Page 58 of Famous Last

“Ed looked over your online portfolio of work, and he was impressed—which, let me tell you, happens very rarely. He wants to meet with you. But with the current chaos and Christmas deadlines looming, he wanted to do so sooner rather than later. How’s your schedule fixed tomorrow? Would you be able to meet him for a chat? Maybe for an hour?”

Spencer had not been paying full attention and the words sank in slowly, the full realisation hitting him hard.

“Wait.What?Ed Coleman wants to talk tome?”

This time Madeleine laughed politely.

“Yes. Like I said, he was impressed with your work. Would you be able to find your way to their offices? They’re in London Bridge. I can send you the location details. You’re in Mornington Crescent, aren’t you?”

“I—uh—yes, I am.”

“Okay. It shouldn’t be more than forty-five minutes by Tube. And then it’s a five-minute walk from London Bridge station. Or you could get a taxi, if you’re feeling flush. Can you make ten o’clock tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, I can—I’m sure I can. What do I need to bring?”

“Just yourself, Spencer.”

“But—uh—surely he doesn’t want to see me just for a chat?”

“Well, put it this way. I work for a recruitment agency that specialises in placements in the media sector. He’s a legend in the newspaper business who is always on the lookout for fresh young talent. He’d rather go through the professional channels than approach you directly, so that’s why I’m calling you anddoing him this favour. After that? Well, I think you’re smart enough to join the dots, don’t you?”

“I’ll be there. Ten tomorrow. In fact, I’ll get there fifteen minutes before. Can you send the details to my personal email account? Do I need to wear a suit? Does he—?”

“Spencer, relax,” said Madeleine, chuckling again. “You’ve already done the hard part by getting his attention. Just relax tomorrow and be yourself. Okay?”

“Yes, yes. Okay. Thank you so much, Madeleine. You’ve absolutely made my day.”

“I’m glad. Now give me your mobile phone number and I’ll text the details.”

Spencer rattled off his number, and they both waited until the information pinged onto his phone.

“All the best for tomorrow, Spencer. And just a small piece of advice. Ed is not a fan of Muriel Moresby, not a fan at all. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I think they came to blows a while ago. I don’t know how you feel about her, but I would steer clear of singing her praises. Are you okay with that?”

“Oh, heavens. More than fine. You really don’t have to worry about that.”

Madeleine laughed aloud this time.

“Okay, then. You’ve got my personal number now. Will you give me a call and let me know how it went?”

“I will. And thank you again.”

When Spencer ended the call, he threw himself back in his chair and sat staring at his phone for a full five minutes. Already anxiousness had begun to fill his stomach. Questions crowded his head. How had Ed found his way to Spencer’s portfolio? Had somebody told him to take a look? Someone like Marshall? More than anything, he wanted to call Marshall and hear his voice, even if he hadn’t been the one. But then who else? And didMadeleine mean that Ed was already preparing to offer Spencer a job? A real job, at theNationalgoddamnHerald?

After tilting his head to the ceiling and taking a deep, steadying breath, he looked around at his colleagues in the almost empty office. None of them realised the world had just shifted on its axis for him. Spencer wanted to run into Bev’s office and tell her the news, but knowing she was busy, decided to send her a message and promise to get in touch with her after the interview. He also phoned Kim to let her know he would be working from home the next day.

* * * *

That evening, still pumped up with nervous excitement, he tried in vain to calm himself. Three times he considered calling Marshall’s number but backed down each time. What if Marshall hadn’t been the one who had talked to Ed? Although if not, then who? And what if he had decided to get back with Hollingbroke? Spencer didn’t want any upset tainting his upbeat mood.

Eventually he settled for a long hot bath and tried to relax, still unable to concentrate on anything but Marshall. Finally he let the inevitable happen, and used the fingers of one hand to stimulate himself while using the other to jerk himself to a shuddering climax. The release and diversion seemed to do the trick, and he managed to calm down.

Once dressed in sweats, he pulled a frozen meal of Thai chicken curry from his freezer and, while waiting for the microwave to do its job, tried watching television.

When his front doorbell sounded at eight, he put down his plate and leapt off the sofa, only to see a bunch of young kids dressed in scarves and bobble hats—with two grown-ups behind—standing ready and holding out hymn sheets. The Christmas season had already begun. Scooping up three one-pound coins and some leftover candies from Halloween, he bounced downthe stairs. He tried to smile through a cute but painful rendition ofDing Dong Merrily on High, where the chorus of Gloria sounded a little like a kindle of kittens on a runaway rollercoaster.

Racing back upstairs to the warmth of his flat, he settled into the detective drama on the television and had just finished his meal when the doorbell sounded again.

Another group of carollers stood outside. This time, he released a heavy sigh and considered ignoring them. Except he didn’t want to jinx his run of luck by being miserly. Once again he scooped up coins and sweets. When he opened the front door, a group of adult singers greeted him, and their version ofO Holy Nightwas well-rehearsed with beautiful harmonies. People stopped on the street and came out of shops to listen. Luckily, Spencer had his wallet in his pocket and, at the end of the performance, handed over a crisp ten-pound note.

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