The Forgotten Girl (16 page)

‘I worked on this,' she said. ‘Oh it was such hard work – but what fun we had.'

She began turning the pages, and I bit my lip so I wouldn't talk and interrupt her train of thought. I wanted her to tell me what she remembered.

‘I slept under my desk one night,' she said, giggling and looking like the girl in the old photo. ‘I didn't even live that far away but it was just easier to curl up on the floor with a blanket because we'd worked so late.'

I grinned. This was what I wanted.

‘We thought we weren't going to finish in time. Our editor, Margi, was like a thing possessed, calling in favours, getting help from anyone she could. But we did it. And it was wonderful.'

‘I love it,' I said. ‘It's got such energy.'

‘Energy?' Suze said, resting her hand on one of the open pages. ‘Yes, that's it, exactly. It almost had a life of its own.'

There was a pause.

‘That's what I need to get back,' I said. ‘Mode is tired. My team are fed up. I need to bring back that energy and give it some life. We're planning a vintage theme for the anniversary issue, but I'm not sure that's enough to really capture the spirit of those early years.'

Suze looked distinctly unimpressed, which was pretty much how I felt.

‘I've read the issue over and over,' I said. ‘It's just so brilliant and even though it's fifty years old, lots of the articles are still relevant today.'

I took the magazine from Suze and flicked through it until I found the feature on illegal abortion. ‘This one, for example,' I said. ‘You could write that today and it would still work. You could base it on Northern Ireland – abortion's still illegal there…'

I tailed off as my thoughts took over. Could we do exactly that? Write updated versions of the articles that were in the first issue?

Suze was watching me, a smile on her face.

‘Idea?' she said.

‘Maybe.' I tapped my fingers on the cover of the magazine. ‘What if, instead of doing a vintage issue, we relaunch Mode with a version of the first issue?'

Suze made a face.

‘A fifty-year-old magazine isn't going to win over the readers,' she said. ‘Even their grandmothers wouldn't remember our first issue.'

‘I don't just mean re-printing it as it was,' I said. ‘I mean giving it a twenty-first century twist.'

‘Go on,' said Suze, giving me an approving look.

Slowly I tried to put my idea into words.

‘We could stick to the themes of each article, broadly,' I said. ‘As with the illegal abortion feature…' I began leafing through the issue, explaining how we could update each story. Suze listened intently and it struck me that she perhaps missed magazines even more than she'd realised.

‘Good,' said Suze. ‘That's good.'

I smiled and turned on to the next feature.

‘I could commission someone to write about why they don't want kids,' I said. ‘This feature here, about why the writer never wants to be a mother, is just as relevant as it was then. Shocking in a different way, perhaps, but still relevant.'

Suze had a strange expression on her face.

‘Are you okay?' I said.

‘Nancy Harrison wrote that piece,' she said.

I looked at the name on the byline and nodded.

‘Yes, Nancy Harrison,' I agreed. ‘Oh, Harrison? As in Susannah Harrison. Are you related?'

Suze had gone quite pale.

‘Not related,' she said. ‘Not as such.'

‘Friends?' I said.

She made a funny jerky movement that could have been a nod but equally could have been her shaking for no.

‘Friends?' she said. ‘I suppose so.'

‘So Susannah Harrison is…?'

‘When I needed a pen name,' Suze said slowly, as though she'd never said these words in this order before, ‘I thought of Nancy and I used her surname.'

‘Are you still in touch with Nancy?' I asked, wondering why talking about this mysterious writer from the sixties was having such an effect on Suze. ‘Did she mind that you'd used her name?'

‘In touch with her?' Suze said, giving a tiny laugh. ‘That's a good one.'

I had no idea what was going on.

‘Where is Nancy now?' I asked. ‘Where's Nancy Harrison?'

‘Oh she's dead,' Suze said. ‘Dead.'

I was mortified. No wonder she was acting so strangely if one of her friends had just passed away.

‘I'm so sorry,' I said. ‘Was it recent?'

Suze stared at me.

‘Recent?' she said. ‘Not at all. Nancy died in 1966.'

