Читать книгу Oh-So-Sensible Secretary / Housekeeper's Happy-Ever-After: Oh-So-Sensible Secretary - Jessica Hart - Страница 8

I LOOKED at him in surprise. ‘But you’re famous,’ I said. I’d known Lex wasn’t impressed by his younger brother, but had assumed that his parents at least would be pleased by his success. ‘You’ve had a successful television career.’

‘My parents aren’t impressed by television.’ Phin smiled wryly. ‘They think the media generally is shallow and frivolous—certainly compared to the serious business of running Gibson & Grieve. Lex and I were brought up to believe that the company was all that mattered, and that it was the only future we could ever have or ever want.’

‘When did you change your mind?’

‘When I realised that there wasn’t really a place for me here. Lex is older than me, and anyway he had Chief Executive written all over him even as a toddler. Gibson & Grieve was all he ever cared about.’

It was my turn to study Phin. He was looking quite relaxed, leaning back against the banquette, but I sensed that this wasn’t an easy topic of conversation for him.

‘Didn’t you ever want to be part of it, too?’

‘As a very small boy I used to love going into the office,’ he admitted. ‘But as I got bigger I didn’t fit. I was always being told to be quiet or sit still, and I didn’t like doing either of those things. I wanted to skid over the shiny floors, or play football, or fiddle with the new computers. After a while I stopped going.’

Phin’s smile was a little crooked. ‘Of course it’s easy now to see that I was just a spoilt brat looking for attention, but at the time it felt as if I were reacting against all their expectations. Lex was always there, doing what he should, and there never seemed any point in me doing the same. I got into as much trouble as I could instead,’ he said. ‘My parents were beside themselves. They didn’t know what to do with me, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I don’t think they ever thought I would get a degree, and I took off as soon as I’d graduated. I suspect that they were glad to be rid of me! I mean, what would they have done with me at Gibson & Grieve? I didn’t fit with the image at all!’

No, he wouldn’t have done, I thought. In spite of its commitment to style, Gibson & Grieve was at heart a very solid, traditional company—it was one of the reasons I liked it—and Phin would have been too chaotic, too vibrant, too energetic to ever properly fit in.

‘So what did you do?’ I asked, wondering how he was going to fit in now that he was back.

‘I messed around for a few years,’ he said. ‘I worked my way around the world. I didn’t care what I did as long as I was somewhere I could keep my adrenalin pumping—skiing, sailing, whitewater rafting, climbing, sky-diving…I tried them all. I spent some time in the Amazon and learnt jungle survival skills, and then I got a job leading a charity expedition, and that led onto behind the scenes advice on a reality TV programme.’

He shrugged. ‘It seems I came across well on camera, and the next thing I knew they’d offered me my own programme, taking ill-assorted groups into challenging situations.’

And I knew what had happened after that. It had taken no time at all for Phin Gibson to become a celebrity, almost as famous as Gibson & Grieve itself.

‘And now you’ve joined the company,’ I said.

‘I have.’ Phin was silent for a moment, looking down at his hands, which lay lightly clasped on the table, and then he looked up at me and the blueness of his eyes was so intense that I actually drew a sharp breath.

‘Last year I took a group of young offenders on a gruelling trek through Peru,’ he said.

I remembered the programme. I had watched it with Anne, and even I had had to admit that the change in those boys by the end of the trek was extraordinary.

‘I recognised myself in them,’ Phin said. ‘It made me think about how difficult it must have been for my parents. I guess I’d grown up in spite of myself.’

His mouth quirked in a self-deprecating grin, then he sobered. ‘My father had a stroke last year as well. That put a new perspective on everything. It seemed to me that it was time to try and make some amends. My mother has got it into her mind that all Dad wants is for me to settle down and take up my inheritance at Gibson & Grieve.’

He sighed a little. ‘To be honest, it’s a little hard to know exactly what Dad wants now, but he did manage to squeeze my hand when my mother told him what she had in mind. Basically, a certain amount of emotional blackmail is being applied! In lots of ways it’s worse for Lex,’ Phin went on thoughtfully. ‘He stepped into my father’s shoes as Chief Executive, and he’s been doing a good job. Profits are up. Everyone’s happy. The last thing he wants is me muddying the waters. In the end he suggested that we capitalise on my “celebrity”, for want of better word, and make me the new face of Gibson & Grieve. You know we’ve just acquired Gregson’s?’

