Juliet Evans was not a woman to be trifled with. Not by anybody – and least of all by some jumped-up businessman playing newspapers on the Board of DayBreak Corp, owner of the Daily Messenger. She glanced around her large top-floor office, with its wraparound view of the city skyline and huge glass desk. When she had first assumed ownership of this room she had felt like the world was literally at her feet. This morning she felt the city calling for her to jump.
The stack of flattened boxes against her desk needed to be filled, to escort her down the corridor to the former deputy editor’s office. Since Bev Holder had been promoted in a blaze of glory to editor-in-chief of the Daily Post – the Messenger’s biggest rival – the office had remained empty. Now Juliet’s name had been hastily stuck to its door. I taught that woman everything she knows, Juliet glowered, throwing a handful of papers into a box and already wishing she’d had coffee before embarking on this joyless task. She’s brilliant – but so am I. So much for gratitude . . .
But gratitude was in short supply in this building. Never mind that she had worked impossible hours against mountainous odds to turn the paper into one of the Big Four nationally. Never mind that she had single-handedly launched the careers of many of Britain’s brightest and boldest journalists. None of that carried any weight against the measure of the mighty buck. The bottom line was always money.
She would never get this done before eleven. Her two assistants were busy briefing the team on the imminent arrival of Damien Kendal – the crass, overfed, ego-inflated Board director whose gargantuan backside would soon be irrevocably denting the expensive Italian leather of Juliet’s office chair. Clearly, she needed help. She could make a call from her desk phone (while it remained hers), but the sight of her beloved office in disarray was too much. She needed to be away from it. Discarding the half-filled box of papers, she grabbed her handbag and headed for the lift.
Any of the interns or assistants close to Juliet, or working in the newsroom, would be likely to add fuel to the whispered wildfires of gossip already spreading through the building. Juliet needed someone she could trust. The person she had in mind to help her was where she should be, thank heaven, smiling behind the desk at reception. The two junior receptionists were alongside her, which meant that Anna Browne could be spared for the morning.
Excellent, Juliet thought. Perhaps today wouldn’t be a complete disaster after all.
‘So?’
Sheniece and Ashraf flanked Anna like a pair of demanding meerkats. Anna marvelled at how quickly the latest addition to the reception team had been brought up to speed on the happenings in her life. Ashraf, it had quickly become apparent, was as much a purveyor of quality gossip as Sheniece and Ted, and almost as fast at sniffing it out.
Anna gritted her teeth into a smile. She didn’t need a day of interrogation after the sleepless weekend she’d endured. ‘I’m not talking about it, okay?’
‘He never replied!’ Ashraf clamped a hand to his heart as Sheniece shook her head.
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You didn’t need to, babe. It’s all over your face. Are you all right, Anna? I mean, rejection is a hard burden to bear . . .’
‘Shut up, Ash! She doesn’t want to be reminded of it, does she? I mean, when my Steve did the dirty on me and disappeared, I was mortified for weeks . . .’
Ashraf frowned. ‘Which one was Steve again?’
‘The footballer.’
‘I thought that was Darren?’
‘Oh. My. Gosh. Ash, I swear you never listen to me. Steve was the one with the dodgy kneecaps? Supposed to sign for Dagenham and Redbridge, but left after a season on loan to another club? I told you about him.’
‘So what happened to Darren?’
‘That’s a story for sharing only when I have a large gin in my hand, Ash . . .’ Something caught Sheniece’s eye and she quickly straightened her jacket. ‘Quick, look efficient – the Dragon’s coming!’
Anna looked over to the far end of the atrium, where Juliet Evans was marching from the lift. It occurred to her that the Messenger’s editor always appeared to be sailing a few feet from the ground, as if propelled by the force of a wave. Juliet carried the air of someone who expected the world to turn on her bidding, and walls to crumble in her path. Ordinarily Anna would have been in awe of her. This morning, however, she was simply glad of the interruption to her unwanted questioning that the powerful editor’s arrival brought.
‘Anna,’ Juliet stated rather than asked, the briefest of smiles gone as soon as it had appeared. ‘I have a job for you. Follow me.’
