The Dinner Guest by B Walter (best short books to read txt) 📕
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- Author: B Walter
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A small pause passed before he realised a reply was expected. ‘Oh … um … yes, I suppose so.’
She beamed. ‘Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page with this. Because, from what I’ve been hearing from Sophia, you’ve been limiting Rachel’s work here to very dull tasks. You’ve practically made her into your paperclip monitor.’
His eyebrows rose at this. ‘Well … I … er … Sophia never provided much guidance on what, er, what duties should be considered her…’
‘Yes, she did,’ Meryl said simply. ‘I’m also surprised it’s taken you this long to remember her name. Rachel. Not Raquel, as I heard you twice call her just now. You see, I’ve never been able to avoid the lure of eavesdropping. It’s one of my weaknesses.’
Edward’s jaw clenched. He looked like he was biting his tongue.
‘Well, I’m going to take Rachel here out for lunch. We’ll probably be gone a few hours. And when she returns, I trust you’ll find her some more stimulating tasks to fill her time. After all, she’s a bit old to be treated like your office intern. And of course, you have a bit of a history with interns, don’t you, Edward?’
Edward made an uncomfortable swallowing sound and coughed. ‘I … er … I’m sorry, what do you…?’
‘We’d better be off,’ Meryl said, ‘I’ve made reservations for 1pm at Enoteca Turi. Lovely to see you, Edward.’
With that, she picked up her bag and rose out of her seat, then looked at me, making it clear I should do the same. I got up and, following her lead, walked out of the office, not giving Edward a second glance.
Enoteca Turi was an intimate Italian restaurant on the Pimlico Road. I’d never been anywhere so fancy, and the prices of the pasta almost made me swear. For Meryl, however, this was probably considered cheap and cheerful.
‘Thank you for saving me from that,’ I said, after the waiter had taken our order. ‘He was laying into me a bit. It was silly really. I shouldn’t have got so upset.’
I made a point of dabbing my eyes at this. Part of me suspected Meryl liked coming to the rescue of people – she did it so smoothly and with such a sense of knowing ease that it could hardly have been her first time.
‘He’s a tiresome little man, Edward. I can’t imagine why Sophia has let him rumble on in that place for the past few years.’
The waiter brought Meryl her wine and me the Diet Coke I’d ordered. ‘What you said about him having an interesting past with interns. Was that true?’
Her eyes sparkled a little at this. ‘No, I just made it up on the spot. It certainly put the cat among the pigeons though.’
I laughed and took a sip of my drink. ‘Well, hopefully he’ll be a bit nicer to me in future.’
Meryl suddenly looked more serious. ‘My dear, are you unhappy? Because you shouldn’t be. You’re an intelligent, competent individual. Anyone who can’t see that is either blind or stupid or both.’
I smiled, a little sadly, and said, ‘I just feel a bit lost, really. I didn’t have a very good Christmas. It’s just me and my dad, you see, so it’s not exactly very lively. And coming back here and Edward being unpleasant to me… I’m very grateful for the job, don’t get me wrong, it’s just I’m… I don’t know. Nothing feels sure or stable.’
Meryl nodded slowly, her expression suggesting she was contemplating my words carefully. She changed the conversation then, moving instead to talk about our upcoming book-club book and how much she hoped I’d be coming along. It was only when we’d cleared our plates and Meryl was sorting out the bill that she turned the topic back round to my depressing life.
‘My dear, I have a proposition. If you wish to say no, think nothing of it; I will not be offended. I’m too tough and old to be easily offended. Anyway, for some time I’ve been thinking I could do with some help with some general life admin things. Take the load off me. It wouldn’t be arduous work, just booking me in for hair appointments, my little dog Bunty’s trips to the grooming salon, shopping, organising cars to collect me when I need them, or perhaps even driving yourself – I don’t drive, you see, I could never work out the British road system. So, my proposal is this: how about you leave Streamline and come and work for me?’
A few seconds went by before I realised I was gaping at her. This was better than I ever could have hoped, ever could have dreamed. The thought of being so closely connected to Meryl, and in turn to the Allerton-Joneses, took my breath away.
‘Really? You’re offering me the job? I’m … not skilled in PA work. I’ve done retail and customer service, but I’ve never been a secretary or anything like that.’ Even in my shocked state, I was mindful not to bite Meryl’s hand off with eagerness. Keep it slow, play it cool was always my dad’s method of selling cars when I was young, and I’ve found it to be a useful motto.
‘I’m offering you the job. Honestly, I’d much prefer to have you than one of those aspiring socialites with degrees, hoping to marry the first rich guy that comes across their path.’
I have a degree, I thought to
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