‘Of course I do. I just reckoned Simon was making a mistake. There’s no point in being hoity-toity with people when you’re looking for their money. I’m sure the client’s a head-wrecker and everything, but I doubt—’

‘Tess, how long have you been working here?’

‘Um, a week and a half.’

‘And how long do you think Mr Beaumont has been in the public relations business?’

‘Gosh, I—’

‘Allow me to give you the answer. Eighteen years. So, with the greatest of respect, I should imagine he knows rather more about client relations than a young girl who’s just off the boat from Ireland.’

‘Like I said, I was only trying to be helpful.’

Although her experience was narrow, it seemed to Tess that bosses were disappointingly similar to teachers. They felt the need to adopt a superior attitude and to use a limited number of phrases, all of which were aimed at keeping you in your place. Any indication you were questioning that place meant trouble. If that was the worst thing about work, one of the best parts of this particular temping job, Tess’s fourth since her arrival in London, was studying her supervisor. From her blonde bouffant to her rope of pearls, from her lace collar to her clumpy court shoes, Harriet was a one-woman tribute to the style of Princess Diana. No bow was too floppy, no shoulder pad too wide. She was also an almighty cow.

‘Anyway,’ she was saying, ‘I’ve called your agency to ask for a replacement. We’ll pay you up until this evening, but Beaumont and Associates require a more responsible sort of girl.’

‘You’re not serious.’

‘I’m afraid I am. I told the agency that your attitude was wrong for a consultancy like this. “Where these girls get their ideas from, I do not know,” I said. “In fact, I’m not at all sure that office work is Tess’s forte.”’

Tess felt anger bubble inside her. How she’d love to put Lady Snooty in her place. The snag was, the women in the temping agency were decent types, and she didn’t want to piss them off. Still, she thought, as she scooped up her handbag and rose from the hard office chair, she couldn’t allow Harriet to escape unmarked.

‘Before I go,’ she said, ‘a small style tip: your teeth are too yellow for orange lipstick. And blue mascara? Hid-e-ous. Even Lady Di wouldn’t touch the stuff these days.’

Harriet looked at her as if she was unhinged, but before she could say anything, Tess was out the door and mingling with the bobbing crowds. She would have to return to the secretarial agency. Hopefully, her next job would be more interesting.