14.

'Diet Lilt or Purdeys?' Ashling mused. 'I don't know.'

'Well, make your mind up,' Trix urged, her pen poised over her spiral-bound notebook. 'The shop'll be closed if you don't hurry.'

Though the Colleen Colleen team had been working together less than two weeks, already they had a routine. A shop run was done twice a day, morning and afternoon. This was separate from the lunch run and the hangover-cure run. team had been working together less than two weeks, already they had a routine. A shop run was done twice a day, morning and afternoon. This was separate from the lunch run and the hangover-cure run.

'Uh-oh,' Trix observed. 'Here's Heathcliff.'

Jack Devine strode into the office, all tumbled hair and troubled face.

'I just can't make my mind up,' Ashling lamented, agonizing between drinks.

'Of course you can't,' Jack said nastily, without breaking stride. 'After all, you're a woman?' woman?'

His office door slammed behind him and heads were shaken in sympathy.

'The reunion lunch with Mai obviously wasn't,' Kelvin observed, wagging a beringed finger.

'What a tormented man.' Shauna Griffin looked up from proof-reading this Summer's Gaelic Knitting Gaelic Knitting, her voice trembling. 'So handsome, yet so unreachable, so unhappy.'

Shauna Griffin was a large, fair woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to the Honey Monster. She regularly exceeded the recommended dosage of Mills & Boons.

'Unhappy?' Ashling asked scornfully. 'JD? He's just bad-tempered.'

'That's the first bitchy thing I've ever heard you say about anyone,' Trix exclaimed hoarsely. 'Congratulations. I knew you had it in you! You see what you can achieve when you put your mind to it.'

'Diet Lilt,' Ashling replied drolly. 'And a bag of buttons.'

'White or brown?'

'White.'

'Money.'

Ashling handed over a pound, Trix wrote it all down on her list and moved on to the next person.

'Lisa?' Trix asked, adoringly. 'Anything?'

'Hmmm?' Lisa jumped. She'd been far away. Jack had discovered that she hadn't found anywhere to live yet, so after work he was taking her to see a house that a friend of his wanted to let. She'd been worried that he would get back with Mai over their lunch, but it looked as if her path was clear...

'Cigs?' Trix urged. 'Sugar-free gum?'

'Yeah. Cigs.'

The door opened again and Jack emerged, looking faintly distraught. Trix hopped nimbly back to her desk, and with a practised flick of the wrist opened her drawer, threw her cigarettes in and slammed it shut. Jack roamed amongst the desks and no one would meet his look. Those that could inched and hid their cigarettes behind something. Lisa had a box of Silk Cut open beside her mouse-pad, but though Jack wavered and seemed like he might stop, he sped up again and passed by. Everyone flinched. Then he got to Ashling and halted and the office exhaled silently. Safe, for a while.

Against her will, Ashling's face was pulled up to look at him. Silently he tilted his head at her box of Marlboro. She nodded warily, hating her compliance. He was so unpleasant to her, but she seemed to be the only one he cadged cigarettes from. She obviously had Gobshite stamped on her forehead.

His eyes coolly watching her, he fastened his lips around the filter and, as usual, slowly, smoothly slid the cigarette from its box. Jerkily, she passed him her box of matches, taking care not to touch him. Without moving his eyes from hers, he struck a match, held the flame against the tip, then shook it out. Inclining the cigarette upwards, he pulled deep. 'Thanks,' he murmured.

'When are you going to start buying smokes again?' Trix demanded, now that her own were briefly safe. 'You obviously can't give them up. And it's not fair, you must earn millions more than Ashling but you've been bumming loads of cigarettes off her.'

'Have I?' He looked startled.

'Have I?' He turned his gaze on to Ashling and she seemed to wither away from him in her seat. 'Sorry, I hadn't noticed.'

''s OK,' she mumbled.

Jack disappeared back into his office and Kelvin observed drily, 'Betcha he's inside there kicking kicking himself for exploiting the workers by nicking their smokes. Jack Devine, Working-Class Hero.' himself for exploiting the workers by nicking their smokes. Jack Devine, Working-Class Hero.'

'Wannabe Working-Class Hero, more like,' Trix scorned. Working-Class Hero, more like,' Trix scorned.

'How so?' Ashling couldn't hide her curiosity.

'He'd love to be a humble craftsman, and do an honest day's work for an honest day's pay.' Trix's contempt for such modest aspirations was almost tangible.

'Problem was,' Kelvin expounded, 'he was born middle-class and burdened with all kinds of advantages. Like an education. Then he gets an MA in communications. Next,' he lowered his voice ominously, 'he begins to display excellent managerial skills.'

'Fair broke his heart,' Trix sighed. 'I reckon he's riddled with middle-class guilt. That's why he's always offering to fix things. And why he has all those macho hobbies.'

'Which macho hobbies?'

'Well, he goes sailing, that's macho,' Trix offered.

