Free Venus Envy by Louise Bagshawe

post room at lunchtime, God knows why. Kev was thrilled to see me. So then I felt sulky and guilty, and lunch with Kev became a once-a-week deal.
    ‘That’s a nice girl, Alexandra,’ Jenny said approvingly.
    k
    And I’m sorry to say I was secretly quite pleased. As I was when she praised my typing. Or my answering, or anything really.
    ‘You’re getting quite.., competent,’ Jenny told me briskly. Well, you take your praise where you can get it.
    This morning I’d been bashing away at the PC when Personnel rang up to tell me Jenny was off sick. For a second I felt worried about her. What was wrong with me? I was going bonkers.
    ‘It’s only flu,’ Personnel said reassuringly, ‘but she wants to knock it on the head. So we’re sending somebody along from the typing pool downstairs to take over your work. Jenny wanted you to handle her tuff.’
    ‘Fine,’ I muttered, a prickly flush of anticipation spreading halfway up my back before I could stop myself. I hoped they would rustle up some sixteen year-old gum-popping kid with a punk haircut, so I could yell at her about her appearance and send her to the. filing room for a change, but no, I got Rhoda Black, a fat frumpy matron with a boxy green suit and a typing speed that took my breath away.
    ‘Could you possibly do these for me, and get this line?’ I asked nervously. My command authority was sorely lacking, when it came down to it.
    ‘Is that all?’ Rhoda asked contemptuously, examining my pile of letters as though she needed a microscope to see them.
    ‘Well, maybe these,’ I suggested daringly, offering up some reports and a couple of spreadsheets that would have taken me days to get through.
    Rhoda sniffed. ‘They don’t work you up here, do they?’
    I ignored her. What did I care, when I could dash off to the ladies’ for a slick of nude lipstick and a reapplication of my concealer? I was getting promoted,
     
    6z
     
    if only for the day. That meant Jenny’s immaculately neat desk and only taking calls from important people. And, more importantly, it meant Seamus. Estimated Time of Arrival: five to nine. Just enough time to settle myself in, spritz myself - well, douse myself from head to foot - in CK Be, and make a fresh cup of espresso, just the way he liked it.
    He was bang on time. Amazingly enough. And he looked brilliant, wearing some off-burgundy suit with dark brown shoes and smelling of spiced oranges, his dark hair neatly combed back and sprayed, as though it might tumble out into wild curls at any minute if not subdued. He strode into the office clutching his briefcase, with a sort of corporate warrior swagger that made me go all weak at the knees.
    Oh how I longed to wind the clock back just a couple of.hours. Just long enough for me to steal some of Bronwen’s make-up and beg Keisha to lend me a TDO. Even an MDO would do. Rather than the neat, sexless suit from Next in pebble-grey wool mix I was sporting drably.
    Seamus’s first glance at me out of those deep green eyes was one of-annoyance?
    ‘Where’s Jenny?’ he almost barked.
    ‘Er, got the flu,’ I said.
    ‘Bugger. That bloody woman’s never around when I need her,’ Seamus said .sharply.
    It was my impression that Jenny practically camped in this office, but …
    ‘Is that my coffee?’ He took it from me, downed it in a single gulp, then grimaced wildly. ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph! That’s not how I like it! Don’t you know I take the bloody stuff decaffeinated?’
    What’s the point of decaffeinated espresso, I wanted to say, but bit it back. I was afraid my voice might wobble into tears if I said anything. And who’d want to cheek him in this mood? He might fire me!
     
    63
     
    Poor Seamus must have had a really atrocious morning!
    ‘I’m sorry—’
    ‘Get me another one and bring it into my office,’ he
    said without looking at me, picking up a sheaf of faxes
    from Jenny’s desk.
    Then he went into his office and slammed the door. I got up and went to