To the Moon and Back

Chapter 10




‘How’s your new woman doing?’ Next to Zack in the passenger seat, Louisa pulled down the sunshield and checked her lipstick in the mirror. ‘Settling in?’

Zack nodded. He’d gone for Christine in the end, out of the six applicants, and she was proving every bit as efficient as Barbara. Christine was in her late fifties and uninterested in fashion; with bushy eyebrows and a penchant for pleated skirts, stylishness wasn’t her raison d’être. But she typed so fast her sausage fingers became an actual physical blur. She also brought packed lunches to work and ate egg mayonnaise sandwiches at her desk, swilling them down with weird-smelling herbal tea.

‘Still eating the egg sandwiches?’

‘Every day.’

‘Oh well, maybe she’ll move on, give cheese and tomato a try. Can you pull up over here?’ Waving her hand at the rank of shops ahead, Louisa said, ‘I need a couple of mags for the journey.’

Zack’s heart sank a couple of notches. He’d been seeing Louisa for almost three months now and she had a lot going for her—she was confident, glamorous, and strikingly attractive. But stopping at the newsagents, he had learned from bitter experience, meant that she would be spending the next couple of hours reading bits aloud to him from magazines. For some reason she thought he would be as fascinated as she was to hear the items of celebrity gossip, words of wisdom from relationship experts, and which brands of mascara made your lashes look longest. They were heading down the M4 to the wedding of one of Louisa’s friends in Bristol and if he tried to listen to the radio she would reach over and turn it down each time she needed to relay some new and vital piece of information, like had he heard about Victoria Beckham taking up knitting? And why on earth would Russell Brand be having lunch with Kate Winslet?

He drew up at the curb, parking on double yellows behind a blue Volkswagen. Louisa, in her chic, pale gray wedding suit and pink frilled shirt, jumped out of the Mercedes and disappeared inside the newsagents on Regents Park Road.

***

Ellie was queuing to pay for her newspaper and a packet of Rolos when she glanced across at the racks of magazines and saw a cover featuring a large black girl in a gold bikini and a white-blond wig. The caption shrieked, ‘Dolly Deeva: Bigger, better, and back with a splash!’

Only last night, Roo had been wondering how Dolly was doing these days. Ellie darted out of the queue and reached for the magazine, the last one on the rack. She’d buy it for Roo.

‘Whoops, sorry!’ Her elbow was jogged by another customer and the magazine almost slipped to the ground. Clutching it to her chest, she smiled apologetically at the elegant redhead in the pink and gray outfit, even though it hadn’t been her fault. The redhead graciously accepted the apology with a nod and said, ‘Where did you get that mag?’

‘Up there.’ Ellie pointed to the empty space and the redhead heaved a sigh of annoyance.

‘You mean there aren’t any more?’

‘I don’t know.’ Was she seriously expecting her to hand it over? Ellie said pleasantly, ‘I’m sure they’ll have them in another shop.’

A couple of minutes later, having paid at the counter, she made her way out of the newsagents and paused for a moment on the pavement to flick through the pages of the magazine. There was the interview, spread over two pages, with Dolly insisting that her boob-flashing days were behind her and, what’s more, she was now a born-again Christian who didn’t go anywhere without her Bible. Squeezing between a dark gray Mercedes and a sky-blue VW Beetle, Ellie crossed the road and headed up the hill towards Nevis Street. From what Roo had told her about Dolly Deeva, she’d have a good laugh about that.

***

‘There you are! I thought the car was empty.’

Zack straightened up. ‘I was just sorting through the glove compartment. Found some CDs I’d forgotten about.’ He showed her what he’d unearthed. ‘And a bag of Liquorice Allsorts!’

‘Ugh, don’t eat them, they’ll be moldy.’ Louisa settled herself into the passenger seat. ‘I couldn’t get the mag I wanted, some girl grabbed the last one. So annoying. Anyway, I found some others instead.’ She patted the three glossy magazines on her lap. ‘These’ll keep me going until we get to Bristol.’

‘Good.’ Zack slotted his long-lost Gogol Bordello CD into the machine, pressed Play, and started up the car. ‘Have you heard this before? It’s brilliant.’

Less than two minutes later, Louisa reached out and turned it down. ‘Ooh, can you believe it? What a liar!’ She jabbed her finger at the photograph of a well-preserved former Bond girl. ‘She’s fifty-five if she’s a day, and she says she’s never had Botox!’

