Perfect on Paper by Gillian Harvey (top 20 books to read txt) 📕

The bus ride to town was amazingly quick and Clare wondered whether she ought to go in early all the time. According to the last report from the local garage, her car wasn’t ‘viable’ – meaning the repairs would cost more than the cost of replacing her vehicle entirely. So unless she dipped into their ever-decreasing savings or drained their emergency credit card it looked as though she’d be a frequent traveller for the foreseeable.

This early start was a way of making up for her lack of professionalism yesterday, she thought. She’d had her moment of madness, and now it was time to knuckle down and appreciate the fact that she did actually have it pretty good. Well, fairly good. Or not too bad, anyway.

The office was dark when she came in, keying in the alarm code and putting on the lights in all the rooms to make it seem less forbidding. Like many small offices close to the town centre, the Mann Company was based in a Victorian bay windowed building that had once been a house. Once the computers were turned off and the phones went silent, it retreated into itself – there was a different atmosphere, a different smell first thing in the morning. ‘Do you think it’s haunted?’ Ann had asked her once. Clare had laughed, but on the rare times she was alone in the office, she didn’t feel quite so amused.

There would be someone else here in a minute, she told herself firmly, and marched up to her office, clutching her latte (a safer bet than cappuccino these days).

Camberwaddle had already replied to her apologetic email.

Dear Clare,

Thank you for your email.

I do understand that yesterday couldn’t be helped. My concern is not knowing whether I will have the support I need, going forward.

I can’t make a meeting today, but am able to come into the offices tomorrow to discuss what the Mann Company can do for me.

Best,

Stefan

It wasn’t particularly warm; it wasn’t particularly promising. But he was coming in tomorrow – she’d have the chance for a proper hearing to convince him.

Nigel stuck his head around the door at about 8.30 a.m., making her jump. ‘Feeling better, Carol?’ he asked.

‘It’s Clare.’

‘Glad to hear it, glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘Um, any news from Mr Camberwaddle?’

‘Yes, he’s going to come in tomorrow to discuss everything.’

‘Good, good. Um …’ he paused, his cheeks reddening slightly. ‘Er, I don’t suppose. I mean, he didn’t mention any specifics about yesterday, at all?’

‘No, sir,’ she said, innocently. ‘Like what?’

‘Oh, nothing, nothing. I mean … well, he may have been privy to a rather … an intimate team building exercise between Will and I.’

‘No, he didn’t mention it,’ she replied, truthfully – deciding not to tell him that Ann had filled her in on the details, or ask him what type of boxers he had on today out of interest.

Nigel’s shoulders visibly relaxed. ‘Right. Well, onwards and upwards, as they say!’

‘Indeed.’

‘Last day in the old office, eh!’ he added.

‘Excuse me?’

‘You know … new carpet today – moving into your corner office tomorrow!’ he said, with a gesture that looked as if he’d aimed for a thumbs up but thought better of it.

She felt her stomach sink. ‘I—’ she said, but he’d already disappeared from view.

She looked around the office that had been her home-from-home for four years. Her certificates on the wall, the blinds she’d chosen herself, her beloved leather chair, purchased after she’d had a brilliant quarter and netted herself a sizeable bonus.

She’d hoped that the whole ‘corner office’ thing would fizzle out. Nigel had ideas from time to time but didn’t always follow them through. And she’d meant to talk to him about it, to tell him it just wasn’t acceptable. But Nigel’s plans were moving at uncharacteristic speed and it looked as if she’d left it too late.

She’d just thought that when Nigel had seen the office/cupboard properly, when he’d tried to have it renovated, attempted to have her things moved, he would realise that it wasn’t fair to do this to her. That there must be another solution.

Should she have pointed it out to him? She worked so, so hard. In spite of herself, she felt the tears come and tried to bury herself in work to get back on an even keel.

Ann was in shortly afterwards. ‘Are you all right?’ she said, noticing Clare’s slightly red eyes.

‘Oh, just ignore me.’

‘No – seriously, what’s up?’ Ann put the files down and walked to Clare’s side of the desk, slinging a friendly arm around her shoulder.

‘Oh, I don’t know. I might have lost my best client … and I’m being moved into a coat cupboard.’ Clare smiled at the ridiculousness of it, despite feeling tears well up again. Perhaps if she tried hard enough, she could make a rainbow.

‘What? The cupboard?’

Clare told Ann about Camberwaddle’s email. And about the fact she’d soon be moving into her ‘corner office’ according to Nigel.

‘Seriously, you take one day off sick and Camberwaddle’s thinking of ditching you? Doesn’t sound worth it to me,’ Ann said, looking so annoyed on Clare’s behalf that it made Clare feel incredibly guilty. She longed to tell Ann that she hadn’t been ill, that she’d taken some sort of spontaneous day off. But found that she couldn’t.

‘And how can Nigel seriously expect you to work in that tiny cupboard? He must be losing his marbles,’ Ann fumed. ‘His office is big enough for him and Will to work in together I would have thought.’

‘Good point – no trousers required.’

‘Exactly. Oh Clare – this really sucks. Have you thought about what you’re going to do?’

‘Do?’

‘Have you thought about threatening to walk out? Surely they’d have to sit up and take notice?’

Clare had thought about it, vaguely. ‘I think they’d only notice after a couple of months when the bailiffs came around to claim back Will’s plush office chair, or whatever,’ she said. ‘Not when it really mattered.’

Ann rubbed Clare’s