Read Online Speechless by Yvonne Collins - Free Book Online Page A

my coup outweighs my embarrassment at the reprimand. Later, however, I overhear Mrs. Cleary talking to Margo when I’m passing her office.
    “Her remarks were quite good for a first attempt, Margo, but the poem is utter drivel. It makes no sense at all. Maybe it lost something in the translation? I’m so glad I didn’t read any ofhis poetry before we honored him at dinner. I couldn’t have kept a straight face….”
    Disappointed, I take comfort from the fact she saw some promise in my remarks. Margo soon arrives to admonish me: “Nice try, Libby.”
    “What do you mean?” (innocently)
    “All material for the Minister must be vetted by me so that I can ensure everything has the proper tone and content. Your draft, incidentally, did not.”
    “Really? It must have lost something in the translation,” I say.
    Margo flushes blotchy puce. “Don’t do it again.”
     
    I’ve just logged on to my computer to send Roxanne an e-mail when Margo pops her head around my partition to tell me the good news. I’ll be rooming with her on the trip. My shrill protests do nothing to dissuade her.
    “Elizabeth, this job is all about optics. We can’t be seen to squander taxpayers’ dollars. The Minister will have her own room, of course, and the rest of us will double up.”
    I manage to extract from her that the “away team” is comprised of only the Minister, Margo, Laurie, Bill and me. Obviously Bill and Laurie aren’t doubling up.
     
    To: [email protected]
    From: [email protected]
    Subject: My sad life
     
    Rox,
    Glad to hear you’ve arrived safely in Douglas, although the constant rain sounds depressing. If it’s any consolation, the micro-climate here at Queen’s Park is equally miserable. Remember that trip we’re taking? Margo is making me share a room with her. Since no one else is doubling up, I have several theories about her motivation:
    a) she has a crush on me;
    b) she’s worried I’ll be off writing speeches and slipping them into the Minister’s handbag;
    c) she suspects Laurie and I will plan a mutiny if we spend our nights together; or
    d) two of the above.
    I have every reason to think that Margo hates me as much as I do her, so it’s likely choice (d).
    Well, she’s a brave woman. I will have nine opportunities to smother her while she sleeps. Try to make it home in time for the trial, will you?
    Libby
     
    I’ve been freakishly hungry since I started this job. My stomach always seems to be growling, despite the fact that my waistband is constantly cutting off my circulation. The day of the pre–road show speech-planning meeting, the internal grumbling escalates to a howl. Although I’ve dealt with the freelance speechwriters for weeks, it’s the first time I’ve met them in person. I’ve already developed a burning resentment of them, simply because they get to write while I “coordinate.” One of the writers is forgettable—or would be if only she’d stop talking about communing with her “muse” (she needs a new muse—her writing isn’t that good). The other, Christine, is considered the “intellectual,” which is reason enough to hate her. She also has a frightening wiglike growth on her head. I promptly christen Christine “Wiggy.”
    Mrs. Cleary is surprisingly engaged in the meeting and Wiggy and Forgettable are vying for her favor. I’m pleased to note that Forgettable is frequently on the receiving end of the blank Ministerial stare— I presumed such moments were my exclusive domain. Mind you, I am totally excluded from the discussion and sit in silence until my stomach speaks on my behalf, gradually increasing in volume until Margo turns to me and says, “Libby, can you keep it down?”
    After the meeting, I realize that what I am experiencing is not hunger, but low-grade indigestion brought on by commonjealousy. I never used to be a competitive person, but frustrated ambition has possessed me like a demon, which explains why I’ve been eating for