good was going to happen today. I just had a feeling about it.
Half an hour later, I come out with an even bigger smile on my face. I've got a job! I've got a Saturday job! I'm going to work from 8.30 to 5.30 every Saturday, and get ?4.80 an hour, and 10 per cent off all the clothes! And after three months, it goes up to 20 per cent! All my money troubles are over.
Thank God it was a quiet afternoon. They let me fill in the application form on the spot, and Danielle, the manager, gave me an interview straight away. At first she looked a bit dubious – especially when I said I had a full-time job as a financial journalist and was doing this to get extra money and clothes. 'It'll be hard work,' she kept saying. 'You do realize that? It'll be very hard work.' But I think what changed her mind was when we started talking about the stock. I love Ally Smith stuff – so of course I knew the price of every single item in the shop and whether they have anything similar in Jigsaw or French Connection.
Eventually Danielle gave me a funny look and said, 'Well, you obviously like clothes.' And then she gave me the job! I can't wait. I start this Saturday. Isn't it great?
As I arrive back at the office I feel exhilarated with my success. I look around – and suddenly this mundane office life seems far too boring and limited for a creative spirit like mine. I don't belong here, among fusty piles of press releases and grimly tapping computers. I belong out there, among the bright spotlights and cashmere cardigans of Ally Smith. Maybe I'll go into retail full time, I think, as I sit back down at my desk. Maybe I'll start my own chain of designer stores!
God, yes. I'll be one of those people featured in articles about incredibly successful entrepreneurs. 'Becky Bloomwood was working as a financial journalist when she devised the innovative concept of Bloomwood Stores. Now a successful chain around the country, the idea came to her one day as she…'
The phone rings and I pick it up.
'Yes?' I say absently. 'Rebecca Bloomwood here.' I nearly add, 'Of Bloomwood Stores', but maybe that's a tad premature.
'Ms Bloomwood, this is Derek Smeath from Endwich Bank.'
What? I'm so shocked, I drop the phone onto my desk with a clatter and have to scrabble around to pick it up. All the while, my heart's thumping like a rabbit. How does Derek Smeath know where I work? How did he get my number?
'Are you OK?' says Clare Edwards curiously.
'Yes,' I gulp. 'Yes, fine.'
And now she's looking at me. Now I can't just put the phone down and pretend it was a wrong number. I've got to talk to him. OK, what I'll do is be really brisk and cheerful and try and get rid of him as quickly as possible.
'Hi!' I say into the phone. 'Sorry about that! The thing is, I was just a bit busy with something else. You know how it is!'
'Ms Bloomwood, I've written you several letters,' says Derek Smeath. 'And to none of them have I had a satisfactory response.'
In spite of myself, I can feel my cheeks colouring. Oh God, he sounds really cross. This is horrible. What right has he got.to come along and spoil my day?
'I've been very busy, I'm afraid,' I say. 'My… my aunt was very ill. I had to go and be with her. You understand.'
'I see,' he says. 'Nevertheless…'
'And then she died,' I add.
'I'm sorry to hear that,' says Derek Smeath. He doesn't sound sorry. 'But that doesn't alter the fact that your current account stands at a balance of…'
Has this man got no heart? As he starts talking about balances and overdrafts and agreements, I deliberately tune out so I don't hear anything that will upset me. I'm staring at the fake-wood grain on my desk, wondering if I could pretend to drop the receiver accidentally back down onto the phone. Oh God, this is awful. What am I going to do? What am I going to do?
'And if the situation is not resolved,' he's saying sternly, 'I'm afraid I will be forced to-'
'It's OK,' I hear myself interrupting. 'It's OK, because… I'm coming into some money soon.' Even as I say the words, I feel my cheeks flame guiltily. But I mean, what else am I supposed to do? I have to say some thing, otherwise he'll never leave me alone.
'Oh yes?'
'Yes,' I say, and swallow. 'The thing is, my… my aunt left me some money in her will.'
Which is kind of almost true. I mean, obviously Aunt Ermintrude would have left me some money. After all, I was her favourite niece, wasn't I? Did anyone else buy her Denny and George scarves? 'I'll get it in a couple of weeks,' I add, for good measure. 'A thousand pounds.'
Then I realize I should have made it ?10,000 – that would have really impressed him. Oh well, too late now.
'You're saying that in two weeks' time you'll be paying a cheque for ?1,000 into your account,' says Derek Smeath.
'Erm… yes,' I say after a pause. 'I suppose I am.'
'I'm glad to hear it,' he says. 'I've made a note of our conversation, Ms Bloomwood, and I'll be expecting the arrival of ?1,000 into your account on Monday, 27 March.'
'Good,' I say boldly. 'Is that it?'
'For the moment. Goodbye, Ms Bloomwood.'
'Goodbye,' I say, and put the phone down.
Thank God. Got rid of him.
Brompton's Store
CUSTOMER ACCOUNTS
1 Brompton Street
London SW4 7TH
Ms Rebecca Bloomwood
Flat 2
4 Burney Rd
London SW6 8FD
10 March 2000
Dear Ms Bloomwood
Thank you for your prompt return of a signed cheque for ?43.
Unfortunately, although this cheque is signed, it appears to be dated 14 February 2200. No doubt just an oversight on your part.
Brompton's Store cannot accept post-dated cheques as payment, and I am therefore returning it to you with the request that you return to us a signed cheque, dated with the date of signature.
Alternatively you can pay by cash or on the enclosed bank giro credit slip. A leaflet is enclosed for your information.
I look forward to receiving your payment.
Yours sincerely
John Hunter
Customer Accounts Manager
