Don't Tell Eve Read Free Page B

that what the lampshade needed was the personal touch, so he had added some thoughtful graffiti.
    While gnawing on a chicken thigh and listening to Eve, he contemplated his handiwork.
    On the way home Eve had stopped to have a drink with Hilary – not that Hilary drank – so she was late. Again. If Todd hadn’t spent two hours preparing and cooking dinner, maybe this tardiness wouldn’t have been too much of a drama. Maybe if Eve had apologised when she’d arrived, it wouldn’t have been too much of a drama. Perhaps if she’d acknowledged him, instead of putting Hilary on speakerphone while they ate, he might have forgiven her. As it was, his wife sat in front of him waving her fork and absentmindedly revealing the half-chewed contents of her heavily lipsticked mouth, while addressing the black box in the centre of the table – seemingly oblivious that such behaviour engendered neither love nor loyalty in her partner.
    ‘While the idea of the competition was inspired,’ she was saying, lingering on the second syllable of inspired, ‘we do need to keep editin’ that staff list.’
    A cackle emanated from the black box.
    ‘Besides, the more frightened people are about their jobs the harder they’ll work, and the harder they work the fewer of them we’ll need. There’s a beautiful kind of symmetry to it.’
    Todd, a man of considerable self-restraint these days, made no comment, instead telling himself how delicious the chickenprovençale was, how tolerant he was and how lucky Eve was to have him – and wondering if she’d notice if he left.
    She certainly didn’t notice the tender meat on her fork as she plumped up her hair with her free hand. ‘So, what’ve we got so far anyway?’
    The machine in the middle of the table answered. ‘Well, there was an entry from one of those sad, deluded girls who knit together at lunchtime and still believe the long-outmoded concept that Vogue is a vehicle of female repression, rather than just admitting the truth about themselves, that they’re jealous and have no hope …’
    Eve laughed as the machine explained what the pathetic girl had suggested as a way of saving money. ‘What else have you got?’
    ‘This one is from the publicity administrator, who thinks that we might give staff encouragement in the form of free biscuits for morning and afternoon tea. She seems to think it will make people work harder.’
    ‘My God – have you seen the size of her? She sure as hell doesn’t need any more cookies, and don’t these imbeciles understand that the point is to cut spendin’? Mind you, there’s something in her idea. It would be useful for the workers to feel as though they get something for free from us. I suggest we give them fruit: we could ration it to one piece a day.’
    ‘Perfect. It would also make us appear to care about their health, and – if the amount of hot chips eaten in the café is any indication – most of them won’t take up our offer, so the outlay will be minimal. In fact, I’m sure I can source the stuff cheaply. I’ll ask a few contacts.’
    ‘I like it.’ Eve smiled to herself. This sort of thinking was exactly why she’d hired Hilary. She’d hired Hilary because of her background, not in spite of it, as many others might have done. Of course, Hilary might not have been so open with other potential employers. Eve wasn’t sure why, but Hilaryhad opened up to her the very first time they’d met, and Eve never ceased to be glad that she had. Perhaps Hilary knew it would give her a unique advantage over her competitors, though her revelation was certainly a risk, as was providing Eve with such a hold over her. But, once again, Eve was sure Hilary knew this. The woman was shrewd and calculating: she had no doubt done her homework on Eve.
    ‘It is, after all, important that we’re seen to introduce some staff-friendly initiatives. It’s good marketing, both internally and externally. What else?’
    ‘That daft Daisy suggests