A Proper Charlie (11 page)

The family crisis couldn’t have come at a worse time business wise. The Middleton Group was doing exceedingly well, and didn’t need a newspaper such as
London Core
, which was fast being labelled a rag, a term definitely not complimentary. Ben couldn’t understand his father’s decision in buying the paper and adding it to their already long list of publications. They certainly could have done without the hassle, especially as Ben’s mother had been terminally ill.

Taking a gulp of air, Ben dived to the bottom of the pool as if trying to leave all his problems behind.

A redheaded woman, in a tight-fitting Union Jack dress entered his thoughts as he touched the floor. Her breasts bursting to escape the tight bodice, as indeed one did as she joined him at the buffet table. But now, with hindsight, he realised the woman had probably not known of her state of undress, even though she’d dressed like a common prostitute.

A prostitute!

The thought made Ben gasp and water filled his mouth. He swam to the surface and burst through, spitting out water then inhaling deeply. That’s it! That’s how he’d find his sister and end this stupid feud between her and his father; whether it was unethical or not he’d find this Readman woman himself, offer her a reasonable sum of money in exchange for information on the whereabouts of his sister.

Ben swam furiously to the side of the pool and hauled himself out. He was wasting time. He needed to call Locke for more information on Readman.

As he reached for the towel his mind came back to
Core
, and the hideous pop event his father made him attend.

My God, he was going to have to give a so-called welcome speech to that haggle of employees on Monday morning.

FOURTEEN

I
t was Sunday and while others of
London Core
were still nursing hangovers from the night before, Charlie, in need of research, had decided to head down to the red-light area again. She needed to get
inside
the heads of the prostitutes if her book was going to be realistic, but she didn’t feel she was getting the right answers from the women – or rather she wasn’t asking the right questions – but being told to piss off in various ways
before
she’d opened her mouth wasn’t helping. What was she doing wrong?

She entered the late night café; it was becoming her regular haunt lately and ordered a coffee. She sat beside the window and watched the prostitutes from across the road.

A red car drove slowly and close to the kerb, as if the driver was touting for business. Charlie watched its movements with interest. The car speeded up, slowed, and then shot off as if the driver had been afraid of discovery.

It wasn’t the punters she wanted to write about, nevertheless they did interest her. They weren’t always as creepy as she’d thought. Most seemed lonely. She checked her watch, 10 p.m. She didn’t want a late night tonight, the takeover was officially taking place tomorrow where the new owner, Sir Donald Middleton, would make his welcome speech and she didn’t want to appear tired, or worse, late!

Instead of feeling pessimistic about the takeover, the excitement of others was rubbing off onto her. There wasn’t going to be any redundancies, but a few job shake-ups would be inevitable. She thought back to the party and ‘Frank’. ‘Let’s just hope not all of the
Globe
staff is as snobby,’ she grumbled.

The red car came back, and she frowned at its baffling display of hiring a working girl. She hurriedly dug out a pen from her bag, and wrote the car’s registration number down in her notebook before the car could disappear.

The car had pulled up close to the kerb again, but this time it had stopped. It was a very expensive looking vehicle, and the number plate, which she had jotted down, was private. She leaned close to the window and peered through the pane, using her hands as a tunnel to block out the lights from the café. Charlie didn’t know her cars, but she recognised the distinctive four overlapping rings on the front.

She wrote Audi down in her notebook.

The windows were tinted and the driver couldn’t be seen, but she imagined him to be leaning across the passenger seat as a young girl spoke to him through the window. She was nodding, and then took something that was offered by the red car owner, but she didn’t get in the car.

Charlie went home in the early hours, tired but content. And after flinging her bag, which contained her tape recorder and notebook filled with her observations, onto the settee, she kicked off her shoes and sat down. She yawned; she really should go over her notes now because in the morning, half of them would probably not make any sense.

She groaned. Her feet were killing her! She relaxed her head down on the armrest, and curled her legs up around her bottom. She would get up in a minute, she promised herself, make a coffee and read her notes and possibly expand on a few.

She awoke feeling incredibly cold and stiff. She rubbed the back of her neck. The phone was ringing, and grumbling she went to answer it.

‘
Where are you?’ Melvin said.

‘
Eh?’ She yawned and turned absently towards the clock sitting on top of the TV. ‘My God, it’s after nine!’ She shrilled down the phone. ‘Why didn’t you phone me earlier, you might have known I was asleep!’

Poor Melvin couldn’t answer to her logic as she slammed down the phone and headed towards the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and hair, tucked in her blouse and smoothed down her skirt. It would have to do. She had no time to change. The important meeting was supposed to take place today and it could mean a change to her career – or an end to it.

She squirted perfume in a cloud around her head, and after a moment’s hesitation sprayed beneath her armpits too.

She dashed from the bathroom, pushed her feet into her shoes, grabbed several biscuits from an old Quality Street tin, and dashed outside to her car. She drove, kangaroo style, as she struggled to apply lipstick and mascara to her face. She didn’t normally wear makeup to work – didn’t normally wear it full stop – but she wanted to create a good impression.

She ran into the building breathless and up the stairs to the second floor where the meeting was to be held. But as she emerged at the top of the stairs, groups of people began to descend from the conference room. She groaned.

‘
Charlie!’

She turned to see Melvin walking towards her. He was wearing low-waisted jeans and a T-shirt with the slogan,
It take balls to be a fag
on the front. It was his best T-shirt. Obviously out to impress the new boss.

‘
Melvin! Have I missed it?’ she asked pointlessly.

