It sounded rather nerve-racking to Pippa, but the salary was good and the work not too onerous. She left there walking on air, and got back to find everyone else in her office gloomily contemplating living on social security until they found work elsewhere.
‘What about you, Pippa?’ asked the girl whose desk was opposite hers. ‘What will you do?’
‘Oh, I’ve got a new job. I start there next Monday,’ Pippa airily told her, and everyone else stared in disbelief.
‘How on earth did you manage that?’
‘Just luck.’ She told them what had happened and they were envious and incredulous.
‘I’m going there as soon as I’ve finished work,’ one of them said, and others nodded their heads.
By the end of the week at least half of them had managed to find new jobs—some just about adequate, although one of them had got a much better job. There was a much more cheerful atmosphere in the office. They had a big party in a local Chinese restaurant on the Friday evening, knowing that they would probably not see each other again, although some close friends would keep in touch. Working together was a matter of propinquity. Once they all split up their friendships would begin to fade.
It had been Pippa’s first job. She had only been sixteen when she started work there and now she was twenty but felt older because ever since she’d left her last foster home she had been living alone, in one room, managing a tight budget, always struggling to make ends meet. That had made her grow up fast, had taught her a discipline she relied on to help her through each day. She couldn’t allow herself to buy anything she could do without; thrift was essential on such a small amount of money.
Her clothes had to last and look good in the office so she bought inexpensive but well-made skirts and blouses which she could vary daily, and wash again and again. She ate little, bought cheaply in street markets, mostly vegetables and fruit, pasta, some fish now and again, or more rarely, chicken. She only had one electric ring to cook on; she had to choose easily cooked food.
She had never been able to afford to entertain so she didn’t accept invitations from other people, since she couldn’t reciprocate. Once or twice she had had a date with one of the young men in the office, but none of them had attracted her much and the dates had been rather dull.
She felt a little sad, saying goodbye to people she had worked with for four years, though. She was going to miss them. All the same, she was deeply relieved to have another job to go to immediately. She couldn’t imagine how she would have paid the rent otherwise. The life of the street people, homeless and hopeless, gave her nightmares for a while. Being made redundant like that had destabilised her life, made her feel threatened, even after she’d got that new job.
On the following Monday she nervously made her way to the office block where she would be working, was taken up in the lift from the personnel office by one of the girls who worked there.
‘You know who you’ll be working for? Mr Harding, the managing director.’ Her voice had a reverent note. ‘You’re so lucky. He’s gorgeous. And nice. But he’s married, worse luck! His wife is really lovely; she’s a model. You often see her in glossy magazines. They make a stunning couple.’
‘What exactly will my job entail?’ Pippa asked. ‘I was never told.’ That was what interested her, not the sexiness or availability of the boss.
The other girl shrugged. ‘Working on a word processor, sending out letters, sorting mail, taking phone calls—the usual office routine. There are half a dozen girls working in the office and Mr Harding’s PA is a dragon lady. Miss Dalton.’
‘The personnel officer warned me to be very careful with her.’
‘She wasn’t kidding. She bites!’
She hadn’t exaggerated, Pippa discovered a few minutes later, contemplating the tall, cold-eyed woman who ran the office.
Felicity Dalton wasn’t beautiful, but she was striking—very thin and elegant, with long, straight black hair she wore drawn off her face and held with a large black clip. In her beautifully shaped ears she wore diamond studs. Her white blouse was immaculate, her black jersey skirt emphasised the sleek lines of her body. She looked as if she had been sculpted out of ice. A snow queen who clearly did not like people much, especially those of her own sex, whom she treated with hostility and contempt.
She gave Pippa brusque instructions, left her seated at a desk and went back to her own private office.
The other girls all grinned at Pippa once Felicity Dalton had gone. ‘Scary, isn’t she?’ one whispered. ‘I’m Judy, by the way.’
She was the same age as Pippa, and immediately likeable, a short, rather plump girl with curly brown hair and bright brown eyes, the pupils circled by golden rays which made her look like a lion.
‘Hi. I’m Pippa.’
‘Lovely name. Mine’s so ordinary.’ Judy sighed, then went on, ‘If you need any help, just ask. It’s not so long since I was new here; I know how it feels.’
Over that first week Pippa had to go to Judy for help more than once. Some of the letters they had to send were automatic replies to particular types of complaint; she wasn’t always sure which reply to send but Judy knew the office routine by heart.
The managing director himself was away, Pippa discovered, so their workload was not as heavy as it would
