Chapter 3

SANDY’S HEART WAS thudding. Her small, anxious face, flushed from her walk in the wind, looked around the semicircle of offices that occupied the penthouse floor of Harbour Yard, one of the several towering office and apartment blocks of the exclusive Chelsea Harbour complex. The McCann Walsh suite was a bit like half an amphitheatre, with glassed-in offices around the upper level that looked out on one side to the river and the other to the cluttered arena of desks, filing cabinets, partitions and state-of-the-art technology.

The lift doors closed behind her and she walked uncertainly across the neutral carpet to the edge of the three steps that descended to the well. There was no one in sight, but she could hear a voice coming from somewhere behind one of the partitions. Her eyes scanned the walls and she felt a quiet excitement steal through her. So she hadn’t imagined all the famous faces on the giant posters and photographs, in fact there were even more than she remembered. She wondered if she was actually going to get to meet any of them and wished she had someone to boast about it to if she did.

She stayed where she was a while longer, hoping someone would notice her or even, remembering she was starting today, come to find her. She continued to look around, her hands hanging awkwardly at her sides, her Sunday market bag over one shoulder and her long black coat buttoned up to the neck. Her eyes were heavily made up in an effort to disguise their puffiness; the result of all the crying she had done these past seven days. She wasn’t going to think about that now, though, or she’d only start again. Instead she thought about her great new hair-style and how pleased she was with the way it looked now it had been cut short and highlighted. It was helping to make her feel a bit less nervous than she might have, though the fact that it had cost almost a hundred pounds was a shock she was still trying to get over. She’d never dreamed a haircut could cost so much. Her sisters had always thought Wendy the mobile overcharged, but at twelve quid for a cut and blow dry, and twenty to touch up the roots, Wendy was bargain basement.

The person the other side of the partition laughed loudly. Whoever it was was obviously speaking on the phone. Sandy put a foot out as though to go down the steps, then thought better of it. She couldn’t interrupt a phone call, so she’d better just carry on waiting.

She looked at her watch. It was only a quarter to nine, so she was fifteen minutes early. It had taken her over an hour and a half to get here, starting out with the District Line from Barking to Sloane Square, then the number eleven bus down the King’s Road to the humpback bridge by Chutney Mary’s, the Indian restaurant that the bus conductor had said was famous. From there she’d had to walk in her four-inch-heel ankle boots through the cold, wind-trap streets of World’s End where auction-house stock-rooms and very posh-looking art galleries were starting to open up business for the day. She’d known what the journey would be like, though; she’d done a practice run last Friday, after plotting it all out with her maps and timetables, to make sure she wouldn’t be late on her first day. The tube fare was really expensive, but she didn’t have enough to get a season ticket so she would have to continue with daily peak-hour returns for now. A bolt of dread suddenly twisted her heart and tears stung her eyes. All she had left was enough to get her back to her bedsit tonight. She had nothing for food and no means of getting in to work tomorrow.

She turned as the lift doors opened behind her and a crowd of people, all talking at once, spilled out into the office. Sandy watched as they passed, hoping one of them would be Zelda, the only face she would recognize, but there was no sign of her.

‘Hi, is someone taking care of you?’

A tall, thin-faced girl in fluffy blue earphones and a lime-green parka had come up behind her.

‘Oh, um, no,’ Sandy stammered, feeling suddenly very dowdy in her plain black coat and Victorian boots.

The girl’s friendly eyes widened in invitation for Sandy to continue.

‘I’m supposed to be starting work here today,’ Sandy explained.

The girl’s smile grew bigger as she held out a hand to shake. ‘Then you must be Sandy Paull,’ she said, pumping Sandy’s hand up and down. ‘I’m Jodi Webb, Michael’s secretary. You’ll be sharing an office with me. Come on, I’ll show you where it is,’ and linking Sandy’s arm she led her down into the well where the others, still gossiping, were taking off their coats and opening up the steaming styrofoam cups of coffee they’d brought in with them.

‘Hey everyone,’ Jodi shouted, ‘this is Sandy, the new clerk.’ Everyone turned to look at Sandy and Sandy felt her cheeks burn. ‘Sandy,’ Jodi continued, ‘this is Frances, Janine, Bertie, Thea and Harry. The only one you should remember is Harry. He’s an agent and has the office over there, at the far end of the crescent.’

‘Hi, Sandy,’ Harry said, holding out his hand. ‘Welcome to McCann Walsh.’

‘Thank you,’ Sandy said shyly, taking his hand. He had a cheerful-looking face, slightly scarred from teenage acne and liberally freckled. His auburn hair was thinning on the top, but curled thickly around his collar and he had a sparkle in his pale-blue eyes that warmed Sandy to him right away.

