“You can hang your coat through here.” The girl with the perfectly groomed, long blonde hair held the door open for Ellie, swaying slightly on her vertiginously high heels. Her mouth smiled, but she wasn’t actually looking at Ellie, and her highly glossed lips seemed more designed for pouting than for smiling. In fact the smile faded almost instantly, and was replaced by a look of irritation that made it obvious how much of a nuisance Ellie was, just by being there.

But Ellie Ixos wasn’t going to allow herself to be intimidated. She might only be here at the Editorial Department at Heart magazine for two weeks’ work experience, but for her it was a huge deal to have got this placement. For a start, she’d had to overcome her mum’s doubts about even considering it.

“If you’re interested in fashion, why not approach one of the shops?” her mum had said. “A couple of weeks selling clothes would be fun, and you’d probably get a discount on anything you wanted to buy.”

Ellie felt cross. She knew that Mum hated the idea of Ellie becoming a journalist, as her father had been. “But I don’t want to sell clothes,” she’d said. “I want to write about them – and other things too.” She saw the expression on her mum’s face and struggled to be diplomatic. “It’s not dangerous,” she said. “Heart is a teen magazine! I’ve even looked up the bus times. I only have to catch two. Hannah has to get the train and walk loads to get to the city farm where she’s working. I’ll be fine. Honestly. Besides” – Ellie tried to sound apologetic, but her voice was firm – “everyone in the class has to file a report about their work experience, and the best will go up on the school website. I want to be up there, where the action is.”

A shadow passed across Georgia Ixos’s face, and Ellie wished she hadn’t mentioned being where the action was.

Then her mum’s expression softened and she sighed. “You’ve got your dad’s determination. I’m sure he’d have said to go ahead, so I shouldn’t try to stop you, should I?”

Ellie gave her mum a hug, which said sorry as well as thank you. “So you’ll ask Uncle Patrick?”

Ellie’s dad had been a foreign correspondent. He had lost his life reporting from a war zone shortly before Ellie was born, so she could understand why her mum was wary of her daughter wanting to become a journalist too. But Uncle Patrick was her dad’s older brother, and he was on the board of Heart. The magazine was Ellie’s favourite, and exactly the sort she dreamed of working for.

Mum hugged her back. “You ask Uncle Patrick. You can’t be a journalist if you’re scared of asking favours!”

It had been a bit scary, phoning Uncle Patrick. Ellie couldn’t remember ever meeting him. Apparently, although he’d been very helpful with money when her dad had been killed, Uncle Patrick had been angry at his brother’s death and seemed to blame everyone, including Georgia, for what happened. Georgia felt he had been totally unreasonable. As a result they’d fallen out and hadn’t met for years.

“As if I could have stopped your dad,” Georgia told Ellie one day when she was reminiscing about the past. “Even with me being pregnant he still had to go. He had a burning desire to tell the truth about bad situations. He said he owed it to all the people being killed out there.” Georgia sighed and put her arm round her daughter. “He’d have loved you so much,” she said sadly. “I do wish he’d been able to see you, at least once, but your father was just as stubborn as you are sometimes. Anyway,” she added briskly, “no point dwelling on it now. It was a long time ago.”

Ellie knew that she had a stubborn streak, and it was rather nice to feel she had something in her of the dad she’d never met. Maybe her interest in writing was inherited from him too? There was no danger, though, that Ellie would follow him into a war zone. Fashion, boy bands and animal welfare were more her kind of thing at the moment. She had always wanted to be a journalist, and she simply loved the glossy magazines that mixed fashion and celebrity gossip with articles on more important issues. Especially Heart, because they always seemed to interview the people Ellie liked best.

Actually, speaking to Uncle Patrick had been fine. Ellie had thought up all sorts of reasons to persuade him to let her do her work experience at his magazine, but she hadn’t needed any of them.

“Of course you can,” he’d said straight away. “I’ll let them know when to expect you. Maybe I’ll come along and take you out to lunch one day if I can schedule it in.” He’d paused, and then Ellie had heard him laugh. “I can’t believe you’re all grown up. I met you once, but you were a tiny baby.”

