All Work And No Play

Path of true love

My older sister Megan never does things by halves. She’s always been the cleverest, the prettiest, the girl chosen as Most Likely To Succeed.

When she left college, she was headhunted by a big advertising agency and I had to count myself lucky to find a Girl Friday job in the rather shabby office of Bradburn’s Printing Works.

“Oh well, learn as much as you can, then try for a decent job in the city,” she said pityingly.

However I never wanted to move, because I liked Andrew Bradburn the moment I met him.

I guessed his age was somewhere between thirty and forty, but it was hard to tell because he wore thick spectacles and was already balding slightly.

He ran the family business in an old-fashioned, hands-on way and was very popular with the men. In fact he seemed much happier operating the printing presses than working in the office and after a few weeks he left most of the admin work to me.

“You’re far better organised than I am, Carrie,” he said. “Could you do the ordering of the printing ink? We’re always running out and it’s my fault, I forget to check the stock room.”

“Of course, Mr Bradburn,” I said, glad that he had such confidence in me.

“I think it’s time you called me Andrew?” he said. “Is that coffee you’ve got there? Do you think I could have a cup, too, please?” “Of course, Andrew,” I smiled. He grinned back and suddenly seemed a lot younger.

“When my dad started this business there were only three men,” he said, sitting on the edge of my desk. “And he managed everything himself. He never dreamed it would grow this big.”

“A staff of fifty,” I said. “He’d be proud of you, Andrew.”

“I had dreams of being an artist. But my father died when I was only twenty and I had to keep the business going for the sake of the family. My kid brother Warren was still at school. And fifteen years later, here I still am.”

So his dreams were over – although he didn’t look too down about it. Even though, I could see he was under pressure every day to meet printing deadlines and worked amidst thundering printing presses in these old, rundown premises.

Sometimes Andrew looked anxious and I knew, from doing the books, that some months were pretty knife-edge when it came to paying the salaries.

“I’m hoping when Warren finishes college he’ll join me here,” he said, adding wistfully, “If he decides to become a partner, I could maybe afford to take a holiday.”

“Where would you go if he did?” I asked.

“Me?” he laughed. “I’d take a month off and go walking in the mountains with my paintbox. But that’ll never happen.”

Warren, who popped in to work part-time during vacations, was the exact opposite of Andrew. Full of jokes and irresistibly good-looking, with blond hair in need of a good trim.

Secretly I thought he looked rather dashing.

When Warren graduated, his brother gave him various duties but he spent most of his time perched on my desk paging through motoring magazines.

“I’m going to buy one of those classic sports cars,” he said dreamily. “Walnut dashboard, real leather seats.”

“Well, when you buy it, be sure to take me for a ride,” I joked. “I’ve always fancied the wind in my hair.”

I fancied Warren, too. But with all the female callers he had, I knew I didn’t stand a chance.

One afternoon he was sitting in my office when Megan breezed in, looking her usual beautiful, chic self.

“Hi, Carrie,” she said briskly. “Had you forgotten I’m picking you up for Mum’s birthday supper? I’ll wait while you change.”

“I haven’t forgotten, no,” I said, picking up my bag. “But I’m perfectly happy dressed as I am.”

She wrinkled her nose in charming disapproval and then smiled at Warren.

“And you are?” she asked. “Warren Bradburn,” he mumbled, with a goofy expression. Megan has that effect on men. “I’m Megan, Carrie’s sister.” They stared into each other’s eyes like a pair of idiots and I had to practically pull her away. “’Bye, Warren,” I said. “Goodbye, Megan,” he breathed. “See you soon.”

They started dating almost every night, and from the snippets of phone conversation I overheard, I could tell things were getting serious.

Megan influenced him a lot. One day he came to work in a suit, something I couldn’t resist commenting on.

“Applying for another job, are you?” I teased. “Or did you finally decide to wash those jeans?”

“I’m taking Megan to an art exhibition after work,” he said defensively. “I need to dress decently.”

The following week he walked into the office looking so completely different that I gasped in horror. He now had a sharp brush cut and looked, well, leaner and meaner.

“Megan knows this terrific hairstylist,” he said defensively.

“What was he, a sheep-shearer in a previous life?”

He scowled. “Megan says I’m wasted here,” he said. “She says I should apply for a job at her company.”

“But you don’t know the first thing about advertising!”

“There’s a position of junior accounts executive coming up. It could lead to better things once I’ve learned the ropes.”

That was Megan talking. Something always had to lead to better things.

“But how can you let Andrew down? He’s counting on you to take over some of the business.”

“Andrew will get on fine without me – and besides, he’s got you.”

“But he wanted a partner. I’m just the dogsbody around here!” “Megan says I have a creative mind.” “Megansays, Megansays. You sound like a parrot.” I was furious with him, and my sister. I knew how much Andrew had been counting on Warren to take some of the load off his shoulders – and now Megan had lured him to her glitzy offices with the promises of some high-flying job. He’d probably come creeping back after a few months anyway.

