Page 7 of Famous Last

“Not feeling well and working from home, Muriel.”

“Again?” huffed Muriel, followed by a world-weary roll of the eyes. “Can somebody from HR please give her a call after this meeting and see when she’ll be back in the office? I don’t suppose, in the absence of our event planner, that anyone else can give us an update on the main event of the calendar year, the Blackmore Magazine Group Client Christmas Party? And how on earth is this going to work, given current restrictions?”

“As far as I know,” said Beverley, who had always been friendly with Evelyn, “email invites were sent out a month ago and online responses are already starting to come back. Evelyn booked the same venue as last year and the deposit has been paid, but if things get worse, the money is refundable. The venue owners are organising the catering, too, as far as I’m aware. Although I heard the quartet Evelyn booked cancelled due to illness. As for the finer details of the night, such as who the speakers are going to be and the actual programme running order, I’m afraid I have no idea.”

Muriel’s gaze went dramatically heavenwards once again, as though the whole world was collapsing around her. In his favour, Blake had not inherited the same dramatic facialexpressions. Understandable for Muriel, because the Christmas party for clients tended to be the firm’s most important media event of the year.

“If things get worse, will you consider cancelling?” said someone from around the table.

“Don’t be ridiculous! We rely on the client party to generate interest and sponsorship for the forthcoming year. Without that we may as well close our doors.”

“I’ll call Evelyn and find out what she knows,” said Bev.

“Thank you, Beverley. In which case, I think we should all get back to work. Unless there’s anything else?”

Maybe Spencer should have picked a better moment, but his inner voice had already started working his mouth.

“What’s happening about the staff Christmas party? I mean, are we still having one? And what’s the budget this year? I’m happy to help organise again, if you want.”

“Apart from the fact that nobody really cares, Spencer, social gatherings are discouraged,” said Muriel. The thing was, people did care, especially knowing the client event would most likely go ahead. Members of the team had already approached him about the staff event, something they could enjoy without having the pressure of networking politely with clients. “There are more important issues at stake. I’ll be providing mulled wine and mince pies at lunch on the Wednesday before we break for the Christmas holidays. Whatever you decide to do, leave me out of the loop. And the finance department will be able to let you know if we have any budget. Now, if there’s nothing ofrealimportance, let’s get back to our desks.”

As everyone started to rise and everyday chatter settled around the room, Spencer stayed back, waiting to head to the front of the room and unplug Muriel’s laptop, but noticed Prince standing in the doorway. He winked at Spencer and pointed to himself with his thumb, before moving over to where Murielpacked her bag. As Spencer left the room, he heard Muriel’s voice rise with pleasure.

“There you are, Prince,” she cooed. “You are such a dear for doing this.”

“No problem, Muriel. That’s me job.”

“Yes, but I do hope you know how much we all appreciate you around here.”

Spencer let out a soft sigh as he squeezed past them and headed for his desk. He decided not to let any minor irritations get to him today. After all, he had managed to get a free lunch out of the dreadful woman.

Chapter Three

“You’re not going anywhere, Spencer,” said Clarissa, his boss, tapping her long scarlet fingernail on the sheets of paper in front of him. “Beverley will have to find someone else. The deadline for these is three o’clock today, after which you’ll need to do a final review ofHash Hagonline, which, as you know, goes live after midnight, tonight. I’m sorry but you’ll have to work through your lunch break.”

Like Muriel, Clarissa’s apologies were as hollow as her occasional praise, but she, too, had to be obeyed. To do otherwise might mean being deprived of the good stuff, like being the first to read and, on the rare occasion, give feedback and suggested edits for the latest column by Killian Pinkerton, or being given an afternoon to sift through and collate comments for specific hot topics inVirago. Despite what people might think, he loved his job, loved tightening stories to make them eminently readable and, although nobody except Bev had ever said so, he knew he was bloody good at what he did.

What irked him was that he had seen the stories Clarissa wanted him to edit sitting in her in-tray the previous week. Of all the team at Blackmore, she printed off paper copies of articles for editing—so much for being environmentally friendly—and manually marked them up. The previous Friday, having pondered whether she would find the time to complete them, he was going to offer to help her out. But then everybody had been scooped up in the rush to get things ready for Muriel’s socially distanced charity event.

“Are you sure, Squirrel?” said Bev, turning up just before eleven-thirty in her tan Burberry overcoat. Prince stood silently a few paces behind her, peering over her shoulder at Spencer. “Do you want me to have a word with Muriel?”

“What’s the point. She’ll only side with Clarissa. She always does.”

“That’s so unfair. They’re Clarissa’s deadlines, not yours.”

“I know, but with no interruptions I’ll get them done in no time. You’re still going for the lunch though, aren’t you?”

“I’m taking Prince.”

“You’re taking our IT guy to a client meeting?” said Spencer, grinning at Prince.

“Oi, mate! That’s Regional Head of IT to you,” said Prince, unhooking his mask and grinning with an impressive set of pearly whites.

“Nice title considering we don’t have a region, and you’re the only person in the office who deals with IT,” said Spencer, enjoying the banter.

“Muriel said it’s fine to bring Prince. Said he’d make a good replacement,” said Bev, giving him her sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, I bet she did,” said Spencer, remembering Muriel’s words to Prince only that morning. Then again, none of this was their fault. “Go on, you two. Go and enjoy. Maybe we can pop to the Cork and Bottle for a drink after work.”

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