The Undomestic Goddess (Page 3)

“What are you doing?” says Maya, suddenly alert.

“Nothing!” I say, hastily shoving the BlackBerry back under the towel. “Just … er … relaxing.”

Maya comes round the couch and looks at the bump in the towel where I’m clutching the BlackBerry.

“Are you hiding something?” she says in disbelief.

“No!”

From under the towel the BlackBerry emits a little bleep. Damn.

“I think that was a car,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Outside in the street.”

Maya’s eyes narrow.

“Samantha,” she says ominously. “Do you have a piece of electronic equipment under there?”

I have the feeling that if I don’t confess she’ll rip my towel off anyway.

“I was just sending an e-mail,” I say at last, and sheepishly produce the BlackBerry.

“You workaholics!” She grabs it out of my hand in exasperation. “E-mails can wait. It can all wait. You just don’t know how to relax!”

“I’m not a workaholic!” I retort indignantly. “I’m a lawyer! It’s different!”

“You’re in denial.” She shakes her head.

“I’m not! Look, we’ve got some big deals on at the firm. I can’t just switch off! Especially not right now. I’m … well, I’m up for partnership at the moment.”

As I say the words aloud I feel the familiar stabbing of nerves. Partner of one of the biggest law firms in the country. The only thing I’ve ever wanted, ever.

“I’m up for partnership,” I repeat, more calmly. “They make the decision tomorrow. If it happens, I’ll be the youngest partner in the history of the firm. Do you know how big a deal that is? Do you have any idea—”

“Anyone can take a couple of hours out,” interrupts Maya. She puts her hands on my shoulders. “Samantha, you’re incredibly nervy. Your shoulders are rigid, your heart’s racing … it seems to me you’re right on the edge.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a bundle of jitters!”

“I’m not!”

“You have to decide to slow down, Samantha.” She looks at me earnestly. “Only you can decide to change your life. Are you going to do that?”

“Er … well …”

I stop with a squeak of surprise, as from inside my paper knickers there comes a judder.

My mobile phone. I shoved it in there along with the BlackBerry and turned it onto vibrate so it wouldn’t make a noise.

“What’s that?” Maya is gaping at my twitching towel. “What on earth is that … quivering?”

I can’t admit it’s a phone. Not after the BlackBerry.

“Erm …” I clear my throat. “It’s my special … er … love toy.”

“Your what?” Maya looks taken aback.

The phone judders inside my pants again. I have to answer. It might be the office.

“Um … you know, I’m reaching a bit of an intimate moment right now.” I give Maya a significant look. “Maybe you could … uh … leave the room?”

Suspicion snaps into Maya’s eyes.

“Wait a moment!” She peers again. “Is that a phone under there? You smuggled in a mobile phone as well?”

Oh, God. She looks furious.

“Look,” I say, trying to sound apologetic. “I know you’ve got your rules and everything, which I do respect, but the thing is, I need my mobile.” I reach under the towel for the phone.

“Leave it!” Maya’s cry takes me by surprise. “Samantha,” she says, making an obvious effort to keep calm. “If you’ve listened to a single word I’ve said … you’ll switch the phone off right now.”

The phone vibrates again in my hand. I look at the caller ID and feel a twist in my stomach. “It’s the office.”

“They can leave a message. They can wait.”

“But—”

“This is your own time.” She leans forward and clasps my hands earnestly. “Your own time.”

She really doesn’t get it, does she? I almost want to laugh.

“I’m an associate at Carter Spink,” I explain. “I don’t have my own time.” I flip the phone open and an angry male voice bites down the line.

“Samantha, where the hell are you?”

It’s Ketterman. The head of our corporate department. He’s in his late forties and his first name is John, but no one ever calls him anything except Ketterman. He has black hair and steel glasses and gray gimlet eyes, and when I first arrived at Carter Spink I actually used to have nightmares about him.