'Not very working-class though, is it? Drinking pints, now that's that's macho,' said Kelvin. 'And riding sexy half-Vietnamese women,' he added, 'that's very macho too.' macho,' said Kelvin. 'And riding sexy half-Vietnamese women,' he added, 'that's very macho too.'

Ashling sidled tentatively up to Lisa. 'Can I ask you something?'

'No, thank you,' Lisa sang, not even looking up from her desk. 'I don't want to come for a drink with you and Trix or your friend Joy or anyone else this evening. Or any evening.'

Everyone sniggered, to Lisa's gratification.

'I wasn't going to ask you that.' An embarrassed liver-coloured patch crawled up Ashling's neck. She'd only been trying to be nice to a stranger in Dublin, but Lisa made it sound like she fancied fancied her. 'It's a work-related question. Why don't we have a problem page with a difference?' her. 'It's a work-related question. Why don't we have a problem page with a difference?'

'What's the difference, Einstein?'

'We get a psychic to do the anwers, instead of a counsellor.'

Lisa was thoughtful. Not a bad idea. Very zeitgeisty, what with everyone on the hunt for a spiritual element to fix their lives. She believed none of it herself taking the line that her happiness was very much in her own hands but that was no reason not to peddle it to the masses. 'Maybe.'

Relief soothed the sting of Lisa's innuendo. In the short time Ashling had been working at Colleen Colleen, constant anxiety about her lack of ideas had gnawed at her. Then Ted suggested that she think about what she'd she'd like from a magazine and suddenly avenues opened up. Anything to do with tarot, reiki, feng shui, affirmations, angels, white witches and spells piqued her interest. like from a magazine and suddenly avenues opened up. Anything to do with tarot, reiki, feng shui, affirmations, angels, white witches and spells piqued her interest.

Jack's door opened again and everyone flung themselves protectively on their cigarettes.

'Lisa?' Jack called. 'Can I have a word?'

'Certainly.' Elegantly she got up from her desk, wondering what he wanted to talk to her about. Could it be that he was going to ask her out?

When he instructed her to shut the door her excitement mounted. And instantly disappeared when he said apologetically, 'There's no easy way of saying this.'

He paused, his handsome face shuttered by discomfort.

Lisa said coolly, 'Go on.'

'We're not making the advertising,' he said, baldly. 'Nobody's biting. We're only up to ' He checked the memo on his desk, ' twelve per cent of what we'd projected.'

Lisa twitched with fear. This had never happened before. Though they'd always negotiated off ratecard, designers and cosmetic companies had been falling over themselves to take out full-page ads when she'd been editor of Femme Femme. And as everyone in magazines knows, the income generated from selling ads is far in excess of that garnered from cover-price sales. At least it should be. If companies can't be persuaded that a particular publication is the right vehicle in which to advertise their product, it goes under. Panic swept up Lisa in a prickly wave. How would she ever live down the failure of a stillborn magazine?

'It's early days,' she tried.

Reluctantly he had to shake his head. It wasn't, they both knew that. Before Colleens Colleens editorial staff had arrived, Margie had been doing pre-production work for over a month: interested advertisers had had plenty of time to bite. Lisa burned with humiliation. She wanted this man to respect and desire her and instead he was bound to think she was a failure. editorial staff had arrived, Margie had been doing pre-production work for over a month: interested advertisers had had plenty of time to bite. Lisa burned with humiliation. She wanted this man to respect and desire her and instead he was bound to think she was a failure.

'But don't they know... ?' she couldn't stop herself from blurting.

'Know what?'

She tried to reformulate and couldn't. 'Know that I'm the editor?'

'Your name carries a lot of weight,' Jack said, tactfully, and when she saw how unpleasant he too was finding this, it soothed the sting. 'But new marketplace, new audience, no track record...'

'I thought you said that Margie was a Rottweiler. That she could persuade God God to place an ad.' When in doubt, blame someone else. A motto that had served Lisa well thus far in her career. to place an ad.' When in doubt, blame someone else. A motto that had served Lisa well thus far in her career.

Margie's great at getting ads from Irish companies,' Jack explained. 'But the London office is handling the international cosmetic and fashion houses.

'Where are we at?' he asked. 'What kind of definite features have we? We need to throw a couple of bones to the London office, for them to show the potential ad-placers.'

Lisa's face was a white mask as she searched around in her head. Definite features! She'd been in this fucking job less than two weeks, thrown in at the deep end, in a strange country. She'd been knocking herself out trying to get a handle on things, and already they wanted to know definite features!

'Just a rough idea,' Jack said, with heartbreaking gentleness. 'Sorry to do this to you.'

'Why don't we all go to the boardroom for a progress meeting?' Lisa suggested, an unresponsive wobbliness about her knees. And to think that everyone thought editing a magazine was glamorous. It was the most terrifying, sleepless-night-inducing job, with no certainty, no respite. Just trying to make the figures every month. And as soon as you'd strained and sweated yourself to the limit to do so, you had to turn around and start all over again. All you were was a glorified salesman. In an attempt at dynamism she swept from Jack's office, but her leg muscles were pulpy and she had a sheen of perspiration above her lip. 'Boardroom, everyone, now!'

