wrong with her? She seemed to be functioning on
ever-reducing power. The ibuprofen tablets weren’t working at all. Eve stretched out her back and tried to massage the pain surreptitiously. It was getting so bad that finding any respite
from the pain was taking priority over telling Jacques to butt out. She was forced to stay silent whilst Jacques dissed everything that Nobby Scuttle pulled out of his briefcase: the souvenir
clotted-cream fudge, the plastic reindeer figures, the water pistols.
‘This pen doesn’t even write,’ said Jacques, scribbling on a pad on his desk with one of Nobby’s samples.
By this time, Nobby was the colour of beetroot with a blood pressure problem. The smell of sweat was getting very heavy in the air as Nobby’s underarms were pouring it out. Eve forced
herself to concentrate on the novelty pooing reindeer before she retched and both insulted Nobby and showed herself up.
Nobby took the pen from Jacques, none too gently, and tried it himself. It didn’t write, however much he ground the nib into the paper.
‘It was working earlier,’ he said in a tone that almost accused Jacques of wrecking it. ‘We always check my samples before visiting clients.’
‘Have you got another?’ Eve asked Nobby. She needed to wrap up this meeting quickly. The pain in her back was wearing her thin.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Jacques, wondering why Eve was growing as pale as Nobby was turning aubergine. It looked as if he was absorbing all her colour by a process of osmosis.
‘Yes, of course,’ she said, trying to sound okay and not as if she was going to collapse into a heap any minute.
Nobby picked out another pen from his magic briefcase, putting it down firmly on the table, resisting the urge to chuck it at the big chap who seemed intent on sabotaging his pitch.
That pen didn’t work either. Nobby grabbed it and started shaking it as if the ink had crawled up the shaft deliberately. Jacques sat there watching him, arms folded across his chest, an
amused smile playing on his lips.
‘I wonder if you’d care to leave the samples with us and let us discuss them,’ said Eve. If she didn’t get out of this Portakabin and get into a bath to ease this muscle
pain she was going to pass out.
‘I’ll bring you more samples,’ said Nobby, also keen to get out and return with higher price-point items if that’s what they wanted. He’d kill his assistant when he
got back to the office, sending him out with broken goods.
Eve stood to usher Nobby and his briefcase out, but the next few minutes passed in a blur because all she could think about was the gnawing ache in her body. Nobby was taking an eternity to say
goodbye to them and then decided to drag an enormous diary out of his case to pin them down to another meeting. Eve couldn’t even remember what she arranged with him then as he and his
sweat-cloud were gone and she slumped into the chair, pulling in some heavy, calming breaths before reaching for her handbag and checking her car keys were in there.
‘You look grey,’ said Jacques. ‘Are you feeling okay?’
‘Perfectly,’ said Eve, mustering every bit of strength she had. ‘However, I appear to have hurt my back, so I’m going to have to go home to rest it.’
‘Do you want me to drive you?’
Eve had a sudden picture of being in a car with Jacques. A clown car with doors that blew off, and a dashboard where flowers sprang out whilst he took corners at G-force and honked a giant
horn.
‘I’ll manage,’ she said, putting a brave mask on and walking out to her car. She knew that Jacques was standing in the doorway watching her and so made a monumental effort to
walk normally. She wanted to turn around and tell him that it was all right, she wasn’t going to collapse, but the effort would have been too much because half of her really did believe that
if she didn’t get home fast enough, she definitely would collapse in a heap.
Chapter 14
‘Shingles,’
ever-reducing power. The ibuprofen tablets weren’t working at all. Eve stretched out her back and tried to massage the pain surreptitiously. It was getting so bad that finding any respite
from the pain was taking priority over telling Jacques to butt out. She was forced to stay silent whilst Jacques dissed everything that Nobby Scuttle pulled out of his briefcase: the souvenir
clotted-cream fudge, the plastic reindeer figures, the water pistols.
‘This pen doesn’t even write,’ said Jacques, scribbling on a pad on his desk with one of Nobby’s samples.
By this time, Nobby was the colour of beetroot with a blood pressure problem. The smell of sweat was getting very heavy in the air as Nobby’s underarms were pouring it out. Eve forced
herself to concentrate on the novelty pooing reindeer before she retched and both insulted Nobby and showed herself up.
Nobby took the pen from Jacques, none too gently, and tried it himself. It didn’t write, however much he ground the nib into the paper.
‘It was working earlier,’ he said in a tone that almost accused Jacques of wrecking it. ‘We always check my samples before visiting clients.’
‘Have you got another?’ Eve asked Nobby. She needed to wrap up this meeting quickly. The pain in her back was wearing her thin.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Jacques, wondering why Eve was growing as pale as Nobby was turning aubergine. It looked as if he was absorbing all her colour by a process of osmosis.
‘Yes, of course,’ she said, trying to sound okay and not as if she was going to collapse into a heap any minute.
Nobby picked out another pen from his magic briefcase, putting it down firmly on the table, resisting the urge to chuck it at the big chap who seemed intent on sabotaging his pitch.
That pen didn’t work either. Nobby grabbed it and started shaking it as if the ink had crawled up the shaft deliberately. Jacques sat there watching him, arms folded across his chest, an
amused smile playing on his lips.
‘I wonder if you’d care to leave the samples with us and let us discuss them,’ said Eve. If she didn’t get out of this Portakabin and get into a bath to ease this muscle
pain she was going to pass out.
‘I’ll bring you more samples,’ said Nobby, also keen to get out and return with higher price-point items if that’s what they wanted. He’d kill his assistant when he
got back to the office, sending him out with broken goods.
Eve stood to usher Nobby and his briefcase out, but the next few minutes passed in a blur because all she could think about was the gnawing ache in her body. Nobby was taking an eternity to say
goodbye to them and then decided to drag an enormous diary out of his case to pin them down to another meeting. Eve couldn’t even remember what she arranged with him then as he and his
sweat-cloud were gone and she slumped into the chair, pulling in some heavy, calming breaths before reaching for her handbag and checking her car keys were in there.
‘You look grey,’ said Jacques. ‘Are you feeling okay?’
‘Perfectly,’ said Eve, mustering every bit of strength she had. ‘However, I appear to have hurt my back, so I’m going to have to go home to rest it.’
‘Do you want me to drive you?’
Eve had a sudden picture of being in a car with Jacques. A clown car with doors that blew off, and a dashboard where flowers sprang out whilst he took corners at G-force and honked a giant
horn.
‘I’ll manage,’ she said, putting a brave mask on and walking out to her car. She knew that Jacques was standing in the doorway watching her and so made a monumental effort to
walk normally. She wanted to turn around and tell him that it was all right, she wasn’t going to collapse, but the effort would have been too much because half of her really did believe that
if she didn’t get home fast enough, she definitely would collapse in a heap.
Chapter 14
‘Shingles,’
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