Dear Mrs. Dean,
Thanks for completing our online application form. Apologies for the e-mail rather than a phone call but I’m in a meeting and can’t talk at the moment.
I’m looking for a PA for the next few months and haven’t found anyone suitable through the agencies. I’m returning to my office in Boston in the New Year so I’m just looking for temporary cover until then.
I’ve got a busy week ahead and won’t be in my office until next Monday. I’m in Manchester at a conference today and wonder whether you could meet me there for a chat about the job? Details are below. I’ll book a meeting room but perhaps we could meet in the café at the front of the building at 2 p.m.?
Kind regards
Alan Walker
Managing Director
Immediately I brightened up. At last, a response and it was for a PA role, too. I replied at once, saying I’d be happy to meet him.
* * *
• • •
I drove to the conference center, panicking in case I was late. It was on the other side of Manchester and it took longer than I’d estimated to drive through the city traffic, but still I managed to get to the car park in good time. I had to park on the top floor. I hated multistory car parks, with their tight bends and tighter spaces to park, and I could feel the perspiration trickling down the back of my neck by the time I parked in an empty space.
As I arrived at the café, I looked at my watch. There was plenty of time; I was fifteen minutes early. I ordered coffee and sat in the window, just as we’d arranged, and took out my copy of the Times, so that he’d know it was me. I sent him an e-mail to say I was there. I felt like I was going on a blind date and for the first time I felt a bit uneasy.
I’d already checked the links he’d sent me but now I Googled his name. He was on LinkedIn and all his work and educational history were laid out in front of me. There was a photo, too; he was in his late fifties, quite attractive, with an engaging smile. He’d owned a small company for ten years, according to the bio there. I wondered why he was looking for a PA now, then remembered what he’d said about going back to the States. What would happen to his business then?
After half an hour, I was bored and starting to get a bit edgy. I forced myself to relax. I didn’t want to look annoyed when he did turn up. I spent a few minutes rereading my research into his company, then bought a copy of the Manchester Echo from a stand outside and started to look at jobs advertised in the Manchester area. It was forty miles from home and a much bigger city than I was used to. I could live here, I mused. I could live wherever I wanted to. I was ready for a change.
I waited until just before four o’clock, feeling increasingly irritated. Surely he should have the courtesy to call me? I stood to go and a group of businesspeople standing nearby pushed through and took over my table.
I asked for help at the reception desk but the guy working there didn’t have details of any individuals, just organizations who’d booked in. Given that Alan Walker’s business was so small, I wasn’t surprised that the name wasn’t on his list. He checked the meeting rooms, but there wasn’t anything booked in Walker’s name.
“Sometimes people book a room at the last minute,” he said. “It’s first come, first served. Maybe he thought he’d wait until you met up?”
“I suppose so.” But he’d said he would book it in advance. Why hadn’t he done that?
Now the large reception area was full of people coming down from their meetings. I stood by the desk, holding my newspaper and feeling like a fool, but didn’t see him among the crowds. Certainly nobody was lingering; they were all chatting and hurrying for the exits.
Just then my phone beeped. I sighed with relief. It wasn’t the guy about the interview, though; it was Oliver, my neighbor from home.
Hey, Ruby, how’re things? Haven’t seen you for a while. Are you at your mum’s? x
All I wanted right then was someone to talk to. A friend. I called Oliver’s number but it rang out. Within seconds I got another text: Sorry, just waiting for a client and can’t speak just now. Are you OK?
I realized he didn’t know I’d left home. I wasn’t going to tell him just now. I had to focus on this interview. I’m OK, I replied. Turned up for a job interview but it looks like the guy hasn’t shown up.
It was a few minutes before he replied and I thought his client must have appeared, but then a message came through:
That’s terrible. Sounds like someone you wouldn’t want to work for anyway. Have to run, will be in touch soon x
He was right, I thought. I’d waited well over an hour for him and he hadn’t even had the decency to call me. Did I really want to work for someone like that? I sent Alan Walker an e-mail:
Is our meeting still on? Happy to wait if you’re running late.
There was no reply and five minutes later, I called his number. I had no idea what I would say. I was raging, but knew I’d have to keep calm. The call rang out but didn’t go to voice mail. I frowned. Why hadn’t he got voice mail? How was anyone supposed to get in touch with him? I tried again a couple more times, but still no one answered. I sent another text saying that I’d have to leave soon, but again there was no reply.
By then the place was almost empty and the guy on reception kept staring at me. It was obvious I was wasting my time. Slowly I headed back to the car park. On the ground floor I scrabbled in my bag for the parking ticket and fed it into the machine. The fee was fifteen pounds. Furiously I looked through my purse; I hadn’t enough cash. I took out my credit card, completely fed up.
When I got back to my car I saw I had a missed call. My phone had been in my bag since I left the conference center and the call was made ten or fifteen minutes before. The number wasn’t the one I’d been calling but I assumed it was Alan. I returned the call immediately, but as soon as I said, “Hello?” I was cut off.
I thought maybe I’d caught him in a meeting and he couldn’t talk freely. I wondered whether to wait, but knew I had to leave the car park within five minutes or pay for another ticket, so I sent him a text:
Sorry to have missed you. Looking forward to talking later.
Just as I approached the motorway, I heard the beep of a message from deep inside my bag. I took the first exit and parked on an industrial estate to check my phone. The message was from the number I’d called in the car park. It said:
If you call me again you’ll be sorry.
CHAPTER 15
Ruby
I drove back to the flat in a fury. As soon as I was in my living room I opened my laptop and looked at the e-mails Alan Walker had sent me. He was the one who’d suggested I drive forty miles to meet him and then hadn’t shown up. I’d heard of guys doing that on dates, but for an interview? And had he sent me that text? I was going to let this guy know what I thought of him.