“Well!” Georgia had said when Ellie told her. “I suppose he did meet you, but he didn’t take a lot of interest. I think he was scared of babies, and you were only a few weeks old.” She’d given her daughter a smile. “Maybe he’s ready to be friends now.”

But all that had happened weeks ago. Since then, Ellie had been waiting impatiently for her first day at the magazine to arrive. Now, at last, it had and she couldn’t help feeling rather intimidated. It would have been different if she’d known Uncle Patrick well – he might have offered to meet her and show her round – but she was on her own as she got off the bus and approached the place where she was going to work for the next two weeks.

Ellie was bright, strong-willed and confident, but she was undeniably awed by the huge, steel-and-glass office building that housed Heart, Soul – Heart’s sister magazine – and a dozen other magazines that were owned by the same company. She needed to take a deep breath to steady her nerves before approaching the reception desk in the main lobby. After that, waiting for someone to come down from Heart and take her up to the editorial office was just as nerve-wracking. The busy lobby seemed full of glamorous people, and when a tall, beautiful, blonde girl arrived to guide her to the lifts, Ellie’s heart quivered.

“Hi,” said the girl, neglecting to tell Ellie her name. “You’re the work experience girl, aren’t you?” The expression on the blonde girl’s face made it clear that she didn’t feel enthusiastic about having to look after a student. But in the lift, while the girl rudely ignored her, Ellie had time to gather herself. She was determined to enjoy her placement, so by the time they left the lift she had told herself she was feeling in control and not a bit scared.

Even so, here she was, fumbling with a mixture of nerves and excitement to put her very ordinary coat on the swanky, velvet-covered hanger that had been handed to her. The hanger was emblazoned with the name of a major fashion designer, and somehow it made her coat look decidedly shabby. The blonde girl rolled her eyes skywards. Ellie’s coat was dangling crookedly, and the girl’s expression made it clear that such slovenliness was not going to be acceptable. Ellie hurriedly adjusted her coat to make it look neater. The other coats and jackets on the rail managed to look intimidating, just by hanging there so perfectly, and the bored expression on the girl’s beautifully made-up face didn’t help, but Ellie refused to feel daunted. She was here, and it was still a dream come true!

Ellie had taken loads of care with her clothes and make-up. She had discussed it endlessly with Hannah, her best friend at school, and hoped she’d got it about right.

“You want to look good, but you also want to be taken seriously as a wannabe journalist, don’t you?” Hannah had said.

So, rather than a minidress, she’d chosen her favourite top and trousers and her cool, new boots that she utterly loved. She reckoned she’d got her look just about right…fashionable, but professional too. Her mum didn’t let her wear too much make-up anyway, but today they were in agreement. There was no point in Ellie trying to look twenty, when the staff would all know she was fourteen and still at school. Even so, as soon as she’d left the house, Ellie put another layer of mascara on, just to be sure.

Naturally, she’d got this month’s copy of Heart in her bag, and something her mum had given her just before she’d left to catch the bus.

“Here you are.” Georgia had thrust an old-fashioned-looking black notebook into her daughter’s hands. “It was your father’s. He bought it before his last trip and then forgot to take it with him.”

“Thanks, Mum.” Ellie had been touched, but the notebook wasn’t exactly the sort of thing she expected journalists at Heart would use. She was thrilled to have something of her dad’s, but it was so old-fashioned it would be embarrassing if anyone at Heart saw it. Ellie had stuffed it into her bag, and run down the road just in time to catch the bus.

Now she hurried again, so as not to keep the blonde girl waiting. She followed her through the lobby and towards the office. Ellie had just caught a tantalizing glimpse of workstations, expensive-looking chairs and an expanse of white carpet when the girl came to such a sudden halt that Ellie almost bumped into her.

“Didn’t they tell you to bring a pair of office shoes?”

Ellie looked down at her feet. For a moment she had no idea what the girl meant: then a sudden image entered her head. It was of herself, walking along that white carpet in her new boots, dark from the rain and grubby from the pavement. She would leave marks everywhere! She found herself blushing with embarrassment. “Uncle Patrick didn’t say anything about shoes,” she said, annoyed with herself for sounding so pathetic.

