The Candidate (9 page)

‘I know. It’s just hard to even find the time to talk.’ Mads looked at Ginny. ‘I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help. I don’t mean to shoot down every suggestion you make.’

‘You’re not shooting me down; you’re just telling me how it is. But you’ve got to talk to him, and he has to understand that something has to change. And, look, let me come over to babysit. You two need some time together. Even a relationship tragic like me can see that. How about this weekend?’

‘That’s a lovely offer, thank you. And I promise we’ll take you up on it but not this weekend. I’m just shattered. I need to get rid of this cold and I’ll be spending as much time as possible in bed. But I will give him the word.’ Mads reached to put her empty cup on the coffee table. ‘Enough about me. How was your hot date with Mac?’

Ginny laughed. ‘It wasn’t a date; we just got a bite to eat, had a chat. That’s all.’

‘Hmmm. And how is he? As devastatingly handsome as ever?’

Ginny thought back to that little twitch she’d felt. ‘Well, yes, he is an attractive man. I can admit to that.’

Madeleine smiled at her. ‘At last. You’re starting to see the light.’

Driving home, Ginny thought about Madeleine and Paul — what a strong relationship they had, a solid base of friendship, trust and attraction. And those two beautiful children. But even that wasn’t enough to stop the cracks from insidiously creeping between them. Nup. Better off without it. Too hard, too scary to hope for something like that. To have it, and then always be worried you’d lose it.

Chapter 11

On Sunday morning Ginny woke early with a sore throat. By midday, it was on fire.

After running out to stock up on lemons and honey, Ginny resumed her position on the couch, surrounded by everything she had on the RK role. Which, she thought miserably, was not much. She had carried out pretty much a full week of search, and what did she have to show for it? Two dozen CVs. Which didn’t sound too bad, until you looked closely. A few were okay, including one her brother had put her on to, but there certainly wasn’t the volume or quality she had hoped for.

Her meeting with Robert wasn’t until one the following afternoon, which meant she had a bit of time in the morning to see if she could drum up a few more applicants. But looking again at her near-exhausted search list, Ginny wasn’t sure where else she could look. Closing her eyes, she tried to will away the headache building behind them.

Waking with a start two hours later, she groaned. Her throat was burning and her head was pounding. She felt chilled despite the warm day, and it didn’t take long to figure out she’d caught the kids’ cold.

Perfect, she groaned, hauling herself into the kitchen for a glass of water. Just what she needed.

By the next morning it was a fully-fledged head cold. The sore throat had thankfully dulled to a mild annoyance each time she swallowed, which was a plus after the razor blade sensations that had plagued her during the night. However, her nose was completely blocked and her head retained a steady thump. Feeling fuzzy and tired, she was late into the office, where she crossed her index fingers at Ange.

‘Stay away. I have a cold. It’s nasty.’

‘Yeah.’ Ange peered at her. ‘You look awful.’

‘Cheers. Anything I need to know?’

‘No — all under control. Shouldn’t you be in bed?’

‘I wish, but no. I have to look under more stones for Robert Kendrick’s elusive future employee. How’s Forsyth going?’ Engrossed in the RK role, Ginny had nearly forgotten Ange was managing the project.

‘Okay, I think. Want me to set up a long-list meeting with the client, or are you going straight to interview with them?’

‘Calvin is fine without seeing the applications first but why don’t you do a first cut for me? Yes, no and maybe.’

‘Stop trying to turn me into a recruiter.’

‘Looks like one, smells like one …’ Ginny called over her shoulder as she went into her office.

‘You owe me!’ Ange called back.

Laughing, Ginny started up her computer and began looking under stones.

Soon after eleven she got an offer through for Nigel the accountant. Trying not to get too excited, Ginny gave him a call.

‘Nigel, it’s Ginny Hayes from Shine. Can you talk?’

She put the offer to him, then grew anxious in the hum of silence that followed.

‘Um, Ginny, I think I’m having second thoughts.’

Oh, shit, she thought, and her headache went up another notch. ‘What about, Nigel?’

‘The contract. Not sure if I can handle the lack of security.’

What happened to the friggin’ shifts at McDonald’s? The ‘I can go travelling’ line? ‘Well, Nigel, we talked about that upfront. You know they’d go permanent if they were on the other side of the financial year. And it may yet happen — they just can’t guarantee it at this stage.’

‘Yeah, I know. I’m just not sure. I need to think about it.’

‘Fair enough.’ She tried to instill some brightness into her voice. ‘Just let me know as soon as possible. They really need someone and if you don’t want it they’ll have to look elsewhere. Tomorrow, okay?’

‘Sure, Ginny,’ he replied, and hung up.

She swore out loud. Reluctantly, she rang Sam straight back and gave him the news.

Hanging up after that, Ginny rubbed her temples. One unhappy client and it wasn’t yet lunchtime. She felt absolutely dreadful. Her phone rang.