The others came forward to shake her hand too, the first being Janine and Frances, the booking assistants who were around Sandy’s age and dressed as way-out as Jodi. The way they gave Sandy the once-over put her on edge, but she was careful not to let it show. Then came Bertie, another agent’s assistant, who was over six foot tall, as thin as a pole and camper than a row of tents, as Sandy’s brothers would say. Last was Thea, Harry’s assistant, who, with her stark white face, burgundy lips and straight black hair was a dead ringer for Mortitia in the Addams Family.

‘Don’t worry,’ Jodi laughed, as she led Sandy up the steps to the glassed-in offices, ‘they’re not as scary as they look. Now, I think the best thing is for us to take off our coats, get some coffee going, then I’ll show you round, OK?’

‘OK,’ Sandy answered, liking the cheery cockneyness of Jodi’s voice and wondering if she shouldn’t have studied that rather than the accentless one she’d got off to a tee within three months of starting the tapes. But then, she always had been good at mimicking.

‘Here we are,’ Jodi said, using a foot to push open a door that was mostly obliterated by a poster of Ruskin, the TV cop everyone was currently raving over.

‘Do you know him?’ Sandy asked, pausing to look at the familiar, craggy features that came on the telly every Friday night at nine.

Jodi turned. ‘Who, Peter?’ she said. ‘Oh yeah. He’s always in and out of here. He’s a great friend of Michael’s, actually, though he’s one of Zelda’s clients. You’re sure to get to meet him. So, this is our office,’ she continued, as Sandy followed her into an oblong room with two desks in the centre, a row of filing cabinets against one wall and an overflowing bookcase under the window. ‘Your desk is there,’ she said, pointing to the furthest one that contained a computer screen, keyboard and a pile of books called Spotlight. ‘And the ladies, when you need it, is just along next to the lifts.’

Sandy wished she could think of something to say, but couldn’t. In fact, her feelings of inadequacy were suddenly weighing so heavily on her that the only thing stopping her from running out the door was the fact that she’d have to pass all those people on the way out. Glumly she unbuttoned her coat and copying Jodi, hung it on the back of the door.

‘Oh, nice suit,’ Jodi commented and Sandy flushed to the roots of her hair. Jodi seemed like a really nice person, but there was a chance she was being sarcastic as, next to her own citrus-yellow leggings, red boots and pink top with zips all over, Sandy’s navy C&A pinstripe looked exactly what it was, a cheap, second-hand attempt to look like a career girl.

‘So you’re from Shropshire?’ Jodi said, going over to the coffee machine.

‘Uh, yes,’ Sandy answered, only just remembering that was what she had said at her interview.

‘Is that near the Lake District?’ Jodi frowned.

Sandy had no idea. ‘Not far,’ she answered. ‘Where are you from?’

Jodi laughed. ‘London. Can’t you tell? I was born and bred in Catford.’

‘Is that where you live now?’ Sandy asked, not having the faintest idea where Catford was.

‘God no,’ Jodi chuckled. ‘My mum does, but I live with my fella in Balham. Have you got a boyfriend?’

Sandy shook her head.

‘Oh well, I’m sure you’ll find one soon, London’s full of men on the look-out for mother replacements. Now, this’ll be the first thing you have to do every morning,’ she continued, holding up the empty coffee pot. ‘You wash it and fill it up in the ladies, the coffee and sugar is in the cupboard just there, under the fax, and the milk you have to buy on your way in every day. Shirley will reimburse you from petty cash. I got some this morning,’ she said, digging into her bag and pulling out a pint carton. ‘We keep it here in the little fridge next to the cupboard.

‘Oh, get those faxes will you? That’ll be part of your job too, giving out the faxes. Most of them go straight into people’s computers, but those that don’t, have to be delivered. I’ll come round with you the first couple of times so’s you get to know who everyone is. I expect you got the lay-out of the place, did you? All those desks down there in the well, the ones facing out towards the agents’ offices, they belong to the agents’ assistants and the others belong to the bookers and secretaries and administrative types like contracts and rights. I’ve got an office up here because I work for Michael. His office is next door that way, to the right. And Dan Walsh, the other partner, has the office to the left, which he shares with his assistant Shirley, because he’s hardly ever here.

