assignment now?’ Jo asked eagerly, feeling more confident.
Felicity looked uncomfortable. ‘Being a secretary is … it’s more than just being able to do the job, Joanne. You need to look
the part too, and I’m not sure by your dress you would be suitable for the majority of our offices.’
Jo felt her heart drop. The whole day suddenly seemed like a waste of time.
‘It’s my weight, isn’t it?’ A small tear slid down her cheek, and Jo hated herself for crying.
Felicity nodded.
‘But I can do the job, and I’ll work really hard, I promise!’
Jo knew she was sounding desperate, but she couldn’t help herself. She had been so close to starting out on her dream and
suddenly it seemed as though the rolls of fat that had stopped her fitting in at school were going to stand in the way of
her career too.
‘I’m afraid that our clients won’t see it that way.’ Felicity looked around the office uncomfortably and lowered her voice.
‘Look, I wouldn’t normally do this, but I’m going to put you on our books anyway. I’ll try to start you on some low-key jobs,
and in the meantime you should try to present yourself better – lose some weight and smarten up a bit. You seem like a clever
girl, it shouldn’t be too hard for you, should it?’
Jo nodded dumbly, and Felicity patted her arm again.
‘I’m sure you have some perfectly delightful clothes at home you could wear to the workplace, too. Give me a few days to let
our other girls here know we have someone new on the books and I’ll telephone you a day in advance when we have some work
for you.’
Jo struggled to speak normally – she was delighted that she’d be able to start working for the agency, but when Felicity had
told her to lose some weight a flash of white-hot anger had coursed through her.
‘Do you think any of those jobs would be on a magazine? Your client list in reception said you supply typists to Garnet Publishing
and IMC Magazines.’
‘Why yes, we do, but these jobs are like gold-dust and are given to our more experienced girls. But don’t you worry. After
a few jobs for some of our more blue-collar organisations I’m sure you will be more than ready for them.’
Felicity smiled kindly at Jo and showed her to the door.
‘Careful of the rain, dear. Why, don’t you have an umbrella?’
Jo wondered what Felicity would have to say if she told her that she didn’t have enough money to buy one.
Chapter Five
September 2000
Jo lay on her bed and wished she lived in a remote country cottage miles from anyone. The couple in the flat above – a greasy
man with tattoos and a bleached-blonde woman with three-inch dark roots – were arguing again, and the bangs, thumps and screamed
swear-words made her uncomfortable. If this was what being in a relationship was like, she thought, she was better off single.
She sighed, swung herself out of bed, and walked the three steps to her chest of drawers where she grabbed a Bounty bar from
her stash. She crammed half of it into her mouth and felt depressed.
It had been four weeks and the recruitment agency hadn’t called.
After three days of euphoria and jumping up and down because she was finally on her way, Jo had begun to feel slightly uneasy.
The phone hadn’t rung once. When a week had passed Jo had given in and phoned Felicity on the agency’s phone number. In a
hushed voice Felicity told her that no jobs for newcomers had come in, asked how her diet was going, and said that she’d phone
when she had something for her. Jo waited and after three more agonising sitting-by-the-phone weeks she’d rung again. This
time the switchboard operator told her that Felicity was unable to take her call, and as Jo watched her tears drop down on
her bulging spare tyres she realised it was a lost cause.
To snap herself out of her mood, and to distract herself from the angry yells coming from upstairs, Jo picked up the phone
to call Amelia at
Felicity looked uncomfortable. ‘Being a secretary is … it’s more than just being able to do the job, Joanne. You need to look
the part too, and I’m not sure by your dress you would be suitable for the majority of our offices.’
Jo felt her heart drop. The whole day suddenly seemed like a waste of time.
‘It’s my weight, isn’t it?’ A small tear slid down her cheek, and Jo hated herself for crying.
Felicity nodded.
‘But I can do the job, and I’ll work really hard, I promise!’
Jo knew she was sounding desperate, but she couldn’t help herself. She had been so close to starting out on her dream and
suddenly it seemed as though the rolls of fat that had stopped her fitting in at school were going to stand in the way of
her career too.
‘I’m afraid that our clients won’t see it that way.’ Felicity looked around the office uncomfortably and lowered her voice.
‘Look, I wouldn’t normally do this, but I’m going to put you on our books anyway. I’ll try to start you on some low-key jobs,
and in the meantime you should try to present yourself better – lose some weight and smarten up a bit. You seem like a clever
girl, it shouldn’t be too hard for you, should it?’
Jo nodded dumbly, and Felicity patted her arm again.
‘I’m sure you have some perfectly delightful clothes at home you could wear to the workplace, too. Give me a few days to let
our other girls here know we have someone new on the books and I’ll telephone you a day in advance when we have some work
for you.’
Jo struggled to speak normally – she was delighted that she’d be able to start working for the agency, but when Felicity had
told her to lose some weight a flash of white-hot anger had coursed through her.
‘Do you think any of those jobs would be on a magazine? Your client list in reception said you supply typists to Garnet Publishing
and IMC Magazines.’
‘Why yes, we do, but these jobs are like gold-dust and are given to our more experienced girls. But don’t you worry. After
a few jobs for some of our more blue-collar organisations I’m sure you will be more than ready for them.’
Felicity smiled kindly at Jo and showed her to the door.
‘Careful of the rain, dear. Why, don’t you have an umbrella?’
Jo wondered what Felicity would have to say if she told her that she didn’t have enough money to buy one.
Chapter Five
September 2000
Jo lay on her bed and wished she lived in a remote country cottage miles from anyone. The couple in the flat above – a greasy
man with tattoos and a bleached-blonde woman with three-inch dark roots – were arguing again, and the bangs, thumps and screamed
swear-words made her uncomfortable. If this was what being in a relationship was like, she thought, she was better off single.
She sighed, swung herself out of bed, and walked the three steps to her chest of drawers where she grabbed a Bounty bar from
her stash. She crammed half of it into her mouth and felt depressed.
It had been four weeks and the recruitment agency hadn’t called.
After three days of euphoria and jumping up and down because she was finally on her way, Jo had begun to feel slightly uneasy.
The phone hadn’t rung once. When a week had passed Jo had given in and phoned Felicity on the agency’s phone number. In a
hushed voice Felicity told her that no jobs for newcomers had come in, asked how her diet was going, and said that she’d phone
when she had something for her. Jo waited and after three more agonising sitting-by-the-phone weeks she’d rung again. This
time the switchboard operator told her that Felicity was unable to take her call, and as Jo watched her tears drop down on
her bulging spare tyres she realised it was a lost cause.
To snap herself out of her mood, and to distract herself from the angry yells coming from upstairs, Jo picked up the phone
to call Amelia at
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