Free Twenties Girl by Sophie Kinsella

director at Arberry Stores and used to play rugby for Doncaster. He couldn’t be more perfect for the Leonidas Sports job, but when I first approached him he said he didn’t want to move. I can’t believe he’s got in touch!
    “Play it cool!” I whisper urgently. “Pretend I’m really busy interviewing other candidates.”
    Kate nods vigorously.
    “Let me just see….” she says into the phone. “Lara’s schedule is very packed today, but I’ll see what I can do. … Ah! Now, what a stroke of luck! She unexpectedly has a vacancy! Would you like to name a restaurant?”
    She grins broadly at me and I give her an air high-five. Clive Hoxton is an A-list name! He’s tough-thinking and hard-playing! He’ll totally make up for the weirdo and the kleptomaniac. In fact, if we get him, I’ll ax the kleptomaniac, I decide. And the weirdo isn’t
that
bad, if we could just get rid of his dandruff….
    “All fixed up!” Kate puts the phone down. “You’re having lunch today at one o’clock.”
    “Excellent! Where?”
    “Well, that’s the only thing.” Kate hesitates. “I asked him to name a restaurant. And he named—” She breaks off.
    “What?” My heart starts to thump anxiously. “Not Gordon Ramsay. Not that posh one in Claridge’s.”
    Kate winces. “Worse. Lyle Place.”
    My insides shrivel. “You have to be kidding.”
    Lyle Place opened about two years ago and was instantly christened the most expensive restaurant in Europe. It has a massive lobster tank and a fountain, and loads of celebrities go there. Obviously I’ve never been there. I’ve just read about it in the
Evening Standard
.
    We should never, never,
never
have let him name the restaurant. I should have named it. I would have named Pasta Pot, which is around the corner and does a set lunch for £12.95 including a glass of wine. I daren’t even
think
how much lunch for two at Lyle Place is going to be.
    “We won’t be able to get in!” I say in sudden relief. “It’ll be too busy.”
    “He said he can get a reservation. He knows some people. He’ll put it in your name.”
    “Damn.”
    Kate is nibbling at her thumbnail anxiously. “How much is in the client entertainment kitty?”
    “About 50 p,” I say in despair. “We’re broke. I’ll have to use my own credit card.”
    “Well, it’ll be worth it,” says Kate resolutely. “It’s an investment. You’ve got to look like a mover and a shaker. If people see you eating at Lyle Place, they’ll think,
Wow, Lara Lington must be doing well if she can afford to take clients here!”
    “But I
can’t
afford it!” I wail. “Could we phone him up and change it to a cup of coffee?”
    Even as I’m saying it, I know how lame this would look. If he wants lunch, I have to give him lunch. If he wants to go to Lyle Place, we have to go to Lyle Place.

    “Maybe it isn’t as expensive as we think,” says Kate hopefully. “I mean, all the newspapers keep saying how bad the economy is, don’t they? Maybe they’ve reduced the prices. Or got a special offer.”
    “That’s true. And maybe he won’t order very much,” I add in sudden inspiration. “I mean, he’s sporty. He won’t be a big eater.”
    “Of course he won’t!” agrees Kate. “He’ll have, like, one tiny bit of sashimi and some water and dash off. And he
definitely
won’t drink. Nobody drinks at lunch anymore.”
    I’m feeling more positive about this already. Kate’s right. No one drinks at business lunches these days. And we can keep it down to two courses. Or even one. A starter and a nice cup of coffee. What’s wrong with that?
    And, anyway, whatever we eat, it can’t cost
that
much, can it?
    Oh my God, I think I’m going to faint.
    Except I can’t, because Clive Hoxton has just asked me to run through the specs of the job again.
    I’m sitting on a transparent chair at a white-clothed table. If I look to my right, I can see the famous giant lobster tank, which has crustaceans of all sorts