Losing You by Susan Lewis

the future. Now, only four out of the eight desks in the office were in constant use, and the three edit suites and two meetings rooms were empty more often than they were full. Still, at least they remained operational, and with ambitious and dynamic young associates like Graham and Angie, he was going to remain confident that they’d stay that way. Angie, considering her tender age (twenty-two) and relative inexperience (actually none that had ever been paid), was probably one of the most impressive finds he’d made in a long time. Her attention to detail, quick thinking and spectacular imagination were becoming as integral to proceedings as Graham’s unerring ability to spot a winner, and Russ’s own input which oversaw and put together the whole thing.
    So it was a great relief to him that Angie hadn’t abandoned ship in fright after Sylvie’s outrageous behaviour, or taken offence at being accused of an affair with a man who was old enough to be her father, and her new boss to boot. The entire episode had been intensely embarrassing for them both, and he could see how uncomfortable Angie still was whenever she happened to answer the phone to Sylvie. He also knew, through Graham, that Angie hadn’t slept alone in her flat since the night Sylvie had let rip outside. Apparently a girlfriend had moved into her spare room to keep her company until everything had been sorted out and all the drama had died down.
    Russ couldn’t even begin to imagine when that happy day might dawn, but something had to be done to draw it closer. His alcoholic wife attacking an innocent young girl simply for working at his office was so far from acceptable that he shuddered to think what Sylvie might do were she ever to find out about the woman he really was involved with. Fortunately, no one, but no one, knew about him and Fiona, and for her sake, perhaps more than anyone else’s, he intended to keep it that way.
    ‘Hey, looks like I turned up just in time,’ Paul Granger declared as he came hastily through the door to escape the rainstorm outside. ‘Am I to assume from this that you’ve had some good news?’
    ‘Only the best,’ Graham informed him, standing back to avoid the freezing spray as Granger shrugged off his coat. ‘The budget we asked for and presenter of our choice.’
    ‘I don’t believe it!’ Granger cried, turning to Russ. ‘That’s quite something. I only wish I was producing.’ Though Granger wasn’t employed by Russ’s company, officially, he’d produced and directed so many programmes and training videos for them over the years that the two men had come to view one another more as partners than mere colleagues.
    ‘Frankly, I wish you were too,’ Russ told him, ‘but Guy Fitch has his strong points, and the idea was his, plus the contacts are all his ...’
    ‘Was he there for the pitch?’
    ‘Sure, but he was clever enough to let Angie take over. She’s got a gift for it, we’ve discovered, so we’re damned lucky to have her.’
    ‘I heard that,’ she said, beaming as she came back into the office. ‘Hey Paul, how did the recce go?’
    Rolling his eyes, Granger said, ‘Champagne first, and congratulations to all ... Carleen, love of my life,’ he cried as a willowy brunette with intense green eyes and a low-cut top followed Angie through the door. ‘Oh God, husband in tow, how are you doing, Perce?’
    Laughing, Percy came to shake Granger’s hand, while Russ finished pouring the champagne and Graham and Angie passed around glasses.
    ‘To Clyde Court Productions and all who sail in her,’ Graham declared, saluting them all.
    ‘Hear, hear,’ everyone echoed.
    As they drank, the sound of the rain battering the vaulted ceiling of the old stable block seemed to seal them into a safe and private place that felt like an exclusive refuge from a bad, bad world outside. This sense of security made Russ feel connected to his team in a way that reminded him that not everything had to be about