thumbs-up and I shift selfconsciously as Rachel sits back down.
For the next hour, I take notes as she fills me in. Eventually I say goodbye, realising the wine has done nothing to quash my steadily growing nerves. The fee she is paying me is substantially
more than I earn in a day at work, which is fantastic, but this feels like such a big responsibility. I really hope I don’t screw it up.
On Friday, I’m in the small kitchen adjoining the
Hebe
office making tea for Nicky and Helen, the deputy picture editor. Helen is a moody little cow and I keep
catching her giving me dirty looks, but I don’t know why.
I squeeze the tea out of Nicky’s teabag and dump it in the bin. I miss Sydney. Thank goodness for Bridget – I’d be lost without her to hang out with every night, watching
crappy TV and dissecting our days over wine and microwave meals. We’re going to the pub tonight after work for a few drinks – not many; I have to be up early. Tomorrow’s going to
be a long day.
‘Hey,’ I hear a voice say and turn around to see Russ coming into the kitchen.
‘Hi,’ I reply with a smile.
I like Russ,
Hebe
’s deputy features editor. He was cracking me up on Monday in the taxi back to the office, telling me all the judges’ dodgy secrets. He’s a bit of a
gossip, I think, but good fun. He’s tall at about six foot two, of medium build, with short ginger hair and a fair few freckles. He reminds me a little of Ed Sheeran – he’s pretty
cool.
‘You coming to the pub tonight?’ he asks as he moves past me to fill up the kettle.
‘I can’t. My flatmate wants me to go to the pub with her.’ I pass him the teabags.
‘Bring her along. The more the merrier,’ he says casually.
I lean against the worktop, in no rush to get back to my icy colleagues. ‘Who else is going?’
‘Pete and Lisa from news, Esther, the features editor, will probably come along for one. Zach from production and Tim on the art desk usually come. I don’t know about
Alex.’
The sound of his name makes me tense up.
‘What about Helen and Nicky?’ I ask, trying to sound casual.
‘Nah, not likely. Nicky never socialises with us minions, and Helen spends every spare second up her boyfriend’s arse – not literally,’ he adds, flashing me a cheeky
grin.
I’m taken aback by his openness, but try not to show it.
‘How are you finding things on your desk?’
‘Er, it’s okay,’ I say weakly.
‘Helen being a bitch?’
He gives me a knowing look, not fazed by my surprise. ‘She went for your job,’ he reveals.
‘Oh?’
‘Simon didn’t think she had enough experience.’ He pauses before adding, ‘Although I’m not sure Nicky agreed...’ He lets his voice trail off, stopping short
of saying that Nicky wanted to promote Helen to picture editor instead of employing me.
‘I see.’ Now it all makes sense. I’m guessing Simon made the final call and that put my two most immediate colleagues’ noses out of joint. No wonder I’m feeling the
chill.
‘Don’t let them get to you,’ Russ says with more compassion than I’d expect from an almost total stranger, and a bloke at that. ‘Everyone knows how bitchy they are.
Well, everyone except for Simon.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Bitchiness is not on that guy’s radar.’
I’m still surprised he’s talking to me so openly, but I can’t say it’s not welcome after two weeks of feeling completely alone at work.
‘Come to the pub,’ he urges, picking up his mug.
‘Alright, I’ll see if Bridget fancies it.’
‘Not Bridget Reed?’ he checks as we walk out of the kitchen together.
‘Yeah, the very same.’
‘Oh, Bridget will definitely be up for the pub with us lot,’ he says with a grin.
‘You know her well?’
‘Not that well, but I’ve seen her play enough drinking games at various work dos to know that she’ll fit right in.’
I laugh as I pass him, completely forgetting that I’m right by Alex’s desk until his brilliant blue
For the next hour, I take notes as she fills me in. Eventually I say goodbye, realising the wine has done nothing to quash my steadily growing nerves. The fee she is paying me is substantially
more than I earn in a day at work, which is fantastic, but this feels like such a big responsibility. I really hope I don’t screw it up.
On Friday, I’m in the small kitchen adjoining the
Hebe
office making tea for Nicky and Helen, the deputy picture editor. Helen is a moody little cow and I keep
catching her giving me dirty looks, but I don’t know why.
I squeeze the tea out of Nicky’s teabag and dump it in the bin. I miss Sydney. Thank goodness for Bridget – I’d be lost without her to hang out with every night, watching
crappy TV and dissecting our days over wine and microwave meals. We’re going to the pub tonight after work for a few drinks – not many; I have to be up early. Tomorrow’s going to
be a long day.
‘Hey,’ I hear a voice say and turn around to see Russ coming into the kitchen.
‘Hi,’ I reply with a smile.
I like Russ,
Hebe
’s deputy features editor. He was cracking me up on Monday in the taxi back to the office, telling me all the judges’ dodgy secrets. He’s a bit of a
gossip, I think, but good fun. He’s tall at about six foot two, of medium build, with short ginger hair and a fair few freckles. He reminds me a little of Ed Sheeran – he’s pretty
cool.
‘You coming to the pub tonight?’ he asks as he moves past me to fill up the kettle.
‘I can’t. My flatmate wants me to go to the pub with her.’ I pass him the teabags.
‘Bring her along. The more the merrier,’ he says casually.
I lean against the worktop, in no rush to get back to my icy colleagues. ‘Who else is going?’
‘Pete and Lisa from news, Esther, the features editor, will probably come along for one. Zach from production and Tim on the art desk usually come. I don’t know about
Alex.’
The sound of his name makes me tense up.
‘What about Helen and Nicky?’ I ask, trying to sound casual.
‘Nah, not likely. Nicky never socialises with us minions, and Helen spends every spare second up her boyfriend’s arse – not literally,’ he adds, flashing me a cheeky
grin.
I’m taken aback by his openness, but try not to show it.
‘How are you finding things on your desk?’
‘Er, it’s okay,’ I say weakly.
‘Helen being a bitch?’
He gives me a knowing look, not fazed by my surprise. ‘She went for your job,’ he reveals.
‘Oh?’
‘Simon didn’t think she had enough experience.’ He pauses before adding, ‘Although I’m not sure Nicky agreed...’ He lets his voice trail off, stopping short
of saying that Nicky wanted to promote Helen to picture editor instead of employing me.
‘I see.’ Now it all makes sense. I’m guessing Simon made the final call and that put my two most immediate colleagues’ noses out of joint. No wonder I’m feeling the
chill.
‘Don’t let them get to you,’ Russ says with more compassion than I’d expect from an almost total stranger, and a bloke at that. ‘Everyone knows how bitchy they are.
Well, everyone except for Simon.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Bitchiness is not on that guy’s radar.’
I’m still surprised he’s talking to me so openly, but I can’t say it’s not welcome after two weeks of feeling completely alone at work.
‘Come to the pub,’ he urges, picking up his mug.
‘Alright, I’ll see if Bridget fancies it.’
‘Not Bridget Reed?’ he checks as we walk out of the kitchen together.
‘Yeah, the very same.’
‘Oh, Bridget will definitely be up for the pub with us lot,’ he says with a grin.
‘You know her well?’
‘Not that well, but I’ve seen her play enough drinking games at various work dos to know that she’ll fit right in.’
I laugh as I pass him, completely forgetting that I’m right by Alex’s desk until his brilliant blue
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