Rumor Has It Read Online Free

What does a Girl Friday do , exactly?'
        'Everything.'
        'And you said it was a fun job. What does that mean?'
        'It means there's an outside chance you might enjoy it for about two percent of the time. The other ninety-eight percent will be sheer drudgery.'
        'OK, now you're just trying to put me off so you don't have to see me,' Tilly said suspiciously. 'This so-called job. Is it anything to do with porn?'
        'Prawns?'
        'Porn. Ography. Sex .' A collective sharp intake of breath informed Tilly that everyone else on the platform was paying attention now.
        'No. Sorry.' He sounded amused. 'Why, was that what you were hoping for?'
        'No, it was not.' Tilly did her best to sound ladylike but not off puttingly prissy. 'And why are you only paying two hundred a week?'
        This time he actually laughed. 'It's a live-in position. Everything else is paid for, including a car.'
        OK, this was definitely a good enough reason. Tilly said promptly, 'You know what? I'd be great at this job.'
        'Fine, fine. Let me check my diary.' She heard pages being riffled. 'Right, let's start booking appointments. Come over on Thursday af ternoon and we'll take a look at each other. Four o'clock suit you?'
        'Not really.' Tilly screwed up her face.
        'Five, then? Six?'
        'Look, are you in Roxborough?'
        'No, we're in Mumbai, that's why I advertised in the Roxborough Gazette .' There it was again, that laconic deadpan Liverpudlian wit.
        'Well, I live in London. But right now I'm on the platform at Roxborough station, waiting to go back there.' Going for broke, Tilly took a deep breath and said, 'So what would be really fantastic would be if I could come over and see you now.'
        Silence.
        Followed by more silence.
        Finally she heard a sigh. 'Did I tell you how bloody knackered I am?'
        'While you're interviewing me,' Tilly said innocently, 'I could always make you a fantastic bacon sandwich.'
        He gave a snort of amusement. 'You're sharp, aren't you?'
        'I'm right here.' Tilly pressed home her minuscule advantage. 'If you can't see me now, I'm going back to London. And you'll have missed your chance.'
        'Modest, too.'
        'Just think. If I'm perfect, you won't have to interview anyone else.'
        Another pause. Then he said, 'Go on then, get yourself over here. We're at Beech House on the Brockley Road, just over the bridge and on the right as you're heading out of town. Do you know it?'
        'No but I'll find you, don't worry.' That sounded nice and ef ficient, didn't it? 'I'll be there in ten minutes.'
    Well, she would have been if there'd been a taxi outside the station. But that was wishful thinking, because this was Roxborough station on a wintry February afternoon and any self-respecting taxi driver was at home sleeping off his Sunday lunch. Tilly couldn't bring herself to phone Erin again. How far away could Beech House be, anyway? Surely not more than a mile. She could be there in fifteen minutes on foot…
        It rained. It was more than a mile. It rained harder and the sky darkened along with Tilly's grey sweatshirt and jeans because of course she didn't have anything so sensible as an umbrella. Her case on-wheels jiggled and bounced along the pavement as she dragged it behind her. After twenty-five minutes, she saw a house up ahead on the right and quickened her pace. There, thank God, was the sign saying Beech House. She turned into the stone-pillared entrance and headed up the graveled driveway. The Regency-style property was grand, imposing, and as welcomingly lit up in the gloom as Harrods at Christmas.
        Panting and drenched, Tilly reached the front door and rang the bell. What was she even doing here? The man would probably turn out to be a right weirdo; all she'd need to do was take one look at him to know she wouldn't work for him for all