‘Ginny Hayes.’

‘Hi — it’s Mac.’

‘Hi there. Having a happy Monday?’

‘Yes, not too bad. You?’

‘Crap. How is it back in lawyer-land?’

‘More enjoyable than I remembered, but I’ve only been here a couple of hours. Why is it crap?’

‘Long story. But it involves a head cold and an indecisive candidate.’

‘Yeah, you sound a bit stuffed up.’

‘Charmer. What can I do for you?’

‘I’ve got something for you.’

‘Do you now. Lemons? Honey?’

‘Honey?’

‘Sore throat.’

‘Ah.’ He cleared his. ‘No, but it is sticky. Can I come over after work?’

‘Sure — I’m contagious, though.’

‘That’s okay. I’m tough. Six alright?’

‘Perfect.’

‘Will do. And Ginn?’

‘Yep?’

‘Good luck this afternoon. With your meeting. I hope it goes well.’

Touched, she smiled. ‘Thanks.’

But it didn’t go well, not at all. Feeling faint and scatty, body aching and eyes and nose streaming, Ginny knew she wasn’t on form to deliver good news, let alone bad. Thankfully, Robert and Jackson met her in the boardroom so she was able to position herself at the other end of the table. Passing on a cold would not be a positive way to wrap up a tough meeting.

After her debrief, Robert frowned. ‘Not exactly the news we were hoping for, Ginny.’

Hoping to sound credible despite the concrete up her nose, Ginny ploughed on. ‘I realise that, and suggest that after this initial search it may be valuable to look over the brief again. See if there is any flex to your requirements that may open the gates up a bit.’

‘There isn’t any “flex”, Ginny. I thought we made ourselves clear. This is what we need, what we want, and if you can’t get it for us, then we’ll have to go elsewhere.’

She was a bloody recruitment consultant, not a magician. She couldn’t whip someone out of thin air if they didn’t exist. ‘Okay then.’ She looked at the two stony faces. ‘Give me another week. I’ll go back to square one with the search, see if there are any firms we’ve overlooked. Refresh the online ads, maybe reposition the message and see if it draws more interest. Are you sure you can’t give me more information to pass on? A big obstacle is not having a lot to tell people to get them interested.’

‘Isn’t that your job?’ Jackson asked derisively.

Ginny felt herself blush. ‘Yes, it is my job. But I can’t sell something I know nothing about.’

Robert sighed. ‘I see your point, Ginny, but our hands are tied. You can tell them what we’ve already discussed. I’m just not willing to splash what we do, and who with, all over the place.’ He looked briefly at Jackson. ‘However, we’re growing rapidly and this is our first professional recruit. I’m not keen on working forever, so I guess you could mention that there is a chance of equity down the line.’

‘Equity?’ Ginny asked. This was new. It created quite a different picture, and might hook a few more CVs in the door. The first level of interest was the hardest to achieve; once they were on the line it was generally just a matter of reeling them in. ‘Okay. That could work. Are you comfortable with me putting that on any new advertising? Mentioning it to people?’

The men exchanged a look, then nodded.

Robert spoke again. ‘But, Ginny, I meant what I said. One more week and we go elsewhere. Understood?’ He got up. The meeting was over.

Soon after Ginny left, Jackson knocked lightly on the door of Robert’s office and stepped inside with a grim smile. ‘I don’t like this. She’s got nothing.’

Robert looked up. ‘I’ve given her another week. If she doesn’t deliver, then we go back to the drawing board.’

‘We don’t have time to let her play with this, Robert. She’s failing and it doesn’t make sense for us not to have a back-up.’

Robert raised a hand. ‘She’s got another week.’

Tight-lipped, Jackson left the office. Outside, he made a call.

‘Miles? It’s Jackson Bennett. Got a minute?’

The buzzer woke her, intruding on a dream that faded like smoke as she stirred. Disoriented, she got out of bed and, noticing how the light had changed, realised she’d slept most of the afternoon. Yawning, Ginny went to the intercom.

‘Yeah?’

‘It’s Mac.’

‘Oh, shit. Give me a minute.’ She pulled on jeans and went downstairs to let him in. ‘Sorry about that.’ Ginny led him back up. ‘It’s this cold. Ange very kindly gave me my marching orders and sent me to bed. I conked out.’

Ginny clocked the new suit and crisp shirt. The tie had obviously been removed but the overall impression was a good one. ‘Don’t you look all flash! I’d forgotten how well you scrub up. How long has it been since you’ve worn one of those?’

A memory rushed at him: laughing with Nick, getting ready for his wedding. Mac as best man struggling with his tie, joking about how strange it was to be wearing a suit. Don’t go there, he reminded himself.

He gave her a small smile. ‘A while. Jen insisted I buy some new suits and took me shopping.’