He cocked an eyebrow at me and I nodded. The acquisition had made the headlines a few months ago when it happened.

‘Supermarkets are a change of direction for us,’ Phin went on. ‘Our brand has always been up-market, even exclusive, and we need more of a popular, family-friendly image now. Lex seems to think I can help with that, and I agreed to see how it went for a year initially, on condition that I could finish a couple of filming commitments.’

I smoothed my skirt over my knees. I was feeling a bit bad, if you want the truth. I’d dismissed Phin as a spoilt celebrity and assumed that he was choosing to dabble in the family business for a while. I hadn’t realised that he was under some pressure.

‘It makes sense for you to be Director of Media Relations,’ I offered.

‘I think we all know how little that means,’ said Phin, leaning across the table, and I found myself leaning back as if pushed there by the sheer force of his personality. ‘Lex’s idea is to shunt me off and just wheel me out to be photographed every now and then. As far as he’s concerned all the media relations will be done by his PR guy…what’s his name? John?’

‘Jonathan Pugh.’

Just saying his name was enough to bump my heart into my throat, and my tongue felt thick and unwieldy in my mouth. I wondered if Phin would notice how husky I sounded, but he didn’t seem to.

‘Yep, that’s him,’ was all he said, sitting back again. ‘A born suit.’

I bridled at the dismissive note in his voice. I’d been quite liking Phin until then, but I was very sensitive to any criticism of Jonathan. At least Jonathan dressed professionally, unlike some people I could mention, I thought, eyeing Phin’s T-shirt disapprovingly.

‘Jonathan’s very good at his job,’ I said stiffly.

‘Lex wouldn’t employ him unless he was,’ said Phin. ‘But if he’s that good there won’t be much left for me to do, will there? I’m not going to spend a year opening stores and saving Lex the trouble of turning up at charity bashes.’

‘Then why come back if you’re not going to do anything?’ I asked, still ruffled by his dismissal of Jonathan.

‘But I am going to do something,’ he said. ‘Lex just doesn’t know it yet. If I’m going to be part of Gibson & Grieve, I’m going to make a difference.’

Oh, dear. I had a nasty feeling this was the kind of thing Lex had meant when he had told me to stop Phin doing anything stupid.

‘How?’ I asked warily.

‘By increasing our range of fair trade products. Promoting links with communities here and overseas. Being more aware of environmental issues. Developing our staff and providing more training. Making connections,’ said Phin. ‘We’re all part of chain. It doesn’t matter if we’re picking tea in Sri Lanka, stacking it on the shelves in Sheffield or buying it in Swindon. We should be celebrating the connections between people, not pretending that the only thing that matters is underlying operating profit or consensus forecasts.’

I was secretly impressed that Phin even knew about consensus forecasts, but I couldn’t see any of this going down well with Lex.

I nibbled my thumb. It’s a bad habit of mine when I’m unsure. ‘And you haven’t discussed any of this with your brother yet?’

‘Not yet, no,’ he said. ‘I wanted to get to know you first.’

‘Me?’ I was taken aback. ‘Why?’

‘Because if I’m going to get anything done I need a team. I need to be sure that we can work together, and that we share the same goals.’

The blue, blue eyes fixed on me with that same unnerving intensity. ‘You’ve been working for Lex, and I know his staff are all very loyal to him. I’m not trying to take over, but there’s no use pretending he’s going to share my ideas, and I don’t want to put you in a difficult position. If you’d rather not work with me to change things, this is the time to say, Summer. I’m sure Lex would give you your old job back if you wanted it, and there’d be no hard feelings.’

I’ll admit it. I hesitated. There was part of me that longed to go back to the Chief Executive’s office—which buzzed with drive, where everyone was cool and efficient, and where there was no Phin Gibson with his unsettling presence and alarming ideas about change. I didn’t like change. I’d had enough of change as a child. I wanted everything to stay the same.

