situation.
He cleared his throat, looked down at the piece of paper in his hand to remind himself exactly who she was and what she had to offer. And to buy a little time, hoping against hope that Jimbo would appear.
“Right,” he said.
LOUISE MULLEN.
MARITAL STATUS: SINGLE.
BORN 1943. EDUCATION: EALING COUNTY GRAMMAR SCHOOL FOR GIRLS.
O-LEVELS: ENGLISH, MATHS, FRENCH, HISTORY, GEOGRAPHY, BIOLOGY.
SECRETARIAL COURSE, EALING TECHNICAL COLLEGE.
TYPING 70 WPM, SHORTHAND 120 WPM, BOOKKEEPING.
PREVIOUS POSTS: SINCE SEPTEMBER 1962, SECRETARY BAKER AND HILLIARD, SOLICITORS.
INTERESTS: CINEMA, THEATRE, NETBALL—
“Netball!” he said. “Isn’t that more of a school game than an interest?”
“Not at all,” said Louise Mullen. “I play for the Ealing Ladies and also for a team that meets every Thursday in Lincoln’s Inn, legal secretaries. You can play netball to a very high level, Mr. Shaw. National championships at Wembley. Do you play any games?” she added.
“No. Not really. Well, a bit of soccer.”
“For?”
“Oh—just a local team. Just messing about, really.”
“Yes, I see.” She was obviously very unimpressed.
He wasn’t sure that he could work with her. She made him feel a bit of an idiot. But … she was rather perfect. Pretty. Clever. Well-spoken. Sexy. Very sexy, while being not in the least tarty. And, most important of all, she seemed to know exactly what Simmonds and Shaw were about and what was required of her.
“You’re just starting out on your own, aren’t you?” she said briskly. “So—first impressions, really, really important?”
“Really, really important.”
“In which case, you’ll never want the office left empty, or the phone unanswered?”
“We won’t, no.”
“So.” Pause. “So say it’s my lunch hour and neither of you are here—you won’t want me going out to get a sandwich or meet a friend?”
“Well … probably not. No.”
“And sometimes”—another pause—“you’ll want me to work late. It’s not a lot of money for all that, you know. Eight pounds a week.”
“Plus luncheon vouchers,” said Matt desperately.
“Which I won’t be able to spend half the time. And I’ll be taking on a lot of responsibility.”
God, she had a cheek. He had half a mind to tell her the position was actually filled. In fact—
The door burst open and Jimbo half ran in, parked his bowler hat on the hat stand, the only piece of furniture in what would be their reception area, apart from the chair on which Louise Mullen sat and the tea chest on which Matt was perched, and started pulling off his raincoat.
“Evening,” he said. “Sorry I’m late. Client meeting overran a bit. I—”
And then, almost farcically slowly, he looked at Louise Mullen, absorbed Louise Mullen, and registered rather visibly his approval of Louise Mullen.
“You must be the secretary,” he said, holding out a bony hand.
“Well,” she said, smiling at him sweetly, “I’ve come about the secretarial post, yes.”
“Ah. Yes. It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Jim Simmonds. Matt—Mr. Shaw’s partner.”
“Yes, I guessed as much. I was just saying to Mr. Shaw that you’d be asking a lot of me for the money.”
“Would we?”
“Miss Mullen has correctly pointed out,” said Matt rather wearily, “that she would sometimes have to work late. And through the lunch hour.”
“But you’d be prepared to do that?”
“Well, if I took the job on, I would. Yes. I can’t see the point otherwise. It’s a very important position, it seems to me. Exciting, though,” she said, with a recross of her black-stockinged legs and a dazzling smile at each of them in turn. “To be in at the beginning of something. Who knows, you might turn out to be millionaires one day.”
“We … plan to be, yes,” said Jimbo. He smiled back at her.
“Anyway … about the money. If you were to offer me the job, of course. I’ve got to eat. And pay for my season ticket, and so on.
