The Making of Mia (12 page)

Debbie gave Katherine a lazy, slow smile. ‘You’re right. There’s going to be stiff competition for this job, absolutely everyone
is going to want it. Do you know when they’re making the selection?’

Katherine was practically jumping up and down. ‘Today! I think they’re going around the office today! Well, that’s what Justine
said, anyway.’

Debbie suddenly didn’t look so sure of herself. She sat bolt upright. ‘Today? Are you sure? But I haven’t got any make-up
on, I’m not wearing my new mini-skirt, and oh!’ Debbie looked down at her Elizabeth Duke engagement ring and tore it off with
difficulty. ‘I can’t have Joshie Garnet thinking I wouldn’t give him one hundred per cent. Quick, toilets! This is an emergency.’
She shot Frieda a quick look. ‘Sorry, Frieda. Needs must,’ she said, as the others practically ran out of the office to look
at themselves in the decent mirrors in the ladies’.

Jo sighed, and started typing up the rest of the article. She hadn’t a chance. Even if she was tall, skinny and had Scandinavian
cheekbones it wouldn’t have made a difference – Debbie would clearly get the job, as she had been here the longest. She had
paid her dues, Jo thought with a sniff, and she didn’t look too bad when she put lots of make-up on to cover up her spots.
But still, wouldn’t it be nice if Joshua Garnet walked up to her desk to ask her if she would like to be his PA? He’d stand
in front of her and she’d look up at him, taking in his dark hair, broad shoulders and easy charm. He’d tell her how wonderful
he thought she was, and mention how he had always admired her from a distance. Why, he would say, he had always known she
was talented and this
was her chance to shine. He would offer a hand and Jo would get up from her desk and glide to his office with him where he
would tell her that he didn’t actually need a PA, but a new editor of
Gloss
because Madeline had been struck down with a mystery illness—

‘Joanne!’ Jo heard Frieda’s curt voice through her daydream and she stopped typing to look up at her. Standing in the corner
of the office was Madeline Turner, watching her with a strange expression. Frieda turned back to Madeline when she was satisfied
Jo was paying attention. ‘Sorry about that, Ms Turner, but Joanne does like to get engrossed in her work.’

Jo blushed. She couldn’t believe Madeline Turner was in the same room as her. She wondered if she remembered her from the
night at Chantez.

‘Oh, I see,’ she said, her voice sounding polished and cool. ‘I’ll cut to the chase. Rather than being a typist we’d like
Joanne to be Mr Garnet’s new personal assistant. The role would involve assisting Mr Garnet on his personal business as well
as providing some support to the journalists. We think Joanne would do a good job and would like her to join the team. That
is, if she would like to.’

Jo’s mouth dropped open. Her daydream had spilt into real life.

‘Joanne, would you like the job?’ Madeline Turner was almost smiling at her, and rumour had it that Madeline was normally
so miserable that she never smiled.

Jo turned to Frieda, whose expression remained blank, and then back to Madeline. ‘I’d love it,’ she said, praying she would
stop blushing. ‘I’d absolutely love it.’ Was this really happening to her?

Madeline grimaced. ‘Then it’s all settled. Let’s go.’

Jo picked up her handbag and followed Madeline out into the hallway in shock. She couldn’t believe it. Not only was she about
to meet Joshua Garnet, but she was going to be his
right-hand girl. This was the break she’d been waiting for – she’d have to get in touch with William to let him know that
her career was on track after all.

December 2002

‘You mean after all this time you still don’t know why you were picked? Oh, that’s so sweet.’ Debbie was sitting on Jo’s desk,
casually swinging her long, slender legs, and Jo wondered how she could get rid of her without causing a scene. It was still
early – not yet half past eight – but Jo knew Joshua Garnet had a meeting at nine with Madeline Turner and she was worried
that he would come in at any minute. She didn’t want him to think she was the type that liked to gossip with the other secretaries.

‘OK, let me put it another way,’ Debbie said, picking up a card Amelia had sent her and reading it idly. ‘Why do you think
Madeline Turner, a magazine editor who happens to be Joshua’s wife, came and picked you herself rather than human resources?’

Jo didn’t know whether knocking her off her desk or ignoring her outright would be the better option. ‘Look, can you please
just go?’ she said, trying not to sound annoyed. Both girls could hear the soft murmurs of the editorial staff filtering into
the office, and Jo knew that if Frieda found out that Debbie was in the editorial office – let alone the executive suite –
there would be hell to pay. Debbie shot her a dirty look but she knew Jo was right.

