The Undomestic Goddess
“Um … yes,” I say desperately. “I was just wondering … could we possibly put it off for a little bit? Just a few minutes.”
Hilary’s face freezes.
“What?” she says at last. I have a dreadful feeling she’s going to explode.
“I feel a bit … confused. I need more time to think.…” I trail off at Hilary’s expression.
She comes toward me and brings her face very close to mine. She’s still smiling, but her eyes are snapping and her nostrils flared and white. I take a step back, quailing, but she grabs my shoulders so hard I can feel her nails digging into my flesh.
“Samantha,” she hisses. “You will go out there, you will read your statement, and you will say Carter Spink is the best law firm in the world. And if you don’t—I will kill you.”
I think she’s serious.
“We’re all confused, Samantha. We all need more time to think. That’s life.” She gives me a little shake. “Get over it.” She breathes out sharply and smooths down her suit. “Right! I’m going to announce you.”
She marches onto the lawn. I just stand there, shaking.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press!” Hilary’s voice is blaring through the microphone. “I’m delighted to welcome you all here this morning.”
Suddenly I spot Guy, helping himself to a mineral water. “Guy!” I call urgently. “Guy! Where’s Nathaniel?”
“I have no idea,” says Guy insouciantly.
“What did you say to him? When you were talking just now?”
“I didn’t have to say much,” Guy replies. “He could tell the way the wind was blowing.”
“What do you mean?” I feel like I’ve missed something. “The wind wasn’t blowing any way.”
“Samantha, don’t be naive.” Guy takes a swig of water. “He’s a grown man. He understands.”
“… our newest partner at Carter Spink, Samantha Sweeting!” Hilary’s voice and the applause breaking out barely touch my consciousness.
“Understands what?” I say in horror. “What did you say?”
“Samantha!” Hilary interrupts with a sweetly savage smile. “We’re all waiting! Lots of busy people!” She grabs my hand with an iron grip and drags me with surprising force onto the grass. “Off you go! Enjoy!” She gives me a sharp dig in the back and walks away.
I’m stranded in front of the nation’s press.
“Move it!” Hilary’s tense undertone makes me jump. I feel like I’m on a conveyor belt. The only way is forward.
With wobbling legs I make my way into the middle of the lawn, where a microphone has been set up on a stand. The sun is glinting off all the camera lenses and I feel half blinded. I search the crowd as best I can for Nathaniel, but I can’t spot him anywhere. Trish is standing a few yards away to my right, in a fuchsia pink suit, and waves frantically. Beside her, Eddie is holding a camcorder.
Slowly I unfold my statement and smooth it down.
“Good afternoon,” I say into the microphone, my voice stilted. “I am delighted to be able to share my exciting news with you. After being made a wonderful offer by Carter Spink, I will be returning to the firm today as a partner. Needless to say … I’m thrilled.”
Somehow I can’t make my voice sound thrilled. The words feel empty as I say them.
“I have been overwhelmed by the warmth and generosity of the Carter Spink welcome,” I continue hesitantly, “and am honored to be joining such a prestigious partnership of …”
I’m still seeking out Nathaniel. I can’t concentrate on what I’m saying.
“Talent and excellence!” snaps Hilary from the sidelines.
“Um … yes.” I find my place on the sheet. “Talent. And excellence.”
A titter goes through the crowd of journalists. I’m not doing a very good job here.
“Carter Spink’s quality of service is … um … second to none,” I continue, trying to sound convincing.
“Better quality than the toilets you used to clean?” calls out a journalist with ruddy cheeks.
“We are not taking questions at this stage!” Hilary comes out crossly onto the lawn. “And we are taking no questions on the subject of toilets, bathrooms, or any other form of sanitary ware. Samantha, carry on.”
“Unspeakable, were they?” shouts the ruddy-cheeked guy with a guffaw of laughter.
“Samantha, carry on,” spits Hilary, looking livid.
“They certainly were not unspeakable!” Trish comes striding onto the lawn, her fuchsia heels sinking into the grass. “I will not have my toilets maligned! They’re all Royal Doulton. They’re Royal Doulton,” she repeats into the microphone. “Highest quality. You’re doing very well, Samantha!” She pats me on the shoulder.