Read Online The Yorkshire Pudding Club by Milly Johnson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Milly Johnson
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desperately scraping around the bottom of her mental barrel of ‘things to say to a bloke you haven’t seen for seven years’ and he wasn’t helping, standing there like a mountain range just looking at her. If she did not get away soon she would faint, she felt uncomfortably h-o-t.
‘Well, I best get on,’ she said, doing a nervous little dance-step as she started to trundle out the trolley.
‘What are you painting?’ he said, looking at her wares.
‘My bedroom,’ she said.
‘You still at Rhymer Street?’
‘Yes.’
‘On holiday from work, are you?’
No, actually, I told my boss to stick his job up his jacksey.
‘Er…yes. So what are you doing these days then?’
‘Me and the bank have bought some land. I’m knocking up some houses and hoping to sell ’em off.’
‘Oh great,’ she said, as the danger alarm on her bladder started to throb red.
‘Well.’
‘Well.’
‘Well.’
‘So, this is…’ she said, trailing off because she had absolutely no idea of where the sentence was going.
‘Yeah. It’s been nice seeing you,’ he said, looking as if he had just snapped out of a trance. An interesting silence followed in which he might have said, ‘We could catch up and go for a drink or something,’ to which she wasn’t sure how she would have reacted. Not that she got the chance to find out because what he actually said was, ‘Well,’ bye then, take care,’ and he was off without so much as a backward glance.
Her knees were knocking across that car park. She was as wobbly as the trolley wheels. John Silkstone. It felt like November the Fifth in her head, with his name all lit up in fireworks, which was pretty ironic really considering the last time she saw him, she told him to piss off and leave her alone for ever because she hated him.
As usual, there were no interesting jobs on the Situations Vacant board. Janey was vaguely aware of some man hanging behind her looking over her shoulder but she presumed it was just some hopeful other, like herself, looking for his overdue chance to shine. It was not though, it was Barry Parrish, the Head of Personnel, and he had been waiting for her to finish reading before interrupting her.
‘You’ve saved me a trip, Jane,’ he said in a silky voice that belonged to James Bond. ‘I was coming up to see you this afternoon.’
‘Oh?’ she said, taken aback.
‘Have you time for a coffee?’
‘Y…yes, of course,’ she stammered, suddenly wondering if the excitement building up in her boots was misplaced and this was actually P45 time.
He bought her a cappuccino from the machine and they went to sit behind a big plant.
‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ he said. ‘There’s a vacancy to be posted on the board in the next couple of days and I think you should apply for it.’
‘Er…oh?’ she said, hoping the position wasn’t Head of Devastating Wit, judging by this performance so far. It was not, though–it was much, much better.
‘Manager of Customer Services,’ he clarified.
It was a good thing she didn’t have a mouthful of coffee just then, because she would have spat it all over him. There she was, waiting for a step up the ladder courtesy of Old Coughing Lungs, and all the while Personnel were sending her up in a gold-plated lift to the top of the Empire State Building.
‘I…I…don’t know what to say,’ she said. Well, she did, but she didn’t think all those Fs would have gone down too well.
‘You could do it, Jane. You have just what that Department needs–stability, maturity, efficiency and organization. I–that is, we –happen to think you’re our girl for the job.’
He pulled a sheet out of the folder he had with him and set it on the table.
‘Here’s the job description that will go up on the board. By law I have to advertise it but I’m taking itas read that you’ll be called up for interview. The salary is commensurate with the position and there’s a car, private health
‘Well, I best get on,’ she said, doing a nervous little dance-step as she started to trundle out the trolley.
‘What are you painting?’ he said, looking at her wares.
‘My bedroom,’ she said.
‘You still at Rhymer Street?’
‘Yes.’
‘On holiday from work, are you?’
No, actually, I told my boss to stick his job up his jacksey.
‘Er…yes. So what are you doing these days then?’
‘Me and the bank have bought some land. I’m knocking up some houses and hoping to sell ’em off.’
‘Oh great,’ she said, as the danger alarm on her bladder started to throb red.
‘Well.’
‘Well.’
‘Well.’
‘So, this is…’ she said, trailing off because she had absolutely no idea of where the sentence was going.
‘Yeah. It’s been nice seeing you,’ he said, looking as if he had just snapped out of a trance. An interesting silence followed in which he might have said, ‘We could catch up and go for a drink or something,’ to which she wasn’t sure how she would have reacted. Not that she got the chance to find out because what he actually said was, ‘Well,’ bye then, take care,’ and he was off without so much as a backward glance.
Her knees were knocking across that car park. She was as wobbly as the trolley wheels. John Silkstone. It felt like November the Fifth in her head, with his name all lit up in fireworks, which was pretty ironic really considering the last time she saw him, she told him to piss off and leave her alone for ever because she hated him.
As usual, there were no interesting jobs on the Situations Vacant board. Janey was vaguely aware of some man hanging behind her looking over her shoulder but she presumed it was just some hopeful other, like herself, looking for his overdue chance to shine. It was not though, it was Barry Parrish, the Head of Personnel, and he had been waiting for her to finish reading before interrupting her.
‘You’ve saved me a trip, Jane,’ he said in a silky voice that belonged to James Bond. ‘I was coming up to see you this afternoon.’
‘Oh?’ she said, taken aback.
‘Have you time for a coffee?’
‘Y…yes, of course,’ she stammered, suddenly wondering if the excitement building up in her boots was misplaced and this was actually P45 time.
He bought her a cappuccino from the machine and they went to sit behind a big plant.
‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ he said. ‘There’s a vacancy to be posted on the board in the next couple of days and I think you should apply for it.’
‘Er…oh?’ she said, hoping the position wasn’t Head of Devastating Wit, judging by this performance so far. It was not, though–it was much, much better.
‘Manager of Customer Services,’ he clarified.
It was a good thing she didn’t have a mouthful of coffee just then, because she would have spat it all over him. There she was, waiting for a step up the ladder courtesy of Old Coughing Lungs, and all the while Personnel were sending her up in a gold-plated lift to the top of the Empire State Building.
‘I…I…don’t know what to say,’ she said. Well, she did, but she didn’t think all those Fs would have gone down too well.
‘You could do it, Jane. You have just what that Department needs–stability, maturity, efficiency and organization. I–that is, we –happen to think you’re our girl for the job.’
He pulled a sheet out of the folder he had with him and set it on the table.
‘Here’s the job description that will go up on the board. By law I have to advertise it but I’m taking itas read that you’ll be called up for interview. The salary is commensurate with the position and there’s a car, private health
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