‘Dan’s finance, Michael’s talent, so Michael’s here most days, when he’s not travelling, and Dan splits his time between here and the other companies he’s finance director of. Shirley, the one I mentioned, takes care of wages and staff records and all that kind of stuff, so she’ll probably want to see you later. Oh, that reminds me,’ she said, going to the phone as a light started flashing, ‘Michael’s got three lines that come straight into this office and one other that goes direct into his. You never give out his personal number, obviously. Only he gives that one out. We can pick up calls for everyone else from here too and they can pick up for us. Michael McCann’s office,’ she said into the receiver, while rummaging hastily in a drawer for pad and pen.

‘Oh hi, Ricky,’ she said. ‘I’m fine, thanks. No, he’s not here yet. Not until eleven, maybe even twelve. He’s got a meeting at the BBC first thing, then he’s going on to a viewing somewhere in the West End. I can get a message to him if it’s urgent. OK, I’ll tell him you called.’ She rang off, made a quick note on her pad, then picked up another call.

It continued like that for the next few minutes, so Sandy took the coffee pot and went in search of the ladies. By the time she came back, Jodi was off the phone and yelling out for someone to let Marlene know that Michael wanted her to call him at the Beeb the minute she got in. Whether anyone registered was impossible to say, as there was a lot of noise coming from that area now, as the usual two-way blizzard of phone calls got underway.

‘Great, you got the water,’ Jodi said, taking the pot from Sandy as Sandy came back into the room. ‘I’ll show you how to work the machine, then we’d better get started. I’ve put a pad and a couple of pens in your top drawer so you can take notes as we go along. The phones are pretty straightforward. The panel there, on your desk, operates like a kind of switchboard. Everyone’s got one and we all answer the phones for each other and take one another’s messages. There’s a board over by the lift where you can pin messages for anyone who’s not in. The stationery cupboard’s over the other side, next to the gents. Help yourself to anything you need, but don’t forget to note it down. In fact, it’ll be one of your jobs, keeping the stationery records and to order in new stuff when it’s needed. Your main job, though, is to fill in for me when I’m out of the office, which is rare, but sometimes Michael likes me to go to meetings with him and take notes, especially when there are lawyers involved. Do you do shorthand?’

Sandy’s heart gave a thump of unease. Was she supposed to? No one had mentioned it at the interview. ‘I’m not very good,’ she said hesitantly.

Jodi shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter. The only time you’ll need it is to take minutes when the agents are in conference, but you can always use a tape.’ As she was talking she was looking past Sandy and starting to grin. ‘Look who’s just walked in,’ she drawled, putting her hands on her hips as an extremely striking young man, with an unruly shock of blond hair and exquisite blue eyes, strolled into their office. ‘Sandy, let me introduce you to Craig Lovell, the greatest loss to womankind since they banned the douche. Craig, this is Sandy, our new clerk. Craig is our literary agent,’ she told Sandy, ‘meaning he represents all our screenwriters, script editors, script associates and creative consultants. Bertie, who you’ve already met, is Craig’s assistant.’

‘Hi, Sandy,’ Craig smiled, shaking Sandy’s hand. ‘Nice to meet you. It’s a bit of a madhouse around here, but most of us don’t bite.’

Sandy laughed and felt as instant a liking for Craig as she had for Harry.

‘Is Michael around?’ he asked, glancing over to where the coffee was starting to sputter.

‘Not until eleven or later,’ Jodi answered. ‘Anything I can do?’

‘Not unless you want to get heavy with Tom Whitehead over at Limehouse,’ he answered. ‘Has Michael got his mobile with him?’

‘Yes, but he’s in a meeting at the Beeb right now,’ Jodi said, looking at her watch. ‘Give it half an hour and he should be in a cab on his way to the West End.’

‘OK.’ Craig turned back to Sandy and smiled. ‘My office is three doors along, after Zelda’s,’ he told her. ‘If you’ve got any faxes for me bring them over, bring some coffee too and we’ll have a chat. I’ll fill you in on the real truth about Jodi and the crush she’s got on Harry.’

Jodi’s face turned beetroot. ‘Sssh,’ she hissed, only half laughing. ‘He’ll hear you.’

‘Well I won’t be telling him anything he doesn’t already know,’ Craig grinned.

‘Don’t take any notice of him,’ Jodi told Sandy, starting to push Craig out the door. ‘He’s got a vivid imagination. If Michael calls I’ll tell him you want to speak to him,’ she said to Craig, ‘now get lost.’

As Craig passed the window he looked in and blew Jodi a kiss.

‘If I didn’t love him I’d kill him,’ Jodi muttered.

Sandy was laughing. ‘He’s really easy-going, isn’t he?’ she said. ‘And he looks really young to be an agent.’

Jodi sighed. ‘Doesn’t he just,’ she said. ‘How old would you put him at?’

