Twenties Girl: A Novel by Sophie Kinsella

Author:Sophie Kinsella
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Ghost, Ghost stories, Contemporary Women, Humorous, Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, Treasure troves, Young women, General, Torrent
ISBN: 9780385342032
Publisher: Dial Press Trade Paperback
Published: 2010-03-09T05:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

’m not panicking. Even though it’s Wednesday and I still don’t have a solution and Janet Grady is on the warpath.

I’m kind of beyond panic. I’m in an altered state. Like a yogi.

I’ve been dodging calls from Janet all day. Kate’s told her I’m in the loo, at lunch, trapped in the loo, and then at last I heard her saying desperately, “I can’t disturb her, I really can’t disturb her. … Janet, I don’t know who the candidate is. … Janet, please don’t threaten me. …”

She put the phone down, shaking. Apparently Janet’s in a vicious mood. I think she’s become a bit obsessed by this short list. So am I. Résumés are swimming in front of my eyes, and the phone feels like it’s welded to my ear.

Yesterday I had a flash of inspiration. At least, it felt like inspiration. Maybe it was just desperation. Tonya! She’s tough and hard and ironlike and all those scary qualities. She’d be a total match for Janet Grady.

So I called up and casually asked if she’d thought about returning to work, now the twins had turned two. Had she thought about moving into marketing, maybe? In sportswear, perhaps? Tonya was quite senior at Shell before she had the boys. I bet her résumé looks really impressive.

“But I’m on a career break,” she objected. “Mag-da! NOT those fish fingers. Look in the bottom drawer of the freezer—”

“You’ve had enough of a break, surely. A woman with your talents—you must be dying to get back to work.”

“Not really.”

“But your brain will go soggy!”

“It won’t go soggy!” She sounded affronted. “You know, I do Suzuki music every week with the boys. It’s stimulating for both children and parents, and I’ve met some other great mums there.”

“You’re telling me you’d rather do Suzuki music and drink cappuccinos than be a top marketing director.” I tried to inject an incredulous note, even though I would a million times rather be doing Suzuki music and drinking cappuccinos right now than dealing with all this.

“Yes,” she said flatly. “I would. Why are you approaching me, anyway, Lara?” Suddenly her voice was more alert. “What’s going on? Have you got a problem? Because you can always talk to me about it, you know, if things are going wrong. …”

Oh God. Not the fake-o sympathy.

“Nothing’s going wrong! Just trying to do my big sister a favor.” I left it a moment or two before adding casually, “So, those mums you’ve met at Suzuki music. None of them used to be a top marketing director, did they?”

You’d think out of eight formerly professional mothers there’d have been one marketing director with retail experience who wanted to return to work at once. You’d think.

Anyway. So much for that bright idea. In fact, so much for all my ideas. The only possibility I’ve found is a guy in Birmingham who might move if Leonidas Sports pays for his helicopter commute every week. Which is never going to happen in a million years. I’m doomed.

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