Not free then. I rise above it. This is a massive coup for us.
I am also over the moon to see Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen looking flustered every time she mentions the cute-looking waiter, Alejandro, and the catering requirements.
‘Are we all set for tomorrow?’ I ask them both. ‘Coach? Catering? Clients?’
‘Yes, all sorted,’ says Ava. ‘Plus, re our corporate look… I'll style us so we look on brand, yeah? And we took a few new bookings for you, and Boring Berry rang to say he will need to rearrange tomorrow’s session as he has been invited to the bowling club luncheon. He said to pass on a massive thank you, and that he can’t wait to tell you all about it.’
In my high state, I actuallyamlooking forward to hearing all about Boring Berry’s bowling club luncheon.
‘And the Zoom lady with the troubles has asked if you can go to their workplace and do something with her terrified men before the Coach Trip,’ adds Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen proudly.
‘Mrs Fanny, the author with writer’s block, called to ask if she can interview you,’ Ava says, looking impressed. ‘After her session with you last week, she’s decided to write a novel about a barmy life coach. She sounded super excited.’
Huzzah!Isn’t life wonderful? Oliver must surely think that I am a successful life coach in the making. I go to puff out my chest and sing my own praises before stopping myself just in time. I’m happy but not that happy. Not happy enough to turn into my sister. Or worse, my mother.
‘And Ryan Reynolds has bought a new house,’ she adds enthusiastically. ‘I have sent you the link in the email.’
Oliver has the decency not to look my way as Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen continues ardently, ‘You will LORVE it because he is by the pool, not wearing his….’
‘Right… right… yes. Wendy, the Zoom lady. Excellent work, you two. Carry on! CARRY ON!’ I yell, grabbing Oliver’s hand and whisking him down the hall to my office.
As we munch our way through roast chicken baguettes, happily forgetting, once again, that I am supposed to be vegan at all times now, for the sake of the planet and future generations of poor defenceless children, who will never know the feel of fresh air or sunshine on their innocent freckled cheeks, or clean drinking water for that matter, or fish because there’ll be none left, Oliver suggests we log on to the computer to see if we can find the missing financial information.
I have explained that Nidi, what with being heavily pregnant and in a fragile state, must not be contacted by me (with my many problems) again until she returns.
‘Oh yes,’ I say, tapping away on the keyboard while Oliver sits distractingly close to me. ‘It’s all here in the Admin and Finance folder. See? I do have a clue what’s going on.’
‘Excellent,’ he says. ‘Who would have thought to look in there?’
Cheeky. But so very charming with it.
One click and the folder opens to reveal a ton of mind-boggling documents and files within files with baffling names likeLedger01.34andfiscal.accounts_2023. My heart sinks.
‘The double taxation laws out here require submission across two different fiscal years, so it can be complex,’ Oliver says.
I have no fecking idea what he is talking about.But I have noticed a small scar high on his cheek bone. Very mysterious and debonair.
‘Yes, that sounds just the sort of timeframe, and the sort of circumstances in which an action such as that payment…’ My voice becomes more of a whimper. ‘… would require that what you are suggesting.’
‘Please try to behave yourself,’ he pleads. ‘Or I’ll never be able to concentrate.’
It takes him only an hour of tapping away and murmuringJesusunder his breath while I stare blankly at the screen, watching him scroll down spreadsheet after spreadsheet, numbers flying past as he deftly unscrambles accounts and sifts out the information he needs. Turns out that Nidi could also do with a masterclass on how to set-up and run a successful life coaching business too.
‘Don’t beat yourself up,’ Oliver says kindly, turning to me and taking in my downcast expression. ‘You wouldn’t believe how many companies I work with that are in the same sort of mess.’
Charming.
‘Just follow what I’m doing, and you’ll be able to understand it all, no problem,’ he says encouragingly, giving my shoulder a light squeeze with his strong masculine fingers. He’s got lovely nail beds.
I really must concentrate on what he is doing and learn from him. After all, I will have to do all of this for myself one day soon. I sit up straight and nod. He is exactly right. It’s not so uncommon. Nobody in their right mind likes anything to do with Maths or taxation laws. I must rise to the challenge.
‘Now,’ he says all business-like, ‘that’s the taxes sorted and up to date. Let’s see where the rest of the money has gone.’
I watch, mesmerised, as he taps away, absorbed in the task. He has such fine hands. Slender, yet the size of shovels. His arms are like pistons pumping, and his shoulders are solid and dependable. Perfect for crying on. His neck is… how would I describe it… yes, it’s resplendant. His jawline is… powerful yet accommodating. His hair is thick and perfectly….
‘So, did you get all that?’ I hear him ask in that super manly, important voice of his. Another great selling point. I can’t help but marvel at why he has not been snapped up already, like a dreamy two-bed penthouse apartment with amazing views across to the sea with access to a luxury pool, gym and easy walking distance to all the amenitiesandall way under budget because the kind owner simply wants it to go to a good home.
He clicks the enter key with a flourish and states, ‘What do you think?’
