Pictures of Lily (22 page)

‘Here you go,’ she says a short while later, handing over a plate full of scrummy, warming, comfort food. I follow her back to the living room, kicking off my heels in the hall as I go. Lucy perches on the arm of Nathan’s chair, and I take a seat on the sofa next to Richard. I balance the plate on my lap and tuck in, feeling totally at ease doing so in front of all these people who have already eaten.

‘Richard said you’ve been asked to cover for someone on a magazine?’ Molly says, impressed.

‘That’s right,’ I mumble through a mouthful.

‘Which magazine is it?’ Sam jerks a thumb at Richard and tuts. ‘Your man here couldn’t remember.’

‘
Marbles
.’ I load up my fork. ‘It’s a glossy monthly men’s magazine.’

‘I know the one,’ Sam says. ‘That’s so cool!’

Once again I’m filled with warmth.

‘How did you end up doing that?’ Lucy wants to know, so I quickly fill them in on the story.

‘Well done,’ Molly says in awe. ‘You must have really made an impression on the Editor.’

‘He’s married,’ I blurt out, and they all laugh.

‘I bet that thought didn’t cross any of our minds,’ Nathan says, as Sam shakes his head in amusement. I smile, a little embarrassed.

‘Where’s Mikey tonight?’

‘He’s asleep in the spare room,’ Molly tells me.

‘You’re so lucky he can do that,’ Lucy says.

‘He’s a good little guy,’ Sam says affectionately.

‘So when are you two . . .’ I start, as Nathan and Lucy look across at me and grin. ‘What?’ I ask at their reaction.

‘When are we having kids?’ Lucy checks.

‘Yeah.’

‘That seems to be the million-dollar question.’ She beams. ‘We’re just happy being the two of us for now. No rush.’

Nathan pats his knee and she slides down from the armrest and into his lap. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek as she leans back into him. It’s hard not to smile at their obvious adoration of each other.

‘So tell us about your engagement,’ Lucy cries. ‘Richard hasn’t filled me in on any of the details.’ She glances at my boyfriend mock accusingly, then grins at me. ‘How did he propose?’

‘Er, it was at your wedding, actually,’ I reply. ‘On the ferry.’

‘No way!’ Lucy says. ‘And you kept it quiet?’

‘She didn’t want to take anything away from your big day,’ Richard tells them.

‘Are you kidding me? It would have added to the excitement.’

I can’t help but laugh at Lucy’s enthusiasm.

‘Have you set a date yet?’ Molly wants to know.

‘No. Maybe the year after next.’

‘Another long engagement,’ Sam tuts, rolling his eyes at Nathan.

I just shrug and smile innocently.

I catch an earlier ferry the next morning so I can get in to work in time to quiz Nicola about Pier Frank. She tries to keep a straight face as I walk up to the reception desk.

‘How was it?’ I ask.

‘How was
he
, you mean.’ She smirks.

‘You didn’t!’ I gasp.

‘I did.’

‘You didn’t!’ I cry again.

‘I couldn’t help myself,’ she sniggers.

‘You shagged him?’ I’m unable to contain my reaction.

‘Shhh!’ she whispers. I glance behind to check no one has entered the building. We’re alone.

‘What was he like?’ I’m still taken aback, but curiosity gets the better of me.

Her lips turn down and she cocks her head to one side. ‘Pretty good.’

That doesn’t sound too convincing.

‘No, he was alright,’ she says again when she notices my reaction.

‘Pretty good?
Alright
?’

‘He’d had a few drinks. And he’s not that big anyway.’

I can’t help but guffaw at her honesty. She starts to file her nails, nonchalantly.

‘Are you going to see him again?’ I ask.

She shrugs. ‘Maybe. He knows where to find me.’ She quickly puts down her nail file as a petite brunette in her twenties walks through the door, carrying three cups from Starbucks. It’s Cara, the girl who’s covering for me while I’m upstairs.