But this was my big chance. When Anne got married I was going to have to move out of the flat. With my new salary I might be able to save enough to put down a deposit on a place of my own by then. It was only for a year, too, I reminded myself. When it was up, I’d be in a good position to get another job at the same level in spite of my age. It would be worth putting up with Phin until then.

So I met the blue eyes squarely. ‘I don’t want my old job back,’ I said. ‘I want to be part of your team.’

I was sorting through the post the next morning when Phin appeared. Late again. Hadn’t he ever heard of a nine-to-five day at work?

He had spent no more than a couple of hours in the office after we had got back from Otto’s, before disappearing to a meeting with his producer.

‘But I’ve read all my e-mails, you’ll be glad to hear,’ he said as he left. ‘I take back everything I said about never being bored. All that corporate jargon puts me to sleep faster than a cup of cocoa. I’m never going to make it through a meeting if these guys actually talk like that.’

It would be nice to think he would ever be there to go to a meeting, I thought crossly.

It was after ten, and I had been in a dilemma about when to have the doughnut I’d bought earlier at Otto’s. Having forgone my treat the day before, I was determined not to miss out again, but I wanted a few minutes to myself, so that I could enjoy it properly. I needed Phin to be in his office, so that I knew where he was.

Not knowing when he might appear had been making me twitchy, so when Phin strolled in and wished me a cheerful good morning I glared at him over the top of my glasses.

‘Where have you been?’ I demanded.

‘You know,’ Phin confided, ‘that librarian thing you’ve got going really works for me.’

‘What librarian thing?’ I asked, thrown.

‘The fierce glasses on the chain, the scraped back hair, the neat suit…’ He grinned at my expression, which must have been dumbfounded. That’s certainly how I felt. ‘Please say you’re about to shake out your hair and tell me you’re going to have to be very strict with me for being late!’

I’d never met anyone like Phin before, and I was completely flummoxed. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘I was just getting a bit carried away there. What was it you wanted to know again?’

‘I was wondering where you’d been,’ I said tightly. ‘It’s after ten. I was expecting you here an hour ago at least.’

‘I went into the Oxford Street store to see how things are going,’ said Phin casually, picking up the post from my desk and leafing idly through it. ‘I thought it would be an idea to meet the staff and hear what they think, and it was very useful.’ He looked up at me, his eyes disconcertingly blue and amused. ‘Why? Should I have asked permission?’

I pressed my lips together. ‘It’s not a question of permission,’ I said. ‘But there’s no point in having a PA unless you let me know where you are. I need to be able to make appointments for you, and I can’t do that if I’ve no idea when you’re going to turn up.’

‘Who wants an appointment?’

‘Well, no one, as it happens,’ I was forced to admit. ‘But they might have done. It’s a matter of principle.’

‘Principle? That sounds serious.’ Phin dropped the post back onto the desk and without thinking I squared up the pile, looking up when he sucked in his breath alarmingly.

‘What’s the matter?’ I asked, startled.

‘I don’t know…’ He was squinting at the pile I’d tidied. ‘I think those papers at the bottom might be half a millimetre out of alignment.’

‘Sarcasm—excellent,’ I said. Sarcastically. That was all I needed. ‘Thank you so much.’

He held up his hands. ‘It’s nothing, honestly. Just one more service we offer.’

My lips tightened. I tried to pick up the conversation. ‘Perhaps we should agree a system.’

‘A system,’ said Phin, testing the word as if he’d never heard it before. ‘Fine. What sort of system?’

‘If you let me have your mobile number, so that I can get hold of you if I need to, that would be a start. And then perhaps we could sit down and go through your diary.’

‘Absolutely. Let’s do it.’ He clenched his fist and punched it in the air, to demonstrate an enthusiasm I was perfectly aware he didn’t feel. ‘Let’s do it now, in fact.’

‘Fine.’

We exchanged mobile numbers, and then I carried the diary into his office. I would put all the details on the computer later, but it was easier at this stage to use an old-fashioned hard copy.

I sat down with the diary on my knee, while Phin fished out a personal organiser and leaned back in his chair so that he could prop his feet on the desk.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘I’d better have everything.’ I smoothed the page open, admiring in passing how nice my hands looked. I take care of my nails, and today they were painted a lovely pale pink called Dew at Dawn. ‘If you’re the face of Gibson & Grieve, you’ll be expected to appear at various functions and I’ll need to know when you’re available.’