He cleared his throat, looked down at the piece of paper in his hand to remind himself exactly who she was and what she had to offer. And to buy a little time, hoping against hope that Jimbo would appear.
“Right,” he said.
LOUISE MULLEN.
MARITAL STATUS: SINGLE.
BORN 1943. EDUCATION: EALING COUNTY GRAMMAR SCHOOL FOR GIRLS.
O-LEVELS: ENGLISH, MATHS, FRENCH, HISTORY, GEOGRAPHY, BIOLOGY.
SECRETARIAL COURSE, EALING TECHNICAL COLLEGE.
TYPING 70 WPM, SHORTHAND 120 WPM, BOOKKEEPING.
PREVIOUS POSTS: SINCE SEPTEMBER 1962, SECRETARY BAKER AND HILLIARD, SOLICITORS.
INTERESTS: CINEMA, THEATRE, NETBALL—
“Netball!” he said. “Isn’t that more of a school game than an interest?”
“Not at all,” said Louise Mullen. “I play for the Ealing Ladies and also for a team that meets every Thursday in Lincoln’s Inn, legal secretaries. You can play netball to a very high level, Mr. Shaw. National championships at Wembley. Do you play any games?” she added.
“No. Not really. Well, a bit of soccer.”
“For?”
“Oh—just a local team. Just messing about, really.”
“Yes, I see.” She was obviously very unimpressed.
He wasn’t sure that he could work with her. She made him feel a bit of an idiot. But … she was rather perfect. Pretty. Clever. Well-spoken. Sexy. Very sexy, while being not in the least tarty. And, most important of all, she seemed to know exactly what Simmonds and Shaw were about and what was required of her.
“You’re just starting out on your own, aren’t you?” she said briskly. “So—first impressions, really, really important?”
“Really, really important.”
“In which case, you’ll never want the office left empty, or the phone unanswered?”
“We won’t, no.”
“So.” Pause. “So say it’s my lunch hour and neither of you are here—you won’t want me going out to get a sandwich or meet a friend?”
“Well … probably not. No.”
“And sometimes”—another pause—“you’ll want me to work late. It’s not a lot of money for all that, you know. Eight pounds a week.”
“Plus luncheon vouchers,” said Matt desperately.
“Which I won’t be able to spend half the time. And I’ll be taking on a lot of responsibility.”
God, she had a cheek. He had half a mind to tell her the position was actually filled. In fact—
The door burst open and Jimbo half ran in, parked his bowler hat on the hat stand, the only piece of furniture in what would be their reception area, apart from the chair on which Louise Mullen sat and the tea chest on which Matt was perched, and started pulling off his raincoat.
“Evening,” he said. “Sorry I’m late. Client meeting overran a bit. I—”
And then, almost farcically slowly, he looked at Louise Mullen, absorbed Louise Mullen, and registered rather visibly his approval of Louise Mullen.
“You must be the secretary,” he said, holding out a bony hand.
“Well,” she said, smiling at him sweetly, “I’ve come about the secretarial post, yes.”
“Ah. Yes. It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Jim Simmonds. Matt—Mr. Shaw’s partner.”
“Yes, I guessed as much. I was just saying to Mr. Shaw that you’d be asking a lot of me for the money.”
“Would we?”
“Miss Mullen has correctly pointed out,” said Matt rather wearily, “that she would sometimes have to work late. And through the lunch hour.”
“But you’d be prepared to do that?”
“Well, if I took the job on, I would. Yes. I can’t see the point otherwise. It’s a very important position, it seems to me. Exciting, though,” she said, with a recross of her black-stockinged legs and a dazzling smile at each of them in turn. “To be in at the beginning of something. Who knows, you might turn out to be millionaires one day.”
“We … plan to be, yes,” said Jimbo. He smiled back at her.
“Anyway … about the money. If you were to offer me the job, of course. I’ve got to eat. And pay for my season ticket, and so on.
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