a big girl now, Ruth,’ he pressed on mercilessly. ‘Time for you to stop running to Mummy and Daddy whenever you need to make a decision. Time for you to face the big, bad world out there and stop trying to hide away from it.’
‘I am not trying to hide from anything.’ Ruth dug her heels in stubbornly. ‘I am just being realistic. My background hasn’t prepared me for dealing with a job of that nature…’
‘So what do you intend to do with your life? Has it ever occurred to you that the most interesting challenges in life are also often the most threatening?’
He was conscious that what he was trying to do was toe a very delicate line. On the one hand he wanted to coerce her into accepting his offer, into working with him. Partly because he genuinely thought that she would be well suited to what he had in mind; partly because the temptation of being close to her was virtually irresistible. On the other hand he was aware that if he pushed too hard she would set her soft mouth in that mute, obstinate line, avert her eyes and simply not budge an inch.
‘I’m not going to ask you to do anything dangerous, Ruth,’ he said in a gentler voice, resisting the urge to steamroller her into doing what he wanted, even though he knew full well that, underneath the shy exterior, this woman was probably immune to being steamrollered. ‘I just know that we’ll be dealing with young girls, asking them questions of a personal nature. They would respond to you far more quickly than they ever would to someone brash and self-assertive. You’re gentle and calm enough to draw confidences out of the kind of girls we’ll be dealing with, and—who knows?—you might even sway one or two of them to reconsider the road they’ve chosen.’
Ruth went pink. She couldn’t help it. She could feel her soft nature being played on by a master musician, but then he was right. She couldn’t run away from everything that had a ring of adventure or risk about it.
He could see the indecision in her eyes and pressed on smoothly, effortlessly, tasting victory. ‘Most of our work will be done at night, which is why it’s important that you don’t have a partner. I wouldn’t want to be accused of taking you away from your loved one. You’ll be able to work here normally a couple of days a week, but you might find that as your body adjusts to working by night you just want to sleep during the days. And it won’t be an assignment that lasts for ever. Two weeks at the most, probably less. Just enough time for us to gain an accurate picture of what’s happening to our young people out there and what’s being done by the government to put an end to it.’
‘Why are you so keen to get involved?’ she asked, buying time while she mulled over the possibilities in her head. ‘Any one of your reporters out there would be more than capable of handling the job.’
‘I like to lead from the front.’ He shot her a wry smile. ‘And maybe you’re right about that remark you made to me about being bored.’ He shrugged expressively and tried to look humble. ‘I have all that I could ever need—or want, for that matter. I started out as a reporter myself, you know.’
He linked his fingers behind his head and leaned back into his hands, staring broodingly up at the ceiling. ‘First on a provincial newspaper, ferreting out dirt and scandal, then on a city newspaper as a financial reporter. Good fun and, as it turned out, a useful passport when I decided to branch out and play around with the money markets myself. Since then I’ve made my money and now—who knows?—maybe I fancy getting back to my roots. Or maybe what I’m looking for is a little…’ he leveled his eyes to hers ‘…excitement.’
Ruth, inexperienced, marvelled at how he could invest a single word with so many hidden, tantalising possibilities.
‘Have you told Alison about your idea…for me? I wouldn’t want to rub anyone’s back up the wrong way…’
‘Absolutely,’ he said expansively, bringing the palms of his hands to rest on the desk and adopting a businesslike expression. ‘Alison thinks it’s a fabulous idea, and she’s going to rally the other reporters to start working on similar contentious issues so that we can pull something together for the issue due at the end of next month. When you’ve finished your stint with me, you’ll be pulled into a more responsible position—maybe occasionally working alongside one of the reporters as back-up.’
‘Oh!’ Ruth said breathlessly, a little awed by the suggestion of such a tremendous promotion.
‘Naturally, this unexpected change of job will be reflected in your pay.’ He whipped a sheet of paper from underneath a paperweight on the desk and waved it in the air, talking at the same time. ‘An immediate increase in your salary, to be followed by another increase in three months’ time if you prove yourself up to your additional responsibilities—if, indeed, you want additional responsibility.
‘All you have to do…’ he leant across the desk and rapped his finger imperiously at the bottom of the sheet of paper ‘…is sign here…’ He produced a fountain pen, seemingly from thin air, and handed it to her before she could open her mouth to protest at the sudden speed of things.
Ruth’s eyes scurried over the closely typed page, briefly taking in the description of her new role, containing an undignified gasp at the enormity of her salary increase.
‘At the bottom,’ he said. ‘Your signature. And then everything’s formalised.’
‘I’m still not sure…’ she said on a deep breath, shifting her eyes away from the piece of paper in front of her with its frightening promises of adventure and money and excitement.
‘Of course you are,’ he said gently. ‘Apprehensive, but sure.’
Ruth frowned, uncertain whether she cared for his ten-second summary of her reaction and then irritated because he was right.
He looked at his watch. ‘You’re not putting your life on the line with this assignment,’ he urged her, raking his long fingers through his hair. ‘A week—and if you hate it, believe me, I won’t force you to carry on. But give yourself the chance to see whether this kind of thing appeals to you.’
A few more seconds of hesitation and then she put her name at the bottom of the piece of paper. Okay, so she wasn’t signing her life away, but the minute she pushed the piece of paper across the desk back to him she felt as though she was signing something away, though what she wasn’t too sure.
Or maybe it was just that trace of smugness tugging the corners of his mouth that made her feel just a tad nervous about what she had agreed to. She was very nearly tempted to snatch the piece of paper out of his hands, rip it into a thousand pieces and then hustle back to her desk. But, with a speed that left her wondering whether the man was a mind-reader, he folded the paper in half, stuck it into his open briefcase, which was perched on the side of the desk, and decisively slammed it shut.
‘Now that’s all settled,’ he said, standing up and shrugging on his jacket, ‘just one or two suggestions before we start work on Wednesday.’
‘On Wednesday?’ she squeaked.
‘Why waste valuable time? No point meeting here. Meet me at The Breakfast Bar in Soho. Here’s the address.’ He scribbled it down for her and she took the paper from him. ‘Eight p.m. sharp. I gather it’s where a lot of young girls hang out when they hit London for the first time. It’s cheap, in the centre of things, and has a reputation for being a useful place to meet people.’
‘How on earth did you find all that out?’
‘I’m clever and talented. Hadn’t you