‘Fair enough.’

He had an extraordinarily complicated social life, with two or three events an evening as far as I could make out. I couldn’t help comparing it with my own , which largely consisted of painting my nails in front of the television, watching Anne getting ready to go out with Mark and feeling miserable about Jonathan.

‘This is great,’ said Phin when we’d finished. ‘I never need to remember anything by myself ever again. Maybe I won’t mind being an executive after all. What else is there to do?’

‘There’s a meeting to discuss the new media strategy at half past ten,’ I said, handing him a folder. ‘Your brother suggested you went along if you were here on time. I’ve noted all the salient points, and included copies of recent minutes so you know the background.’

‘Salient points?’ he echoed, amazed. ‘I didn’t realise people still said things like that any more!’

I chose to ignore that, and looked pointedly at my watch instead. ‘You should get going. You’ve only got a couple of minutes and you don’t want to be late.’

‘You mean you don’t want me to be late,’ said Phin, but he swung his legs down from the desk.

I could hardly wait for him to go. I practically shoved him out of the door towards the lifts. Lex’s office was on the floor above, and as soon as I saw him step into the lift I scurried down the corridor to the kitchen to make myself some coffee.

My office, and Phin’s of course, was in a prime location on the corner of the building, with fabulous views of Trafalgar Square, but more importantly we were at the end of the corridor, which meant that nobody dropped in just because they were passing.

Even so, I closed the door as a precaution and prepared to enjoy my doughnut in private. I settled happily behind my desk with my coffee and cleared a space. Eating a doughnut could be a messy business. Perhaps that was why it always felt faintly naughty to me.

At last. I pulled out the doughnut and took a bite, mumbling with pleasure as my teeth sank into the sugary dough.

And then froze as the door opened and Phin came in. ‘I forgot that file—’ he began, and then it was his turn to stop as he took in the sight of me, sitting guiltily behind my desk, doughnut in hand and mouth full.

His eyes lit with amusement. ‘Aha! Caught red-handed, I see.’

Blushing furiously, I dropped the doughnut and brushed at the sugar moustache I could feel on my top lip. ‘I thought you’d gone,’ I blustered, mortified at having been caught in such an unprofessional pose.

‘Now I know why you were so keen to get rid of me,’ said Phin. ‘This is a new side to you. How very, very unlikely. Who would have thought that sensible Summer Curtis would have a doughnut addiction!’ He leant conspiratorially towards me. ‘Does anyone else know?’

‘It’s not an addiction,’ I said, trying for some dignity. ‘I just work better if I’ve had some sugar in the morning.’

‘Well, I’m delighted to find that you’ve got a weakness. I was finding all that perfection just a little intimidating.’ He grinned. ‘It’s good to know that when it comes down to it you can’t resist temptation either.’

Of course, then I had to prove him wrong.

The next day, when I called in to buy my usual cappuccino on my way into work, I refused the doughnut Lucia offered and felt virtuous. This would be the start of a new regime, I vowed. I didn’t need a sugar fix, anyway. That was just silly. I would stick to coffee—a much less embarrassing habit and one that was less likely to lead to humiliation.

And I made it all the way to the lifts before I started to regret my resolution. Why shouldn’t I have a mid-morning snack? It wasn’t as if eating a doughnut was immoral or illegal. I blamed Phin for making me feel guilty about it. It was more satisfying than blaming myself.

Already I could already feel the craving twitching away in the pit of my stomach, making me tense. It didn’t bode well for the rest of the day, and I hoped everyone would give me a wide berth. I wasn’t known for my easygoing attitude on the best of days, and I had a feeling this most definitely wasn’t going to be a good one.

At least Phin managed to turn up before ten o’clock, looking distinctly the worse for wear.

‘I hope I get a gold star for turning up early,’ he said.

I thinned my lips, still illogically determined to blame him for my doughnut-less day. ‘I’d hardly call ten early,’ I said repressively.

‘It is for me.’ Phin yawned. ‘I had a very late night.’

