children's books, Sidney."
"Won't mean anything to me, then. It was my wife who wanted kids, so she gets to deal with anything connected with the little treasures. If you and your lord and master produce
books instead of children, Mrs Sterling, I reckon you've the right idea."
"We've produced both."
"So let's see what you've got to offer us," Peacock said.
Ellen handed him the portfolio. She didn't feel as detached as she expected; she was uncomfortably aware of her heartbeat and of her suddenly dry mouth. Peacock turned over the first sheets, making a sound in his throat as if he was clearing the way for a comment he then decided not to utter, and she remembered how he would do that when he was milking her and Nathan of ideas. She started, heart thumping, when Fuge said "Your letter didn't mention where you've worked."
"No —" Ellen swallowed so as to be able to speak up. "Noble Publicity."
"You were there for a while, weren't you, Sidney?"
"I learned the basics there, yes." Peacock frowned at Ellen and continued leafing through her work. "When were you there, Mrs Sterling?"
Ellen paused enough to let him turn over two more sheets. "When you were."
He didn't look up. He had just uncovered the first of the Broads Best sheets, and she saw the studiedly neutral expression drain from his face. His partner glanced at the picture to see why Peacock was lingering over it, and gave a surprised laugh. "Why, weren't you involved in that campaign, Sidney? Don't tell me you never met the artist. What are the two of you up to, eh? What's our Sidney been promising you, Mrs Sterling?"
"I'm sure Mr Peacock knows I expect nothing from him," Ellen said, feeling her cheeks redden, gazing at Peacock to force him to look at her.
But he only spoke to her. "This is embarrassing. I'm sorry I didn't know you at first, Mrs Sterling. A lot of lunches have flowed under the bridge in what must it be, nearly eleven years?" To his partner he murmured "I'll bet if all the folk you've worked with in your life walked in here right now there'd be a few you couldn't put a name to."
"Just the same, I think I'd be insulted if I were Mrs Sterling."
Peacock met her gaze then. If he dared to say he was sure she wasn't, Ellen thought, she wouldn't be responsible for her reply. "If I may say so, Mrs Sterling, I think having children has turned you into quite a handsome lady. I hope you'll accept that as my excuse for not recognising you to begin with."
"It's thoughtful of you to say so."
"And I hope you'll agree with me that we can both be proud of the Broads Best campaign."
Ever hopeful, aren't you, Sidney? Not as crude asyou used to be, or at least not in front of witnesses. I don't mean to exclude you from the conversation, Mr Fuge. Let me explain ... But now that the moment had come, taking her revenge seemed petty and demeaning, not worth the risk of regretting it later. All she said was "I won't argue with you."
"Take a look at these, Gordon," he said, and passed his colleague the portfolio. "So have you been keeping your hand in since you left Noble's, Mrs Sterling?"
He was going through the motions of interviewing her, she thought, in case his colleague suspected that something was wrong. She responded automatically, wanting only to be finished with the pretence and outside in the open air. "Thank you for your time, Mrs Sterling," he said as Fuge closed the portfolio and folded his hands over his stomach as if he'd just enjoyed a meal. Peacock slid the portfolio across to her and stood up when she did. As Fuge heaved himself to his feet and told her it had been a pleasure, Peacock met her eyes, not quite expressionlessly. "We still have to interview the other candidates," he said.
Ellen was out of the building before his implication caught up with her. Throughout the interview she had been assuming she had already lost the job, but his expression at the end had said that he knew he owed her a favour. Given the context, it could only mean
"Won't mean anything to me, then. It was my wife who wanted kids, so she gets to deal with anything connected with the little treasures. If you and your lord and master produce
books instead of children, Mrs Sterling, I reckon you've the right idea."
"We've produced both."
"So let's see what you've got to offer us," Peacock said.
Ellen handed him the portfolio. She didn't feel as detached as she expected; she was uncomfortably aware of her heartbeat and of her suddenly dry mouth. Peacock turned over the first sheets, making a sound in his throat as if he was clearing the way for a comment he then decided not to utter, and she remembered how he would do that when he was milking her and Nathan of ideas. She started, heart thumping, when Fuge said "Your letter didn't mention where you've worked."
"No —" Ellen swallowed so as to be able to speak up. "Noble Publicity."
"You were there for a while, weren't you, Sidney?"
"I learned the basics there, yes." Peacock frowned at Ellen and continued leafing through her work. "When were you there, Mrs Sterling?"
Ellen paused enough to let him turn over two more sheets. "When you were."
He didn't look up. He had just uncovered the first of the Broads Best sheets, and she saw the studiedly neutral expression drain from his face. His partner glanced at the picture to see why Peacock was lingering over it, and gave a surprised laugh. "Why, weren't you involved in that campaign, Sidney? Don't tell me you never met the artist. What are the two of you up to, eh? What's our Sidney been promising you, Mrs Sterling?"
"I'm sure Mr Peacock knows I expect nothing from him," Ellen said, feeling her cheeks redden, gazing at Peacock to force him to look at her.
But he only spoke to her. "This is embarrassing. I'm sorry I didn't know you at first, Mrs Sterling. A lot of lunches have flowed under the bridge in what must it be, nearly eleven years?" To his partner he murmured "I'll bet if all the folk you've worked with in your life walked in here right now there'd be a few you couldn't put a name to."
"Just the same, I think I'd be insulted if I were Mrs Sterling."
Peacock met her gaze then. If he dared to say he was sure she wasn't, Ellen thought, she wouldn't be responsible for her reply. "If I may say so, Mrs Sterling, I think having children has turned you into quite a handsome lady. I hope you'll accept that as my excuse for not recognising you to begin with."
"It's thoughtful of you to say so."
"And I hope you'll agree with me that we can both be proud of the Broads Best campaign."
Ever hopeful, aren't you, Sidney? Not as crude asyou used to be, or at least not in front of witnesses. I don't mean to exclude you from the conversation, Mr Fuge. Let me explain ... But now that the moment had come, taking her revenge seemed petty and demeaning, not worth the risk of regretting it later. All she said was "I won't argue with you."
"Take a look at these, Gordon," he said, and passed his colleague the portfolio. "So have you been keeping your hand in since you left Noble's, Mrs Sterling?"
He was going through the motions of interviewing her, she thought, in case his colleague suspected that something was wrong. She responded automatically, wanting only to be finished with the pretence and outside in the open air. "Thank you for your time, Mrs Sterling," he said as Fuge closed the portfolio and folded his hands over his stomach as if he'd just enjoyed a meal. Peacock slid the portfolio across to her and stood up when she did. As Fuge heaved himself to his feet and told her it had been a pleasure, Peacock met her eyes, not quite expressionlessly. "We still have to interview the other candidates," he said.
Ellen was out of the building before his implication caught up with her. Throughout the interview she had been assuming she had already lost the job, but his expression at the end had said that he knew he owed her a favour. Given the context, it could only mean
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