company.’
‘What are you implying?’ he roared.
‘We’ve placed a lot of staff with Wilson Brothers too,’ Faye went on. ‘They’re one of our best customers and actually handle our legal affairs, so if there was any, shall we say, unpleasantness, we’d naturally go to them.’
This time, there was an audible indrawn breath at the other end of the phone.
Wilson Brothers was a law firm where the senior partner just happened to be William Brooks’s father-in-law. The unspoken message was that Mr Wilson would be fascinated to learn of his son-in-law’s fondness for touching up his assistants.
‘How about we pretend we didn’t have this conversation, Mr Brooks,’ Faye went on, ‘and we’ll resume our search for a PA for you. However, if and when we do find one, I shall be in constant communication with her and I assure you, I expect any Little Island person to be treated with the utmost respect and dignity. I’m sure you agree that bullying and sexual harassment cases can be so messy and timeconsuming?’
‘Oh, yes,’ blustered William Brooks but the fight had gone out of him. ‘I’ll talk to you again, Mrs Reid,’ he muttered and hung up.
Result, thought Faye, leaning back in her chair, relieved. She knew that what she’d done was unethical and that Grace would have had a coronary had she overheard, but sometimes the unorthodox approach was required and this time, thankfully, it had worked. She’d never had a problem thinking outside the box when it came to business. And being tough was second nature to her now.
Some people thought it was being hard-nosed, but it wasn’t: it was self-preservation.
‘You are responsible for you,’ Faye used to repeat mantra-like. ‘It’s not clever to be led by other people or to do what you don’t want to do, just to fit in. You have the power to do and be anything you want and to make your own choices.
Believing in yourself and in your own power is one of the most important things in life.’
‘Ella’s mum says to behave like a little lady, not to hang around with rough boys in the park and that if a stranger tries to get you into a car, to scream,’ Amber reported when she was younger and her friends thought Faye’s ‘be your own boss’
mantra was cool. ‘But Ella thinks your rules are better. I told her you were a feminist because you never let anyone walk all over you. It’s because Dad’s dead, I said. You had to be tougher because we were on our own.’
Faye spent an hour on paperwork, then returned her emails, by which time her eyes were weary from staring at the screen. She fetched another coffee, shut her office door firmly, kicked off her shoes and lay down on the couch for a few minutes.
She was tired today. The reason still worried her.
Amber had woken her up at three the night before, talking loudly to herself in her sleep, saying, ‘No, I will not!’ firmly.
Faye had stood at her daughter’s door in case this middle-of-the-night conversation became a nightmare, but it didn’t. Amber muttered ‘no’
Amber had been prone to nightmares when she was a small child and Faye, who couldn’t bear to think of her darling lonely and frightened in her bed, would carry the pink-pyjama-clad little girl into her own room.
Having your baby sleep with you when you were a lonely, affection-starved single mother was probably against every bit of advice in the book, Faye knew. But she needed the comfort of her little daughter every bit as much as Amber needed her. The sweetness of that small body, energetic little limbs still padded with baby fat, gave Faye strength. No matter how tough life could be, she’d go on for Amber. Her daughter deserved the best and Faye would provide it, no matter what.
‘Mama,’ Amber would mutter in her lisping, babyish voice, and fall into a deeper sleep, taking up half the bed by lying sprawled sideways.
‘Mama, how did I get here?’ she’d say in wonder the next morning, delighted to wake
‘What are you implying?’ he roared.
‘We’ve placed a lot of staff with Wilson Brothers too,’ Faye went on. ‘They’re one of our best customers and actually handle our legal affairs, so if there was any, shall we say, unpleasantness, we’d naturally go to them.’
This time, there was an audible indrawn breath at the other end of the phone.
Wilson Brothers was a law firm where the senior partner just happened to be William Brooks’s father-in-law. The unspoken message was that Mr Wilson would be fascinated to learn of his son-in-law’s fondness for touching up his assistants.
‘How about we pretend we didn’t have this conversation, Mr Brooks,’ Faye went on, ‘and we’ll resume our search for a PA for you. However, if and when we do find one, I shall be in constant communication with her and I assure you, I expect any Little Island person to be treated with the utmost respect and dignity. I’m sure you agree that bullying and sexual harassment cases can be so messy and timeconsuming?’
‘Oh, yes,’ blustered William Brooks but the fight had gone out of him. ‘I’ll talk to you again, Mrs Reid,’ he muttered and hung up.
Result, thought Faye, leaning back in her chair, relieved. She knew that what she’d done was unethical and that Grace would have had a coronary had she overheard, but sometimes the unorthodox approach was required and this time, thankfully, it had worked. She’d never had a problem thinking outside the box when it came to business. And being tough was second nature to her now.
Some people thought it was being hard-nosed, but it wasn’t: it was self-preservation.
‘You are responsible for you,’ Faye used to repeat mantra-like. ‘It’s not clever to be led by other people or to do what you don’t want to do, just to fit in. You have the power to do and be anything you want and to make your own choices.
Believing in yourself and in your own power is one of the most important things in life.’
‘Ella’s mum says to behave like a little lady, not to hang around with rough boys in the park and that if a stranger tries to get you into a car, to scream,’ Amber reported when she was younger and her friends thought Faye’s ‘be your own boss’
mantra was cool. ‘But Ella thinks your rules are better. I told her you were a feminist because you never let anyone walk all over you. It’s because Dad’s dead, I said. You had to be tougher because we were on our own.’
Faye spent an hour on paperwork, then returned her emails, by which time her eyes were weary from staring at the screen. She fetched another coffee, shut her office door firmly, kicked off her shoes and lay down on the couch for a few minutes.
She was tired today. The reason still worried her.
Amber had woken her up at three the night before, talking loudly to herself in her sleep, saying, ‘No, I will not!’ firmly.
Faye had stood at her daughter’s door in case this middle-of-the-night conversation became a nightmare, but it didn’t. Amber muttered ‘no’
Amber had been prone to nightmares when she was a small child and Faye, who couldn’t bear to think of her darling lonely and frightened in her bed, would carry the pink-pyjama-clad little girl into her own room.
Having your baby sleep with you when you were a lonely, affection-starved single mother was probably against every bit of advice in the book, Faye knew. But she needed the comfort of her little daughter every bit as much as Amber needed her. The sweetness of that small body, energetic little limbs still padded with baby fat, gave Faye strength. No matter how tough life could be, she’d go on for Amber. Her daughter deserved the best and Faye would provide it, no matter what.
‘Mama,’ Amber would mutter in her lisping, babyish voice, and fall into a deeper sleep, taking up half the bed by lying sprawled sideways.
‘Mama, how did I get here?’ she’d say in wonder the next morning, delighted to wake
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