Easier said than done, of course, now that I’d broken all my rules and fallen for him.
24
Saturday, Gideon and I took his kayak onto the river, stopping for lunch at a pub before paddling back to spend the evening playing board games with Agnes and Hattie. I was slowly learning to love life again, to relish new experiences and relationships without feeling as if I were betraying my family or playing with fire by starting to care for people, and it felt better than I’d have dared to imagine.
On Monday, I was sorting through some paperwork in the office, when the phone rang.
‘Hello, I’m calling about the job advert that just went up online. For the personal assistant role?’
Hattie had spent Sunday putting together the advert, despite not yet hearing from Dr Ambrose. She didn’t expect the advert to yield anything remotely useful, given the required ambiguity of the wording, and she’d reduced the hours to three days a week, now that any future therapy courses were on hold, but she was stressing about managing things alone, so thought it was worth a try.
‘If you let me have your name and email address, I’ll send you an application form.’
‘Before I do, can I ask a couple of questions? The advert was quite cryptic. I don’t want to waste our time if it’s not the right fit.’
‘Um. Yes, of course. What did you want to know?’
‘It said it was based in Nottinghamshire. Can I have a more precise location?’
‘It’s, er, in the Sherwood Forest area.’
‘Fantastic! And it mentioned that an interest in creativity would be useful. Are you able to share any more details about that?’
‘Well, yes, but it isn’t essential, so if you aren’t creative don’t let it put you off.’ Hattie didn’t want to be bombarded with random people interested in working for a famous artist, which was why she was keeping the details confidential until she’d whittled it down to a shortlist of candidates. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not authorised to provide any more information at this stage. But anyone who fulfils the basic requirements will be carefully considered.’
‘Hang on a minute.’ The caller’s accent suddenly switched from a nineteen-fifties ‘telephone voice’ to broad Notts. ‘Is that Soph?’
‘Deirdre?’
‘Are you looking for a PA? Because that would be flippin’ awesome. We’d work great together.’
My brain instantly went to full-on flap mode. ‘Can I call you back in a couple of minutes?’
‘Okay. Sure. My lunchbreak runs out in ten, though. I’m calling from the store cupboard.’
I hung up and hurried over to the studio. Hattie was staring at a sketch of more crows. One of them wore a grey, hooded cloak. Another carried a crossbow. It was certainly a different direction from her usual designs.
‘We just had a call about the job.’
‘Oh? Did it seem like they have potential?’
‘It was Deirdre.’
Hattie stuck her pencil in her mouth and chewed it for a few seconds, forehead creasing.
‘She’s assumed it’ll be working for me. I don’t have to tell her it’s for Lizzie’s job,’ I suggested.
‘If Deirdre is here three days a week, it’ll take her no time to figure out that something’s up.’
‘I think she already has, she just doesn’t know what yet.’
Hattie chewed a bit more.
‘The key question is, can you trust her?’
Hattie’s frown deepened. ‘With my life. Whether I can be her boss is another matter.’
She used the pencil to give one of the crows an eyepatch. ‘Then again, if I can manage Lizzie, Deirdre should be doable. Would you mind telling her that Lizzie has resigned, and invite her for an informal of-course-you’ve-got-the-job interview? I’ve a few more touches to add to this, and I don’t want to stop while the inspiration’s flowing.’ She shook her head. ‘Deirdre, of all the people. If my head was working properly, I’d have already asked her, saved bothering with that advert.’