“So apply for the stupid job, then,” I said crossly. “But before you go, could you give me the production figures for last month, please? I’ve been asking you for them the whole week.”

When Warren told his brother, there were no roars of outrage, just quiet disappointment. “His heart wasn’t in it, I could tell,” he commented gloomily. I inherited Warren’s office, his big shiny desk and all the work he was supposed to do. Andrew gave me a pay rise along with my new responsibilities and once I’d sorted the haphazard mess of papers he’d left behind, I didn’t miss Warren at all. I sometimes wondered if he’d done anything at the office besides read car magazines.

I was running every aspect of the business – books, chasing up debtors, buying workshop supplies. I started a new system for ordering and insisted Andrew buy the latest accounting package.

He was ridiculously impressed that I had everything running smoothly so quickly, and made me office manager. That sounded a lot better than dogsbody.

One morning my phone rang and it was Megan. “Carrie? Can we meet sometime?” None of that “How are you? Sorry I pinched Warren from you” for my

sister. Nope – straight down to business.

“Sorry, I’m too busy to go out,” I said ungraciously. “But I’m having a sandwich at my desk. Join me if you like.”

At lunchtime she appeared, carrying a bag from an upmarket deli. “Nice office.” I could see her mentally measuring the size of my desk with approval. Desk size meant a lot to my sister.

A feast of lovely little smoked salmon patties and slices of quiche spilled out of the packet. I grinned.

“Beats peanut butter,” I said, my mouth full. “OK, what’s the problem?”

“Warren’s the problem,” she said bitterly. “That smooth talker has pinched my job, after all I’ve done for him. I’ve resigned.”

“Warren Bradburn? Pinched your job? How could he? I mean, he wasn’t exactly a ball of fire when he was here.” I felt a bit treacherous, but it was true. “The man’s an advertising natural,” she said crossly. “He has such a clever way with words. You know those funny adverts for yogurt with the fat woman and the flowers? He’s just won an award for that. It used to be my account.” “I’m sorry,” I said, awkwardly. “I was just his stepping-stone to better things,” she said bitterly. “But he did me a favour, really. I’m starting at Longridge’s on the first of next month. Better pay, nicer office.” “So you’re happy, then?” “Carrie! I’m furious! He dumped me!” For the first time, I felt almost sorry for my sister.

“And when are you planning to leave this dreary little backwater?” she went on. “It’s time to move on, isn’t it?”

“It has a certain charm,” I said. “Anyway, I like it.”

“You always were a bit crazy,” she said and gathered up her bag, barely nodding to Andrew as she left. “You like the oddest things.”

“Do you really like working in this ‘dreary little backwater’?” asked Andrew diffidently. “Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“Of course I do,” I said. “But it’s the people I work with that count.”

Well, person, actually. Andrew. He was just so pleasant and friendly and… downright nice.

“I’m glad you feel that way, Carrie,” he said softly, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with a tissue from the box on my desk. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you. Everything’s going so much better since you’ve been around.”

He had the deepest blue eyes I’d ever seen, something I noticed properly for the first time.

He cleared his throat hesitantly and seemed about to say something when the phone rang and I had to take the call. When I hung up, he’d left the room.

That evening I was just leaving the office when a little red sports car roared up to the front door of Bradburn Printing Works.

It was Warren, in a soft leather jacket, his head now aggressively shaven and with a tattoo on his neck.

“So you’ve bought your dream car,” I said stupidly. I’d forgotten how goodlooking he was. “Yep. Like it?” “It’s gorgeous.” “So, hop in, Carrie. I’m taking you for that ride I promised. And afterwards, how about the Golden Pheasant for dinner?”

Six months before, I’d have gone weak at the knees and hopped in as ordered. But I shook my head. “Sorry, Warren, not tonight.” “Wind in your hair, remember? How can you resist a spin in this baby?” Quite easily, I realised. “It’s good to see you, Warren. I’m really glad you’re doing so well,” I said, and I meant it. “But I have a date.”

I went back into the printing works and found Andrew chatting to one of the printers, his hands full of blue ink. He gave a huge grin when he saw me and came over, wiping his hands

“I thought you’d left for the day,” he said. “Anything wrong?”

“It’s just that we didn’t finish our conversation this afternoon. I had a feeling you were going to ask me something.”

“Um – yes I was – well…” He looked so painfully shy that I took pity on him.

“Well, maybe you had the same idea as me,” I said. “I was going to ask you something too. Would you like to have dinner with me sometime? Like tonight, for instance?”

“I’d love to,” he said and the twinkle behind his glasses gave me the feeling that we were about to have a very good evening. “Thank you for asking.” Suddenly I felt a bit foolish. “Um, so could you pick me up?” “Of course. But it won’t be in a sports car with a walnut dashboard, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, so you saw Warren. Don’t worry, I much prefer an old sedan with paper samples all over the back seat.”

“That’s one of the things I love about you, Carrie,” he said quietly. “You like the oddest things.”