She was feeling uncomfortable again, and knew for sure that she should never have come. ‘No,’ she admitted.
‘Have you ever worked in paid employment?’
‘My father gave me an allowance,’ she mumbled. She was unused to talking about money; it embarrassed her.
‘But you’ve never earned—outside of the home?’ he documented. Then abruptly asked, ‘Tell me, Columbine, why did you apply for this job?’
He annoyed her. He clearly could not see why, with her lack of experience, she had bothered to put pen to paper. She couldn’t see either—now. But his formal use of Columbine niggled her too. So much so that she was able to overcome her embarrassment about money to tell him shortly, ‘I am not my father’s heir.’ She locked antlers with Silas Livingstone—and would not back down. But she did not miss the glint that came to his eyes.
‘Your father left you something, though? Left you provided for?’ he did not hesitate in asking.
Colly did not want to answer, but rather supposed she had invited the question. ‘He did not,’ she answered woodenly.
‘I thought he had money?’
‘You thought correctly.’
‘But he left you—nothing?’
‘Nothing.’
‘The house?’
‘I need to find somewhere else to live.’
There was a sharp, shrewd kind of look in those dark blue eyes as he looked at her. ‘Presumably the new Mrs Gillingham did quite nicely,’ he stated—and Colly knew then that, while her father had been blind to the taking ways of Nanette, Silas Livingstone, within the space of the few minutes he had been in conversation with her at the crematorium, had got her measure.
But Colly was embarrassed again, and prepared to get to her feet and get out of there. It went without saying that she had not got the job. He must think her an idiot to have ever applied for the post in the first place. All she could do now was to try to get out of there with some shred of dignity intact.
She raised her chin a proud fraction. ‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Livingstone. I applied for the job because I need to work, and not from some whim…’
‘Your allowance is stopped?’ He said it as if he knew it for a fact. ‘You need to finance yourself?’
‘I need a job that pays exceptionally well if I’m to live in a place of my own and be self-sufficient. But…’
‘You’re looking for somewhere to rent?’
‘That’s one of my first essentials,’ she confirmed. ‘That and to be independent. I intend to make a career for myself. To—’
She broke off when Silas Livingstone all at once seemed to be studying her anew. There was certainly a sudden kind of arrested look in his eyes, an alertness there, as if some thought had just come to him.
But even while she was scorning such a notion she could not deny he seemed interested in what she was saying. ‘What about men-friends?’ he asked slowly. ‘You obviously have men-friends,’ he went on, flicking a brief glance over her face and slender but curvy figure. ‘Where do they come into your career-minded intention to be independent?’
She had thought the interview was over, and had no idea where it was going now. But since she had told this man so much, without ever having intended to—it spoke volumes for his interviewing technique—there seemed little point in holding back now. ‘My father saw fit to leave everything to his new wife, and that was his prerogative. But it was a shock to me just the same, and it has made me determined to never be dependent on anyone ever again.’ She went to get to her feet, but Silas Livingstone was there with another question.
‘You have one man-friend in particular?’ he enquired.
‘Right now I have no interest in men or even dating,’ she replied. ‘I…’
‘You’re not engaged?’
‘Marriage is the last thing on my mind.’
‘You’re not thinking of settling down, or living with some man?’
‘Marriage, men or living with one of them just doesn’t enter my plans,’ she answered. ‘I’m more career-minded than husband-minded. I want to be independent,’ she reiterated. She had never been interviewed for a job before, so supposed being asked such detailed and personal questions must be all part and parcel of a job interview, but to her mind the interview was over. ‘I apologise for taking up so much of your time,’ she began, prior to departing. ‘I thought when I applied for the job that I would be able to do it. It was never my intention to waste Mr Blake’s time—or yours. But, since I obviously haven’t got the job, I won’t waste any more of it.’
She got up from her chair—but, oddly, Silas Livingstone motioned that she should sit down again. She was so surprised by that—she’d have thought he could not wait for her to be gone—that she did in fact sit down.
‘I’m afraid you haven’t the level of experience necessary to work for Vernon Blake,’ Silas Livingstone stated. ‘But,’ he went on, before she could again start to wonder why, in that case, she had sat down again, ‘there is the possibility of something else that might be of interest.’
Colly’s deflated spirits took an upturn. While it was fairly certain that this other job would not pay as well as the one advertised, there was hope here that she might find a job that would lead to better things. Why, a company of Livingstone Developments’ size must employ hundreds of office staff. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She had a brain, there must be quite a few other jobs she could do!
‘I’d be interested in anything,’ she answered, trying not to sound too eager, but ruining it by adding, ‘Absolutely anything.’
He silently studied her for what seemed an age. Studied her long and hard, before finally replying, ‘Good.’
‘What sort of work is it? I’m fairly good with computers. Or perhaps it’s something to do with translating? I’d—’
‘It’s a—newly created post,’ he cut in. ‘The details haven’t been fully thought through yet.’ Again he seemed to study her, his eyes seeming to take in everything about her. ‘Perhaps you’d be free to join me for lunch—say, Thursday?’
‘Lunch?’ she repeated. Was this the way of interviews?
He did not answer, but opened a drawer and withdrew what appeared to be a desk diary and began scanning it. But even while she was getting her head around the notion of lunching with this man while he told her more fully the details of this new vacancy he was shaking his head.
‘By the look of it lunch is out for the next couple of weeks.’ That was a relief. Personable though the man was, not to say downright good-looking, she somehow felt oddly reluctant to have lunch with him. Her relief, however, was short-lived, because, rehousing his diary, Silas Livingstone looked across at her. ‘It will have to be dinner,’ he announced. And, as cool as you please, ‘Are you free this Friday?’ he enquired.
Colly