Chapter 25

1966

‘Just tell him,' Suze said to me impatiently a week or so later. We were having lunch at Bruno's. She was treating me with the proceeds of another article she'd written for Viva.

‘Just bloody tell him you're not getting married.'

‘I will,' I said. ‘I will. It's just hard to say the words. He's nice, my Billy. He doesn't deserve me breaking his heart.'

Suze rolled her eyes and sipped her Coke.

‘You need to put yourself first,' she said.

I shook my head.

‘Billy's not done anything wrong,' I said. ‘I need to be gentle.'

Suze looked put out.

‘You've not done anything wrong, either.'

‘No,' I said. ‘Yes. Maybe. I don't know. I just feel so guilty.'

Suze leaned over the table and pushed up the sleeve of my blouse, too fast for me to pull my arm away. I had a row of bruises on my wrist from where Dad had grabbed me the night before.

‘Your dad?' Suze said.

‘He didn't mean it,' I said. ‘He'd had one too many and misjudged how hard he'd gripped when he asked me to get him another beer from the fridge.'

‘I'd hate to see how hard he hits when he does mean it,' Suze said. ‘Look, I know you think you owe Billy, but I don't see him helping you get away from your father.'

I shrugged.

‘He doesn't know,' I said, knowing he did really.

‘You need to make the break,' she said. ‘Get out of your dad's house and get rid of Billy.'

‘I know,' I said. ‘You're right. I'm not arguing with you. I'm just saying it's hard. I'm scared.'

‘We're doing well,' Suze said. ‘We're making money. We're getting our names out there. We could rent somewhere now.'

‘It's all a bit haphazard though,' I said, finding it hard to be as positive as she was. ‘A bit here and a bit there. If we just had proper writing jobs we'd be set.'

‘You mean if I had a proper writing job,' Suze said. ‘You already have one.'

I grinned.

‘I've got a typing-recipes job,' I said. ‘But I'm really hoping Rosemary might promote me to writer soon.'

‘And then I could come and type recipes,' Suze said.

I raised my eyebrow.

‘You'd last five minutes typing recipes,' I said. ‘Why don't you ask your friend at Viva for a job?'

‘I'm going to,' Suze said. She popped a tomato into her mouth and signalled to Bruno for the bill. ‘I'm setting up an interview that he'll be so impressed with that he'll be begging me to work with him.'

‘Oh yeah?' I said. I was slightly envious of Suze's amazing knack at making contacts and her easy confidence when it came to asking people for interviews.

‘Who with?'

‘That would be telling,' she said, pulling some notes out of her bra – Suze never carried a purse – and laying them down for Bruno, whose eyes were almost popping out of his head. ‘I have to dash.'

She blew me a kiss and wiggled out of the booth. Bruno watched her go admiringly.

‘That girl is making waves,' he said.

‘I believe you're right,' I said, giggling.

I wandered back to work, still wondering who Suze's interview was with. Could it be Cilla Black? Tom Jones? The Beatles, even? Nothing would surprise me.

I sat down at my typewriter and rolled in a fresh sheet of paper, trying not to think about Suze wowing Paul McCartney when I was typing up a recipe for something called stargazy pie.

‘Nancy?' Rosemary called me across the office. ‘Can I have a word?'

I felt a surge of adrenaline. Was this it? Was she about to promote me? Would stargazy pie be the last recipe I ever typed?

Rosemary shut the door to her office behind me and I felt nervous all over again as I sat down, clasping my hands together so they stopped shaking.

‘Nancy,' she said. ‘I just wanted to catch up and let you know how impressed I've been with your work.'

I beamed at her.

‘In fact, I was boasting about you to a friend of mine, Margi Matthews, the other day,' she carried on. ‘And it's backfired on me a bit…'

My hands started shaking even more. I wasn't sure where she was going with this. But she was smiling, so maybe it wasn't bad. Concentrate, Nancy…

‘Margi is editor of a magazine in New York, called Mode,' Rosemary was saying. ‘It's a magazine aimed at young women. It's quite…' she paused and gave me a wry smile. ‘Quite modern.'