‘I’ll catch you later,’ I mouth and she grins and raises her eyebrows.

‘Good morning,’ Cara says brightly to Nicola as I push the button for the lift. ‘I brought you a coffee.’

‘Awesome,’ Nicola says gratefully as the lift arrives and I step inside.

Coffees
?
Takeaway coffees?
And not cheap ones at that. What a bloody cheek, attempting to muscle her way into the affections of my friends! Don’t get too comfortable, missy, I think grimly. I’ll be back in a week.

‘How was it?’ Jonathan asks me on his way past my desk a few minutes later.

‘Good, thanks,’ I lie politely.

‘I told you,’ he says in a singsong voice. ‘Dull as ditchwater, right?’

I laugh. ‘Am I that transparent?’

‘Totally. Did you speak to Pier at all?’

‘Not much,’ I reply honestly. ‘I did meet him though.’

‘Good, because he’s coming in later.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘We’re doing a profile on him,’ Jonathan informs me. ‘In fact, could you book a meeting room for Niles to do the interview?’

Niles is one of the junior writers.

‘Sure. What time?’

‘Check with Niles this morning, but I think it’s at two o’clock.’

‘Will do.’

‘Thanks.’

As soon as he’s gone, I email Nicola:
Pier is coming in! I think at 2pm but I’ll double check
.

She immediately replies with:
ARGH!!! Where the hell is my lippy?

I grin and get on with my work.

Pier is indeed scheduled to arrive at 2 p.m., so I take an early lunchbreak to ensure I’m back on time. Nicola is looking glossed-up and glamorous when I enter the building with my soup.

‘Good luck,’ I say on my way past. She tries to keep a straight face.

Reception calls at five past two.

‘The bastard blanked me,’ Nicola says heatedly down the phone.

‘No!’ I cry. ‘Where is he?’

‘He’s on his way up.’

‘What happened?’

‘He went straight up to Mel and didn’t even look at me.’

‘What an arsehole!’ I squawk as loudly as I can get away with. I see through the glass panel on the door that Pier Frank has just stepped out onto the landing. ‘He’s here, better go.’

‘Give him a kick for me,’ she says menacingly.

‘Or you could give him one on the way out,’ I say, as he pushes through the door.

‘Not bloody likely,’ she mutters at my unintentional
double entendre
. I end the call.

‘Can I help you?’ I ask coolly. The twat is wearing dark sunglasses.

‘I’m here to see Jonathan.’

‘Your name?’

He frowns with irritation. ‘Pier Frank.’

‘Mr Laurence is out to lunch,’ I say. ‘Niles is doing the interview.’

‘Who’s Niles?’

‘One of our junior writers,’ I say smoothly.

‘I know you, don’t I?’ he asks out of the blue. ‘Don’t you recognise me?’ He removes his sunglasses. His eyes are bloodshot and his skin is pasty. He’s nowhere near as attractive as he was last night.

‘I was at your launch. With my friend,
Nicola
, from downstairs in
reception
.’ Then I add pointedly, ‘I think you might have met
her
too.’

‘Oh, right. Yes. Well, where’s Niles?’

‘Follow me.’ I get up and lead the way, revelling in his obvious discomfort. ‘Good luck with the interview,’ I say as I open the door. ‘I’m sure we’ll write some
super-nice
things about you.’

‘Whatever did you say to him?’ Nicola squeals an hour later when Pier has left the building.

‘What do you mean?’ I play innocent.

‘He pretended to be all surprised to see me and asked if I’d been on reception earlier. I said, yes I had, and he said he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed me. It must’ve been his dark glasses.’

From the tone of her voice I can tell she’s not buying it and I’m glad.

‘What a wombat,’ she adds, and I grin at the use of the word. ‘He said he’d call me.’

‘Did he?’

‘Yep. I shrugged and said I didn’t have access to a phone, but you know, “good luck with things and I’ll see you around”.’

‘Seriously?’ I giggle at the thought of Nicola sitting there in front of three telephones on reception desk and saying such a thing.