Without pausing for her reply, Juliet turned on her Louboutin heels and headed back across the atrium floor. Anna scrambled from behind reception and followed, quickly tucking the stray strands of her hair back into her ponytail as she ran.
The lift was impossibly quiet as it rose to the top floor. Juliet said nothing and Anna felt as if the sound of her thudding heart was reverberating around the glass walls. She was nervous of what lay in store for her, but it was good to be away from reception. She didn’t want to pick over the details of the email she’d sent – or the radio silence that followed – any further with her colleagues. She already felt bad enough about it. After the hours spent agonising over the right mix of words, it had all been a waste of time.
And why had Anna expected any different? If the parcel-sender had wanted her to know their identity, they would have already provided their name. That they hadn’t, and that her email had been ignored, should come as no surprise.
And yet, she had hoped for more. None of it made any sense.
The lift doors slid open to reveal the deep-piled cream carpet of the top floor. Anna could feel her heels sinking satisfactorily into it as she followed Juliet to her executive office – the one with the breathtaking view that everyone in the building wished they had. As she reached the doorway, her heart dropped when she saw the cardboard boxes and half-packed book crates.
‘Are you . . . ?’ Realising she was speaking out of turn, Anna stopped. ‘I’m sorry. What would you like me to do?’
Juliet raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, don’t worry, they won’t get rid of me that easily. I’ve just –’ she cleared her throat, ‘– elected to take Bev Holder’s office down the hall, for a while. Damien Kendal from the DayBreak Corp Board will be occupying this one for the time being. Don’t look concerned. I know what they’re trying to do. He’s been sent to “keep an eye” on me. It’s happened before: I’m not intimidated. Besides, a change of scene is always good for the mind. This view can get a little old, you know.’
Anna couldn’t believe that – and the sight of the all-powerful editor packing her belongings into cardboard boxes was alarming. What if Ted had been right all along? What if Kyle Chambers from the Post was simply relaying the truth about the Messenger’s fate? Why would anyone dare to keep tabs on Juliet Evans – and was it a precursor to worse news? She was so synonymous with the newspaper now that her leaving would be tantamount to the ravens deserting the Tower of London. And what did this mean for Anna’s own job security?
Juliet was observing her from the other side of the great glass desk. ‘I need you to help me put the papers, books and equipment I’ve collected here into these boxes and carry them down to the other office, please. Think you can handle that?’
Pushing her concerns to the back of her mind, Anna managed to smile. ‘Of course.’
‘Then we’d better get started. Must be done by eleven.’
They worked for an hour, not speaking, the task at hand commanding their attention. A couple of times Anna wondered if she should make polite small talk, but what did you say to a woman who had made her fortune from the most important news stories across the world? Juliet was about as inclined to chat as Ted was to keep a secret. Anna had remarked on it to Ben that morning in Freya & Georgie’s, when the subject of their boss had arisen.
‘She’s a pussycat,’ he’d insisted.
‘She’s terrifying. I can’t imagine she ever relaxes.’
‘Oh, I’ve seen the old Dragon kick back once or twice,’ Ben had smiled.
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Believe what you like. Juliet Evans keeps her cards very close to her chest, but there’s more to her than most people think. They only see the power. I see the woman.’
The memory of Ben’s headline-style summation of his boss made Anna smile now, as she carried the last of the heavy book crates filled with files to Juliet’s temporary office. There was no doubt he was a tabloid journalist to the core: lines as cheesy as that took years to perfect. He had admitted his shame over what he’d said when Anna almost choked on her coffee laughing, but his response had only made her like him more. She wished she had told him about the record and her email, but he had so carefully avoided the subject that she didn’t want to raise it with him. What would he think if he knew the parcels had started again, or that she had tried to contact the sender for the first time? She hoped he wouldn’t care about it. Believing that Ben McAra was interested in her for her own sake was wonderful: she didn’t want to change that.
‘I think that’s everything,’ Anna said, returning to the ominously empty executive suite.
Juliet was staring out across the city as if attempting to burn the view into her mind. She turned. ‘Excellent.’