***

‘Zack, I’m so sorry. I just can’t cope anymore. I thought I could, but I can’t. It’s too much.’

‘Really?’ Zack’s first reaction was amazement; his second, relief. It hadn’t occurred to him that he was that demanding an employer. On the other hand, no more egg mayonnaise sandwiches.

Thank God.

‘It’s my husband.’ Christine wavered, her pale eyes beginning to swim. ‘He’s not… himself anymore, you see. He goes to a day center while I’m at work, but it’s at night that he’s really difficult. Wandering around the house, trying to find a way out. I’m just not getting enough sleep and I’m exhausted. So my doctor’s told me to give up work. I can’t tell you how bad I feel, letting you down like this when you’ve been so lovely to work for.’

OK, now he felt ashamed; he was selfish beyond belief. Zack shook his head and said, ‘Please, don’t feel bad. There’s no need to apologize. I’m sorry about your husband. I had no idea. Of course you need to save your energy if you’re looking after him.’ Riddled with guilt, he realized that she did look exhausted; there were dark circles under her eyes. ‘And look, don’t worry about having to work out any notice. I can manage.’

Christine gazed at him and fumbled up her sleeve for a tissue as a tear brimmed over. ‘Oh, Zack, that’s so kind. But I couldn’t do that to you. I can’t leave you high and dry.’

‘Hey, what’s more important? A bit of typing and filing, or your health? In fact, why don’t you go home now?’ Rising to his feet, Zack reached for his keys. ‘Come on, I’ll give you a lift.’

***

‘OK, this is another long shot.’ Zack McLaren’s voice echoed down the phone. ‘You’ve probably found another job by now. But just in case you haven’t, the lady I took on has had to leave. So I’m looking for someone else, and I thought I’d let you know.’

Zack McLaren. Was this fate? Sitting cross-legged on the sofa, Ellie put down her mug of tea and said, ‘She had to leave after a fortnight? Does that mean you’re the boss from hell?’

He sounded amused. ‘I’m not, I promise.’

‘So you’re inviting me along for an interview?’

‘If you’re still interested.’

Ellie smiled to herself. Was she? Two weeks ago she’d been determined to escape the friendly but claustrophobic confines of Brace House. Yet once the initial embarrassment of having to see Michael again had been overcome, it had simply been easier to stay where she was. Lassitude, her GP had assured her, was all part of the grieving process. Sometimes you knew changes needed to be made but just couldn’t summon up the energy to make them.

But now Zack McLaren was calling her, giving her another chance, and she was going to take it. ‘Oh yes, I’m definitely interested. When do you want to see me?’

She heard him say, ‘As soon as you like. How about now?’

‘You’re on.’ Ellie was already scrambling off the sofa, shaking pins and needles out of her left leg. She might get there and discover she didn’t want to work for this man. But some inner instinct told her she would.

***

Bloody hell.

Bloody hell.

It was her.

The shock of it jerked Zack back from the upstairs window. He felt as if he’d been punched in the chest… no, it was like someone creeping up behind and performing the Heimlich maneuver on you without warning. It took a lot to shock him but this had managed it. The girl currently making her way along Ancram Street was the one he’d seen at the Ivy. She’d made such an impression on him back then—when had it been? Over two months ago—that he could still remember every single detail about that lunchtime. He had even skillfully engineered the ending of his own meeting so that they’d exited the restaurant at more or less the same time. Emerging onto the pavement, he had watched her jump into a taxi with Tony Weston and had experienced an almost uncontrollable urge to yank open the door and pull her back out again.

He hadn’t of course. He had controlled himself. Apart from anything else, this was the kind of behavior that got you arrested. Instead, he had stood there in the rain, watching the taxi disappear off up the road and thinking that Tony Weston was old enough to be her father.

But now she was here, walking towards his house when he’d assumed he’d never see her again, and the chances were that in less than a minute she would be ringing his doorbell. Because this girl, in her white shirt and narrow, on-the-knee blue skirt, was surely dressed for an interview.

Which meant she had to be Ellie Kendall.

Zack’s mouth was dry. Emotional complications were the last thing, the very last thing he needed in his working life. Everyone knew that getting involved with your PA was asking for trouble.

So how was he supposed to deal with a situation like this?