Free Just Say Yes by Phillipa Ashley Page A

the caller.
    “It’s Lucy. Can’t you even get my name right?”
    There was a pause. “Ah. Yes. Lucy, it’s Hugo Lawson Sr. From Able & Lawson. Your um… boss.”
    Lucy sank down on the bed, one shoe on and one off, her mind processing the voice on the end of the line. Hugo Lawson Sr., who was seventy-squillion (as opposed to Hugo Lawson Jr. who was a veritable babe magnet at sixty-two). “I am sooo sorry, Mr. Lawson. I didn’t mean to be rude, only I thought you were one of them,” she gushed.
    “ Them? ”
    “A tabloid hack.”
    “Oh. Well, I never read the tabloids,” said Mr. Lawson. “Only the FT . However, this morning my attention has been drawn to a number of publications of a more scurrilous nature. Miss Pettigrew happened to catch sight of your um… image in one such newspaper while on her way to work on the Tube. She deemed it necessary to purchase several copies with the petty cash.”
    Lucy could imagine Miss Pettigrew, the management team PA, bearing a neatly folded pile of “scurrilous publications” into Mr. Lawson’s oak-lined office.
    “I believe several young men were making observations about your photograph on the Piccadilly line this morning. I have to say, Lucy, that it would have been preferable if the name of the firm had not found its way into the article.” She heard rustling on the end of the line. “Ah, here’s the paragraph in question: ‘Love-rat Lucy Gibson must be used to taking down briefs in her job with a firm of City lawyers. But her bosses at Able & Lawson probably didn’t have anything quite as scanty as THIS PAIR in mind.’”
    Lucy wanted the floor to open up.
    “I am so sorry, Mr. Lawson.”
    “It’s wholly inaccurate, of course. I’ve never asked you to take down any briefs. You’re only the marketing assistant, but you get my drift…”
    “I apologize. I mean, it won’t happen again. These tabloid reporters are scumbags!”
    “Quite—and that is why I’m calling.”
    Lucy’s stomach began to churn a little. This sounded ominous.
    “I’ve been chatting to your line manager, Letitia, and she tells me that it has been difficult for you to perform your duties as we—and, doubtless, you—would wish to. Therefore, we thought it might be appropriate if…”
    … you sacked me? thought Lucy, feeling sick.
    “Are you still there?” asked Mr. Lawson.
    “Yes. I’m still here.”
    “We have discussed the matter and thought it prudent for you to take your annual leave now. I believe you have two weeks owing and perhaps, if you concur with us, as I’m sure you will, considering all the circumstances…”
    Lucy now knew why Letitia’s blood pressure had risen when she’d had a meeting with Mr. Lawson Sr.
    “We were hoping that you might consider adding a spell of extra leave on to your vacation to give time for this… this extraordinary situation to resolve itself. A month would appear to be an appropriate timescale.”
    “A whole month? But that means I won’t be back until the summer! Are you sure?”
    “It seems like a prudent course of action, Lucinda, yes. I’m afraid we can’t have this kind of attention drawn to a firm with a reputation such as ours.”
    “Whatever you say, Mr. Lawson. Probably best for everyone, in the um… extraordinary circumstances. Thank you for being so understanding.”
    “Capital. We’ll hopefully see you in a month, when, I trust, any unpleasantness will be behind you. I mean, when this is all over. Good-bye.”
    Fiona appeared in the doorway. “Well?”
    “That was my boss. He wants me to take some leave and put any unpleasantness behind me. Fi, I don’t think this incident has helped my prospects of making assistant marketing manager rather than marketing assistant.”
    “Is there a difference?”
    “About three grand a year and someone else gets to fetch your sandwiches,” said Lucy lightly, but inside she had a distinct feeling of unease. Bringing the firm into disrepute was hardly a great