‘Twenty-four, twenty-five,’ Sandy guessed.

‘Thirty-two,’ Jodi corrected. ‘Doesn’t it make you sick? It’s the blond hair and baby-blue eyes that do it, and those rosy red cheeks. But if you think he’s good looking you wait ’til you see Michael.’ She thought about that for a moment, then said, ‘Well, I suppose it depends on your taste. Craig’s blond, Michael’s dark. Craig’s gay, Michael’s straight. In fact the only thing they’ve got in common is their age and being an agent.’

‘Craig’s gay!’ Sandy said.

‘Strictly,’ Jodi replied. ‘Sorry to disillusion you, but I’ve seen too many fall into that trap to want to see it happen to you. He’s really friendly, gets on great with women, but when it comes to true love and the dastardly deed he only leans one way.’

Sandy looked across to Craig’s office again, and seeing his assistant carrying a pile of paperwork up the steps she said, ‘Are he and Bertie …?’

Jodi laughed. ‘God, no. Craig’s much more subtle than that. In fact I don’t even know if Craig’s got a boyfriend. No one seems to know anything about his private life. He never talks about it, but it’s hard to imagine someone who looks like him going without, don’t you think?’

Sandy nodded. ‘What about Dan?’ she asked. ‘Michael’s partner. What’s he like?’

‘Dan,’ Jodi answered, sitting back down at her desk, ‘is an absolute sweetheart. He’s married to Michael’s sister, Colleen. They’ve got two kids, another about to arrive, and Michael’s mother Clodagh more or less lives with them.’

Sandy smiled. ‘They sound like a close family,’ she remarked, sitting down too.

‘Oh, they’re definitely that,’ Jodi confirmed. ‘Clodagh calls at least once a day, which is generally an excuse to have a gossip with whoever answers the phone, because she usually ends up forgetting to ask for Michael. She’s a doll, though. Everyone loves her. Bit mad, but she’s Irish so what do you expect? There’s another son, Cavan. He’s in his early twenties and the real darling of the family. He’s got a different father to Michael and Colleen, but you’d never know it. They all dote on that boy. Every one of them. And if you met him you’d know why. It’s not something you can put into words, it’s just like something you feel, you know. Like you just love him, because he’s the most lovable person you ever met. He looks a lot like Michael, but younger, and the last I heard he was rescuing otters somewhere in Norway.’ She frowned. ‘I might have that wrong. You never know with Cavan, he’s always into something weird. Not that otters are weird, but you get my drift. Hello, Michael McCann’s office,’ she said into the phone.

By the end of the morning Sandy was feeling much more confident and at home than she’d ever have dared hope when she first arrived. Everyone was so open and friendly and eager to show her how things were done that her initial shyness had almost completely vanished and she hoped it wouldn’t be long now before she managed to laugh without blushing. In fact, she was feeling so good and enjoying answering the phones and learning the computer so much that she had all but forgotten that she had no more money in her purse than it took to get home. Indeed, she might not have remembered until it was time to leave, had Dan’s assistant, Shirley, not called her into her office to go over her records.

Sandy’s misery was total as she sat in the spacious, shiny office with the same view of the river as hers and Jodi’s, watching Shirley enter all her lies into a computer. The ridiculous part about it was now she was getting to know them she didn’t think these people would mind that she was a no one. In fact, she couldn’t imagine them thinking that way about anyone, no matter who they were. Well, perhaps Bertie might, and Janine and Frances were pretty thick with him, but on the whole these were the easiest-going people she’d ever met. Even Adrian Fisher, the bloke who hosted the morning breakfast show, had been really nice to her on the phone when he’d rung in earlier. In fact, he’d said he was looking forward to meeting her, but whether he meant it or whether he was just being polite, she wasn’t too sure.

‘So, you’re a Shropshire lass,’ Shirley beamed, her lined, powdered face reminding Sandy of her mother. Not that her mother ever smiled like that, but she wasn’t much good at putting powder on either. ‘Such a lovely part of the country,’ Shirley said. ‘My sister lived there for a while, we used to go to visit every summer.’

Sandy continued to smile, while silently begging God not to let Shirley ask if she knew anywhere in Shropshire. She wondered now why she had chosen it, when she didn’t know the first thing about it. In fact, for all she knew, it could be even worse than Beddesley Heath. It seemed not, though, from the look on Shirley’s face.

‘And you and your father ran a bookshop,’ Shirley said, consulting the screen in front of her. ‘What a wonderful thing to do. I’ve always fancied it myself, retiring to the country and surrounding myself with books.’

‘It had its moments,’ Sandy responded, astonishing herself with such a slick reply.