He opened his mouth to answer her, but did a double take at her appearance. He stepped away from her and looked over her critically. ‘Baby doll, what have you been doing to yourself?’

Oh God, she was wearing odd shoes! She looked down but on her feet were her usual black flats.

‘
You have concealer on your lips instead of lipstick,’ he said with his hands on his narrow hips.

Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, no! I wondered why the receptionist gave me odd looks as I came in.’

Melvin closed his eyes. She could tell he was annoyed with her. ‘Doll, go to the ladies and sort yourself out, then I’ll fill you in with the details.’

‘
I’m sorry Mel,’ she said.

He waved a hand, then grinned. ‘I’ve lots to tell you.’

‘
Really?’

‘
Yep, but I’ll tell you later. Go and straighten yourself out, you look like you’ve slept in your clothes,’ he said.

‘
I have,’ she said miserably as she trundled off to the toilets.

*

Melvin put a cute kitten design place mat on his desk and placed a plastic cup of coffee on top. ‘There you go,’ he said. ‘Biscuit?’

‘
Er, no, thank you. I’ve several of my own.’ Charlie brought crumbling biscuits out of her skirt pocket. ‘Breakfast,’ she said with a grin.

Melvin looked at her sternly. ‘You knew you had to be here on time this morning. Why the late night, Charl?’

‘
I was watching a late night film, and must’ve fallen asleep watching it. It happens.’ She nudged his arm. ‘Forget that. Spill the beans about Sir Don.’

‘
Post.’ The junior came over and dropped a bundle of letters on his desk. ‘I’ve put the office emails and faxes on your desk, Charlie,’ he said.

‘
Thanks,’ she said impatiently, and turned back to Melvin.

Melvin picked up his mail and began to sift through it. Charlie tutted, and he put it back down. ‘OK, there will be a few changes with people moving departments, but nothing major. The main thing is that
London Core
, us, will be handled by Mr Middleton
junior
,’ Melvin paused for dramatic emphasis. When Charlie didn’t even flicker, he sighed. ‘Mr Middleton
junior
doesn’t want too much change. He says the format we have is good. Only a few new staff from
Globe
are coming in, like his PA etc, the rest are staying where they are with the
old
Mr Middleton
senior.
’

Charlie fingered the floating crumbs from her tea and sucked them off her fingers.

‘
He wants to move Juliet and Graham to the gossip section, Pete and Mark are back on sport...’ he sighed. ‘He wants me to team up with Ron and Jeff. I’ve finally made it to senior rewrite editor –’

‘
Isn’t that what Faye is?’

Melvin looked horrified. ‘She’s a mere copy editor. I
compose
,’ he said.

Charlie smiled at his resentment. ‘I’m glad for you, but I’m selfishly upset,’ she said. ‘We’re our own team,’ she continued. ‘I can’t work without you. We go together like Shaggy and Scooby Doo. So, where’s he put me? Not with Faye?’ she asked horrified.

‘
He hasn’t put you with Faye. She’s still the copy editor and has her own team. He didn’t mention you. He didn’t move everyone.’

‘
But we usually work together!’

‘
You don’t work with me, baby doll; you work with the entire third floor. You forget to order the stationery, file things away where nobody can find them –’

‘
Very funny.’

‘–
Unfix interviews and disorganise the deadlines.’

She scowled, took a gulp of coffee too quickly and spilt some down her chin. Melvin handed her a tissue with a chuckle.

‘
Sweetie, I’m teasing. Well, maybe it was like that in the first few weeks of you starting, but now you’ve found your way. And people like you. That’s some achievement in this environment!’

‘
I’m an office gofer,’ she said, wiping coffee off her blouse.

‘
Why don’t you go and see Sir now and get it over with?’ he suggested. He had a strange glint in his eye, but turned to drop his plastic cup in the waste bin so she couldn’t analyse it.

‘
He’s probably busy,’ she said. ‘I’ll catch him later.’

Melvin brushed her biscuit crumbs into his cupped hand and emptied them into the bin as well, and then nodded towards the closed door still labelled; John Fanton, Managing Editor.

‘
It’ll look good for you,’ he advised. ‘Apologise for missing his “hello, I’m your new boss” speech, smile your sweet smile and he’ll be eating out of your hand in no time,’ he said. He fiddled with his watchstrap and avoided her eyes. ‘You never know, you might wow him with your fantastic personality –’

‘
Yeah, right,’ said Faye passing by and hearing the end of his words. ‘Sprinkle dog shit with glitter and you might get the same result, I s’pose.’

Charlie glared at her. ‘That does it! I’m going to do it!’

‘
Do what?’ Faye asked just as Melvin yelled,

‘
Wait!’

Melvin was chewing on his bottom lip as both women stopped and stared at him. ‘There’s something you should know,’ he said waving Faye away irritably, ‘I was going to be a bitch and let you find out for yourself, but –’

‘
Don’t flap me away like an annoying fly, you bum-chaser!’ Faye flared cutting him off.

‘
What did you call me?’

‘
You heard! I s’pose you’re going to go all big-headed now because of your promotion, well let me tell you this -’

Melvin raised a hand. ‘Please, your cheap perfume is nauseating. Any closer and I’ll pass out.’

Faye placed her knuckles on her hips and faced him. ‘You’ve been acting like Gok Won over a big arse since the merger; think you’re working for the big boys now, do you, eh? Well, let me tell you something for nothing, you were a nobody before Middleton took over, and you’re
still
a nobody!’