Twenties Girl
“No matter.” Dad gives me an affectionate look. “You’ve answered my question already. Your business is going well. It’s fulfilling you. That’s all I needed to hear.”
“What do you mean?” I stare at him, confused. Dad shakes his head, smiling.
“There was an opportunity I wanted to talk to you about. But I don’t want to disrupt your new business. I don’t want to throw a spanner in the works. You’re doing what you love and doing it well. You don’t need a job offer.”
Job offer?
My heart is suddenly beating fast. But I mustn’t give away my excitement.
“Why don’t you tell me about it, anyway?” I try to sound casual. “Just in case.”
“Darling.” Dad laughs. “You don’t have to be polite.”
“I’m not being polite,” I say quickly. “I want to know.”
“I wouldn’t insult you. Darling, I’m so proud of what you’ve achieved,” says Dad lovingly. “This would mean you’d have to give it all up. It wouldn’t be worth it.”
“Maybe it would! Just tell me!” Shit. I sound too desperate. I quickly adjust my expression to one of mild interest. “I mean, why not just fill me in? It can’t do any harm.”
“Well. Maybe you’re right.” Dad takes a sip of coffee, then looks at me directly. “Bill called me yesterday. Quite a surprise.”
“Uncle Bill?” I say, taken aback.
“He said you’d been to see him at his house recently?”
“Oh.” I clear my throat. “Yes, I did pop round for a chat. I was going to tell you…”
Not .
“Well, he was impressed. What did he describe you as, now?” Dad gives that crooked little smile he gets when he’s amused. “Oh, yes; ‘tenacious.’ Anyway, the upshot is… this.”
He takes an envelope out of his pocket and slides it across the table. Disbelievingly, I open it. It’s a letter on Lingtons headed paper. It’s offering me a full-time job in the Lingtons human-resources department. It’s offering me a salary of six figures.
I feel a bit faint. I look up, to see Dad’s face glowing. Despite his cool demeanor, he’s obviously really chuffed.
“Bill read it out over the phone before he biked it over. Quite something, isn’t it?”
“I don’t understand.” I rub my brow, feeling confused. “Why did he send the letter to you? Why not straight to me?”
“Bill thought it would be a nice touch.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Smile, darling!” Dad laughs. “Whether you take it up or not, it’s a huge compliment!”
“Right,” I say again. But I can’t smile. Something’s wrong.
“It’s a wonderful tribute to you,” Dad is saying. “I mean, Bill doesn’t owe us anything. He’s done this purely through appreciation of your talent and the goodness of his heart.”
OK, that’s what’s wrong: Dad’s nailed it. I don’t believe in Uncle Bill’s appreciation of my talent. Nor in the goodness of his heart.
I drop my gaze down to the letter again, to the six-figure sum printed in black and white. Suspicions are creeping over me like spiders.
He’s trying to buy me off.
OK, maybe that’s putting it too strongly. But he’s trying to get me on side. I’ve got under Uncle Bill’s skin. Ever since I mentioned Sadie’s necklace. I saw it in his eyes instantly: A shock. A wariness.
And now, out of the blue, a job offer.
“But I don’t want this to sway you,” Dad is saying. “Mum and I are both so proud of you, Lara, and if you want to carry on with your business, we’ll be one hundred percent behind you. The choice is absolutely up to you. No pressure either way.”
He’s saying all the right things. But I can see the hope flickering in Dad’s eyes, even if he’s trying to hide it. He’d love me to have a stable job at a massive multinational firm. And not just any massive multinational firm, the family massive multinational firm.
And Uncle Bill knows that. Why else has he sent this letter via Dad? He’s trying to manipulate both of us.
“I think Uncle Bill feels rather bad that he turned you down flat at the funeral,” Dad continues. “He was very impressed at your persistence. And so am I! I had no idea you were planning to go and ask him again!”
“But I didn’t even mention a job! I went to ask him about-” I stop hopelessly. I can’t mention the necklace. I can’t mention Sadie. This is all impossible.