‘Good,' I said. I still wasn't sure what that had to do with me.

‘I've been asked to take over as editor,' she said.

‘In New York?' I said, excited for her. ‘Oh well done, that's good news. I'll miss you though.'

I was telling the truth – I had really appreciated Rosemary's help with my career so far.

Rosemary smiled. ‘There's a vacancy in New York because Margi's coming to London,' she went on. ‘She's launching Mode in Britain. Most of her team is in place but she needs a junior writer.'

My head started to spin.

‘I thought of you straight away,' Rosemary said. ‘You're exactly what she's looking for – young, talented, keen.'

I couldn't speak. I simply stared at Rosemary, trying to work out if what she was saying was real or if I was dreaming.

‘What,' I stammered. ‘What should I do?'

‘It's not going to be easy,' Rosemary said, briskly. ‘I'm not the only person Margi's spoken to for recommendations, so there are going to be lots of girls like you going for this job. But you've got just as much chance as them.'

‘Should I write?' I said.

Rosemary handed me a sheet of paper.

‘It's all here,' she said. ‘You need to put together some of your best articles and write a covering letter, too. I'm happy to have a look at it before you send it off.'

‘Thank you,' I said. ‘I really appreciate your help with this.'

Back at my desk I couldn't stop smiling. This was it. Things were happening – just like Suze said.

Oh.

Suze.

My stomach fell into my white PVC boots.

I had to tell Suze about the job. How could I not? But then she'd want to apply too. And with her fabulous portfolio of interviews and all the articles she'd written for Viva, she was bound to be chosen instead of me.

I put my head in my hands. What on earth should I do?

‘Penny for them.'

I looked up to see George standing next to my desk. Immediately I blushed. I'd not seen him since we'd kissed because he'd been sent away on a job the next day.

‘Hi,' I said. ‘Are you bringing some pictures for Rosemary?'

‘No,' he said. ‘For you. The day-in-the-life pics.'

He put them on my desk with a flourish.

‘Oh George,' I said, leafing through them. ‘These are wonderful. Is the paper pleased?'

He looked proud.

‘Very,' he said. ‘They've commissioned me to do some more stuff.'

Thrilled, I jumped up and threw my arms round him.

‘That's so great,' I said, all awkwardness forgotten. ‘I've had some good news, too.'

I filled him in on everything Rosemary had said and he grinned at me.

‘This is perfect for you,' he said.

‘I know,' I agreed. ‘There's just one problem.'

‘Suze?' he said.

‘Suze.'

I screwed my nose up.

‘I have to tell her about it,' I said. ‘But I'm being mean because I don't want to. She's better than me, George. What if she gets the job and I don't?'

George gave me a good-natured punch on the arm.

‘She's not better than you,' he said. ‘She's a good writer but you're great. She's got some good ideas – but so do you.'

‘She's got bloody Beatles interviews in her portfolio,' I said gloomily – and untruthfully.

George shrugged.

‘Your portfolio is good too,' he said. ‘And you've got Rosemary on your side. I'd say it's a pretty even match. And you never know, they might have more than one job going.'

I looked up at him.

‘You think I can do it?'

He nodded.

‘I know you can,' he said.

Chapter 26

In the end, though, I didn't have to tell Suze anything. She already knew.

She was waiting for me outside the office when I left work later.

‘I have to go home today,' I said. ‘I can't be late. I promised Dad I'd be home for dinner. He's got some friend coming and I've got to get things ready.'

‘I've got huge news,' she said, ignoring me.

I stopped and looked at her.

‘Me too,' I said. ‘Bet it's the same news.'

Suze gave me her blinding smile.

‘Mode,' she said. ‘Mode's coming to London.'

She gripped my arm.

‘We're going to get jobs there,' she said. ‘I've got it all worked out.'

I giggled, despite myself.

‘I do need to go home,' I said. ‘But walk with me to Charing Cross and tell me your plan.'

Arm in arm we sauntered through Soho, Suze gabbling nineteen to the dozen.

‘So Marcus told me about the job,' she said. ‘He's friends with the editor in America…'