Читать книгу The Unlikely Life of Maisie Meadows - Jenni Keer - Страница 14

Theodore? As in Johnny’s partner? Hashtag Endofpromisingcareer. Maisie rolled off the man and onto her bottom.

‘She hit me! Really hard,’ Theodore said, as he lifted his head from the floor, the knitted hat now slipped down half over one eye. He put a hand to his head and tugged it back, enabling him to throw Maisie a dirty look. Now she thought about it, he looked vaguely familiar …

‘I … I thought he was stealing from us,’ she blustered.

‘Oh, bless you and your misguided company loyalty,’ Johnny said, offering his arm to Maisie, who heaved herself from the floor and brushed down her dusty knees.

‘This is Maisie?’ Theodore asked, looking at Johnny and waving a vague hand in her direction. ‘The one you were interviewing when I was on my way to the studios last month? You said you’d employed an extra pair of hands, not a bloody guard dog.’

Could this man be the clean-shaven figure who had caught her attention a couple of weeks ago? This man was more stubble than skin. No wonder she hadn’t made the connection.

‘This is indeed she.’ Johnny put out the same burgundy velvet arm to help Theodore to his feet.

‘She whacked me really hard in the guts,’ Theodore grumbled, rubbing his left side.

‘Maisie was multi-tasking, dah-ling – photographer, marketing whiz and guard dog.’

‘I. Am. So. Sorry,’ she said. ‘I honestly didn’t know who you were.’

‘Don’t sweat it,’ Theodore sighed. Having recovered from the assault he was beginning to see the funny side. He gave a lopsided smile and a tip of the head. ‘Even Johnny didn’t know I was coming back in to work today.’

‘You work here?’ Maisie couldn’t stop her mouth from falling open.

Theodore looked over to Johnny. ‘You didn’t tell her about me? Bloody hell, mate. I’m only the most important person in the whole company. I’m the media superstar. I’m the draw.’ He said all this is a most un-superstar way, Maisie noticed. And yet … there was something beguiling about this untidy, mismatched young man. Something that drew you in. Was it the moss-green eyes, or that enchanting lopsided smile? He tugged the hat from his head and an indefinable mass of springy, fair, afro-textured hair sprung up like a very small, very thick sheepskin rug.

Or perhaps it was the extraordinary hair.

Not sure whether he was exaggerating for her benefit, or whether he truly was in that much pain, every time Maisie came across Theo (it transpired only Johnny used his full name) for the remainder of the day, he limped like someone with a shoe full of acorns. Mind you, he’d really thudded into that concrete …

Arthur was on clouds nine, ten and eleven, and unable to conceal his Cheshire-cat grin.

‘I didn’t think he was coming back until tomorrow so I was really made up when he knocked on my door this morning and asked if I wanted a lift to work. We live in the same part of town, you know? And he’s always looked out for me, even before this job came up. Turned out they were absolutely desperate for someone with my skills, even though I thought I was on the proverbial scrapheap. Wonderful really, that I’m still useful to someone, especially as I often say to our Pam that I passed my prime many moons ago. Naturally, I said yes to the lift because I’ve really missed him. He’s such a good boss …’

‘Boss?’ interrupted Maisie, who was half-listening, as she tapped away on the keyboard at her now thoroughly organised and totally business-like desk. Unlike Johnny, who still spent five minutes looking for his ringing phone under all the papers, if she needed a spare USB cable or an orange highlighter, she could lay her hands on both in seconds.

She was designing an ‘About Us’ section for the website – especially as she now needed to add another member of staff. Why the original website hadn’t included any details about the employees was beyond her. Her experience taught her it was people and animals that got the most attention in any marketing campaign. And she was beginning to realise it was the people who made Gildersleeve’s special so they should be actively promoted along with all its other attractions.

‘Well, yes. He’s like a sort of manager, I suppose. Deals with all the day-to-day stuff. Didn’t you know?’

No she jolly well didn’t – she hadn’t even known he was an employee until that morning. Johnny was drip-feeding important information about her job – information that could have saved her considerable embarrassment and her manager from unprovoked grievous bodily harm.

Arthur barely paused, not needing any verbal responses from his audience. ‘Everything will be rather more ship-shape now he’s back. Don’t get me wrong, Johnny’s a wonder, but we were all so surprised that the Wot a Lot! crew wanted Theo – particularly Johnny, who between you and me rather fancied himself as a charismatic, less orange, David Dickinson figure. But they insisted on our Theo – and why wouldn’t you? They said he had great visual appeal and the researcher I spoke to thought he’d pull in a younger audience, particularly the females.’

‘But isn’t he a bit erm … untidy for television? Don’t they want experts in suits with clipped accents and neatly combed hair?’

‘Nonsense. Look at them popular characters on the telly, like Columbo?’ The reference meant nothing to Maisie. ‘The public loves quirky.’

‘Johnny’s quirky. Theo’s a bit … scruffy.’ And that was her being polite. She knew it was wrong to stereotype but the majority of gay men she’d come across had been immaculately turned out. Theo’s jeans weren’t distressed, they were positively traumatised, and the hand-knitted jumper he was sporting was so misshapen, she couldn’t be sure which member of the animal kingdom it had been knitted for – possibly a rhinoceros. No wonder she’d mistaken him for a ne’er-do-well, loitering around the back of a dimly lit saleroom.

