Having It All Read Free Page A

her shoes back on. ‘And if you want the secretaries’ view, we reckon Conrad’s had it up to here with Claudia Jones,
she’s been pushing him too far in and out of bed. And Andrew Stone’s so wet we don’t believe even Conrad would give him the job. So we reckon you could be in with a
chance.’
    Viv strode off bare-legged to pour them both a coffee, leaving Liz speechless. How on earth did the secretaries know all that? Five minutes later Liz did a twirl in beige pinstripes with
matching Le Spec tights. She sensed her nerve returning with every sip of the hot coffee. Feeling calmer and clutching her carefully planned speech, she was finally ready to go up to Conrad’s
office.
    In the lift she found Andrew Stone reading a newspaper cutting, looking even more nervous than she was. Poor Andrew. He was one of those men who sweated like Richard Nixon taking a lie detector
test. She knew that his handshake would be soft and damp and that his breath would smell faintly of curry, even though he’d brushed his teeth. No wonder his wife had left him.
    Still absorbed in his article, Andrew suddenly realized that they were on the fourth floor and that Liz was getting out. He made a rush for the door just as it was closing. But it was too quick
for him and he stood there trying to prise it apart, like Woody Allen playing Clark Kent, while his folder fell to the floor, scattering notes and cuttings all over the lobby.
    ‘Oh Jesus!’ he yelped, ‘those are supposed to be in the right order!’
    Hearing the panic in his voice, Liz gave him a quick smile of sympathy and helped him to pick them up.
    As they scrabbled on the floor the lift doors opened again and Claudia stepped put. Suddenly the lobby was filled with the heady scent of Giorgio, as brash and impossible to ignore as Claudia
herself. Bloody Claudia! How did she always manage to find you at a disadvantage?
    ‘Hello, Lizzie darling. Hi, Andrew. Don’t get up.’ Claudia stepped round them, her four-inch heel narrowly missing Andrew’s hand. Her short dark bob gleamed as she
sashayed past them in a bright-red tailored suit with gold buttons. Her lips and nails matched it exactly.
    And worst of all, Liz thought furiously, as an admiring sales exec held the door open for her to pass regally through on her way to Conrad’s office, her hands were empty. No folder. No
cards. Not even a Filofax. She was going to make her presentation without a single note!
    Liz handed Andrew the last of his cuttings and tried not to feel dashed. That was exactly what Claudia wanted. She’d felt so unreasonably proud at reducing her notes to a single sheet,
then Claudia swans in with it all in her head. Blast her!
    Keep calm! You’re the one with the ideas, not Claudia. Claudia only knows about how to screw agents and massage stars’ egos. David’s right. Claudia couldn’t dream up a
strategy for the network to save her life.
    Liz smoothed down her linen skirt, which was now wrinkled and creased from bending, pushed a strand of hair out of her eye and held the double doors open for Andrew in case he dropped everything
again.
    Outside Conrad’s office, Claudia sat sipping a cup of black coffee, her legs in their sheer black stockings folded demurely to one side, looking exactly like the illustration from one of
those infuriating articles about who would have the top jobs in five years’ time.
    The door opened and Conrad stood there. ‘We’re ready for you now, Claudia.’
    Claudia calmly put down her cup and stood up.
    Watching her retreating back Liz noticed that there wasn’t a single crease in her suit and felt a stab of furious jealousy. If only Claudia would put a foot wrong, forget her lines,
suggest some ludicrous programme idea, fail to understand about marginal costing, betray
some
kind of humanity!
    But Claudia wasn’t human. She was an alien in a red suit who had every move programmed, calculated, planned. If you ripped off that self-satisfied face you’d