LITMIR.BIZ

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and well-practised power ploy, she suspected. She sat in Julia’s office, comfy on the black leather sofa, having been shown in by her assistant, Lily. After she’d flicked through the copies of Harper’s, Vogue and Broadcast, Christie fell to wondering what conversations these walls must have heard, how many careers had been made and bank balances improved in this room.

      She got up and went to the window behind Julia’s desk. The street below was glistening wet, with the rain bouncing off the roof of a passing bus. She watched a young woman attempt to hail a cab, then shake her feet as a car ran through a puddle and splashed her. Christie turned and looked at Julia’s desk: immaculate, with neither a coffee stain nor an ink smear on the caramel leather. She jumped as Lily put her head round the door with another message.

      ‘I’m sorry, Christie.’ They had dispensed with the formalities half an hour ago. ‘Julia’s rung in again. She’s ten minutes away. She really won’t be long. Can I get you another tea?’ She crossed the room to take away Christie’s cup.

      She was an attractive girl with an unusual face: full lips, quite a large but well-shaped nose, wide-apart eyes that registered interest in everything she heard, and the sort of pale skin that burned with the first hint of sunshine. She wore little makeup apart from a dash of mascara and a pale lip-gloss that she had obviously reapplied since she’d last appeared. Her dark hair was cut short in a funky asymmetric design. An extremely short tartan skirt exposed most of her very long legs down to her flat leopard-print pumps. A variety of droopy Top-Shop-style layers covered her upper half and a silver locket hung next to a cross on a thin chain around her neck. Nothing could be further from the studied and expensive elegance of her employer.

      ‘I won’t, thanks.’ Christie’s eyes travelled to a photo on the wall of Julia with Ben Chapman, laughing together at some awards ceremony. In one corner was scrawled, ‘To the best agent in the world. The best is yet to come. Love Ben xx.’ She’d studied it on and off during the times she’d been there and now remembered Frank and Sam’s disbelief over the way their friend had died. She stared idly at the presenter’s face, open, friendly, conventionally handsome. ‘I suppose you must have known Ben?’

      ‘Yes. He was one of Julia’s top clients.’ The cup she was carrying rattled against the saucer as she straightened up.

      ‘He must have been. I’ve heard so much about him. Whatever happened that night? Do you know?’

      ‘I only know what we all read in the papers,’ Lily replied, her eyes not meeting Christie’s. ‘You can imagine how devastated Julia was by his death.’

      ‘Mmm, I can. Someone I know mentioned he had money troubles.’ She said this thoughtfully, surprising herself that she dared to mention it out loud, given where she was sitting. ‘But that couldn’t be true, could it?’

      ‘I honestly wouldn’t know.’ Lily headed for the door, avoiding catching Christie’s eye again. ‘You’d have to ask Julia.’

      She was reaching for the handle when the door opened and in swept Julia, looking abnormally ruffled. She dropped her leather attaché case by the side of her desk. ‘This bloody weather. The moment it rains in London, the traffic’s impossible. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting. My breakfast meeting was interminable and I couldn’t get away. Then when I did, it took an age to cross town.’ She handed her fur coat and dripping umbrella to Lily without thanking her, stripped off her gloves and tucked them into her Chloé bag before crossing the room to a round mirror on the wall. She touched her hair, coaxing every flyaway strand into its right place, then smoothed her lips together to even out her deep red lipstick. Happy with what she saw, she turned to Christie, who blushed at being caught behind her desk.

      ‘But I’m here now. What was it that you wanted to see me about?’ No pleasantries, just straight to the point as she shouldered past Christie and inserted herself behind her desk, straightening her shoulders as she sat down.

      As she was obviously in no mood for small-talk, Christie moved to the smaller chair opposite and attempted to be equally direct. ‘I’m a little anxious about money, Julia. We’re coming up to Christmas, and although I did the Drink-a-Vit campaign weeks ago now, I’ve only received the first payment. I’m still owed a second for completing the job.’

      Julia’s attention was on her computer screen as she moved the mouse across its mat. ‘Oh dear, Christie. Not this again. You’re money mad at best, greedy at worst. Paranoid.’ She laughed. ‘I explained last time that you shouldn’t worry about it. Lenny, our accountant, is on top of everything. You’ll still have good meat to eat, as my ancestors would have said.’

      ‘Julia! I’m not mad, greedy or paranoid. And I’m grateful to you for negotiating such a good deal for me. But I’d like to give my family the best Christmas possible since they’ve put up with me being away so much.’

      Julia flicked a button on her phone. ‘Lily! Could you bring in Christie’s file? Right away.’

      Within seconds, Lily came through the door, clutching a green folder. She put it in front of Julia and left the room again. At the same time, Julia got something up on screen, concentrating as she scrolled down the page.

      ‘Now, let me see what Lenny’s done. Here we are. Yes. They should have paid you a further twelve and a half thousand pounds. We’ll chase it up right away.’ She smoothed down the sides of her fitted dress, pushing out her bosom as she stretched her back.

      ‘But that’s only twenty-five thousand altogether! Didn’t you tell me you were trying for thirty-five?’

      ‘Darling! I don’t know why you pulled that figure out of the air. Wishful thinking, I suppose. I’d never have got that for you. Now, some companies are much slower to pay than others. There’s not much I can do about that but, if we ever do work for Drink-a-Vit again, I shall make sure I send a dispatch rider round for a cheque for the full amount before you even do the job. It’s dreadful how some people do business. I had hoped to get the last payment out before Christmas, but I agree it’s looking tight now.’ She studied her left hand, adjusting the large gold-and-diamond dress ring with her thumb. ‘If things are really tight for you, I’ll ask Lenny if he could advance you two and a half thousand on account. Would that be enough? Maybe you need some advice on how to manage your money. You’re obviously very good at spending it.’

      Christie sat still, smarting at the suggestion that she couldn’t handle her finances and angry that she had made herself open to ridicule. She thought for a moment. ‘Julia, I’ve got two kids, a house with emergency repairs being made and bills to pay. I’m not a spendthrift but I am very grateful for your offer. I’ll take the advance on account of the money White Management owes me.’

      ‘Less twenty per cent, darling.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘You really are in a muddle, aren’t you? I did tell you that was the percentage I took for corporate work. If there’s nothing else, I think we’re done.’ Julia pressed a button on her intercom. ‘Christie’s just leaving, Lily. Sorry, darling, but this morning’s a nightmare so I really have to get on. And I know you’ve got to get to the studios.’ They shook hands, air-kissed as usual, and before she knew it, Christie was standing outside under her umbrella, looking for her waiting car.

      Through the passenger window, she could see people hurrying along the rain-soaked streets huddled under their umbrellas, while others stood in doorways gazing skyward, hoping for a break in the downpour. The flat grey light made everything look miserable – even the shop windows stuffed with Christmas decorations. But Christie didn’t notice. She picked up the Guardian that Tony, her driver, always left with the other papers on the seat, horribly aware that she hadn’t done as much preparation for that night’s show as she might have. Sitting in Julia’s office had taken care of that. But she couldn’t concentrate. She’d obviously made a mistake over the Drink-a-Vit fee and, after all, she was still being paid an embarrassingly large sum of money for posing with the small bottle and smiling inanely.

      She decided to be sensible and put some of the money towards the loan repayments,

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