‘It will keep. But have a think about it, won’t you?’ she said, glancing back at Jo. ‘I’ll give you a clue. You certainly
weren’t promoted because of your typing skills.’

Jo watched Debbie swinging her hips in her tight pencil skirt as she strode out of the office, and she put her and her bitchy
comments out of her mind. She was just jealous of her promotion, Jo thought with a smile. And who could blame her? Jo had
finally arrived – not many girls who wanted to work on magazines began their careers as Joshua Garnet’s right-hand girl. And
not many of them had his complete trust, either.

Jo had been working for Joshua Garnet –
Mr
Garnet in front of visitors or Joshua when they were alone – for almost two months and despite being exhausted she had loved
every minute of it. From the moment she woke, Jo was dedicated to making Joshua’s day easier. Her first task was to pick up
Joshua’s bespoke Savile Row suits from the dry-cleaner’s. The Greek owner of the shop marked Jo out as a special customer
due to the number of items Joshua sent to them, and he sometimes cleaned some of her blouses free of charge – a kind gesture
considering Jo never had time to go to the laundrette during the week. From there she would hastily eat a breakfast of two
croissants from the canteen, and then, when the private-entry security guard buzzed her to say Joshua had entered Garnet Tower,
she would brew him his first cup of coffee with a blend imported especially from America. Sometimes Joshua stopped at her
desk to thank her, but most of the time he swept past her in a business-like rush. Jo didn’t mind; she respected the lack
of small talk, and besides, he was so powerful he didn’t need to make pleasantries with anyone.

‘Hold all my calls, will you? I have to go through this dummy front cover with Madeline,’ Joshua said that morning as he casually
walked past Jo’s desk, brutally ignoring the piles of circulation reports she’d been reading in a bid to impress him. Madeline
Turner was behind him wearing a Gucci
shirt and the most amazing snakeskin stilettos Jo had ever seen – and she was deeply envious. Madeline had told her that as
a secretary she wasn’t allowed to dress provocatively in any way, and Jo had duly obeyed. She was in a crumpled grey striped
blouse and a faded black skirt, and she knew she looked like a poor relation compared to all the stunning girls on the magazine.

Jo carefully switched Joshua’s phone to voicemail, and contented herself by surreptitiously watching Joshua and Madeline through
the glass-fronted office. They were engrossed in conversation, and when Madeline began to gesture, angrily, Jo looked on in
fascination, and wondered if they were having a work disagreement or a marital spat. Joshua caught her eye, and then gestured
for Jo to come into his office.

‘Joanne, you’re a
Gloss
reader, aren’t you?’ Joshua was sitting in his leather Eames chair behind his walnut desk, and he casually put his hands
behind his head. He looked ridiculously relaxed in comparison to Madeline, who seemed tense as she sat upright on a chair
next to the dummy front pages.

Jo nodded warily.

‘See, Madeline? I told you she was. She’s young, aspirational and desperate to be told what to wear and what to think,’ Joshua
remarked with an eyebrow raised at his wife. Jo tried to keep her expression neutral, even though he was mocking her. He was
right about the target audience, but wrong that it included her. She wasn’t a bimbo, she thought with determination, and she
was going to make him see that.

Madeline didn’t look happy. ‘I’m sure Joanne’s a lovely girl but she’s not as sassy as our readers, Josh, and you know it.’
Madeline turned back to Joshua behind his desk. ‘Our readers aren’t blank canvasses that will just buy what they’re
told. They want to be more like an Oxford-educated beauty than a Playboy bunny. They want to be appreciated for their brains
as well as their looks. Which is why,’ she said, in her perfect cut-glass accent while jabbing at one of the enlarged front
covers with a perfectly manicured fingernail, ‘this image is completely wrong. The model needs to wear a jacket. To represent
her power.’

Joshua smirked. ‘And cover up her tits, no doubt. Joanne, which do you prefer?’