The girl tossed her long blonde hair in annoyance and muttered “Honestly!” just loud enough for Ellie to hear. “Come on then.” She pushed past Ellie with a sigh and went back into the lobby. For an awful moment Ellie thought she was going to be thrown out, but the girl was opening a cupboard to reveal a jumbled collection of high-heeled shoes. “What size are you?”

“Five.” Ellie was determined not to let this setback get to her.

The girl waved dismissively at the shoes and turned to go. “Once you’ve found something that fits, put your boots neatly in the other cupboard and come into the office. I don’t have time to wait.”

Ellie crouched down and looked at the shoes in despair. She had never found walking in heels particularly easy, and all these shoes had heels way higher than anything she was used to. For an instant she wondered if she could get away with bare feet, but she knew in her bones that no way would that be acceptable in the Heart office.

She discarded the first pair she looked at straight away. They were covered with beads and feathers, and the heels were so spiky you could toast marshmallows on them. In fact, all the shoes seemed ridiculously over the top for a day at the office. But at the back of the cupboard she found a pair of sandals that looked a bit less difficult to walk in. They were probably the least trendy of the lot, but she loved the soft red leather of the straps and, to her relief, they fitted well enough. They looked pretty cool too.

As soon as she’d stowed her boots in the outdoor shoes cupboard she pulled herself awkwardly to a standing position. She felt about half a metre taller. The soles of the shoes were curved and, as she took her first steps, she found herself rolling towards the office through the thick carpet. It made her feel a little queasy, as if she were on a boat.

At the door she paused for a moment. She wanted to make sure she wasn’t in danger of bumping her head on the lintel, but told herself not to be so ridiculous. The shoes hadn’t made her that tall.

Entering the office by herself was undeniably scary, but she’d got this far, and Ellie was in no way a quitter.

I have every right to be here, she told herself firmly. And I won’t let myself be put off by anything or anybody!

Resisting the impulse to look at her feet as she walked, she held her head high and pushed open the door. The blonde girl was nowhere to be seen, but another very pretty girl, with glossy brown hair, was sitting at a desk by the door. She looked up and smiled at Ellie. “Heart, the magazine to die for,” she said. “Editorial Department. Can I help you?”

Ellie’s heart leaped on hearing the famous words that appeared every month on the front of the magazine. “Yes,” she said, trying to keep her voice level in spite of it wanting to bubble over with excitement. “I’m Ellie Ixos. Here on my work experience placement.”

For a moment the girl frowned, then her face cleared. “Oh yes. Ellie.” She smiled again. “Is Patrick Ixos a relation? It’s a very unusual name.”

Ellie nodded.

The receptionist looked pleased with herself. “Thought so.” She paused. “Isn’t Pea-Are-No looking after you?”

“Well…someone met me in the lobby…” Ellie didn’t want to admit that the blonde girl hadn’t actually introduced herself, and she certainly wasn’t going to mention the coat or shoe incidents.

“Honestly! Trust her to desert you!” The girl pushed her chair back and got up. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’m Carlotta Spender-Jones.” She offered her rather limp hand with its long, dark purple nails, and Ellie shook it, wondering how Carlotta managed the keyboard with such talons. “Don’t worry if you forget our names,” said Carlotta. “We all have them on our desks, so you can easily sneak a look without having to admit you can’t remember.” She giggled, and Ellie warmed to her. She looked a bit younger than Pea-Are-No, and although she was obviously a lot older than fourteen, Ellie hoped they might become friends. “Follow me then. I’ll give you a quick whisk around the office. This is Pea-Are-No’s desk.”

Ellie peered at the name on the desk and almost burst out laughing. The way Carlotta had pronounced the name, Ellie had wondered if it was oriental, but it was spelled Piano, like the instrument! Piano Arnley-Armitage. What a ridiculous name. No wonder she didn’t like saying it the way it was spelled! But Carlotta had moved on.

