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

Lost in her work at the office, she’d forgotten to even tune in to Woman’s World and watch her interview with Toby being aired. Or perhaps she’d wilfully ignored the fact her alter ego was going to be beamed to the masses over lunch. Either way, she hadn’t seen it yet.

As Dan had said, the hashtag #MarthaB. popped up in the top ten trends on the side of her screen. Heart in mouth, she clicked on the link.

#MarthaB. telling it like it is! said a Tweet. You go girl!

#MarthaB. schmoozing with @Toby on #Woman’sWorld said another, adding a vomiting emoticon for good measure.

Scrolling down, it seemed that most of the references were positive. That she hadn’t let the side down, even though she’d tried to swing public opinion a little more in Toby’s favour.

‘Bodes well for the live finals on Saturday!’ she replied to Dan. After which, she thought to herself, everything would be different.

‘You’re amazing,’ he replied.

She spent the afternoon getting her files as up to date as she could, and arranging as much as she could in advance to make sure tomorrow went well.

Then, just as she was stuffing paperwork into Alfie’s half-ripped gym bag, the phone on her desk trilled into life.

‘Clare Bailey speaking.’

‘Hi, Clare, it’s Will.’

‘Hi?’

‘I’ve got Stefan Camberwaddle on the phone; he wants a quick word, if that’s OK?’

‘Sure, thank you.’

‘OK, putting him through.’

Clare waited for the familiar click on the line. Then, ‘Hello?’

‘Hello, Clare, it’s Stefan Camberwaddle here,’ he said, unnecessarily.

‘Stefan! How are you?’

‘Fine, fine, thank you. I just wanted to run something by you quickly.’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, your … this Will chap … he’s started work on my litigation, which seems to be fine.’

‘Great … good news.’

‘But he’s … he seems quite excited about a client of yours named Hans something.’

‘Oh,’ she said.

‘Yes, I just wanted to know … well, he invited me to some sort of training session he thought might benefit me in some way.’

Clare’s heart sank. ‘Oh, did he?’

‘Yes. He … he, um, said it would help me to be more … attractive, or something,’ continued Camberwaddle. ‘I just wanted to ask, I suppose. Whether he’s … is he as good a lawyer as I thought?’

Clare thought about Will. His constant smart appearance (except when working out in a leotard or underpants); the fact that he was always on time; that he won many of his cases, despite their rather trivial nature; the bizarre but ultimately probably useful contacts he had in the underground world of American law drama that seemed to exist in his favourite bar.

‘He’s … he’s hardworking. Yes, I think he’s a good lawyer,’ she said at last. ‘He’s just trying a new strategy … which I suppose is a bit on the alternative side. But otherwise, he really is sound.’

Camberwaddle sounded relieved. ‘Right, thank you,’ he said. ‘It’s good to have a solicitor whose opinion I trust.’

She hung up the phone hoping that she’d made the right decision, and that Camberwaddle wouldn’t be leaping into her room in a shiny all-in-one next time they had a meeting.

Picking up her bag, she checked her office desk once more to ensure everything was laid out clearly and neatly, then picked up her bag.

‘Oh, Ann,’ she said, passing her desk. ‘Aren’t you off yet?’

‘Just finishing this.’

‘You don’t have to you know.’

‘I know. But I want to be on it for when His Highness Will is watching over me tomorrow morning.’ Ann’s tone was light, but her voice had an edge to it – she really was dreading being overseen by the firm’s rising star.

‘Sorry,’ Clare said. ‘You know it wasn’t my idea, don’t you? I think you could handle this lot standing on your head.’

‘I know,’ Ann replied. But her tone had softened. Perhaps she hadn’t been sure. ‘By the way, good luck tomorrow.’

‘What, with the house hunting?’ Clare said, with an elaborate wink.

‘Yeah, make sure you find something with a view.’

‘Definitely.’

‘And Clare?’ she called, as her boss began to turn away.

‘Yes.’

‘Don’t forget your power stance.’

Chapter Forty-Four

‘I’ll take it,’ Clare said, decisively.

Ben nodded and scribbled on his pad. ‘Great choice,’ he said.

It wasn’t much, sure, but it was a start. The second floor of a Victorian terrace on the high street; clearly once someone’s home, but now converted into offices. A small insurance firm situated on the ground floor, and Bailey and Associates (although who the associates would be at this stage she had no idea), would be tucked away above them. The shared reception area was a bonus, and she hoped to have a chat with the woman who managed the insurance company to see whether they might share reception support.

She’d yet to hand in her resignation at work; yet to even mention it to Nigel – although she’d been tempted once or twice, particularly when he’d been only half listening to what she was saying. Would he even hear her properly? Would it make him sit up and take notice?

But she wasn’t doing this to score points. She was making a positive change for herself; and hopefully for Ann, too.

‘So, you’ll need to pay three months’ rent up front and fill in a bit of paperwork,’ Ben continued, as she fantasised about the type of furniture she might buy for the modest carpeted room with its tiny corner office, central desk area and a toilet that was located in what had clearly once been a kitchen. At least it beat her cupboard office.

‘No problem,’ she said, although it would be a bit of a squeeze. The rent was slightly higher than she’d anticipated, which might make money tight for a while.

‘Are you OK?’ Ben asked, and she realised she’d been staring, trance-like, out of the window as the thoughts had run through her head. Her eyes snapped into focus and she suddenly realised that the window of the office looked directly into a flat above the newsagent over the road. Through the window a young man, wet from the shower and wearing only a towel,