Shirley’s eyes twinkled. Then, returning to the screen she said, ‘OK, we have most of your background details, so what we need now is to confirm where you’re living in London and get a home telephone number for you and one we can call in case of emergency.’

Sandy’s smile remained, but the warmth was draining. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, thinking fast. The address she could give, as she’d found herself a poky little bedsit in Barking with shared shower and toilet and there was a phone box on the landing that took incoming calls. But the number for emergencies was a problem as she didn’t know anyone yet, never mind their telephone number, and she’d said at the interview that she had a cousin in London. Quickly she gave the details she could, then added the first eleven-digit number that came into her head, for emergencies.

Shirley was nodding happily. ‘Lovely,’ she said, hitting the enter key. ‘I’m glad you managed to find yourself a place so quickly. I’m not familiar with Barking. Is it nice?’

‘Oh, very,’ Sandy lied. ‘I mean, my flat isn’t anything special, but it’ll do until I find somewhere else.’

Inside she was crying, for the crummy little bedsit had cost her four hundred pounds in advance rent, with another thousand payable in four weeks to cover the following month’s rent and a security deposit. She was lucky that the landlord had agreed to wait for the deposit, though where on earth she was going to find a spare six hundred pounds when finally she got paid she had no idea. But that was four weeks away yet, and right now she had more to worry about than rent, when she was ravenously hungry and all that was in her purse was enough to cover her fare home at the end of the day. If she could she’d walk, but even if she knew the way, which she didn’t, it would take her half the night and by the time she got there she’d have to turn around and come back.

She looked at Shirley and was right on the point of asking for an advance when her nerve failed. What reason could she give for needing an advance, when she had just sold a bookshop and presumably inherited whatever other assets her father had owned? Come to that, with all that money, why would she be living in a place like Barking? She wished desperately that she’d never told those lies now, but she couldn’t think of a way to take them back.

‘Oh, just one last thing,’ Shirley said. ‘Sandy? Is that Sandra or Alexandra?’

‘Alexandra,’ Sandy replied, lying again.

Shirley typed it in, then clicked a few times on the mouse. ‘OK, well that’s us done,’ she said, getting up. ‘I hope you’re going to be very happy here at McCanns. We aren’t without our faults, but on the whole I think you’ll find us a pleasant bunch. Dan should be in tomorrow, I’ll introduce you then. Michael, I believe, is due in any minute.’

Sandy nodded and felt her heart turn over at the prospect of meeting her new boss.

As she returned to her office Jodi was on her way out. ‘Ah, there you are,’ she cried, tugging on her coat. ‘Michael’s just arrived. He’s in his office with Zelda. I’ve got to go and get some sandwiches, can you take them in a coffee and answer the phones while I’m gone?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Sandy said, hiding her panic well. ‘Uh, what kind of coffee do they take? Black? White? Sugar?’

‘They both take black, no sugar. Zelda likes to have her own mug. It’s the dark-green one next to the coffee machine. Can I get you a sandwich while I’m there? They do everything. Tuna, prawn, chicken, you name it.’

Sandy’s mouth watered. ‘Uh, no thanks, I’m not hungry,’ she said. It was now almost twenty-four hours since she’d last eaten and she didn’t even want to think about how much longer it was going to be to the next time.

‘Jodi, are you still there?’

Jodi turned and running back to her desk pushed a button on the intercom. ‘Still here,’ she confirmed, winking at Sandy. ‘Michael,’ she mouthed.

‘Bring me in the file on Don Portman before you go,’ he said, ‘and make sure his number in the Cotswolds is there.’

‘Will do,’ Jodi responded and let the button go. ‘The file is in the second drawer over there,’ she said to Sandy, spinning her Rolodex. ‘If you get it … Ah, here we are, Don Portman, Tetbury.’ She passed the card to Sandy. ‘Write that number on the inside cover of the file and take it in with the coffee. I’ll be back in ten minutes, fifteen if there’s a queue.’

Sandy did as she was told, her hands shaking slightly as she wrote down the number, then went to pour the coffee. Her face felt strained and there was a slight dizziness in her head and strangeness in her stomach that had as much to do with nerves as it did with hunger. She so desperately wanted to make a good impression on her new boss, yet she felt almost sick with apprehension at the prospect of meeting him.

The file was tucked securely under one arm as she carried two mugs of coffee the short distance to his office. The inner circle was emptying for lunch now and none of those left appeared to notice her, and even if they did they’d never guess how she was feeling. Perhaps if she weren’t so hungry she’d have a better grip on herself, but feeling so empty and weird inside she was finding it difficult to keep her mind on one track.

