way could she be given the job. If she got the job she’d be there. In the palace. All the time. Screwing up his concentration and messing with his head. What with everything else going on, he did not need that kind of complication.
Laura held her breath. She’d done everything she could. She’d answered all the questions she’d been asked confidently and correctly. Outlined the vision she had for Sassania’s public buildings. Talked passionately about the career she loved, and clarified the reasons for her redundancy.
Now she was waiting on tenterhooks while Signore Ragazzi flicked through her portfolio with agonising thoroughness.
She wanted this job so badly. Apart from the fact that the idea of working on something she’d drooled over at college made her chest squeeze with excitement, it was such a prestigious project.
If she got it, she’d be made. Her battered professional pride would recover and she’d have her pick of jobs. Her former employers would read the sensational series of articles she’d write for Architecture Tomorrow and shake their heads at their stupidity in getting rid of her quite so speedily.
But if she didn’t … Where would that leave her?
The worries she’d managed to keep at bay crept into her head. What if Signore Ragazzi didn’t like her work? What if they’d had thousands of other applicants, all of whom had more and better experience than she did? What if she wasn’t up to the job? What if—?
Oh, for goodness’ sake. Releasing her breath before she passed out, Laura gave herself a quick shake and pulled herself together. What was the point of working herself up into a state? She’d take whatever decision he came to graciously and professionally, and face the consequences later.
Nevertheless when Signore Ragazzi closed her portfolio and looked up, she had to sit on her hands to stop them from whipping up and covering her eyes. Which was a good thing because if she’d had her eyes covered she wouldn’t have been able to see the wide smile he gave her.
Hope flared in her heart and her ears buzzed. Surely he wouldn’t be smiling like that if he was going to say thanks but no thanks.
‘Signorina Mackenzie,’ he said, and her breath caught. ‘I’m delighted to inform you that you have the job.’
The words took a couple of seconds to register. But when they did Laura felt like punching the air. Would it be completely inappropriate if she hurdled the desk, leapt into his lap and gave him a big kiss? Hmm. Perhaps. Just a little. Instead she settled for a grin. ‘I do?’
He smiled and nodded. ‘You do.’
A bubble of delight began to bounce round inside her. ‘That’s fantastic,’ she said, thinking that was quite an understatement.
He opened a drawer and extracted a sheaf of papers. ‘We think so. To be honest, you’re the only person we’ve called in for an interview, so the outcome has never been in doubt. The only obstacle we had foreseen would have been your lack of availability.’
He pushed the document across the desk and Laura glanced down at it, faintly stunned. ‘Oh.’
‘I’ve seen your work before. The Church of St Mary the Virgin?’ She managed a nod. ‘I particularly liked your sense of balance.’
Crikey. She’d never felt less balanced. ‘I’m so glad,’ she murmured.
‘We’d like to begin with the palace.’
‘Of course.’ Excitement clutched at her stomach. She’d studied every fabulous inch of the palace. Pored over photos and reports. Salivated over the flying buttresses and crumbling gargoyles and idolised every one of the six thousand windows. No amount of books and papers could get across the smell of the place, the vitality of the stone and the feel of the warm breeze on her skin when she’d stood outside the gate, the same warm breeze that must have caressed these walls for centuries. Walls that were now crumbling and collapsing.
‘When would you be able to begin?’
Right now would be fine with her. Or would that seem a little desperate? Not to mention totally impractical. She’d come with only her passport and her toothbrush. She was going to need a lot more than that. ‘In a week?’
‘Excellent.’ He beamed at her. ‘I’ll arrange for a suite to be made up for you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘If you’ll just sign here …’
He handed her a pen and Laura felt thrills scurrying through her. She’d done it. She’d actually done it.
Well, of course she had, she told herself as she floated back down to reality and worked her way through the contract. Her personal life might be a bit of a disaster, but she’d always been good at her job.
‘Will you excuse me?’ said Signore Ragazzi, cutting across her musings and picking up the phone, which had just started to ring.
He could strip and dance round his desk naked if he felt like it, Laura thought, finally getting to the last page and signing on the dotted line. She was busy wondering where would be the best place to start. The public rooms undoubtedly. Then the private areas. The gardens … Oh, the possibilities were endless and she lost herself in them.
It was only when she heard her own name that her ears pricked.
‘Yes, sir. Signorina Mackenzie has just accepted the position.’
Laura’s heart swelled with pride. She’d do the best job she could. Achieve the sort of result people would talk about for years, long after she left. After centuries of decline the palace deserved it. After all she’d been through, she deserved it.
‘Oh.’ At the tone of his voice for some reason her nerve endings tensed. ‘I’m afraid I can’t retract the offer, sir.’ His voice dropped. ‘She’s just signed the contract.’
Laura snapped her head up and stared at him. Someone wanted him to retract the offer? No, that couldn’t be possible.
Signore Ragazzi fell silent, went red and swivelled round in his chair so she couldn’t see him. ‘Nor can I rip it up,’ he added, his voice now dropping so low she had to strain to listen.
Rip it up? Who the hell was that on the other end of the line, and why did they not want her to have the job? What had she done to cause such offence? Had there been some sort of mistake and the job already been given to someone else? Laura’s chest squeezed at the thought that she might have had her dream snatched from her at the very last minute.
‘No, sir … Yes, sir … I’ll see to it immediately.’
Signore Ragazzi swivelled back and gave her a smile too bright to be genuine.
Laura clasped her hands together in her lap to stop them from flapping. ‘Is there a problem?’ she asked, bracing herself for the answer to be yes and for him to laugh and tell her it was all just one big joke.
‘No, no,’ he said, gathering up the contract she’d just signed in an effort, she suspected, to avoid eye contact. ‘Just one more tiny formality.’
‘Oh.’
He
