Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [25]
‘Weekly!’ Kelvin went one better.
Then Dervla noticed Lisa’s frown and hurriedly calmed down. ‘No. Twice a year, mostly. The Catholic Judger was weekly, but everything else comes out in Spring and Autumn. Unless there’s some sort of disaster.
‘Remember Autumn 1999?’ She turned to Kelvin. Kelvin obviously did because the laughter started anew.
‘Computer virus,’ Kelvin explained. ‘Wiped everything.’
‘It wasn’t funny at the time…’
But, clearly, it was now.
‘Look.’ Dervla steered Lisa towards a rack on which various glossies were displayed. She handed her a slender volume that declared itself to be Hibernian Bride, Spring 2000.
That’s not a magazine, Lisa thought. That’s a pamphlet. A leaflet, in fact. Nothing more than a memo. Hell, it’s barely a Post-it.
‘And this is Spud, our food magazine.’ Dervla handed another pamphlet to Lisa. ‘Shauna Griffin edits that as well as Gaelic Knitting and Irish Gardening.’
Another member of staff had just arrived. Too boring to qualify as even nondescript, Lisa thought in disgust – medium height, balding and wearing a wedding ring. Human wallpaper. She could hardly be bothered to say hello to him.
‘This is Gerry Godson, the art director. He doesn’t talk much,’ Trix said loudly. ‘Sure you don’t, Gerry? Blink once for yes, twice for fuck off and leave me alone.’
Gerry blinked twice, and maintained a stony face. Then he smiled widely, shook Lisa’s hand and said, ‘Welcome to Colleen. I’e been working on the other magazines here, but now I’m going to be working exclusively for you.’
‘And me,’ Trix reminded him. ‘I’m her PA, you know, I’l be giving the orders.’
‘Jayzus,’ Gerry muttered good-naturedly.
Lisa tried hard to smile.
Trix rapped lightly on Jack’s door, then opened it. Jack looked up. In repose, his face was slightly mournful and hang-dog and his sloe-black eyes held secrets. Then he saw Lisa and smiled in recognition, even though they’d never met. Everything lifted.
‘Lisa?’ The way her name sounded when uttered by him stirred something warm in her. ‘Come in, sit down.’ He skirted around his desk and came to shake her hand.
Lisa’s lead-heavy foreboding gave her some breathing space. She liked the look of this Jack. Tall? Tick! Dark? Tick! Well-paid? Tick! He was a managing director, even if it was only of an Irish company.
And there was something slightly unorthodox about him that excited her. Though he wore a suit, she sensed it was under duress, and his hair was longer than would have been considered acceptable in London.
So what if he had a girlfriend? When had that ever been an impediment?
‘We’re all very excited about Colleen,’ Jack insisted. But Lisa heard a nugget of weariness at the heart of his statement. His smile had disappeared and he was once more serious and broody.
Then he proceeded to tell Lisa about her ‘team’. ‘There’s Trix, your PA, then your assistant editor, a woman called Ashling. She seems very efficient.’
‘So I’ve heard,’ Lisa said drily. Calvin Carter’s exact words had been, ‘You’ll provide the vision, she’ll do the donkey work.’
‘Then there’s Mercedes, who will primarily be the fashion and beauty editor, but will also contribute to general editorial. She’s come from Ireland on Sunday –’
‘What’s that?’
‘A Sunday newspaper. There’s Gerry, your art director, who’s been working on the other publications. As has Bernard, who’ll be handling all the admin, billing, etc. on Colleen.’
Then Jack stopped. Lisa waited for him to tell her about another eight or so staff. He didn’t.
’Is that it? Five members of staff? Five?’ She was giddy with disbelief. At Femme her secretary had had a secretary!
‘You also have a generous freelance budget,’ Jack promised. ‘You’ll be able to commission stuff and use consultants, both regulars and one-offs.’
Hysteria lunged at Lisa. How had she ended up here, in this awful situation. How? She’d had a plan for her life. She’d always known where she was going and she’d always got there. Until now, when she’d been diverted so unexpectedly into this backwater.
‘Who… who do the other desks belong to, then?’
‘Dervla,