Fortunately the door was slightly ajar, so giving it a gentle nudge with her foot she peeped round to see if it was all right to go in. There was no sign of anyone, then a voice behind the door, the same voice she’d heard on the intercom, said, ‘I hear what you’re saying, Bob, but I’ve got the schedule in front of me and it’s not looking good. He’s shooting in Sunderland all that week. Hang on, let me see … It’s dated a couple of weeks ago, so yeah, things might have changed. I’ll check it out and get back to you. OK? Yeah, later today.’

Sandy stayed where she was, half in, half out of the door, not knowing which way to go. She couldn’t knock, because her hands were full, but she didn’t feel right about going in unannounced.

‘Beep, beep,’ someone said behind her.

Sandy started, slopped the coffee and turned to find Zelda smiling down at her. Her heart filled with relief.

‘Och, it’s Sandy!’ Zelda exclaimed, her round, sparkly eyes reflecting the warmth in her throaty Scots voice. ‘How are you, dear? Glad you managed to get here all right. Settling in OK, are you?’

‘Oh, uh yes, thank you,’ Sandy stumbled. ‘Um, I was just bringing you some coffee.’

‘Terrific,’ Zelda intoned, already gesturing for Sandy to go on in. ‘Have you met Michael yet? Where is he?’

‘Right here,’ Michael answered, pulling the door open wide.

‘Michael,’ Zelda said, ‘this is Sandy, our new recruit. Sandy, this is Michael McCann.’

Sandy turned to look at him. For the moment she could only see his profile as he was standing over a table behind the door, his chin resting on a mobile phone while he studied a chart in front of him. He lifted a hand and pushed it into his untidy dark hair, then pulled a face as he muttered something under his breath and scratched his chin. Sandy wondered if she should say something, but he seemed so deep in thought that she didn’t like to interrupt.

At last he seemed to sense she was there and turned to look at her. The confusion in his arresting blue eyes was only fleeting as he belatedly registered what Zelda had said. Immediately he broke into a smile. ‘Hello, Sandy,’ he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and steering her towards the desk. ‘How are you settling in? Have you met everyone? Here, why don’t you put those down there?’

Sandy put the coffee down, then took the file from under her arm. She waited as he walked around the desk, saying something to Zelda who was talking on the phone. Sandy’s heart was pumping faster than ever, her face felt unbearably hot and all her senses seemed to be reeling.

Michael was looking at Zelda, listening to what she was saying. Then he turned back to Sandy and smiled again. His teeth were slightly uneven, but seemed only to make his smile more striking. His nose was in perfect proportion to the rest of his face, his eyebrows were thick and almost joined at the centre, and his eyes were so intensely blue that she almost missed the way they were simmering with humour. He needed to shave and his tie was skewed to one side, but there was no question in Sandy’s mind that he was the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on.

‘Is that Don Portman’s file?’ he asked.

Sandy looked down at the hand he was holding out. His fingers were long and slender, there was hair on the back of his hand. ‘Um, yes,’ she said, passing the file over.

His smile grew wider and Sandy blushed so hard it hurt. There didn’t seem much doubt that he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on her, which was probably, Sandy guessed, the same effect he had on every woman he met. The idea of how glamorous and sophisticated those other women must be in comparison with her made her feel faintly sick inside. Yet being different might be just what would attract him to her.

‘Why don’t you go and get yourself a coffee, then come and let us get to know you?’ he said, sitting down and opening the file.

To Sandy’s dismay, no sound came out as she made to answer. She tried again. ‘I have to answer the phones while Jodi’s out,’ she said quietly.

He was looking down at the file. ‘It’s lunch-time,’ he said, ‘there won’t be many calls. Tell him the deal didn’t go through,’ he said.

Sandy frowned, then belatedly realized he was talking to Zelda. She continued to stand awkwardly where she was, not sure what to do now. He was leafing through the file again and Zelda, perched on the edge of his desk in a huge, flowery dress and beaded headband, was engrossed on the phone. In the end she decided to go back to her office.

As she sat down at her desk she could hear him talking in the next room and wondered if she should do as he’d said and get herself a coffee to take back. A part of her wanted to desperately, but another part was telling her that he had already forgotten he’d mentioned it. She poured herself a coffee anyway to help ease the hunger pangs which, for the moment, didn’t seem quite so acute as they had.

A fax came in for Bertie so she took it to his desk. The lower circle was deserted now: everyone, it seemed, had gone for lunch. She went back to her office and carried on entering addresses into the computer.

‘Sandy, are you there?’ Michael’s voice suddenly came over the intercom.

