Free From Pasta to Pigfoot by Frances Mensah Williams Page A

and down the document on her screen as she searched for the pages where she needed to make the changes. Finally sensing her growing impatience, his tone now sounded slightly more conciliatory.
    â€˜Anyway, I was calling to see if you wanted to come with me on Friday. I’m reviewing a new Caribbean restaurant for the paper and I’ve asked Luther and the other guys along. I know they’ll love the food and...’ he paused and added, ‘I think it will give you a good opportunity to apologise.’
    The sight of Junior’s client, Mr Carmichael, stepping out of the lift and heading towards her desk cut off Faye’s instinctive response to that suggestion. Opting for the path of least resistance, she quickly agreed to Michael’s invitation before slamming down the phone and hastily printing out the corrected document.
    Later that afternoon, she slipped into the small staff room, replaying the phone conversation over and over in her mind as she made herself a strong cup of coffee. While she felt less than happy at the thought of another close encounter of the Wesley kind, it was a relief that Michael had finally called and that they were back on speaking terms. Maybe it was time to be gracious and try again with Wesley, if only to keep the peace with her disgruntled boyfriend.
    Clutching her mug, she looked around the poky room, optimistically described as the ‘Staff Sitting Room’ by the Partners, and wondered for the umpteenth time what she was doing in this place. Unlike William, who had always known that he wanted to be a lawyer, Faye had left school with absolutely no idea of where her future career lay. Trying to please her father, she had looked up multiple possible training courses to take at college and ended up even more confused than before she had started.
    Finally deciding that even she could handle office work, she had signed up at a local college and to her own surprise, and the secret astonishment of her father, actually completed the one year IT and secretarial course. The real challenge came after she had registered with a few agencies hoping to find an entry level job. Some of the other girls on her course, well connected to the right social networks, quickly found themselves jobs in advertising, media and PR firms, with the others almost effortlessly finding PA roles at investment banks in the City. Faye’s job applications, on the other hand, seemed to come to more dead ends than she could have believed possible. Despite the fact that he lacked the type of contacts she needed for an admin job, Faye’s father was totally against nepotism of any kind and resolutely refused to get involved in her job search. Trying desperately not to care about the number of jobs that she had been ‘perfect’ for during telephone conversations but which were subsequently ‘not really very suitable’ once the recruitment consultant had actually laid eyes on her, Faye had nevertheless persevered.
    She still winced whenever she thought about her firstreal interview. The job was for a PA in a fast-growing advertising agency and she had stayed up half the night researching the latest issues in the industry and Googling information about the founders of the agency, absolutely determined to impress the recruiters and show that she was up to date with the sector.
    But from the minute she entered the luxurious reception area of YMBJ Ads in Chelsea, Faye had felt distinctly uncomfortable. Dressed in smartly tailored navy trousers and a cream top, teamed with the striking navy and gold Hermès scarf her father had given her the previous Christmas, she knew she looked fine but she still felt out of place. Her uneasiness increased tenfold when the elegant blonde sitting behind the reception desk smiled frigidly at her and gestured back towards the lift from which she had just emerged.
    â€˜The interviews for the facilities department are being held on the ground floor,’