The Would-Begetter Read Free Page B

that poaching story,’ she said, handing him a small oblong of yellow paper with a telephone number. ‘Can you phone a Mr Milligan?’
    ‘That it?’ Hector said, taking it and stuffing it into his pocket.
    ‘That’s your lot.’
    ‘Right.’
    Wendy watched him as he disappeared up the stairs to the Newsroom. She felt rather let down. Today he hadn’t said anything special to her. On good days he’d admire her hair or wink at her as though they had secrets in common. Of course, Wendy mused, they did indeed share secrets, although Hector himself wasn’t strictly aware of this fact. As the chief Receptionist of three, Wendy had always considered herself to be the nerve-centre of the
Westcountry Chronicle
and thus felt justified in being in the know about everything that was happening throughout the building. She didn’t exactly eavesdrop on conversations; that would be more than her job was worth. She just happened to overhear snippets as she switched calls aboutand made connections. It was strange but when Megan, Hector’s wife, called him at work, Wendy was often the unwilling recipient of a great deal of information, ranging from the mildly interesting to the very personal indeed. She knew for instance that Hector was seven years older than herself, that Hector’s marriage was in trouble long before he publicly admitted as much, that his and Megan’s arguments were invariably about starting a family, but that Hector’s sperm count – whatever wicked things her workmates were saying – was absolutely up to scratch.
    Wendy sighed and stopped stroking her shoulder. She had been wracking her brains for some foolproof scheme which would ensure that Hector actually saw her as a
woman
, not just as part of Reception. Next month’s office Christmas party seemed to be her best bet, but it was fancy dress this year and she couldn’t for the life of her decide what costume to wear. Should she go as somebody famous; Marilyn Monroe? No, she wasn’t blonde and she didn’t fancy a wig. Maybe something connected with one of Hector’s special articles? That way he’d be bound to notice her.
    Hector came down the stairs again and said, ‘Wendy? Don’t suppose you have any ideas on cooking pheasants do you? This poaching story is producing some rather tasty perks!’
    ‘Roast, casseroled or what?’
    ‘You’re wonderful,’ Hector said. ‘In a microwave for preference. I think I could just about manage that. Could you jot it down for me?’
    And it was whilst she was writing, from memory, the essentials of the recipe on another little yellow Post-it, that Wendy had her fateful idea.

Chapter 2
    ‘Time to go?’ Barry Poole said, suddenly arriving in the doorway of Jess’s office, puffed, and flourishing a press release.
    Jess jumped. ‘I didn’t know you were coming with me today’ Barry was the
Chronicle’s
most recent graduate trainee, working on the paper whilst he studied for his qualifications in journalism. He seemed to Jess to spend most of his time alternately eating crisps, and in a day-dream about his future prospects. She quite liked him, in spite of the fact that he had been the main instigator of the ribaldry about Hector. Of course, from what she now knew, the taunts were quite unfounded, but she wouldn’t be able to tell Barry that. She’d promised.
    ‘Yeah. Nige says he wants a few supplementary questions. D’you know Jess, I really covet that man’s job. D’you think I’ll have made News Editor by the time I’m his age?’
    ‘Doubt it,’ Jess teased. ‘Come on then if you’re coming.’ She led the way out to the car park and climbed into the yellow Jeep which had the
Chronicle’s
logo painted prominently on both doors. Since she was out and about more than most of the staff, and on call at any time of day or night, she was the one who drove it the most often and considered it virtually hers.
    Ever since its visit to the garage, it had started perfectly, as it did now. They drove