The Little Brooklyn Bakery. Julie CaplinЧитать онлайн книгу.
as she passed a couple of fast-food stands and her ears picking up on the American accents around her. Ahead, a tower block with a jagged silhouette of diamond-shaped glass panes beckoned. Recognising the magazine headquarters, she picked up her step. Up close it was even more imposing. What looked like hundreds of floors of steel and glass rose upwards from the original 1920s stone building which now made up the base.
Following the tide of people, trying to look nonchalant – after all, she was one of them now – she entered through the double doors and almost gasped. It was much cooler inside but the space was huge. Two escalators rose several stories up, alongside a wall of glass and water, the sound of the rushing liquid amplified by the space. She gulped. The country mouse had come to town.
Turnstiles guarded the entrance which people gaily slipped through. She turned right to the reception desk and waited while the girl behind it finished tidying the paper on it, before fixing a bored gaze upon her.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Yes, hi, I’m …’ Words deserted her. ‘I’m … here …’ The name of the woman she was supposed to ask for had vanished. Completely wiped from her memory. ‘I’m starting work here today.’
‘Department?’
‘CityZen Magazine.’
‘Name?’
‘Sophie. Sophie Bennings.’
The girl scanned her computer screen, her mouth tightening as if it really was too much trouble. Her frown deepened. She looked at Sophie again.
‘Can’tseeyoudownhere. Needa name.’
‘Pardon?’ Sophie could barely interpret the girl’s accent and quick-fire delivery.
‘I need a name.’
‘Erm …’ Sophie’s mind went blank. ‘Trudy … Trudy …’ No, it had gone. ‘Hold on a minute.’ Rummaging in her bag, she searched for her mobile. Why hadn’t she been more organised and written everything down?
Security was clearly tight. And she had no clue where she was supposed to be going.
The girl looked over her shoulder. ‘Morning, Sir. Can I help you?’
Dismissed summarily, Sophie paled and cursed her own stupidity. Emails. There were emails with everything in them. Where was her phone? She pulled out her purse. Make-up bag. Keys. No phone.
With horrible realisation, she remembered. Faffing about with the unfamiliar American adapter, plugging her phone in to charge.
‘Hey, English.’
‘Todd! Hi,’ her voice squeaked unbecomingly in utter relief.
‘Morning. You found your way here OK, then.’
‘Yes, but I’ve left my phone behind and all the paperwork. I can’t remember who I was supposed to ask for.’
‘No problem. I’ll take you up.’ He leaned over the desk. ‘Hey, Terri. She’s with me.’
An instant smile lifted the girl’s perfectly made-up mannequin face. ‘Hey Todd, how you doing?’
‘Good, you?’
‘Better if you’d take me out for lunch.’ Her chin dipped in coy invitation.
‘Now Terri, you know I don’t mix business with pleasure.’
‘A girl can try,’ her eyes lowered with seductive promise. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing.’
‘I know,’ said Todd mournfully. ‘It’s a burden I have to bear.’
With a quick rueful pout, she pushed a pass over the desk. ‘Here you go.’
‘Thanks for rescuing me,’ said Sophie as he guided her through the barriers towards the huge escalators, unable to stop herself adding, ‘even though you put yourself in the face of danger there.’
He gave her a cheerful grin. ‘One likes to do one’s duty. They’re pretty tight on security here. You could have had a long wait while they checked you out.’
Sophie stared around her. ‘This place is impressive.’
‘You get used to it.’ He shrugged. ‘We’re up on the thirty-third floor.’
She followed him through a seating area filled with bright sunshine to the bank of lifts, and they sailed upwards with a stomach-dropping whoosh, and in seconds the doors opened with a ping. Her nerves settled with instant relief at the sight of the familiar logo of the magazine on a large glass panel. This looked more like it. Beyond the glass, she could see desks ranked just like back in London. Suddenly everything didn’t feel quite so alien and intimidating.
With a wave at the girl on the reception desk, Todd pushed her forward.
‘This is Sophie. She’s the job swap with Brandi.’
The young woman looked up, a quick expression of appalled horror crossing her face, which she masked almost instantly.
‘I’ll let Trudy know you’re here.’
After a ten-minute wait, which seemed agonisingly long, Sophie was led down the hall to a glass-walled office in the corner.
‘Trudy, this is Sophie. The job swap.’
‘Sophie, nice to meet you. Erm …’ said the tall, dark-haired woman, rising and smoothing her hand down a slim-fitting pencil skirt before holding it out.
She looked at the receptionist, her eyes flashing some hidden message. ‘Right, erm … take a seat. I’ll be right back.’
Sophie sank into the chair and stared out at the view beyond. New York spread out before her, the green of what had to be Central Park, the trees – so small from up here – reminding her of heads of broccoli, the intricate layout of rooftops a long way below which looked like Airfix models, detailed with water towers and air-conditioning units, and in the distance edging the park, more skyscrapers, blinding white in the brilliant sunshine like sentries on the border. Did you ever get tired of this view, she wondered. It was incredible.
She waited, the minutes ticking by. The tension was back, poking at her shoulders, the muscles bunching. Something was wrong. Surely they were expecting her. It had all been confirmed by email. Admittedly in a rush, but now she could remember Trudy Winkler, Editorial Director. They’d exchanged several emails, copied into the HR Manager. Sophie told herself not to panic. They probably hadn’t got her desk cleared. Maybe it still had balloons and crumbs covering it.
Trudy came back, a smile plastered on her face. ‘Right. Well … actually, there’s been a slight hitch. Nothing to worry about.’ She smoothed her skirt again. ‘We, erm … well. When … erm, Mel, wasn’t it, had her accident, we didn’t think anyone could fill her place … Oh, this is embarrassing. One of the board offered his friend’s daughter an internship … to cover Brandi’s job.’
Sophie’s fingers curled over the edge of her seat, holding on tightly.
‘Don’t worry … it’s fine. You can job share with Madison … it’s just we need to find you another desk, it won’t be with the other cookery writers, I’m afraid, but we’ll find—’
The phone rang on her desk and she grabbed it like a lifebelt.
‘Ah, thanks. That’s great. Perfect. I’ll bring her over.’
A real smile lit up her face. ‘Problem solved. Come on.’
She led Sophie through the office, where heads were bent over their laptops with studious intent as if they didn’t dare look up and acknowledge there’d been a booboo. Only one girl caught Sophie’s eye, her bright-red lips stretching in a slightly smug and triumphant smirk. Immediately Sophie knew. This was Madison, the intern. But as Trudy led her across the room past a few more desks into an area by the window, the girl’s expression changed to one of