I wondered how much his lack of sleep was due to the beautiful Jewel Stevens. According to last night’s Metro, the two of them were ‘inseparable’. Not that I was scouring gossip columns for news of my new boss, you understand. In spite of taking a book to read on the tube every day, I somehow always ended up devouring the free paper on the way home. When it’s pressed into your hand, it seems rude not to.

Phin’s name just happened to catch my eye—honest. There had even been a picture of him at some party, with Jewel entwined around his arm. I know I’m in no position to talk about stupid names, but really…Jewel? I’d put money on the fact that she was christened Julie. In the picture Phin had a faintly wary look, but that might have been the flash. He certainly didn’t look as if he were pushing her away.

Why would he? She was dark and sultry, with legs up to her armpits, a beestung mouth and masses of rippling black hair. Every man’s fantasy, in fact.

I felt vaguely depressed at the thought, and then worried by the fact that I was depressed—until I realised it must just be the lack of sugar getting to me.

‘No, really, though. I’ll be fine,’ said Phin, when I failed to offer the expected sympathy. ‘There’s no need to make a fuss.’

I sighed and narrowed my eyes at him.

‘I can tell that deep down you’re really worried,’ he said, and when I just looked back at him without expression he wisely took himself off into his office.

‘I’ll survive,’ he promised, just before he shut the door. ‘But if I don’t, you’re not to feel bad, OK?’

All was quiet for nearly an hour. I was betting that he had gone to catch up on his sleep on one of those sofas, but frankly I was glad to get rid of him for a while. I tried to soothe myself with a little filing, but a few days wasn’t long enough to generate much of a backlog, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how good a doughnut would taste with a cup of coffee.

Perhaps Phin was right. Perhaps I really was addicted, I fretted. I even considered sneaking out to Otto’s, but couldn’t take the chance of Phin waking up and finding me gone. I’d never hear the end of it.

The more I tried not to think about doughnuts, the more I wanted one, and it was almost a relief when Phin buzzed me. Yes, buzzed me—like a real executive! Maybe he would get the hang of corporate life after all.

‘It’s almost eleven,’ came his voice through the intercom. ‘Am I allowed to have coffee yet?’

‘Of course,’ I said, glad of the distraction from my doughnut craving, and relieved to be able to act as a normal PA for a change. ‘I’ll bring you some in.’

‘Bring yourself some, too. We need to do some planning. You’ll like that.’

Planning. That sounded more like it. I switched my phone through, wedged my notebook under my arm, and took in a pot of coffee and two cups on a tray.

I half expected to find Phin lying on one of the sofas, but he was sitting behind his desk, apparently immersed in something he was reading on the computer screen. He looked up when I pushed open the door with my elbow, though, and got to his feet.

‘Let’s make ourselves comfortable,’ he said, guiding me over to the sofas and producing a familiar-looking paper bag from a drawer. ‘I thought we’d have a little something with our coffee,’ he said, waving it under my nose.

He’d brought two doughnuts.

It was all I could do not to drool. I’ve no idea what my expression was like, but judging by the laughter in the blue eyes it was a suitable picture.

‘Now aren’t you sorry you weren’t more sympathetic?’ he asked as he set the doughnuts out on a paper napkin each.

I eyed them longingly. ‘I’ve just decided to give them up,’ I said, but Phin only clicked his tongue.

‘You can’t do that just when I’ve found a weakness I can ruthlessly exploit,’ he said. ‘Besides, you told me yourself you needed a sugar fix in order to concentrate. You’ll just get grumpy otherwise.’

Unfortunately that was all too true.

‘Take it as an order, if that helps,’ he said as I hesitated. ‘Keeping me company on the doughnut front is compulsory. If I’d been able to appoint my own PA I’d have put it in the job description.’

What could I do? ‘Well, if you insist…’ I said, giving in.

I sat on one sofa, Phin sat on the other, and we bit into our doughnuts at the same time.

I can’t tell you how good mine tasted. I laughed as I licked sugar from my fingers. ‘Mmm…yum-yum,’ I said, and then stopped as I saw Phin’s arrested expression. ‘What?’

‘Nothing. I was just realising I hadn’t heard you laugh yet,’ he said. ‘You should do it more often.