All the people who didn't work on Colleen Colleen sniggered, delighted that they weren't being bollocked. sniggered, delighted that they weren't being bollocked.

'Right then.' Lisa played for time by giving a terrifying smile around the boardroom table. 'Perhaps you'd all like to tell Jack and me what you've been doing for the past two weeks. Ashling?'

'I've sent out press releases to all the fashion houses and '

'Press releases?' Lisa asked, sarcastically. 'Is there no beginning beginning to your talents?' to your talents?'

Dutiful sniggers issued from Trix, Gerry and Bernard.

'So punters are going to pay 2.50 to read Colleen's Colleen's press releases? Features, Ashling, I'm talking features! What have you?' press releases? Features, Ashling, I'm talking features! What have you?'

Bewildered by her aggression, Ashling gave her salsa report. As she described the lesson, the teacher and the other pupils Lisa relaxed slightly. This was good. Encouraged by Lisa's nodding, Ashling enthused about the club that had been on after the lesson. 'It was great. Proper old-fashioned dancing with lots of body contact. It was actually very ' For some reason she hesitated over using the word with Jack Devine in the room. He made her so uncomfortable. 'Very sexy sexy'

'And the romance factor?' Lisa asked, cutting to the chase. 'Did you meet any blokes?'

Ashling squirmed. 'I, um, had a dance with a man,' she admitted.

As everyone squealed and fell over themselves to get details, Jack Devine watched her through half-closed eyes.

'It was only a dance,' Ashling protested. 'He didn't even ask me my name.'

'You got photos of the club,' Lisa said. It wasn't a question. At Ashling's nod, she went on, 'We'll do a four-page spread on it. Two thousand words, asap. Make it entertaining.'

Clammy dread flushed down Ashling and she would have given anything to still be working at Woman's Place Woman's Place. She couldn't write. Toiling hard at the boring stuff was her forte, she was really, really marvellous at it, and that had been the basis Colleen Colleen had hired her on. Couldn't Mercedes write it, or one of the freelancers? had hired her on. Couldn't Mercedes write it, or one of the freelancers?

'Problem?' Lisa twisted her mouth sarcastically.

'No,' Ashling whispered. But her guts seized in fear as she realized she was in over her head. Joy would have to help her. Or perhaps Ted he had to draft lots of reports for his job in the Department of Agriculture.

Next on the agenda was Trix's column on an ordinary girl's life. The first one was on the perils of two-timing. On what a pain it was to be in bed with one boyfriend and for another to call to the house and for your mother to let him in. It was funny, outrageous and entirely true.

'Good Lord, Patricia Quinn,' Jack shook his head in amusement. 'I've been living a very sheltered life.'

'I wouldn't recommend it,' Trix exclaimed. 'Him and me Ma in the lounge watching Heartbeat Heartbeat, and me trapped in the bedroom with the other one, making excuses not to leave. I aged ten years.'

'And that'd make you what? Twenty-five?' Jack's eyes crinkled with laughter.

Ashling looked at him in a type of sour wonder. Why is he always so horrible to me? Why isn't he ever amused by me? Just as she concluded that perhaps she simply wasn't amusing, she caught sight of Lisa's face. A lambent determination and hard admiration. She fancies him, Ashling realized, and her stomach flip-flopped. If anyone could lure Jack Devine away from the exotic Mai, Lisa could. What must it be like to have that kind of power?

Then Lisa outlined a 'fun' feature that she'd thought of that very minute. A review of the sexiest hotel beds in Ireland. Graded according to crispness of bed linen, firmness of mattress, size of bonking space, and 'the handcuff factor' wrought iron bedheads or the limbs of four-poster canopies were ideal.

'God, whatever they're paying you, you're worth it!' Trix overflowed with admiration.

'Mercedes?' Lisa challenged.

'We're going to Donegal on Friday to shoot an exclusive of Frieda Kiely's Winter collection,' Mercedes said smugly. 'We should get a twelve-page spread from it.'

Frieda Kiely was an Irish designer who sold very well abroad. She made wild, gorgeous confections; rough Irish tweed matched with feather-light chiffon; sheeny Ulster linen married with squares of crocheted silk; knitted sleeves that reached the floor. The whole effect was romantic and untamed. A bit too too untamed for Lisa, actually. If you were paying those kind of prices not that she ever would, of course she'd prefer the sleek tailoring of Mr Gucci. untamed for Lisa, actually. If you were paying those kind of prices not that she ever would, of course she'd prefer the sleek tailoring of Mr Gucci.

'How about an interview with her?' Lisa suggested.

Mercedes laughed. 'Oh no, she's bonkers. You wouldn't get a word of sense from her.'

'Exactly,' Lisa barked. 'It would make for interesting reading.'

'You don't know what she's like...'

'We're showcasing her Winter collection, the least she can do is tell us what she has for breakfast.'

'But '