Page 69 of The Last Love Song
Derek’s heart filled with relief and happiness at the sight ofher, then with horror as he watched Peggy throw her arms around the man on the doorstep.
An old friend, a relative...The comforting words ran through Derek’s brain.
His thoughts were cut short as Peggy stood on her tiptoes and kissed the man.
Derek watched in pained disgust for a good minute before the stranger put his arm around Peggy’s shoulders and the two of them went inside. The blue door shut behind them.
Derek stood there, rooted to the spot, his limbs paralysed with shock. He felt dizzy and faint. His stomach heaved and he threw up, the vomit covering his precious boots.
Helen answered the ringing phone. ‘Metropolitan Records, how can I help?’
‘Hello, love, you new?’
‘Yes. I’m the temporary receptionist,’ Helen replied politely.
‘Where’s the luscious Jilly? Run off with a rock star?’
‘No, she’s in Australia.’
‘I see, I see. Anyway, can I speak to Brad?’
‘Of course, Mr...?’
‘Just tell him it’s Freddy.’
‘No problem.’ Helen rang through to Brad.
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve got Freddy on the line.’
Brad grunted. ‘Tell him I’ll call him back later. I’m in the middle of something now.’
‘Okay.’ Helen reconnected with Freddy. ‘Brad sends his apologies but he can’t talk now. He’s been tied up unexpectedly.’
‘How uncomfortable for him,’ Freddy quipped.
‘He says he’ll call you back later.’
‘Okay, but you can tell him from me, if he doesn’t get back to me by half three, he’s missed his chance. Ta-ra, love.’
Helen put the telephone down. It rang again. She picked it up, hoping it might be Tony. It wasn’t. Her heart sank. If he hadn’t called by now, the chances were he wouldn’t make it.
Helen had been in her new position for just over a week. It had taken time to master the switchboard and to learn not to panic when all the lines went off at once. But now she was in control and beginning to enjoy herself. The job was fun and all sorts of colourful people passed through her reception area.
It was clear that Brad was completely disorganised, making appointments and then cancelling at the last moment, leaving her to deal with irate managers and temperamental fledgling pop stars. Even in her short time with Metropolitan, Helen could see the company needed to reorganise itself and employ more staff.
She did not, of course, voice her opinion. She was only a lowly temp, but it was interesting to ponder, during quieter moments, what she herself would do if she ran the company.
Tony had been right. The work experience was useful. She could imagine how dull the actual job might become after a few months, but for now it was new and exciting. She’d already had three invitations to see various groups performing at hip venues in Soho. She’d asked Tony if he fancied coming, but he’d been unable to make it last week and she didn’t want to turn up by herself.
‘Please ring.’ Helen stared at the switchboard, willing Tony to call. The magic must have worked. The switchboard lit up.
‘Metropolitan Records, how can I help?’
‘Hello, sweetheart, it’s me.’
‘Hello. Can you make it for lunch?’
