‘You really have to,’ my sister says when she stops cackling. ‘Otherwise you’d always wonder, wouldn’t you? You’d always wonder what might have happened if you had. Who you might’ve met.’ She looks serious for a moment. ‘I’m not saying this is your soulmate or whatever’ – she gestures at the screen – ‘not like me and Milo Samuels—’
‘Or me and Colin Firth’s Mr Darcy,’ adds Salma.
‘Right!’ Clara nods. ‘But this is someone who seems to loveToo Good to Be Trueas much as you. This could be a friend for life. Or at least someone you can bore on about it with.’ She gives me a cheeky smile and I reluctantly return it.
‘Let me think about it some more, OK?’ I tell the room and Clara whoops.
To be honest, it’s not like I’ll be able to think about anything else.
Chapter ElevenCLARA
‘OK, great,’ says the man whose name I forgot the moment he said it as he regards me with dead eyes. ‘And finally, what do you think is your biggest weakness?’
I clear my throat and then offer with confidence, ‘Kryptonite?’
I watched a video last night about acing job interviews, and it suggested this answer. It seemed like a hilarious solution to a shit question and I was totally sure it would break the ice. But the dead-eyed nameless man does not appear amused.
‘Riiiiight,’ he intones with disinterest, checking his watch. ‘Before we finish up, do you have any questions?’
I know I’ve got no chance of getting this job. I’m sure this bloke only added me to the interview list as a favour to Angela, which is extra embarrassing – mymum’s girlfriendgetting me a job interview. I’m sure Mum had to beg Angela to set it up and I’ve mostly just made a tit of myself.
Oh god, what happens if they actually offer me the job? Because there’s no way I could do it. I’d screw it all up, I know I would. Despite my pep talk from Jemma last night, I know me. And me messes everything up.
‘Questions?’ I repeat a bit blankly.
‘Yep.’ Dead Eyes looks past me at the door. ‘Anything you’d like to know about the team or the culture here?’
That job advice video I looked at said I really should have something ready for this section of the interview, but I forgot to come up with a question. I was hoping something would occur to me during the conversation, but I was mostly internally playing the theme tune toHome and Awaybecause the receptionist outside was Australian.
‘My question is…’ I hedge, hunting for something and finally hitting on a question I am genuinely curious about. ‘Do you like my hair?’
His face goes slack and I raise my eyebrows.
‘I mean,’ I continue hastily, ‘do you think it’s, like, office appropes? I was going to do a ponytail, because thatdefomeans business professional, but I haven’t had my roots done in aaages and it looked really shi— bad. But it looks OK down, right?’ I pause anxiously and he says nothing. ‘It’s too long, isn’t it?’ I ask, worriedly pulling at some split ends. ‘I had a haircut booked in the other day but when I got there, the hairdresser had awful hair! What do you do in that situation? You can’t trust someone with shi— bad hair not to give you shit, um, bad hair, too, can you? So I made a run for it.’
He takes a deep breath and I can tell he is annoyed. Evenmore annoyed than he was a few minutes ago when he asked me about my work in America and I started singing the British national anthem. Or, at least, I sang what Ithoughtwas the British national anthem but turned out to be Eurovision winners Bucks Fizz’s ‘Making Your Mind Up’. Which reallyshouldbe the national anthem.
I just didn’t want to get into what I was doing in the US. And it’s not like the many rubbish temp jobs I had over the last five years would’ve impressed him much.
He stands up and offers a hand for me to shake. ‘I think your hair is fine. Thanks for coming in, Ms Poyntz.’
‘Oh, sure!’ I bounce out of my seat, feeling pleased with myself. I pulled things around, I reckon. That hairdresser chat was very relatable. ‘I look forward to hearing from you, Mr… Sir.’
I head out into the early summer air, feeling excited. Sure, being a PA isn’t exactly my dream job, but it might be OK, right? Until I figure stuff out.
I check my phone where there is a message waiting from Jemma. I feel an unfurling of something at the sight of her name. A thawing is happening between us, I’m sure of it.
Hope the interview went well! I’ve been thinking about what you said re my note writer. Maybe you could help me with what to reply next? X
I let out a little squeal of delight and a man walking past with a Costa cup nearly drops it. I beam at him as he glares.This isgreat. Jemma and I will bond over this mysterious book dude and maybe she’ll fall in love and have me to thank.
I stop short, staring sightlessly into an M&S window. I hope this isn’t a mistake. I mean, you’d have to be a bit of a nutjob to leave someone a note in a book, right? Or an absolute nerd.
Mysoulmate would never be such a geek.
An image of thatBook Boyfriendactor passes across my vision. Dashing, gorgeous, charismatic, with the most dazzling smile I’ve ever seen in my life.
Milo Samuels.
