“I don’t know!” I thrust my fingers through my hair. “There aren’t any!”
There’s a shrill electronic burble as my phone receives a text, and I grab it, hoping for one mad moment that it’s a top marketing executive asking me if I have any jobs in sports retail going. Or maybe Josh, asking me to marry him. Or maybe Dad, saying he now realizes I was right all along and would like to apologize for ever having doubted me. Or even Diamanté, saying she doesn’t need that old dragonfly necklace after all, should she send it around by courier?
But it’s none of them. It’s Natalie.
Hi babe! Am doing some yoga on the beach. It’s so mellow here. Have sent u a pic, look at the view. Awesome, huh? Nataliexxxx PS Everything OK in the office?
I feel like hurling it out of the window.
***
By seven o’clock my neck is aching and my eyes are red-rimmed. I’ve made a new, emergency long list of candidates, using old issues of Business People , the Internet, and a copy of Marketing Week I made Kate run out and buy. But none of them will even take my call-let alone talk about a job, let alone allow me to quickly slap them onto a short list. I have less than forty-eight hours. I’m going to have to invent a top marketing director. Or impersonate one.
On the plus side, they had a half-price offer on pinot grigio at Oddbins.
The minute I get home, I turn on the TV and start glugging down the wine at speed. By the time EastEnders starts, I’ve got through half a bottle, the room is swinging from side to side, and my work troubles are receding nicely.
After all. I mean. All that really matters is love, isn’t it?
You have to get things in perspective. In proportion. Love is the thing. Not work. Not marketing directors. Not scary conversations with Janet Grady. I just need to cling on to that and I’ll be OK.
I’m cradling my phone in my lap, and every so often I turn on my texts to read them again. I’ve been texting Josh all day, just to keep my spirits up. And he’s sent two texts back! Quite short ones, but even so. He’s at some dreary work conference in Milton Keynes and he said he can’t wait to be back home.
Which obviously means he can’t wait to see me!
I’m debating whether to send him another light, friendly text, asking him what he’s doing, when I glance up and notice Sadie sitting on the fireplace in a pale gray chiffony dress.
“Oh, hi,” I say. “Where did you get to?”
“At the cinema. I watched two films.” She shoots me an accusing look. “You know, it gets very lonely during the day. You’re so preoccupied with your work.”
She’d be preoccupied if she had Janet Grady on her tail.
“Well, I’m very sorry I have to earn a living,” I reply, a little sarcastically. “I’m sorry I’m not a lady of leisure and can’t watch movies all day-”
“Have you got the necklace yet?” she says, right over me. “Have you done anything more about it?”
“No, Sadie,” I say tetchily. “I haven’t. I’ve had a few other problems today, as it happens.” I wait for her to ask what those problems are, but she just gives a distant shrug. Isn’t she even going to ask me what happened? Isn’t she going to offer me any sympathy? Some guardian angel she is.
“Josh has been texting me; isn’t that great?” I add, to annoy her.
She gives me a baleful look. “It’s not great. The whole thing is absolutely false.”
She glares at me and I glare back. Obviously, neither of us is in a brilliant mood tonight.
“It’s not false. It’s real. You saw him kiss me; you heard what he said.”
“He’s a puppet,” says Sadie dismissively. “He said whatever I told him to say. I could have told him to make love to a tree and he would have done. I’ve never known anyone so weak-willed! I barely had to whisper at him and he jumped.”
She’s so arrogant. Who does she think she is, God?
“That’s rubbish,” I say coldly. “OK, I know you nudged him a bit. But he would never say he loved me unless there was a basis of truth. He was obviously expressing what he really feels, deep down.”
Sadie gives a sarcastic laugh. “‘What he really feels deep down.’ Darling, you’re too amusing. He doesn’t have any feelings for you.”
“He does!” I spit. “Of course he does! He had my picture on his phone, didn’t he? He’d been carrying it around all this time! That’s love.”
“It’s not love. Don’t be ridiculous.” Sadie seems so sure of herself, I feel a swell of absolute fury.
“Well, you’ve never even been in love! So what would you know about it? Josh is a real man, with real feelings and real love, something you know nothing about. And you can think what you like, but I really believe I can make things work, I really believe Josh has deep feelings for me-”
“It’s not enough to believe!” Sadie’s voice is suddenly passionate, almost savage. “Don’t you see that, you stupid girl? You could spend your whole life hoping and believing! If a love affair is one-sided, then it’s only ever a question, never an answer. You can’t live your life waiting for an answer.”
She flushes and swivels away.
There’s a sharp silence, except for two EastEnders laying into each other on-screen. My mouth has dropped open in astonishment, and I notice I’m about to tip wine all over the sofa. I right my hand and take a gulp. Bloody hell. What was that outburst all about?
I thought Sadie didn’t care about love. I thought she only cared about having fun and tally-ho and the sizzle. But just then she sounded as if…