“This is Francesca Mosse’s desk. She’s the Deputy Editor. And this” – Carlotta pointed one beautifully manicured finger – “is Flynn, doing something weird to Francesca’s laptop. He’s our IT whizz-kid.”

To Ellie, Flynn looked more like gorgeous, boy-band material than an IT expert and, judging by Carlotta’s fluttering eyelashes, she thought so too. But when he glanced up he showed no sign of appreciating her flirtatious behaviour. He ignored her and grinned at Ellie instead. “Hi!” He reached out his hand and shook hers firmly. “You must be here on work experience. I hope these dragons don’t put you off. If you get fed up, go down and see Sophie in the post room. She’ll sort you out.” Then he flashed Carlotta a cheeky smile and went back to prising the keyboard off the laptop. “By the way,” he added casually, prodding the inside of the laptop with a tiny screwdriver as he spoke, “I’m not doing anything weird. There’s a little battery in here that needs resetting.” He replaced the keyboard and looked very pleased with himself.

Carlotta frowned. “One day you’ll break something, fiddling about like that,” she said. Then, glancing round the otherwise deserted office, she looked puzzled. “Where is everyone?”

“Francesca and Piano went into the lion’s den with Joe.”

“Without me?” Carlotta clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Francesca said they’d try to discuss the next shoot when I wasn’t busy, so I could be included. Reception work is supposed to be shared, but it’s always me who has to do it!” She marched through the office, with Ellie trailing behind, wondering what the “lion’s den” was – and if Piano minded Flynn pronouncing her name like an instrument.

Carlotta led Ellie through a glass panelled door and into a large, beautifully furnished inner office. On the door, was a sign that said: Angel Makepiece – Editor in Chief. That must be the lion’s den. Flynn’s name for it didn’t exactly inspire confidence! Ellie could see several people inside. One overshadowed the rest. She was a stunningly beautiful woman, with glowing dark brown skin over a perfect bone structure. Her black hair was scraped back off her face and her make-up was flawless. She would have been tall even without the heels she wore. Her pale cream shirt and pencil skirt oozed authority, and echoed the faultless beauty of the lilies in the vase beside her.

As Carlotta and Ellie approached, the woman turned her cool brown eyes on them both. Ellie decided to be brave, and grown-up, and introduce herself.

“I’m Ellie,” she said, stepping into the office and offering her hand to the sophisticated woman. “I expect my Uncle Patrick told you about me.”

A sudden silence fell, and everyone in the room stared at Ellie. The woman’s stunning eyes widened slightly, and her mouth twitched into the barest hint of a smile. “He didn’t speak to me,” she said in a rich voice that seemed to reverberate through the office, although it was actually quite quiet. “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake. I’m Francesca Mosse, the Deputy Editor. He probably spoke to Angel, our Editor in Chief.”

“Yes,” stammered Ellie, withdrawing her hand and feeling about two years old. “Of course.” If she hadn’t been wearing such ridiculous shoes she could have kicked herself. It was obvious that the woman wasn’t the editor. She looked nothing like the photograph that appeared inside the front cover of the magazine every month. But how could Ellie explain that she hadn’t noticed the real editor, because she’d been totally overshadowed in her own office by her deputy? It would hardly be diplomatic!

Ellie looked at Angel Makepiece, who was standing next to a huge, impressive desk. The photograph in the magazine made her seem friendly as well as glamorous. She didn’t look friendly at the moment, but she certainly was glamorous. Her clothes were sophisticated and obviously expensive, but her expression was icy. Was that because Ellie had ignored her in her own office? Why should Angel Makepiece seem so angry over a simple mistake made by a work experience girl? Then Ellie remembered Uncle Patrick. He was on the board of the magazine. Had he foisted Ellie on Angel against her wishes? Maybe Uncle Patrick hadn’t done her such a big a favour after all.

Ellie’s heart dropped to the soles of her red office sandals. The last thing she needed was to be resented by the Editor just for being here, but she’d hardly done herself any favours either. Ellie had so wanted to make a good impression, but with the shoe incident and now this, all she’d done so far was to make a fool of herself. Had she made an enemy too?