Perfect on Paper by Gillian Harvey (top 20 books to read txt) 📕

agree with her – fed up with being judged for my looks #You’veGotTalent

Martha to win! #MehToo

Lovin the Eezee Troupe #MehToo

As the hashtag gathered pace once more, Clare realised that rather than feeling shocked or alarmed, she actually felt just a little bit proud.

Chapter Forty-Three

Sipping her flat white, Clare looked at her watch again. Steph was now officially ten minutes late.

They’d spoken briefly on the phone on Sunday and her sister had seemed all right. She’d mocked her for her You’ve Got Talent appearance and been completely stunned that none of Clare’s family had noticed more than a passing familial resemblance.

‘Lord, I know you said you were invisible, Clare,’ she’d said, ‘but now I’m starting to believe it.’

Then they’d arranged lunch. But it looked as if Steph had stood her up.

It didn’t matter, really. She remembered how difficult it could be to leave the house with a baby; but at the same time if her sister was much later, she’d only have about twenty minutes to chat before having to head back to the office.

She called her sister’s phone again, but it went straight to answerphone. Probably Steph was driving or rushing along with a pushchair and just about to fly in the door.

Another sip, another glance at the watch, another feeling of elation as the door opened and disappointment when it revealed that the latest customer wasn’t Steph.

In the end, she phoned her sister and left a message: ‘I’m really sorry, Steph. I’ve had to go back to the office. Hope everything’s OK. Give me a call.’

Walking back, she tried to shake off the feeling that she should have waited a little longer or done a little bit more.

Soon though, she was on the phone to a client, buried in work and any thought of Steph or where she’d got to had been filed at the back of her mind.

Half an hour later, when she’d finished speaking to Mrs Jones, who was digging her heels in about the possibility of leaving the fitted curtains for her buyers, Nigel burst into her room without so much as a knock.

What if I’d been practicing my corporate sexiness? She wanted to say. I could have been sitting around in my knickers.

‘Just got your holiday form,’ he said, waving it at her as if she’d demanded evidence. ‘Another half-day off! Becoming quite the part-timer, eh! Ha, ha.’

‘Um, yes,’ she said. Although before these two measly half-days I’ve had off recently, I’ve literally put all my waking hours into the firm.

‘I’ll get Will to oversee Ann for the morning,’ he continued.

‘Oh, you don’t need to do that!’ she said. ‘Ann is fully briefed.’

‘Even so,’ he said. ‘It’s good to have a proper solicitor on the case, I find.’

If she did make the jump and start her own firm, she decided, she’d always value experience over qualifications. Will might have the recent paperwork, but he knew zilch about conveyancing, wasn’t familiar with any of her clients or cases, and wouldn’t know a property information form if it hit him in the face. Yet when Ann successfully managed her workload while Clare was away, it was Will who would get all the credit.

‘And will we see you later on?’ Nigel asked, sinking uninvited into one of her plastic chairs and leaning back, before once again losing his balance and grabbing frantically at the desk to right himself.

‘Later on?’

‘Yes, the training session,’ he continued, looking quite aggrieved. ‘Stage six of the … the corporately … corporately sexy training.’ He had, at least, the decency to blush.

‘Actually,’ she said. ‘I’ve got an appointment after work.’

‘Oh.’

‘But, look, I’ll practice my mantras.’

‘Well, that’s good. Although I must say I would hope that the more senior staff would lead the way on this,’ he said.

‘Nigel,’ she replied, trying to keep her voice calm. ‘I’ve worked with you for almost a decade. I’ve turned over consistently high profits for the firm. I work more hours than any of the other senior members of staff. I was the one responsible for bringing Stefan Camberwaddle on board in the first instance. It’s great that you’re, er, trying something new. But don’t you think that maybe not everyone needs to improve their work performance?’

He was silent for a moment. ‘Is this about the MehToo thing?’ he asked.

‘The what?’

‘You know, these women’s rights protests or whatever.’

She bristled. ‘It’s about fact, Nigel. I don’t need to put on a unitard and let my flaws hang out. I don’t need to tell myself I’m corporately sexy or that I’m going to conquer the world or whatever. I’m just getting on with the job and doing a bloody good one at that.’

After Nigel had made a bumbling apology and exited the office, she waited for her heart to stop pounding and picked up the phone. ‘Toby?’ she said, when he answered. ‘I’m going to do it!’

‘Do it?’

‘Yes, I’m going to start my own firm. I’ve decided.’

‘Oh.’

‘You don’t sound sure about it.’

‘No, no, I think it’s great. It’s just … well, the money aspect.’

‘Honestly, I think it’s worth the risk.’

‘But what if I lose my job?’ he asked, his voice sounding slightly squeaky.

‘Lose your job?’

‘Well, you know my interview with Martha B. … it went well. But, well, I heard the director is looking at my role. They hate the controversy, you know?’

‘Toby, they’re not going to fire you! At worst they’ll, well, reassign you,’ she said, feeling guilty for her possible part in things.

‘I suppose … well, yes go for it. We’ll manage,’ he said.

‘Thanks, love.’ Because he meant well, even if he so often seemed to get things wrong.

‘And, congratulations!’

‘Pardon?’

‘Congratulations! It’s … well, you should be really proud of yourself.’

As soon as she hung up, ready to tackle the mountain of work on her desk in record time so she could go through listings and make sure she had everything in place for viewing office space on her hard-won ‘day off’, her mobile beeped.

This time, it was a text message from Dan. Martha B. trending on Twitter, he’d