Suze was too intrigued by her own analysis to take any notice of Zoe’s uncomfortable murmur.
‘Don’t you see a pattern? You only want what you haven’t got at the moment.’
Zoe’s heart sank. ‘Suze, listen to me—’ she began urgently.
But there was ring from the little telephone clipped to Suze’s belt. She pressed a button and raised her eyebrows at the number displayed.
‘Jay Christopher? What does he want?’ She pressed another button and put the thing to her ear. ‘Hi, Jay. What can I do for you?’
Zoe looked away across the garden. She could have kicked herself. Another ideal opportunity wasted. Again.
What is wrong with me? thought Zoe, despairing.
Meanwhile Suze had gone into crisp business mode. She even stood up to talk, prowling around the lawn as if she were patrolling her office. She snapped out questions like an interrogator, but most of the time she listened attentively.
‘So that’s more than a filing clerk,’ she was saying when Zoe tuned in again. ‘You need someone who can handle research. And work on their own initiative. And you want them by Monday. You don’t ask much, do you?’
The telephone said something flattering.
Suze laughed, undeceived. ‘And you know that nobody else would even think of trying. Okay, Jay, I’ll do what I can. But I need the paperwork tonight and I’m not in the office. If you’re serious about this, you’ll have to drop it off here.’ She spelled out Zoe’s address.
The telephone said something else.
‘Am I an online map service?’ asked Suze sweetly. ‘Look in the A to Z. The good news is it doesn’t matter how late you get here. We’re having a party.’
It was all the reminder that Zoe needed. She jumped to her feet. ‘Time to get on,’ she mouthed at Suze, and ran down the last set of steps to the patio and into the kitchen, command centre of Operation Party.
She began to attack the remaining two thirds of the big refectory table with energy.
Eventually Suze finished her phone call and followed. ‘Interesting,’ she said. She stood in the doorway, sucking her teeth. ‘Er—Zo? About your jobs next week…’
‘What?’ said Zoe, scrubbing hard.
‘I know you don’t want to sign on with me permanently. But—what about a one-off? Two weeks, maybe four. A really stimulating job, too. Lots of initiative required, and you get to use your brain, too.’
Zoe knew her best friend well. Suze had not got to be a twenty-four-year-old phenomenon by focusing on the disadvantages of the employers who used her agency. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘Nothing. Honest. It’s a brilliant job.’
‘Then why haven’t you already got someone on your books who can do it?’
Suze sighed. ‘I have. Well, a couple. But they’ve already got jobs for next week. And this is not a job that just anyone can do. They have to have that little bit extra.’ She came and stood beside Zoe, nudging her companionably. ‘Well, a lot extra, actually. You’d have been my first choice anyway.’
‘You’re wheedling,’ said Zoe dispassionately. ‘You always wheedle when there’s something wrong. ‘Fess up. What’s the downside?’
‘Well, it’s in the West End,’ admitted Suze.
‘Uh-oh. You mean I’d have to leave the house before Harry goes to school.’ She shook her head. ‘No way. His exams are coming up.’
‘If I can persuade them to let you arrive later? Say ten- thirty? That would mean you missed the rush hour on the tube as well.’ Suze slipped an arm round her. ‘Oh, come on, Zo. You know you need the money. And it’d be fun. We could have lunch together.’
Zoe hesitated. It was true; they needed the money. The plumbing had more leaks than she was able to keep up with, and a damp patch that she kept trying not to think about had appeared in the top bedroom ceiling. To have enough in her bank account to be able to call a plumber and hang the consequences sounded like heaven.
‘If I could leave the house after I’ve seen Harry off…’ she mused aloud.
‘You’re a sweetheart,’ said Suze. She put on rubber gloves and took the scouring pad away from Zoe. ‘I’ll finish that.’