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

‘Ah, right, me name’s Philip, but you can call me Pip. Pip Trotter.’

‘OK,’ she scribbled the name down – sometimes these cold calls led to real bona fide clients, even when they sounded a bit odd. ‘And, do you have a house to sell or purchase?’

‘D’ye think I might be able to buy a house?’ he asked, incredulous. ‘I thought it’d be a couple o’ grand at best. Mind you, it didn’t half smart.’

‘Smart?’

‘Yes, the toe. Look is this the Mann Company?’

‘Yes?’

‘Great. I saw an ad – any injury deserves a reward. So how do I go about it?’

Clare jotted down the man’s details and promised to pass them on.

She groaned when, as she finally set herself up to work once again, her mobile phone rang. But at least this time she could see who was calling.

Dan said the screen.

‘Hi Dan,’ she said. ‘Everything OK?’ Despite the interruption, she found herself smiling.

‘Yeah, great. Look sorry to call you at work. I know you’ll be over later or whatever.’

‘Right?’

‘But … Anyway, I just wanted to let you know … Clare, we’ve had a call from the BBC!’

‘We’ve what?’

‘Yeah, the producer saw us on the news and they want us to do a performance on the One Show. They’re doing an “online star of the week” segment and we’ve come to the producer’s attention.’

‘Oh god.’

‘Yeah, I mean, it’s great news! Right?’

‘When …? Where …?’

‘Monday, they said. Get there for four, London. You know?’

‘But Monday … I mean, I work. Do you not think you can …’ she began. Then stopped herself. She’d made a commitment to the boys and she couldn’t just let them down without good reason. Besides, she was owed about four weeks’ holiday and hadn’t yet taken a day. ‘OK, I’ll sort it,’ she said. ‘Can Nadia help?’

‘She’s got some pink spray for your hair,’ he said, ‘and some glasses ’n’ that.’

‘Right, thank you.’

Oh god. But at least it wasn’t yet ITV. She wasn’t going to bump into Toby strolling through the corridors.

Ann stepped in and placed a pile of post on her desk. ‘Nothing urgent,’ she smiled. ‘I’m off to grab a coffee, fancy one?’

‘Think I’m going to need one.’

‘Don’t forget there’s a lunchtime training session!’

‘How could I?’

‘Do you want sprinkles?’

‘Um, no. Actually I’ll just have black coffee I think.’

‘No problem.’

The last thing Clare needed was any more complication in her life.

As she turned her attention back to her mobile, a text message flashed on the screen. Great news! Toby had written. Call me!

She turned the phone over to face the desk and finally made her first mark on the legal pad. Everything else could just wait for a bit.

Chapter Twenty-Six

‘Sure, that’s fine.’ Nigel nodded, making an indecipherable scribble in his diary.

‘Thank you,’ Clare said. Why was it that she had to clear any holiday with Nigel, when in reality she was the one who managed her workload? Was it a power thing with him, she wondered?

‘So,’ he added, sitting back slightly, the back of his chair leaning dangerously as he did so. ‘Doing anything nice?’ The chair slipped slightly too far and he shot out a hand and grabbed the desk to stop himself from falling. ‘Bloody chair,’ he muttered.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Doing anything nice on your afternoon off? I assume it might be some sort of celebration?’ He looked at her over his glasses and, although it was hard to tell, he might have even winked.

‘Celebration?’ she replied, feeling a familiar gurgle in her stomach. Was Nigel telling her that he knew she was Martha B.? That she was off to perform on national TV?

Or maybe it was good news. Maybe he was finally acknowledging how her career was going from strength to strength, how impressed Camberwaddle was; how he intended to introduce more clients to the firm.

‘Yes, you know. Your husband’s success?’ Nigel tapped his finger against his nose. ‘I heard a rumour that he might be in line for a bigger role at ITV – Will saw it on Twitter.’

‘Oh yes! That,’ she said.

‘Wish him luck from me, won’t you!’

‘Will do.’

‘Oh, and Clare?’

‘Yes.’

‘You must be very proud of him. What a success!’

‘Yes.’ Clare smiled thinly, then turned to go.

‘And you, of course.’

She stopped. Was this the recognition of her recent achievement she’d been waiting for?

‘Me?’ she replied, modestly. ‘Success?’

‘Yes, you’re there in the background supporting him – the wind beneath his wings, as they say. You, too, on some level, bask in his glory.’

It took a great deal of self-restraint to stop herself saying that the report sitting unread on his desk detailing the amount of billing her department had done for the month, together with the retainer from Camberwaddle that she’d fought for, made her pretty successful herself. Before she went back to sit in the cupboard she’d been relegated to.

But success, it seemed, was only in the eyes of the beholder. And if it was played out on the grand stage, it was more meaningful than her endeavours to keep the money rolling in for their little firm.

‘Anyway, I’m around today so if you want to discuss the report …’ she said, eyeing it again on his desk.

‘Oh, yes. Yes, of course … I …’

But at that moment, Will entered. Clare expected her junior colleague to be told to wait, just as she had been, when interrupting a meeting between him and Nigel.

Instead, Nigel’s cheeks flushed and a beam spread across his face. ‘Here he is!’ he said. ‘The man of the moment!’

‘Hello, sir,’ Will said, and strode past Clare, shaking his boss’s hand like a royal greeting a peasant in the crowd. ‘You wanted to see me?’

‘Yes, I wanted to congratulate you for your latest advertising push. We’ve already had two client enquiries.’

‘That’s marvellous!’

‘Yes.’ Nigel paused and looked over his glasses at Clare. ‘Sorry, was there anything else?’

‘No, that’s it.’

‘Good, good. Well tell that husband of yours to keep up the good work!’

Walking back to her office, Clare realised that suddenly for the first time in a long while she didn’t actually