after your grandfather died. He was at a loose end. I was doing my accountancy exams. Strange to imagine, but Bill was the idler in those days.” Dad laughs, and I can hear him take a sip of coffee. “That was the year your mother and I got married. That oak desk was our first piece of furniture. It’s a wonderful piece of original art nouveau.”
“Wow.”
I’m riveted by this story. I’ve walked past that desk about ten thousand times, but it’s never once occurred to me to wonder where it came from. Maybe it was Sadie’s own desk! Maybe it has all her secret papers in it! As I put the phone down, Kate is working industriously. I can’t send her on yet another coffee run. But I’m desperate to tell Sadie what I just heard.
Hey, Sadie! I type in a new document. Not everything was lost in the fire! There were some things in a storage unit! Guess what? We have a desk from your old house!
Maybe it has a hidden drawer full of all her lost treasures, I’m thinking excitedly. And only Sadie knows how to open it. She’ll tell me the secret code, and I’ll gently tug it open and blow off the dust, and inside will be… something really cool. I gesticulate at her and point at my screen.
“I know that desk was saved,” says Sadie, after reading my message. She sounds deeply unimpressed by the news. “I was sent a list of things at the time, in case I wanted to claim anything. Hideous crockery. Dull bits of pewter. Dreadful furniture. None of it interested me.”
It’s not dreadful furniture , I type, a little indignantly. It’s a wonderful piece of original art nouveau .
I look up at Sadie, and she’s sticking a finger down her throat. “It’s minging,” she says, and I can’t help giggling.
Where did you learn that word? I type.
“Picked it up.” Sadie gives an insouciant shrug.
So I told my dad about Josh , I type, and look at Sadie for a reaction. But she rolls her eyes and disappears.
Fine. Be like that. I don’t care what she thinks, anyway. I lean back, take out my mobile, and flip to one of Josh’s texts. I feel all warm and content, as though I just drank a cup of hot chocolate. I’m back with Josh, and all’s right with the world.
Maybe I’ll text Josh and tell him how pleased everyone is for us.
No. I don’t want to hound him. I’ll leave it half an hour or so.
Across the room, the phone rings, and I wonder if maybe it’s him. But a moment later Kate says, “I’ll put you on hold,” and looks up anxiously. “Lara, it’s Janet from Leonidas Sports. Shall I put her through?”
All the hot chocolate drains out of my stomach.
“Yes. OK, I’ll speak to her. Just give me thirty seconds.” I psych myself up, then lift the phone with my breeziest top-recruitment-consultant manner. “Hi, Janet! How are you? Did you get the short list all right?”
Kate emailed the short list to Janet last night. I should have known she’d call. I should have gone out for the day or pretended to have lost my voice.
“I hope you’re as excited by it as I am,” I add brightly.
“No, I’m not,” Janet says in her usual hoarse, peremptory tones. “Lara, I don’t understand. Why’s Clive Hoxton on the list?”
“Ah, Clive,” I say, trying to sound confident. “What a man. What a talent.”
OK, so here’s the thing. I know my lunch with Clive didn’t end brilliantly. But the truth is, he’d be perfect for the job. And I might be able to talk him around before the interview. So I put him on the list anyway, with provisional after his name in small letters.
“Clive’s a really bright executive, Janet.” I launch into my spiel. “He’s experienced in marketing, very dynamic, ripe for a move-”
“I know all that.” Janet cuts me off. “But I bumped into him at a reception last night. He said he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested. In fact, he was shocked to learn he was on the short list.”
Fuck .
“Really?” I summon tones of astonishment. “How… strange. How very strange. That’s not the impression I got at all. As far as I was aware, we had a great meeting, he was enthusiastic-”