Sandy leapt to her feet and leaned quickly across to Jodi’s desk. As her finger hit the button her arm hit the coffee. ‘Yes, I’m here,’ she said, whisking a set of photographs out of the way before the coffee could reach them.

‘See if you can get hold of Pat Roseman at Freeman Banks, will you?’ he said. ‘The number should be on the Rolodex, probably under F or R. If it’s not, come back to me and we’ll try again.’

Sandy found the number, dialled it and asked for Pat Roseman. The voice at the other end told her that Mr Roseman was at lunch. Sandy asked her to hold and buzzed through to Michael. ‘Pat Roseman is at lunch,’ she said, ‘shall I leave a message for him to ring back?’

‘Yes, why not?’ Michael said. ‘Tell him it’s about the Mantree project.’

Sandy went back on the line, gave the message, then rang off. She felt so ridiculously proud that she had suggested the message that she couldn’t stop herself grinning. And what luck to have had the opportunity to show off her initiative so early.

‘Are you joining us?’ Michael said. ‘Or are you too busy cleaning the furniture?’

Sandy stopped mopping up the coffee and stared at the intercom. How on earth did he know what she was doing? Then realizing he was standing behind her she turned and started to laugh. ‘Sorry, I thought …’ she said, waving towards the intercom.

He grinned. ‘No, it’s the real thing. Any sign of Jodi with those sandwiches? I’m starving.’

‘Not. yet,’ Sandy answered. ‘Shall I go and see if I can find her?’

‘No need, she’s here,’ he said as the lift doors opened and Jodi came rushing out. ‘I forgot to tell you,’ he said to Jodi as she bounded up the steps towards him, ‘I saw Butch Wilkins this morning, he said to send his love.’

‘Very droll,’ Jodi remarked.

Michael was laughing.

‘I hope you’re not intimidating Sandy,’ she said, dropping the sandwiches into Michael’s hand and starting to take off her coat. ‘You’ve got mine there as well, before you go,’ she told him. ‘Did you remember to call Kate?’

Michael pulled a face.

Jodi sighed. ‘She specifically said you were to call her before one o’clock,’ she said.

‘OK, I’m sorry,’ he grimaced. ‘I forgot. So who do I make it up to? You or her?’

‘Both,’ Jodi answered, taking her sandwich. ‘Where’s Zelda?’

‘Meditating.’

‘Then I’d better take her some ice and lemon.’

Laughing, Michael watched as Jodi took ice and lemon from the fridge, then went past him to pop it along to Zelda. ‘Meditating,’ he told Sandy as he walked over to Jodi’s chair and sat down, ‘is a useful euphemism where Zelda is concerned.’

Not knowing what a euphemism was, Sandy just smiled.

‘Not eating?’ he asked, unwrapping his sandwiches and propping his feet up on the desk.

Sandy shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said.

He bit into his sandwich, chewed slowly as he looked her over, then, swallowing, he said, ‘So, tell me about you. Where were you working before? Zelda mentioned something about a bookshop.’

‘That’s right,’ Sandy answered. ‘I ran it for my father.’

He took another bite of sandwich.

Sandy watched him, almost drooling at the thought of how good it must taste, then, suddenly realizing he was waiting for her to continue she said, ‘Uh, he died a few months ago, so I decided to sell up and come to London.’ She smiled self-consciously. ‘I wanted something a bit more exciting out of life and this job seemed a good place to start.’

Michael nodded. ‘Are you ambitious?’ he asked.

She wasn’t too sure how to answer that, as she’d never really thought about it before. ‘Uh, yes, I think so,’ she said.

‘Are you planning on becoming an agent? Is that why you chose us?’

Sandy flushed and glanced away. ‘I’m not, uh … Well, yes, I do want to become an agent,’ she answered, suddenly realizing how much greater an impression she would make on him if she were, ‘but I know I’ve got a long way to go yet.’

He shrugged. ‘Depends how hard you’re prepared to work,’ he said. ‘So where do you live?’

‘Barking,’ she answered. ‘Where do you live?’

His eyebrows flickered. ‘Me?’ he said. ‘Just along the river, on the other side, near Albert Bridge. Do you know it?’

Sandy shook her head. ‘I don’t really know anywhere yet,’ she confessed. ‘Do you live in a flat or a house?’

His blue eyes were starting to dance and she wasn’t entirely sure why. ‘A flat,’ he said. ‘What about you?’

‘A flat. Not a very big one, but it’ll do for now. Have you always been an agent?’

