‘Things are going well, actually.’
I’m fresh out of a three-day panic attack and I have a steam-cleaned vagina.
I clear my throat. ‘Yes. Things are going very well.’
He doesn’t believe me for a second. He looks amused, if anything.
‘I wanted to thank you, for taking the fall at the retreat. Gandalf told me you were asked to leave. He didn’t say why but I figured it out when you didn’t… come back.’ He gives me a shy look. ‘Anyway, I’m sorry. I would have taken the blame. I hope you’re not taking this job because you didn’t have enough time at the retreat to think things through. Grasping at the first thing to come along.’
I shake my head.
He couldn’t be more spot on.
‘Because you might only create new problems for yourself,’ he says, sounding like the Dalai Lama.
‘I’m not creating new ones.’
I’m very much creating new ones.
He ignores me. ‘Who’s the miserable vampire on reception?’ he says, walking casually over to the window.
He’s also very astute.
‘The new assistant. She’s job averse. And she hates me.’
Oliver seems amused. ‘And you’re people averse. How’s that going to work?’
I shake my head disapprovingly at his childish joke until a sudden thought occurs to me. ‘What are you doing right now?’ I ask, inviting him to sit down.
‘Why? Is there something I can help you with?’
He listens as I outline my current predicament. He does owe me one after all.
‘So, you want me topretendto be your client so that you canpretendto be a life coach in front of your new boss and new assistant who hates you?’
I nod.
‘And you wantmeto pay for thispretence, so that your boss pays you for doing something that youaren’teven qualified to do?’
I keep nodding. He’s definitely coming round to the idea and I’m running out of time.
‘In other words, a complete breach of trust, not to mention the legalities of breaking contractual agreements?’
Oh, my word. I do hope he isn’t going to go on and on. I haven’t got all day.
‘Yes,’ I say impatiently. ‘You’re making it all sound much worse than it is.’
He raises an eyebrow.
‘Will you do it, or not?’ I ask in a desperate tone.
He takes a million years to mull it over.
‘Sure, why not?’ Then he throws his head back and laughs like a drain as I manhandle him across the office onto the good sofa.
‘Sit there and think up some reason why you’re here,’ I instruct. ‘You know like erm, you’re desperately unhappy about something in your life.’
‘I do actually have an issue with the people at work I was telling you about.’
