for her old rucksack. She knew that she’d seen it somewhere; whenever she moved house it came with her like a touchstone. The night was as black as ink through the dormer windows, the stars like fishscales in a dark ocean. Jayne opened the floor-to-ceiling cupboards, eyes wandering along the rails of clothes, across the shelves, past winter coats, boxes of books, her record collection, lampshades and things stored and saved just in case. In one cupboard was a pile of cartons stuck down with brown tape and carefully labelled ‘Store/Sentimental’. Each label was topped with a big red stick-on heart.
Jayne smiled and lifted the top one down. Inside the box was a photo album covered in battered fawn leatherette, labelled ‘1980-83’. Tucked inside the cover were all sorts of letters and cards and tickets and things she had completely forgotten about. Very carefully Jayne carried everything downstairs to the sitting room, poured herself a large gin and tonic, and settled down on the sofa. Augustus took his cue, curled up in the box lid, and went to sleep, purring softly.
On the first page, sitting on a rucksack almost as big as she was, was a younger, leaner, far skinnier Jayne Mills wearing cut-off jeans, hiking boots, a long-sleeved paisley T-shirt and a toothy grin that stretched from one ear to the other. The caption, written in big bold rounded handwriting, read, ‘Finally—we’re off!!’
Jayne felt a lump in her throat and turned the page. It was going to be a long night.
Bright and early the following Monday morning Jane Mills pressed the call button on the security panel below an elegant brass plaque that read, ‘Waterside House. J. Mills Enterprises’.
‘Hi, it’s Jane Mills here,’ she said into the speaker. Looking up into the single unblinking eye of the CCTV camera Jane smiled brightly to hide a flicker of nerves. She had spent Wednesday, Thursday and Friday reading and taking notes from the websites and box files and Googling up on Jayne Mills’ business style and practice. Intuitive, perceptive, hands-on, and robust with a good management philosophy seemed to be the general consensus. Saturday and Sunday she had pined for Steve Burney, his cooking, his company and his bloody Labrador.
Jane squared her shoulders. Intuitive, perceptive, hands-on—she could do that. Jane had decided on her suit today—it seemed right.
There was a little whirr and then the heavy plate-glass door silently glided open. Jane stepped into the elegant flag-stoned foyer of the converted granary, with its view out over the canal. It was only a few minutes’ walk from Buckbourne town centre and full of original features, soft red brick and oak beams mellow with age. It was hard not to be impressed.
Seconds later, Ray Jacobson, dressed in a white polo shirt, penny loafers and faded blue jeans, jogged down the steps to meet her, looking as if he was fresh out of the shower. ‘Hi, morning. Did you find us OK?’ he said. He looked younger out of his suit, and today was all smiles and warm handshakes. ‘Come on up, great to see you, coffee’s on.’
‘I can smell it. I’ve never noticed this place before.’
‘Beautiful, isn’t it? Tucked out of the way but still really central.’ Ray, guided Jane inside. ‘One of Jayne’s bright ideas. She bought it as a shell a few years ago. The ground floor we rent out to a whole range of alternative practitioners. The first floor is mostly offices for Jayne’s business interests, and then I use the top-floor flat when I’m in town. Takes working from home to a whole new level. Come on through.’ He smiled, opening the inner door into the stairwell and stood to one side to let Jane pass. Through tall thin windows that ran from the floor right up to the pitched roof, the warm morning sunlight reflected and shimmied across the water in the canal, filling the well with glittering golden ripples.
‘I’ll make sure you’ve got the security code for next time you’re in. Did you take a look at the files and the websites?’ Ray asked as they made their way upstairs.
‘I did, every last one of them. I’m still not altogether sure why Jayne wants me here.’
Ray’s smile broadened out a notch or two. ‘Ours is not to reason why. Jayne’s got a nose for talent. I think we should just both relax and just get on with it. This is the office.’
As they reached the landing he pushed open a door into a warm sunlit room. Inside the walls were unfinished brick, the floor gorgeous old, time-mellowed oak floorboards, and on two long wooden trestle tables stood a row of flat screens, a couple of wireless keyboards and matching mice, with an office chair at each. On the opposite wall in a deep alcove with a view out over the canal, were two cream linen sofas with brown suede cushions and a long low table, on which stood a bowl of pebbles and a vase of lilies. Behind it was a wooden cupboard in the same style with a coffee machine on top.
Jane smiled appreciatively. ‘Wow. This is amazing. How on earth do you keep it looking so tidy? Where do you keep everything else? You know—all the chaos. The muck and bullets?’
Ray laughed. ‘Oh, don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of those—they’re all in the back room. If you’d like to help yourself to coffee and pull up a chair, I’ll just be going through a couple of things that I thought you might do over the course of the next couple of weeks and then my plan is leave you to it. You can work here or at Jayne’s home office—either is fine by me, although to be honest I’m not used to having someone about the place. We outsource all our services, and I don’t usually see Jayne from one week to the next. We lunch a couple of times a month if she’s in the area but we usually communicate by phone or email. We talk most days.’ Ray shifted his weight as if he was slightly uncomfortable with what he was telling her.
‘So what you’re saying is that you would prefer me to work from home?’ Nothing like being wanted. Jane managed to hold on to her smile. Just.
He pulled a face. ‘Her home, actually. Jayne’s office is all set up with everything you’ll need. It would be far easier than coming into town every day. Anyway—your call. Maybe if you wanted to come in until you get the hang of things…’ He moved the mouse alongside the nearest computer and the screen flickered into life.
‘Anyway, here we are. We’ve got new web pages and catalogues going live at the end of the month on all the current sites. Most of the donkey work has been done by our design team, graphic artist and the geeks, but I thought you could go through them—see what you think, any suggestions, you know, any little tweaks and see if there are any errors. I’d value your input.’
Jane stared at him, trying to work out if he was telling her what she thought he was saying. ‘You want me to proofread the web pages? I’ve just spent all weekend going through the existing websites.’
‘I know, bit of a pain in the arse but these are the new shop fronts and I really do need someone with a bit of savvy to check them over. Feel free to make any suggestions. Might seem like the bottom rung, but actually I think it will give you a really good feel for what’s current and up and coming.’ He smiled brightly.
Jane nodded. It wasn’t that she minded doing it, but she couldn’t work out why he or Jayne hadn’t told her that the websites she’d spent hours going through were about to be taken down—nor whether he was being serious or taking the mickey—so she smiled back and then turned her attention to the images.
‘And then,’ Ray said, biting his bottom lip as he stared at the screen, then clicking on a button, ‘we’re also currently in the process of updating all of our current customer records and product codes. There’s all kinds of information on the data base that needs sifting through. We’ve outsourced most of the data entry but it’s really important we go through all the customer details as well as the list of products we sell, and check nothing vital has been missed off. It would be really useful to cross-reference the information
