Catch Me When I Fall by Nicci French Page A

walked though the door. Her reference had been a bit odd. It was clear she had fallen out with her previous employer, but even that didn't worry us. Especially me. I liked the idea of employing someone abrasive. I told Meg we needed a bad cop in the office. We already had enough good ones. The problem was that she was meant to be a bad cop to other people, not to us.
     When she came into the conference room, she was looking as impressive as ever.
'How was Roehampton?' I asked. "It was all right,' she said. 'Anything stand out?'
She gave a shrug. 'Not really,' she said. "I left early."
     'Oh, stop this,' I said. "I just rang Jo palmer, who happens to be running the conference. You never even signed on.'
     I have to admit that I was impressed by the aplomb with which Deborah responded to being caught out. She looked puzzled and slightly hurt. 'Have you been spying on me?' she said.
'That's my job," I said. 'I run this company."
     "I went to the conference,' she said. "Maybe I forgot to pick up my badge."
     But I had my file with me. I opened it and laid out in front of
her the photocopies I had made, like an unbeatable poker hand. 'What's this?" she said.
     'You know what it is," I said. 'We talked about what to do
    about you and I had a moment of weakness where I thought we could let you off with a warning. But then you tried to put the blame on Lola. What was that about?'
     'She's inexperienced,' Deborah said. 'I've been covering for her.'
     "Are you insane?' I said. "Do you never give up? Look at these pieces of paper. You've been lying. You've been defrauding the company.'
     She looked at me, unshaken. Im good at my job,' she said. "You know that.'
     'You're fired,' I said. I looked at my watch. I couldn't remember the date. I couldn't even remember the time of year. Leaves were falling, weren't they? "We'll pay you until the end of the month. But I want you out of the office."
There was a long pause. I had her attention now.
     "You can't do this,' she said. 'I left a good job to come here. I've got a fiat. I've got a mortgage.'
     'You're right," I said. 'You're good at your job. I don't know what's gone wrong. You clearly can't carry on here. But I wonder if you need some help...'
     Deborah pulled a face as if there was suddenly a terrible smell in the room. 'Don't patronise me, you stuck up...' She paused as if she was unable to find a word bad enough for what I was. "They don't like you, you know. You think you're brilliant, dashing around, being crazy and dipsy and winning people over, but you don't fool us. You're pathetic, really. You're a fake.'
     I took a deep breath and made myself speak quietly and slowly. "You'd better leave now,' I said.
     She laughed. "You think you're so fucking clever,' she said. 'One day someone's going to do something to that stuck-up little face of yours."
     I couldn't stop myself smiling. 'Are you threatening me, Deborah?'

    She stood up and there was a fierce glow in her eyes. 'You think everybody will just lie down for you, that's what you think. One day someone will get back up and then you'll see. It'll just take one.'
    She left like a small hurricane, sweeping through the office. When she was gone, I walked down to Old Compton Street. There's a particular cream cake they make in the psserie: it's got this very light pastry on top, it's really one of the great creations of the Western world. I bought ten, one for everybody in the office, and ten cappuccinos. I took them back to the office. Trish and Meg looked a bit shellshocked. I walked over to them.
'You think I did the wrong thing?'
They looked at each other.
'I don't know,' said Meg. 'It was complicated."
'No, it wasn't,' I said.
     I called everybody together. I talked very briefly about the problems in the office and how it was important for all of us to talk to each other when things were going wrong, but this inspirational sermon segued into a tribute to the cream cakes and within a couple of minutes