His head went to one side as he thought about that. ‘Yes,’ he said in the end, ‘I suppose you could say I have. At least, it’s the only real job I’ve had. Dan, my partner, and I came down from Oxford at the same time, moved to London and started working for a friend’s father who was having trouble keeping his agency afloat. Considering Dan and I had graduated in economics and business studies, but had had no experience of the real world, we were the right and the wrong choice to help bail this guy out. But what we lacked in hands-on we made up for in zest and Franklyn, the friend’s father, needed all the help he could get. His problem was gambling, not agenting, so we didn’t have a huge problem getting the show back on the road, and while I concentrated on pulling together the right agents and clients, Dan took over the financial side. We bought Franklyn out a couple of years after we joined him, called ourselves McCann Walsh and in the same year pulled off a major coup by getting the great Zelda Frey to come and join us. She was with Sylvesters at the time, probably the biggest agency in London and had, still has in fact, a list that reads like a roll-call at BAFTA. So, I guess you could say that we owe most of our success to Zelda, who resolutely refuses to accept a partnership because, so she claims, she prefers gin and tonic.’

Sandy laughed.

Winking, Michael put down his sandwich and went to pour himself another coffee. A painful zing dug into Sandy’s taste buds as she gazed longingly at the rich, succulent chicken and creamy mayonnaise between two thick slices of granary bread.

‘Would you like one?’ he offered.

Sandy spun round, appalled that he had seen her hunger, then relaxed as she saw he was holding up the coffee jug. She shook her head. ‘No, no thanks,’ she said.

As he walked back to Jodi’s desk he started talking again. ‘You’ve probably gathered by now,’ he said, ‘that we don’t only look after actors here. We’ve got a pretty extensive list of writers, which Craig heads up, and directors and producers which Harry mainly takes care of.’

‘What about you?’ Sandy asked. ‘Who do you take care of?’

He shrugged. ‘A dozen or so directors,’ he answered, ‘and the rest of the business. On the whole I tend not to take people on myself, I just bring them into the agency and Zelda or Craig or Harry or one of the other agents looks after them. Obviously, all the clients have access to me, whoever they are, but I try not to get involved unless I have to.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Sandy said.

Michael grinned.

Sandy smiled too and lowered her eyes. He was so easy and friendly, and though she felt hugely out of her depth she wished he would go on talking. ‘Where are you from?’ she asked. ‘I mean, where were you born?’

‘Ireland,’ he said, when he’d finished chewing. ‘My sister Colleen and I were born there and moved to Liverpool when I was four and she was three. My dad worked on the docks, had too much to drink one day and fell off a crane. I was six when he died, Colleen was five. My mother married again a few years later and Cavan, my brother, came along not too long after.’ The way he was smiling suggested that his mother was pregnant when she married. ‘My stepdad died a couple of years ago from cancer,’ he went on, ‘and Clodagh, my mother, God bless her, lives most of the year with Colleen in Putney and the rest boasting about us all to her sister in Tralee.’

Sandy was smiling. ‘You sound like a very close family,’ she said, realizing she’d made the same remark to Jodi.

‘Sometimes too close,’ he said with raised eyebrows. ‘Now, what about you? Do you have any family now that your father’s passed on?’

Sandy shook her head. ‘No, I was an only child,’ she said.

‘But you have a cousin here in London, right?’

‘Oh! Yes!’ she replied, realizing he must have already done some homework on her. ‘Well, she’s only a second cousin and we don’t really get on. She said I could live with her when I got here, but I only stayed a couple of nights, then moved into my own place.’

Michael’s eyes showed his interest. ‘What happened to your mother?’ he asked.

‘She died when I was six. Cancer. Of the brain.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he responded softly as Jodi came back in the door. ‘Zelda asleep yet?’ he asked.

‘She’s chanting,’ Jodi answered as he got up from her chair.

Michael chuckled. ‘She’s probably asking for strength after this morning,’ he said. ‘Has she heard back from Gloria yet?’

Jodi grinned. ‘That’s why she’s chanting. Gloria is still refusing to take off her top and the whole shoot is at a standstill. Zelda just spoke to her and reminded her that the contract she signed stipulates that she’ll bare her tits, but Gloria has gone shy. She wants Zelda to go down there and sort it out, but Zelda thinks you should handle it because you probably stand more chance of persuading Gloria to get her tits out than anyone else on the planet, I quote.’

Michael gave a shout of laughter. ‘Leave Zelda to me,’ he said, picking up his coffee.

The fax rang and Sandy turned to watch the message come through, so dazzled by all the attention Michael had just given her that there was just no way she could see anything on the page. Nor, as she kept her back turned for fear of showing her feelings, did she see the quick look that passed between Jodi and Michael as he walked out of the door.