My eyes slid away from his. ‘It’s easy to laugh when you’re being force-fed doughnuts,’ I said after a tiny pause. I was very aware of him watching me, and I licked sugar from my lips with the tip of my tongue, suddenly uncomfortable as the silence stretched.

I cleared my throat. ‘What exactly did you want to plan?’ I said.

‘Plan?’ echoed Phin, sounding oddly distracted.

‘You said we needed to do some planning,’ I reminded him.

‘Oh, yes…’ He seemed to recover himself. ‘Well, I had a chat about my role here with Lex last night, and we discussed things in a civilised manner.’

‘Really?’

‘No, not really. We had a knock-down-drag-out fight, and shouted at each other for a good hour. It didn’t quite come to fisticuffs, but it was touch and go at one point. Just like being boys again,’ he said reflectively.

I couldn’t imagine anyone daring to shout at Lex, but then Phin was a self-confessed adrenalin junkie and obviously thrived on danger.

‘What happened?’ I asked a little nervously. I hoped Phin hadn’t enraged his brother so much that we would be both be out of a job.

‘I’d like to claim utter victory, but I’d be lying,’ Phin admitted. ‘Lex wasn’t budging when it came to renegotiating our suppliers, but he did agree eventually that I could start to build up links with communities overseas. In return I had to promise to co-operate fully on the PR front. Apparently he’s lined up a feature in Glitz already.’

Phin shrugged as he finished his doughnut and brushed the sugar from his hands. ‘So, not everything I wanted, I’ll admit, but it’s a start.’

‘Well…good,’ I said, feeling a little uncertain. ‘What happens next?’

‘We’d better keep Lex quiet about the PR,’ he decided. ‘Make arrangements for that interview, and talk to Jonathan Pugh about what they want.’

Talk to Jonathan! Talk to Jonathan. My stomach clenched with excitement. I had a reason to go and talk to Jonathan! My handwriting was ridiculously shaky as I made a note, although there was no chance of me forgetting that particular task.

Phin was talking about a trip to Cameroon he was planning but I hardly listened. I was too busy imagining my meeting with Jonathan.

This would be my first chance to talk to him properly since that awful evening when he had told me it ‘wasn’t working’ for him. I had seen him around the office, of course, but never alone, and I was sure that he was avoiding me. I’d been holding onto the hope that if we could just spend some time together again he would change his mind.

I would play it cool, of course, I decided. Surely he knew that I was the last person to make a fuss? I would be calm and reasonable and undemanding. What more could he want? I’ve missed you, Summer, I imagined him saying as the scales dropped from his eyes and he realised that I was just what he needed after all. You’ve no idea how much.

But if he had missed me, why hadn’t he told me? I puzzled over that one. OK, maybe he had just been waiting for the right moment. Or he’d thought I was busy.

It even sounded lame in my fantasy, which wasn’t a good sign.

I suddenly realised that Phin had stopped talking and was looking at me enquiringly. ‘So what do you think?’ he asked.

‘Um…sounds good to me,’ I said hastily, without a clue as to what he’d been talking about. ‘Great idea.’

His brows lifted in surprise. ‘Well, that’s good. To be honest, I didn’t think you’d go for it.’

‘Oh?’ I regarded him warily. That sounded ominous. ‘Er…what exactly didn’t you think I’d like?’

‘Staff development in Cameroon,’ he prompted, but his eyes had started to dance.

‘What?’

Phin tried to look severe, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘Summer, is it possible you weren’t listening to a word I was saying?’

I squirmed. ‘I may have got distracted there for a moment or two,’ I admitted feebly.

He tutted. ‘That’s not like you, Summer. After I gave you sugar, too! I’ve just explained about my plan to take a group from Head Office to Cameroon for a couple of weeks, to help build a medical centre in one of the villages I know there. It’s a great way to start forging links between the company and a community, and everyone who goes will get so much out of it. But you don’t need to worry about it yet. You’ll have plenty of time to prepare.’

‘Hold on,’ I said, alarmed by the way this was going. ‘Me? Prepare for what?’

‘Of course you’ll be coming, too,’ said Phin, with what I was sure was malicious pleasure in my consternation. ‘We’re a team, remember? This is our scheme. It’s important that you’re really part of it. What better way than to go as part of the first group, to find out what it’s like out there?’