She laughs along with me. ‘Oh, I wish I hadn’t shagged him. Oops – gotta go,’ she adds, hanging up before I can comment.

The editorial assistant Bronte has recovered from her operation and by the end of the following week I feel quite sad that I have to leave. Xanthe has continued to be nice to me – we’ve gone out for lunch a couple of times – and I also got the chance to help out on the picture desk and chat to Kip, the assistant who returned from holiday on Monday. When I leave on Friday, Xanthe gives me a goody bag filled with beauty treats and Kip promises that he’ll consider me if they ever need holiday cover on the picture desk. I also hand Jonathan a copy of my CV.

‘Please think of me if you hear of anything,’ I implore.

‘I absolutely will,’ he assures me. ‘Thanks for stepping in at such short notice, Lily.’

‘It’s been my pleasure,’ I tell him sincerely, feeling a buzz of anticipation at what the future could hold for my career.

‘I’m going to find it quite strange going back to reception after working on a magazine for almost two weeks,’ I say to Richard later that night.

‘You’ll be okay,’ he tells me. ‘It’s not like you don’t enjoy your job.’

‘Yes, I do like it. Well, I like Nicola and Mel,’ I correct myself. ‘But it’s not very challenging.’

‘What, and working as a secretary was?’ he asks.

‘I wasn’t a secretary,’ I reply, annoyed.

‘Editorial assistant, then. Isn’t it the same thing?’

‘No, it’s much more than that,’ I say crossly, even though in actual fact it’s not that different.

‘Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you.’ He looks contrite. ‘I think you’re great at what you do.’

I stare at the TV in a huff. Great at what I
do
. What about what I
could
do?

‘Can you pass me the remote?’ he asks when an advert break comes on five minutes later.

‘What don’t you get it yourself?’ I retort. The offending object is on the coffee table in front of us.

‘Hey!’ he exclaims. ‘Are you still angry at me?’

‘Can’t you bloody tell?’ I rant. I’ve been sitting here getting increasingly worked up while he’s been happily watching some crap on the telly. He should
know
he’s upset me!

‘But Lily, I didn’t even say anything.’ He looks utterly confused and taken aback by my reaction.

‘You said I was a secretary,’ I practically shout.

‘So what?’ Richard cries. ‘What’s wrong with being a secretary? Or a receptionist? I don’t know what’s got into you. You were happy enough before.’

‘I was never happy!’ I shout angrily. ‘The only thing I’ve ever been happy doing is looking after animals and taking photographs!’

‘
WHAT?
’ He’s a bit beside himself. ‘What are you going on about, looking after animals?’ He’s raising his voice too, now, and a sudden sense of calm washes over me. I haven’t told him how I worked at a conservation park as a teenager. I’ve tried to blank it from my past because it’s too painful to relive. Now I’ve gone and done it and I have to explain. ‘Lily, what the
fuck
?’

I sigh and close my eyes. I really,
really
don’t want to go into this.

‘I used to work at the conservation park with Michael. When I first came to Australia,’ I add, glancing at him. He’s still frowning with exasperation.

‘Right?’ Add confusion to that look.

‘I really loved it,’ I say simply.

‘What, when you were fifteen?’ he checks.

‘Fifteen, sixteen . . . I only worked there for the summer holidays, but I’ve always regretted leaving. I know it’s too late to do anything about it, but it still makes me sad sometimes.’

He reaches over and rubs my arm. ‘Don’t be sad. Come here.’

‘No, I don’t feel like it,’ I say sulkily and he takes his hand away. I know I’m being high maintenance, but I can’t help it. I don’t want to go to him, I want
him
to come to
me
.

I’d like him to ask me to explain myself more, to tell him how at least working in the field of photography seems more attainable all of a sudden, but he’s annoyed at my snub. I turn my focus to the television, and a minute later remember that dinner’s in the oven and leap to my feet. That’s the end of our so-called heart-to-heart for now.