Moving On

Idea

Idea

‘A SWEATER,’ ELLEN SAID. ‘A CUCKOO CLOCK, A WOOLLY hat, a year’s subscription to Time magazine.’ She turned to Claire. ‘What else?’

‘Box of biscuits,’ Claire said.

The barman whistled. ‘Lucky.’

‘Not lucky,’ Claire told him. ‘Clever. Very clever. I have a very clever friend. She’s much cleverer than me.’

Ellen giggled. They were at the giggly stage of the night, on the second of what they’d sworn was their last drink – or was it the third? Tomorrow was Saturday, so who cared? ‘To Gloria,’ she said, raising her glass. ‘The light of my life.’

‘You should get a job in advertising,’ the barman said to her. ‘Sounds like it would be right up your alley.’

He was Irish, and working in The Horse and Carriage, two doors down from The Laughing Lion. They were getting to know the local pubs, and the barmen.

‘Someone said that to me once,’ Ellen replied, an image of Ben flashing briefly. ‘Someone I loved and lost.’ God, she must be drunk.

The barman gave a sympathetic smile. ‘Been there, done that. Sorry to hear.’ He was sweet.

‘You’re sweet,’ she said, even though she knew he was eyeing up Claire.

‘Seriously,’ he said, ‘my cousin works in an employment agency here. I don’t know her number, but—’ He peeled the top layer from a beermat and scribbled on the newly blank side. ‘Here’s where she works. You should give her a ring, tell her about the prizes, and ask if she has any jobs in advertising.’

‘Thanks – I will.’

She tucked the beermat into her bag as Claire ordered another round. Next morning it took her befuddled mind a while to recall the conversation – and when she did, she almost threw the beermat into the bin. What did she know about working in advertising? Absolutely nothing. What agency in its right mind would hire someone with nothing to show but a few competition wins and zero qualifications – what qualifications did you even need?

On the other hand, a job in advertising sounded a lot more glamorous than working behind the counter of a sandwich bar or a bookshop. Pressurised, probably – ideas to conjure up, deadlines to meet – but maybe she’d be able for it.

She studied the beermat again. His cousin’s name was Laura Redmond. Ellen could talk to her, ask her what her chances were. What did she have to lose?

Something Ben had said floated into her head, something about things being worth a try. What if I try and fail? she’d asked, and he’d said, What if you try and don’t fail? They’d been talking about her writing a book, which was so daunting a prospect it might never happen – but this was something that might be a more realistic goal. What if you try and don’t fail? She closed her eyes and saw his face as he’d urged her to be brave, to give things a go.

She would be brave. She’d give this a go.