Read Online More Than You Know by Penny Vincenzi - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Penny Vincenzi
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that be the sort of thing your nice friend Matt might be able to help with, do you think?”
“Possibly. I’ll give you his number. Oh, and Juliet wondered if we could go out for a meal together next week. She says she wants to get to know you better.”
“Oh—course. Sounds wonderful. Only thing is, I’m quite busy next week.”
“Well, the one after then. Why don’t I get her to ring you?”
“Lovely idea. Yes. I’ll look forward to it. Now—Matt’s number?”
As she waited, she contemplated Juliet and an evening with her and Charles.
Juliet Judd—her name alone made Eliza want to giggle; it was like a girl in a cartoon—was his new girlfriend, and he appeared oddly besotted by her.
She worked as a secretary for the lawyers who worked for Charles’s stockbroking firm, and she was a hugely irritating, simpering creature, so much the sort of girl Eliza disapproved of that she found it hard even to be polite to her. She was acutely and self-consciously feminine, a blue-eyed blonde, but her hair was overstyled and, at a time when most girls were wearing simple, ever-shorter shift dresses, or Mary Quant’s pinafores over black sweaters, she favoured girly blouses and flared skirts,or neat little suits, and always had matching bags and shoes and gloves. She had left Roedean with two O-levels and gone to finishing school in Paris, where she had learnt to cook and sew and do flowers and was always saying things like “I don’t think men like girls to be too clever.”
Eliza was sure it wouldn’t last; it was the novelty, she kept telling herself.
“Matt! This one’s for you. Nice little building out Paddington way, near the station. Three thousand square feet, three floors, see what you can do with it. Landlord’s in a hurry, burnt his fingers a bit with his financing, OK?”
“Fine,” said Matt. He still hadn’t got over the excitement of having his own clients, of sorting out a deal. He phoned the landlord: a sharp young man, no older than Matt himself, called Colin White. They met at the building, which had been a warehouse and had had only the most minimal work done—new windows, whitewash on the walls—and White professed great nonchalance over the deal.
“I want the right tenant, and I don’t want no hassle, people moving out again in a year. I want it settled, so I don’t have to think about it anymore, OK?”
Matt said OK but he thought the rent was too high.
“It’s a good space but it’s the location; I just don’t see it as offices, more manufacturing, storage, that sort of thing.”
“Well, I don’t,” said White coolly. “I spent a lot of money on this place, Shaw; I want a proper return.”
Matt went back to the office and trawled through his files. It wasn’t going to be easy. The building might make a light factory, but it certainly didn’t seem suitable for the offices Colin White was so determined on.
Two days later he was three-quarters of the way through his list of prospects; nobody wanted it. Then Pat, the telephonist, put a call through.
“Potential client, Matt. Sounds really sweet.”
Pat would have described the Kray twins as sweet had they telephoned Barlow and Stein; Matt picked up the phone warily. A female voice said she had heard he might be able to help her.
“My name’s Maddy Brown. I’m looking for some premises for my business.”
“What type of business would that be?”
“Well, fashion. I design clothes.”
“Oh, yes. And where are you working at the moment?”
“In my parents’ house.”
“I see.”
That wasn’t going to pay Colin White’s rent. He’d heard about these girls, straight out of art school, looking to cash in on what the papers called the youth boom. Probably hadn’t got a single customer. As politely as he could, he suggested she take a flat with a spare room. “Or carry on working at your parents’ place. Just till you get going a bit.”
“Well,” she said, “that’s a very interesting idea.
“Possibly. I’ll give you his number. Oh, and Juliet wondered if we could go out for a meal together next week. She says she wants to get to know you better.”
“Oh—course. Sounds wonderful. Only thing is, I’m quite busy next week.”
“Well, the one after then. Why don’t I get her to ring you?”
“Lovely idea. Yes. I’ll look forward to it. Now—Matt’s number?”
As she waited, she contemplated Juliet and an evening with her and Charles.
Juliet Judd—her name alone made Eliza want to giggle; it was like a girl in a cartoon—was his new girlfriend, and he appeared oddly besotted by her.
She worked as a secretary for the lawyers who worked for Charles’s stockbroking firm, and she was a hugely irritating, simpering creature, so much the sort of girl Eliza disapproved of that she found it hard even to be polite to her. She was acutely and self-consciously feminine, a blue-eyed blonde, but her hair was overstyled and, at a time when most girls were wearing simple, ever-shorter shift dresses, or Mary Quant’s pinafores over black sweaters, she favoured girly blouses and flared skirts,or neat little suits, and always had matching bags and shoes and gloves. She had left Roedean with two O-levels and gone to finishing school in Paris, where she had learnt to cook and sew and do flowers and was always saying things like “I don’t think men like girls to be too clever.”
Eliza was sure it wouldn’t last; it was the novelty, she kept telling herself.
“Matt! This one’s for you. Nice little building out Paddington way, near the station. Three thousand square feet, three floors, see what you can do with it. Landlord’s in a hurry, burnt his fingers a bit with his financing, OK?”
“Fine,” said Matt. He still hadn’t got over the excitement of having his own clients, of sorting out a deal. He phoned the landlord: a sharp young man, no older than Matt himself, called Colin White. They met at the building, which had been a warehouse and had had only the most minimal work done—new windows, whitewash on the walls—and White professed great nonchalance over the deal.
“I want the right tenant, and I don’t want no hassle, people moving out again in a year. I want it settled, so I don’t have to think about it anymore, OK?”
Matt said OK but he thought the rent was too high.
“It’s a good space but it’s the location; I just don’t see it as offices, more manufacturing, storage, that sort of thing.”
“Well, I don’t,” said White coolly. “I spent a lot of money on this place, Shaw; I want a proper return.”
Matt went back to the office and trawled through his files. It wasn’t going to be easy. The building might make a light factory, but it certainly didn’t seem suitable for the offices Colin White was so determined on.
Two days later he was three-quarters of the way through his list of prospects; nobody wanted it. Then Pat, the telephonist, put a call through.
“Potential client, Matt. Sounds really sweet.”
Pat would have described the Kray twins as sweet had they telephoned Barlow and Stein; Matt picked up the phone warily. A female voice said she had heard he might be able to help her.
“My name’s Maddy Brown. I’m looking for some premises for my business.”
“What type of business would that be?”
“Well, fashion. I design clothes.”
“Oh, yes. And where are you working at the moment?”
“In my parents’ house.”
“I see.”
That wasn’t going to pay Colin White’s rent. He’d heard about these girls, straight out of art school, looking to cash in on what the papers called the youth boom. Probably hadn’t got a single customer. As politely as he could, he suggested she take a flat with a spare room. “Or carry on working at your parents’ place. Just till you get going a bit.”
“Well,” she said, “that’s a very interesting idea.
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