Read Online More Than You Know by Penny Vincenzi - Free Book Online Page B

Thank you for absolutely nothing.” She put the phone down.
    Matt returned to his Rolodex. The phone rang again.
    “Matt? It’s another young lady. What you been up to?”
    “Nothing. Unfortunately. Put her through.”
    “Is that Matt Shaw?” said a voice. A voice he recognized at once, a voice that tipped his world on end, a voice he could have listened to forever.
    “It’s Eliza Fullerton-Clark here. I’m ringing about Maddy Brown. Whom I work with, incidentally.”
    Shit , Matt thought. SHIT!
    “Maddy said you were worse than useless, absolutely no help at all, and offensive into the bargain.”
    “I was not offensive,” said Matt, stung. He’d made a suggestion that would save the wretched woman money.
    “Well, I’m afraid you were. By making the assumption that she was some silly girl with not an idea or a business contact in her head. Just because she was a woman.”
    This was so true Matt couldn’t even begin to deny it.
    “Suppose Miss Brown had been Mr. Brown? You’d have assumed backing, clients, customers, wouldn’t you? You’d have taken all kinds of details from him, what kind of premises he wanted, where, how many thousand feet was he looking for, what kind of rent was he prepared to pay—”
    “Well—”
    “I don’t somehow think you’d have told Mr. Brown to use a room in his flat for a while, until he got going. Well, just so you know, let me tell you about the client you could have had. Miss—not Mr.—Brown has just got a very big contract from a chain of boutiques. Do you know what a boutique is? A shop selling fashion to young people. Absolutely the latest thing at the moment, big, big business. And the people who own them are desperate for young designers to supply them with what they need. And Miss Brown has backing to the tune of over fifty thousand pounds. Pity, you really blew it. Bye then. We’ve got other agents to call, fortunately.”
    Matt put the phone down and felt so angry with himself that he punched his desk so hard that the knuckles hurt for days.
    He sat, smoking rather feverishly, wondering if there was anything, anything at all that he could do that would redeem him in the eyes of Eliza Fullerton-Clark, and he decided that next morning he would have to apologize. Really crawl. And then he had another idea.
    He went into the office early, dialled Woolfe’s number, and asked for the PR department.
    “Hallo. Eliza Clark speaking.”
    So she didn’t use the Fullerton bit at work; Matt wondered why. He took a very deep breath.
    “Miss Clark, good morning. This is Matt Shaw.”
    “Yes?” she said coldly. Very coldly.
    “I wanted to apologize. To you and Miss Brown. For yesterday. It was stupid and insensitive of me, and I feel really embarrassed about it. And … and … the thing is I think I might have the perfect space for Miss Brown.”
    Silence.
    “It’s in Paddington. It used to be a warehouse. It’s three floors, about three thousand feet, perfect for storing clothes and … and that sort of thing. And room for an office space and … and a studio, if that was required. It’s not too expensive, and I’d really like to show it to Miss Brown if you think she’d agree. And if she hasn’t got anywhere else yet.”
    “Well, I can certainly ask her,” said Eliza finally, “and I don’t think she has got anywhere else, no. I’ll see if I can get her to call you.”
    “Right. And … and if you’d like to come along yourself,” he said, “see what you think about it, that would be fine.”
    She wouldn’t. Of course she wouldn’t.
    But, “Yes,” she said, “I think I might. If I have time. And, Matt, thank you for phoning and for apologising.” Her voice was warmer, smiley even. “It was nice of you. We’ll be in touch.”
    Perfect happiness doesn’t come often in life. It came to Matt then.

    He arrived at the building an hour before the appointed time, walking round and round it, checking every door and window, even every