Playing by the Rules: The feel-good heart-warming and uplifting romance perfect for Valentine’s Day

‘No come on, out with it.’ I stood my ground, hands on hips.

‘Well I was just comparing the starry-eyed look you gave Anthony when he showed you out last week after your interview. You had no idea he and his fiancée were about to spend a weekend at their cottage hideaway in Italy. Funny.’

‘You could have reminded him that he wasn’t going to be here until Tuesday when you heard him say Monday to me.’

‘What and miss all the fun? Besides, you’re the PA. You’re supposed to know everything about him.’

I didn’t answer. I stormed up the stairs to Anthony’s office and sat at his desk. I started looking around for anything that might give away what my boss was likely to be doing for the week to come. He obviously had no idea. I knew at the interview Anthony wasn’t cut out for the job he’d taken on so I’d have to get him ready. Because let’s face it, if Anthony failed, I’d have to find a new job and start all over again from day one.

I found a desk diary and began to read through it. Next, I looked at all the paperwork on his desk and switched on his computer. There were no passwords to worry about and instead of surfing the web for fashion shows and designer outlet sales, as I had been earlier, I went into the reports and files and tried to get myself acquainted with the ins and outs of the company I hoped to help run for the next year.

At about two o’clock in the afternoon Cassandra came up to Anthony’s office.

‘Still here?’ she said.

‘Looks like it.’ I didn’t look up.

‘I’m off to lunch. Can I get you anything?’ she said through clenched teeth.

‘Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll grab something later if I feel hungry. I’m too busy to stop.’

I ignored Cassandra and she hovered by the door for a while.

‘Right then,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you in an hour. The door will be locked but no one comes by unless it was prearranged.’

‘Oh like Anthony’s twelve o’clock tomorrow with Niles Benson?’ I said, looking at Anthony’s online diary, which Cassandra was bound to have set up.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said.

‘After lunch do you think you could get me up to speed on this Niles person?’ I said. I finally looked up from the screen. Cassandra nodded and gave me a half scowl half smile before slipping out of the door.

I discovered a telephone number for the former boss of A Shearman Leather Designs, Arthur Shearman, and gave him a call.

‘Mr Shearman, you don’t know me. I’m Magenta Bright, Anthony’s new PA. I believe you’re my sister’s neighbour.’ I sounded official but with an air of friendly charm, like any badass PA.

‘Only just,’ he said. ‘You caught me about to telephone the removal company. My wife and I are leaving for the new house in Wiltshire.’

‘A lovely part of the country,’ I said.

‘Congratulations on the new job by the way. I thought Anthony needed someone at his side – an extra bit of help as it were. Cassandra has so many other responsibilities, I didn’t want to stop the smooth flow of things. As for your sister, Ebony, I do bump into her once in a while. She’s quite the dynamo. And I know your other sisters are businesswomen.’

Please don’t confuse me with them.

‘That’s right,’ I said.

‘So I knew Anthony would be in good hands.’

God help us.

‘Well,’ Arthur Shearman continued, ‘I’ve your sister to thank for referring you to us. But, er … is there a problem?’

‘No problem,’ I said. ‘It’s just that Anthony is back from his weekend away tomorrow and I thought it might be a good idea for me to have spoken to the man who has been running the operation for the last thirty years or so.’

‘You’ve gathered, then, that my son is somewhat of a novice.’

I didn’t want to tell him that I thought his son would find himself lost in a two-foot by two-foot maze if he didn’t lay breadcrumbs to find his way home.

‘A little, I suppose,’ I said. ‘But if I’m going to be an efficient PA then I thought I should talk to the expert.’

Arthur Shearman sounded chuffed and babbled on about the everyday business while I listened carefully and made as many notes as I could. I asked him what he knew about Niles Benson.

‘Anthony has a meeting with him tomorrow,’ I said.

‘Oh dear,’ said Arthur Shearman.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

‘That Niles Benson is a sticky character,’ he said. ‘I wonder what he’s up to. He knows I had no interest in anything he had to offer. Looks like he waited until I left and wormed his way into a meeting with my son. Do you think I should stay in London and come to the meeting?’

‘Not at all. I’ll pass on your concerns to Anthony. You relax, enjoy your retirement and leave this to me.’

I hung up the phone, put my feet up on Anthony’s desk and smiled to myself. I’ve got this, I thought. I’d show them all.

By the time Cassandra returned from lunch I was more or less coming to grips with Anthony’s job and, consequently, mine.

Day one – done. I just had 364 to go.

Chapter 6 (#ulink_7e6a433e-43a1-54f4-ad1e-68e301ce3cae)

Cassandra had been good enough to hand over a spare set of keys for the office before I left on Monday afternoon – reluctantly, I should say, but she handed them over all the same. So the next morning I arrived bright and early carrying two bunches of flowers and a couple of vases from home. I decorated both mine and Anthony’s office with the flowers and went out to buy some biscuits for Anthony’s twelve o’clock. One of the few things I’d learned as a PA was that whenever there was a meeting, there should be tea and there should be biscuits.

At a couple of the previous offices I’d had a subordinate who could rustle up a tea tray for me. But as I was not sure Cassandra would take it too well if I asked her to make the tea, I decided I’d do it myself. I’d bought bad biscuits because Arthur Shearman didn’t like Niles Benson and rule number one in meetings etiquette was to give your worst clients bad biscuits because it was a sure way to keep them at arm’s length. Garibaldi biscuits it was and I hoped the raisins would stick in Niles Benson’s teeth.

Anthony surprised me with his arrival before I’d finished tidying his desk. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and he squinted in my direction.

‘Those look nice,’ said Anthony loosening his tie and coming quite close to where I was standing. He looked nice and relaxed but had a faint hint of a frown line on his forehead. He smelled of freshly showered body and expensive cologne. I wondered how he stayed so fresh after braving the London tube network. Maybe he lived nearby. I assumed he lived with Inez. All those things I had yet to discover.

‘I thought I’d brighten the place up for your meeting,’ I said backing away from Anthony so that my nose didn’t end up on his neck. His cologne was tantalisingly strong and his neck … I swallowed hard. Did she, Inez, buy the cologne for him? Focus, Magenta.

‘My meeting?’ Anthony looked confused and the frown line in his brow deepened a millimetre or two.

‘Yes, Anthony,’ I said, picking up the new desk diary I’d bought in Tiger and thought would make me look efficient if I walked around with it. I’d also bought a matching notebook and had made a note to find out how to claim the expense back from petty cash. ‘It’s with Niles Benson.’

‘Oh him,’ said Anthony. ‘I think my father arranged it.’

Strange. Didn’t Arthur Shearman tell me yesterday that Niles Benson was trouble? Something wasn’t adding up.

‘I did a bit of background on Mr Benson,’ I said. ‘For my own benefit,’ I added, quickly. ‘I see he has a rival company in Bristol and they’re doing pretty well. Factories in China and outlets in Italy, Japan and Sweden.’