Jo looked down at the two mock-ups of the
Gloss
front cover. The model on the front was a corkscrew blonde who looked like a provocative Carrie Bradshaw. A baker-boy hat
with navy trim sat jauntily on her head, and her lips were made up with a pale 1960s-style lipstick. Her dress was a peacock
blue – the exact same shade as the large letters that spelt the word ‘Gloss’ at the top of the page. The only difference between
the two photographs was that in the second one the model wasn’t wearing a short white jacket. Instead her shoulders were bare,
and if you looked closely enough you could see the model’s dark pink nipples brushing against the blue of the delicate fabric.
It was a sharp, sexy, disturbing look. And it was perfect for
Gloss
.

Jo bit her lip and forced herself to concentrate on Joshua rather than on Madeline, who was looking at her Patek Philippe
impatiently. ‘I like the one without the jacket,’ she said, finally, wanting to be honest, and, more importantly, not wishing
to piss off Joshua. Madeline sighed, and Jo hoped she wouldn’t get into trouble for taking sides.

‘Oh, what does she know anyway,’ Madeline said to Joshua, who grinned.

‘She’s the target audience, Madeline, and as you know, we always give them what they want.’ He gave Madeline an infuriating
smile and then turned to smile at Jo, who basked in his gaze. He agreed with her!

Jo was excused, and for the rest of the day she sat at her desk in a warm glow. Joshua had taken her advice for the front
cover instead of Madeline’s, and it felt great. She briefly thought about phoning William to tell him, but the idea of speaking
to him and actually hearing his voice started to upset her, so she consoled herself by writing a short email to Amelia, who
was now in her third year at university. Amelia’s reaction was exactly what she’d hoped it would be – happy, impressed and
proud of her – but Jo longed for a hug from William. To get him out of her mind she thought about Joshua and Madeline’s relationship,
and wondered why they appeared to be at war.

A few days later – when Jo overheard the editorial team gossiping in the canteen – the reason for the rift became clear.

‘Did you see Mad Madeline’s face yesterday when Joshua said we had to pay more attention to features about beauty products?’
Araminta said, taking a bite of a sandwich and grinning. ‘She looked like she had eaten a lemon!’

‘But why did he say that? I don’t understand.’ Lizzie, one of the fashion editors looked confused. ‘We already have fourteen
pages of beauty, why do we need more? I thought Madeline wanted us to write more about “fashion culture” or whatever she’s
calling it, not writing copy about lipstick.’

Araminta looked smug. ‘It’s all about advertising. If we write favourable reviews of products then the companies will place
more adverts. It’s all about keeping them sweet.’

A girl called Lucy laughed. ‘You have to wonder what Joshua knows about keeping people sweet, because his wife doesn’t seem
very happy at the moment!’

Araminta grinned, and flicked her long, shiny hair behind her shoulders. ‘You have to admit he’s a good publisher, though.
We must be making money considering the latest Christmas pay rises!’

Jo felt herself blush red. She had issued the payslips on Joshua’s behalf a few days earlier, and when she heard the squeals
of pleasure she quickly rushed to open her own. Unlike the girls on editorial, Jo hadn’t been given an extra penny, and she’d
been annoyed – she didn’t even get paid for all the overtime she did and her wage barely covered her Central London rent.
Jo had spent the rest of the day in a bad mood, and despite telling herself to be grateful that she had a job, that she could,
in theory, be out of work or still working in The Royal Oak, it didn’t do any good. She was exhausted.

As Jo left the office that evening at nine – her usual time – she wondered how much longer she could face doing demanding
twelve-hour days. Jo knew that Joshua’s workload was imposing; yet she seemed to do much more than the usual grunt work. Along
with typing and filing, Jo organised Joshua’s diary with military precision. She arranged meetings, kept the distributed minutes,
and ensured that Joshua’s housekeeper knew when he would require a home-cooked meal. Jo made sure he was informed of current
affairs, arranged tickets to premieres and club openings, and kept a diary of staff birthdays. Jo was so methodical that Joshua’s
life ran smoothly, but keeping track of her boss’s life took up so much of her time that her own personal life dwindled to
nothing. There was no time to work out, shop for healthy food or look after herself properly.

Jo knew her personal life was turning into a mess, but part of her didn’t care. She loved being so close to the action. The
only problem was that the harder she worked, the less time she had to think about how she could start writing for the magazine,
and she seemed to be treading water, not moving forward. She wanted to be coming up with ideas and running the magazine with
Joshua, and she didn’t want to keep on being the quiet chubby girl who made coffee for meetings. She was better than that.