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Extract

She wondered what Mr. MacCallum-Blair would be like. Late fifties, she thought, balding, with a large stomach and a pinstripe suit. Or perhaps fortyish with longish hair and lurid ties, a live-in girlfriend who works in advertising or as a model, and….

Jill was so busy conjuring up her new boss’s lifestyle that she had passed the number before she realised it. She quickly doubled back and ran up the broad steps to the entrance to number 76. According to the nameplate, MacCallum-Blair Enterprises was on the first floor. She buzzed and gave her name, then waited for the click of the door’s release.

She ran up the stairs and, as she turned to climb the final flight, she was surprised to see a woman sitting at a desk at the top of the stairs, watching her ascent.

‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘I take it you’re from the agency?’

‘Yes, I’m Jill Kennedy.’

The woman nodded. ‘Take a seat,’ she said, gesturing at an armchair in the corner next to a coffee table of glossy magazines.

Like an upmarket dentist’s, Jill thought, and I feel exactly as if I was going to have several teeth pulled.

The phone rang and, while the woman answered it, Jill took the opportunity to size her up. After all, she would probably be working quite closely with her. Early forties, neatly dressed in a dark blue trouser suit, with a pale lilac patterned blouse and wedding and engagement rings. Not the boss’s fancy woman. Probably the PA she was replacing had that role. Or maybe Mr. MacCallum-Blair was happily married. Here’s hoping, at any rate. She didn’t fancy having to cope with amorous advances as well as the new workload.

‘Mr. MacCallum-Blair will see you now.’ The woman pointed to a dark wooden door. ‘Just go in. He’s taking a call at the moment, but he won’t be long.’

Jill tapped on the door and went in. The room was dominated by two long picture windows, through which Jill could see the trees in the private gardens. A nice outlook for the boss then. In front of the windows was a wide, old-fashioned desk with a very modern laptop sitting on it. Mr. MacCallum-Blair had swivelled his chair round to face out of the window while he took the call. While he ummed and said ‘Right’ and ‘Fine’ to his caller, Jill took the opportunity to admire the high ceiling decorated with an elaborate cornice of grapes, vine leaves, and flowers, and a centrepiece, similarly decorated, surrounding the base of a chandelier.

It’s stunning, she thought, as she admired the crystal pendants waterfalling from their fixture. The light from the windows caught them, and glints flashed around the ceiling and walls. She was enchanted.

‘Good God, not you,’ said a voice.

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Ann Burnett has been writing for many years and covers many genres. She wrote Postman Pat stories for a comic for five years, adapted Moomin stories as picture books, and scripted over 100 programmes for BBC children’s TV and radio. She also writes short stories and articles and has even tried poetry and drama!

Her latest writing is a contemporary romance, Festival Fireworks, for Ladybug Publications.

She was once almost sold to a Masai warrior for two cows but was only saved because her husband wouldn’t have been able to get the cows on the plane home!

Her website and blog about writing is at annburnett.co.uk

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