Page 92 of Another Lucky Number

‘Monsieur Miller. What is your question for Emma?’

Mr Miller gets to his feet, clearly intending to make the most of being in the spotlight. ‘Thank you, Sébastien. My question for Emma relates to guest privacy. Just days ago, I caught her eavesdropping on a private conversation my family and I were having in the bar. Therefore, I would like to ask Emma, as a potential senior member of staff within Paradis Resorts, where her morals lie in relation to privacy and discretion?’

An unsettled murmur snakes through the audience. Mr Miller doesn’t have a question for me at all. He didn’t even respect me enough to address me personally. He’s done this todiscredit me and sink my chances of getting the job, and whatever his agenda – power, sexism, simple arrogance – he may have royally screwed things for me.

After a moderate pause – this time I have to count to ten – I decide that even if my chance at the job is gone, I need to hold my head high and come out of this the bigger person. I take a long, steadying breath.

‘Mr Miller, thank you for your question. Firstly, I would like to apologise if I in any way intruded on your family discussion in the bar. I can assure you that this was not intentional and that I consider guest privacy to be of the utmost importance. I have held positions of responsibility in the past with access to confidential and sensitive customer information, and I have always treated this with complete discretion, while also taking careful measures to keep it secure. As an employee of Paradis Resorts, I would absolutely treat guest privacy with that same level of respect and care.’

Mr Miller sneers at me, and looks like he’s about to say something else, when Sébastien cuts in.

‘Thank you, Monsieur Miller. And thank you, everyone, for your time today – in particular, our treasured guests. Perhaps we can give Emma one final round of applause for taking on this task today. And for giving up her precious holiday time for this process.’

There’s another polite round of applause, to which I nod my thanks, then my audience turn their attention to the feedback form, before getting up to leave, chatting animatedly as they go.

‘How was that?’ Sébastien asks me. ‘I hope not too painful.’

I bite my lip, desperate to say something about Mr Miller, but I know it’s a bad idea. I can’t change the fact that it happened, and by bringing it up, I could end up causing more damage.

‘I feel like I did my best,’ I say instead, searching Sébastien’sface for any clue as to what he’s thinking, but there’s nothing. ‘And it didn’t rain.’

‘That is true, it did not. Well, Emma, I must go and attend to some business. Thank you once again for your efforts. I will be speaking with Eloise this afternoon, and I will come back to you with a decision by the end of the day.’

‘OK, thanks. And, Sébastien… thank you again for the opportunity. I’ve learned a lot these last few days.’

‘I am glad to hear this.À bientôt, Emma.’

He walks swiftly up the aisle as Cat and Amber come rushing towards to me.

‘Honey, you did so well!’ Cat gushes.

‘That was boss!’ Amber slaps me a high five. ‘So much better than your previous run throughs.’

‘Well, I didn’t pass out. That’s progress,’ I say. ‘Though it doesn’t really matter how well I did. It was always a long shot, but my fate is sealed now that horrible bloke, Mr Miller, has sunk my chances.’

‘Yeah, he was a right tosser.’ Amber frowns.

‘He wassounpleasant,’ says Cat. ‘Guess we’ll have to wait and see what happens.’

‘Yes, we will,’ I give a despondent shake of my head, still unable to believe that was how things ended. ‘Sébastien said he’d be in touch later today, so I may as well forget about it for now. Can we go eat? I need some fuel after that experience – and maybe a nice, chilled glass of pinot grigio.’

Chapter Thirty-Eight

We head to Cucina, the resort’s Italian restaurant, which is a tastefully decorated but minimalist space that claims to be ‘an authentic taste of Italy in paradise’. Once our plates are piled high with antipasti from the starter buffet, we return to our seats, digging into delicious marinated mussels, pesto shrimp, cured meats, cheeses, bread, olives and chargrilled vegetables. It’s a pleasant, companionable silence, until Amber obliterates it.

‘So now your interview is out the way, Emma, what are you going to do about James?’

My fork clatters on my plate. ‘Shit. I never messaged him back. The whole interview-still-going-ahead thing knocked me sideways and… I completely forgot about him.’

‘That’s hardly a good sign.’ She raises an appraising eyebrow.

‘No…no. It doesn’t mean anything, other than I’ve been distracted with other things.’

‘So, is it on or off with him?’

‘I… don’t know. I was hoping I’d have figured that out by now.’

‘Where’s your head at, honey?’ Cat asks. ‘Maybewe can help.’

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