Unsure what to do next, Anna waited in the doorway.
As if snapping out of a trance, Juliet nodded. ‘Thank you. You’ve been a great help.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘Needless to say I’m relying on your discretion about what you’ve seen here.’ It wasn’t a question.
Anna nodded. ‘Of course. I won’t say anything.’ Taking Juliet’s non-reply as her cue to leave, she took a step back, but froze when Juliet raised her hand.
‘Are you happy here?’
The question hit Anna squarely. ‘Excuse me?’
The editor rounded the desk and perched on the end of it. ‘It’s a simple enough question, Miss Browne.’
‘Oh . . . sorry . . . Yes, I’m very happy here.’ Please don’t fire me. I need this job.
‘I was impressed by your suggestion in our editorial meeting while you were shadowing Ben.’
‘Um, thank you.’ The muscles along Anna’s shoulders tensed.
‘Look, I’ve been in this business more years than I care to count and I’ve learned to value talent wherever I find it. There’s a great deal more to you than you think, Anna. You should think about that.’
Where was this leading? Anna shifted her feet uncomfortably on the too-soft luxury carpet and tried to think of a suitable response.
‘I got to where I am today by taking risks. You took a risk in that meeting – and if what I hear from the newsroom is to be believed, it was your quick thinking that saved the Vanessa Milburn exclusive. I value that.’ She rubbed a finger along her chin and sighed, her eyes drifting back to the view of London’s skyline that in ten minutes wouldn’t belong to her. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I saw what you did. It took guts and I like that in a person. Keep taking risks, Ms Browne. Your life will be all the better for it.’
‘Oh. I’ll do my best to.’ The last thing Anna expected when Juliet requested her help this morning was life advice. To hear it from a woman who clearly found it difficult to give compliments made the advice even stranger. She knew she should be flattered, but the situation made her feel uneasy.
There was a pause as the two women faced each other. With a disinterested smile, Juliet waved her hand. ‘You can go now.’
Anna was down the corridor and almost at the lift before the door to Juliet’s former office shut.
‘I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.’ Jonah threw a handful of mixed seeds to the rabble of swans and ducks at the water’s edge.
‘Then why mention it at all? It was just odd.’
Jonah chuckled. ‘Classic boss behaviour, that’s all it is. Make out you’re the great, omnipotent, omnipresent entity who knows everything. Keeps the little people in line and the business rivals at bay. Every director I’ve ever worked for has it. God-complex, every one of them. I wouldn’t worry.’
But Anna was worried. So worried that she had arrived at Jonah’s door after work that day, needing to talk about it. The more she’d considered Juliet’s words, the more she’d convinced herself that ‘taking risks’ was a roundabout way of warning her that her remaining time at the Daily Messenger was short. Seeing how upset she was, Jonah had suggested they head to Loveage Gardens and ‘consult the oracles’ – in this case, the collected waterfowl that graced the park’s modestly sized lake. He brought a large bag of wild bird food – ‘as an offering’ – and while Bennett dashed after a tennis ball, they fed the seed mix to the birds and talked.
‘I can’t help feeling she was trying to tell me something.’
‘She was. That you’re capable of more than you think you are. I could’ve told you that – anyone could.’
‘No, something bad.’
‘It’s an endorsement, sweetheart, not a harbinger of doom. Only you could take a bit of advice and turn it into a P45.’ He cast a glance at her from beneath the brim of his butterscotch-brown beanie hat. ‘This is about that email, isn’t it?’
Anna didn’t bother to deny it. ‘I don’t understand why they didn’t reply.’
‘Maybe it wasn’t the right time. Maybe it wasn’t their usual email address. You’ll drive yourself mad going over it, when there’s no answers yet.’
Kicking at a stone, Anna sighed. ‘Will there ever be?’
‘I wish I could tell you. But this I know: whoever sent you those things did it because they wanted to make you happy. And they have, haven’t they – I mean, aside from the most recent development? Part of the reason you’re upset now is that it matters to you, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
His smile was reassuring. ‘Then I’m sure you’ll have your answers soon.’