‘She chose well. How was Day One?’

‘Not too bad. Dad’s being very gentle with me. He doesn’t want to scare me off I guess. How are you feeling?’

‘Better. What’s my surprise?’

‘Here you go.’ Mac swung up a manky-looking tin from behind his back.

‘What on earth is that?’ Ginny wrinkled her nose. ‘Paint?’

‘Floor varnish. I had a hunt around at the bach over the weekend — I thought I had some left over. I figure it’ll be enough to get that postage stamp-sized bedroom done, and then we can tackle this room later.’

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. ‘How do you know my room is postage stamp-sized?’

‘I wasn’t snooping — your door was open the other day. I stuck my head in, just to make sure you didn’t have a hole in the ceiling or anything.’

‘Fair enough.’ She poked a foot at the tin he had placed on the floor. ‘I’m not sure about this “we” business.’

‘Okay, I’ll do it. It isn’t a big job.’

‘How will you have time if you’re playing at lawyer?’

‘I told you — Dad’s going easy on me. But, hey, if you don’t want me to do your floors …’ Mac went to pick up the tin.

Ginny laughed. ‘No, no, no. That would be great. It’s very kind. When can you start?’

‘I’ve got stuff I need to sort out tomorrow, but how about Wednesday?’

‘Done.’

‘Great. Just pack up as much as you can and I’ll move out the rest. You may need to camp on your couch for a night.’

‘That’ll be no hardship.’

‘I thought you’d say that. I’ll leave you to it. Rest up.’ Mac made to go. ‘Oh, how was the meeting?’

Ginny waved him toward the door. ‘Don’t ask. It sucked. See you Wednesday.’

Waking early the next day, Ginny was relieved to feel she was on the way up. A solid ten hours’ sleep on top of her extended afternoon nap had done her the world of good. At her desk by seven thirty, latte by her side, she saw a pile of CVs cut three ways: the yeses, the nos, and the maybes for the role Ange was looking after. There were also a couple of messages.

One made her do a small victory dance inside her head:
Nigel rang, he said yes.
The other was more cryptic:
Some bloke — Daniel? David? — rang a couple of times about the RK ad. Wouldn’t leave his number — said he’ll try today.

Ginny tapped her nails on the message slip. She had updated the online ads from her iPad while languishing on the couch the night before, but these messages were taken hours before she did that. This guy must have seen the original print or online versions. As those were nearly ten days old, it was interesting that he was calling only now.

Well, if he rang back, she’d have an answer. Opening up her email account, she frowned to see one from Miles. He just wasn’t getting the message. She hit delete and, turning to the pile of CVs, picked up her coffee and started going through them.

When Ange arrived an hour later, Ginny was on her in a flash.

‘That cut you made, Ange; it was spot on.’

‘Hi to you too. Cut?’

‘For the Forsyth role. I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Even your notes were as if you’d read my mind. Are you sure you’re not a closet recruiter?’

‘Don’t be silly. Hand ’em over then. I’ll book in the yeses and reject the nos. What about the maybes?’

‘As you did such a stellar job, why don’t you follow them up on the phone, ask a few questions and, if you reckon I should see them, book them in.’

‘You sure? You trust me to do that?’

‘Of course. And get them in as soon as possible, okay?’

‘Will do.’ Ange took the CVs, and Ginny went back to her own desk and the RK account.

There had been a few more applicants since she refreshed the advertising, and she’d blocked out time to re-contact any of those who had said ‘no’ originally who might be swayed by the mention of equity. After that, it was back to the beginning. Were there other firms out there she’d missed, that might be a new hunting ground? She was extremely doubtful, but she dived in.

Just after eleven she popped down for another coffee. As she walked back in, Ange, on the phone, caught her eye.

‘She’s just walked in. I’ll transfer you.’ Ange put the call on hold. ‘It’s that bloke who called yesterday. Daniel, or David, or something. The line is shocking. Do you want to speak to him?’

‘Oooh — yes, please.’ Ginny all but ran to pick up the call.

‘Ginny Hayes.’

There was a long pause.

‘Hi. I saw the ad you had … las … Sat …’

Ginny interrupted. ‘You’re cutting out; the line is horrible. Can you …?’

There was a muffled thump, and then clarity. ‘Hi — is this any better?’

‘Yes. Much — how can I help?’

‘I saw your ad in last Saturday’s paper — the one for the management consultant? Is it still available?’

Hell, yes, Ginny thought. Far too bloody available. ‘Yes, that role is still open. You say you only just saw it?’

‘I’m down south, doing a bit of tramping. Came out of the bush and headed straight for a decent coffee. The café had a copy.’ Definitely a Kiwi, she thought, although she picked up on the smoother, slightly clipped vowels that spoke of a few years in the UK. Her brother sounded similar.

‘Ah. That makes sense. What do you want to know?’