OK, SO PERHAPS the Cutting Back didn’t go that well. But it doesn’t matter, because that’s all in the
Past. That was negative thinking – now I’m seriously into positive thinking. Onward and upward. Growth
And prosperity. M. M. M. It’s the obvious solu-tion, when you think about it. And you know what? Suze
Is absolutely right. Making More Money suits my personality far better than Cutting Back did. I’m
Already feeling much happier. Just the fact that I don’t have to make any more grotty cheese sandwiches,
Or go to any more museums, has lifted a huge weight off my soul. And I’m allowed to buy all the
Cappuccinos I like, and start looking in shop windows again. Oh, the relief! I’ve even chucked
Controlling Your Cash in the bin. I never did think it was any good.
The only small thing – tiny niggle – is I’m not quite sure how I’m going to do it. Make More Money, I
Mean. But now I’ve decided to go ahead with it, something will turn up. I’m sure of it.
When I get into work on Monday, Clare Edwards is already at her desk – surprise – and on the phone.
“Yes,” she’s saying softly. “Well, it’s certainly been a wonderful first year.”
When she sees me, to my surprise, she blushes a faint pink and turns away slightly. “Yes, I understand,”
She whispers, scrib-bling in her notepad. “But what about the future?”
God knows why she’s being so secretive. As if I’m interested in her tedious life. I sit down at my desk,
Briskly flip on my computer, and open my diary. Oh goody, I’ve got a press confer-ence in the City.
Even if it is some boring old pensions launch, at least it means a trip out of the office and, with any luck, a
Nice glass of champagne. Work can be quite fun, sometimes. And Philip isn’t
in yet, which means we can
Sit and gossip for a while.
“So, Clare,” I say, as she puts the phone down, “how was your weekend?”
I look over, expecting to hear the usual thrilling account of what shelf she put up where with her
Boyfriend – but Clare doesn’t even seem to have heard what I said.
“Clare?” I say puzzledly. She’s staring at me with pink cheeks, as though I’ve caught her stealing pens
From the stationery cupboard.
“Listen,” she says in a rush. “That conversation you heard me having just now. . . could you not mention
It to Philip?”
I stare at her in bemusement. What’s she talking about? Oh wow – is she having an affair? But then, why
Should Philip care? He’s her editor, not her –
Oh my God. She’s not having an affair with Philip, is she?
“Clare, what’s going on!” I say excitedly.
There’s a long pause, as Clare blushes deep red. I can’t believe this. A piece of office scandal at last!
And involving Clare Edwards, of all people!
“Oh, come on, Clare,” I whisper. “You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.” I lean forward sympathetically.
“I might even be able to help.”
“Yes,” says Clare, rubbing her face. “Yes, that’s true. I could do with a bit of advice. The pressure’s
Starting to get to me.”
“Start from the beginning,” I say calmly, just like Dear Abby. “When did it all begin?”
“OK, I’ll tell you,” whispers Clare, and looks nervously about. “It was about. . . six months ago.”
“And what happened?”
“It all began on that Scottish press trip,” she says slowly. “I was away from home. . . I said yes without
Even thinking. I suppose I was flattered, more than anything else.”
“It’s the old story,” I say wisely.
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