The Dead Ex(56)

She emphasizes my name as though I’m not paying attention. But I am. Very much. It has taken me a long time to get in here, and I intend to get as much as possible out of it. Including the boss himself. Posh Perdita might not know it, but she has a rival.

We are walking down a wide corridor with bare walls on either side. No chance of that in my Deptford council block. Any space – no matter how small – is immediately taken up with brightly coloured graffiti.

‘Frankly,’ murmurs Perdita, tossing her flame-red hair, ‘I don’t know why you’re here at all. Still, David does pride himself on his community work.’

The last sentence carries an ironic tone. Clearly my new boss hasn’t told her about being ‘shamed’ into giving me a break thanks to the journalist.

‘When am I having my meeting with Mr Goudman?’ I ask as we turn another corner.

I receive a cool look. ‘Ah, that. I’m afraid he won’t be able to see you personally after all. He’s busy all week.’

‘But he promised to give me some one-to-one time for career advice! And besides, the Standard is doing a piece on us.’

She consults her iPad. ‘The journalist is coming in on Friday to interview you. Mr Goudman will email him a quote.’ She opens a door. ‘This is the design department. You can take some pictures here, if you like.’

I am still reeling from this bad news. Somehow I have to engineer a face-to-face with the man I’ve been pursuing for so long. He’s got to appear sometime. But meanwhile, I must pretend I’m only here for the job.

A woman is sketching on the desk. It looks like the design for a house.

‘This is Helen,’ says Perdita with another hair toss. ‘She’s a work-experience photographic student.’

She speaks in a heavily sarcastic tone, as though I have made it up.

‘Mind if I photograph you?’ I ask nervously.

‘Sure. Go ahead.’

I concentrate on her right hand and the way it cradles the pencil. ‘You have an eye.’ That’s what my tutor told me.

‘What will you do with your pictures?’ asks the woman.

‘They’re going in my portfolio. But they could hang on the walls in the corridors here.’

There’s an ‘in your dreams’ sound from the PA. ‘That’s news to me.’

It will be news for David too. I was going to suggest it to him, hoping it will show initiative. But if he’s too busy to see me, how is that going to happen?

By my third day, I’m getting panicky. There’s still no sign of David. I don’t even know where his office is. I am running out of time. And to make it worse, Perdita is watching me like a hawk. Either she doesn’t trust me or she has something to hide. I’ve expressed an interest in photographing the company’s ‘healthy snack bar’ that David has recently installed, and we are on our way there when Perdita’s phone sings out. She speaks sharply into it and then rings off, clearly annoyed. ‘I’ve got to sort something out. Wait a sec, can you?’

She indicates a room at the side. It’s very white with more bare walls. Minimalist. Water cooler in the corner. I sit for a while and examine the shots I’ve taken, deleting the ones that don’t work and editing the ones that do. Then I get itchy feet. I stand up. Walk around. Look out of the window. Take some pictures of the street outside and a couple walking arm in arm. Wander down the corridor.

I can always pretend I was looking for the Ladies.

That’s when I see it. A door. With DAVID GOUDMAN written on it. My skin breaks out into excited goosebumps.

There are voices inside.

‘You’re wrong. I’ve told you.’

It’s that same deep voice I’d heard at the launch.

‘Don’t play games with me, David. You promised we’d have tonight together.’ That was definitely Perdita!

There’s a sigh. ‘I was looking forward to it too. But Tanya wants us to go out to dinner with some of her friends now.’

‘Why can’t you just make an excuse?’

‘Because my wife knows all the tricks, and it won’t help us in the long run. Look, darling, if I was free, I’d be with you in a shot. You know that. We’ve got to be patient.’

‘What do you think I’ve been doing? It’s nearly a year now.’

‘Sweetheart, some things are worth waiting for. Don’t you think?’

‘I don’t know what to think any more, David. And that’s the truth.’

‘Then come here and I’ll show you.’

There’s silence for a minute. Then a sigh. ‘Gorgeous as you are, I’ve got to get back to work. Did you get me out of seeing the work-experience girl?’

‘I told her you were busy.’

‘Good.’

‘So when am I going to see you next?’

‘As soon as I can, sweetheart. Just leave it with me. Don’t look like that. I’ll do my best. Promise.’

‘But …’

One of the secretaries walks round the corner at that moment with a tall blonde woman with long hair and bronze skin, suggesting frequent visits to the tanning salon. ‘I really don’t need you to accompany me,’ the woman is saying crossly. ‘I’m perfectly capable of finding my husband’s own office. I used to work here, you know.’