‘To my way of thinking, Johnny is a caricature of himself,’ Arthur said. ‘And twiddly moustached, eccentric antiques experts are ten a penny. Handsome, young, wiry-haired men full of charm sporting a pair of sparkly eyes – now that’s going to get the pulses of the female audience racing.’

And possibly about five per cent of the men, she conceded. Although Maisie’s encounters with Theo had been less than positive, she saw Arthur’s point. She could quite understand Johnny being too much of a handful for TV. The flowery language and ostentatious clothes had been done by other so-called experts, and possibly more successfully.

‘Theo really knows his stuff, you see? Everyone expects antiques experts to be as old as the items they’re valuing but our Theo has nearly fifteen years of experience under his belt. If I had a pound for the number of times clients have come in here and asked to speak to one of the experts, thinking Theo was a junior member of staff … But oh, those patronising faces soon vanish when they realise he knows what he’s talking about. I take my cap off to him, and Johnny come to that. Have you seen the mind-boggling range of things we handle? Everything from pushchairs to antiquarian books. And they have to know about it all – the history, the value and the current market.’

‘Ah, there you are, Arthur.’ Theo appeared in the doorway and slouched a hip against the architrave, two empty coffee cups dangling from a curled forefinger. The knitted hat was back on, his sheepskin hair wrestled into its woolly confines, and he had a look of nonchalance about him. ‘Keeping our resident pit bull from her work?’

‘No, no,’ Arthur protested, ‘I was telling her how much I admired you and Johnny, and how knowledgeable you both are.’

Theo smiled. ‘I know, old boy. I’m teasing.’

‘Let me take those cups for you, sir. I’ll rinse them out.’ The cups were removed from Theo’s fingers before Arthur had finished speaking and the old man disappeared kitchen-wards.

‘I wish he’d stop with the sir thing. It’s embarrassing,’ Theo said, still leaning at an I’ve Got Nothing Better To Do And All The Time In The World To Do It angle.

‘It’s a form of respect,’ Maisie said. ‘He’s from an age where hierarchy mattered more than it does today. It’s endearing. Whilst I’ve got you …’ She efficiently saved the piece she was working on and slid her chair back. ‘Can I take a photo of you for the website?’

Theo gave his wonky grin. ‘Snap away.’

‘What, now? With the hat?’ Maisie asked.

‘Yeah, sure, with the hat.’

‘Oh, okay, if it’s your thing.’

‘My thing? It keeps my head warm. Are trousers and jumpers your thing?’ There was a slow curl of the lip, as he continued to lean in a lackadaisical manner against the doorframe.

‘I meant, if you think more people will recognise you with it on. I want the friendly and informal nature of the company to come across on the website.’ She’d expected him to remove the hat, but now she thought about it, marketing Gildersleeve’s as a company of smartly dressed businessmen was missing the point. ‘It’s one of our strengths.’

‘You’re not going to plaster my mug shot all over social media though, are you? Johnny’s been banging on about our inadequate online presence for months but I’m rather more cautious when it comes to the power of the internet. It can make and it can break.’

‘Not if you don’t want me to. But don’t underestimate it as an advertising tool. And posts with people in always garner more likes than those without. We found that at the brewery.’

‘Ah, yes. Johnny told me you were a high-flying marketing assistant at Wickerman’s. Don’t know why you left a cushy number like that to come and work here? The promotion prospects aren’t great. And the canteen pretty much consists of that dodgy-looking biscuit tin in reception.’

‘It was a personal move.’ She shrugged. ‘Not every life decision has to be based on material or hierarchical gain.’

Both his eyebrows bobbed up to greet the hat. ‘Couldn’t agree more. Go on then. Snap away.’

‘And you’re sure you don’t want to um, freshen up?’

‘Nah. What you see is what you get. Crumpled shirt and all.’

She pulled the camera out from the low drawer in her tidy and ordered desk and put the flash on to compensate for the low light levels.

‘Macaroni cheese,’ he said. The button clicked a few times – she wanted to make sure she got a decent shot – and she let the camera drop. Their eyes held for a few moments until it became obvious neither had anything to say. Theo coughed as she bowed her head and began to scroll through the images.

‘Anyway, I came here for Arthur and he’s scuttled off. I need some help with shifting a dresser.’

‘Get one of the others to help,’ the accounts lady called from the front office. ‘They’re younger and stronger.’

Theo twisted his head back over his shoulder. ‘No, it’s Arthur I need. He’s the best in the business.’

On cue, Arthur shuffled back into reception and a wide grin spread across his wrinkled cheeks as he caught the end of the conversation. ‘Right you are, sir. I’ll be there straight away. I know we were mid-chat, Maisie, but I’m needed by the boss,’ Arthur apologised, and Maisie nodded a disappointed but understanding nod.

As they disappeared, Maisie uploaded the photo of Theo and her stomach flipped as she studied his twinkly green eyes and wide smile. She flapped the open neck of her blouse in an attempt to cool a sudden rush of heat from nowhere. Yep, she totally understood where the Wot a Lot! researcher was coming from …