The Undomestic Goddess - Sophie Kinsella

There’s a new debenture in Glazerbrooks’ charge register, securing £50 million owed to some company called BLLC Holdings. It was registered last week. Third Union Bank has been bumped down the creditors’ queue.

My mind is helter-skelter ing. This isn’t good. It’s not good. I have to talk to someone quickly. I have to do something about this now, before any more charges are made. I have to… to tell Arnold.

Just the thought paralyzes me with horror.

I can’t do it. I just can’t go out and announce I’ve made the most basic, elementary error and put £50 million of our client’s money at risk. What I’ll do is… is start sorting out the mess first,

before I tell anyone here. Have the damage limitation under way. Yes. I’ll call the bank first. The sooner they know the better—

“Samantha?”

“What?” I practically leap out of my chair.

“You’re nervy today!” Maggie laughs and comes toward the desk with a cup of tea. “Feeling on top of the world?”

For an instant I honestly have no idea what she’s talking about. My world has been reduced to me and my mistake and what I’m going to do about it.

“Oh! Right. Yes!” I try to grin back and surreptitiously wipe my damp hands on a tissue.

“I bet you haven’t come down off your high yet!” She leans against the filing cabinet. “I’ve got some champagne in the fridge, all ready…”

“Er… great! Actually, Maggie, I’ve really got to get on…”

“Oh.” She looks hurt. “Well, OK. I’ll leave you.”

As she walks out I can see indignation in the set of her shoulders. She probably thinks I’m a total cow. But every minute is another minute of risk. I have to call the bank. Immediately.

I search through the attached contact sheet and find the name and number of our contact at Third Union. Charles Conway.

This is the man I have to call. This is the man whose day I have to disturb and admit that I’ve totally messed up. With trembling hands I pick up the phone. I feel as though I’m psyching myself up to dive into a noxious swamp.

For a few moments I just sit there, staring at the keypad, willing myself to punch in the number. At last, I reach out and dial.

As it rings, my heart begins to pound.

“Charles Conway.”

“Hi!” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s Samantha Sweeting from Carter Spink. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Hi, Samantha.” He sounds friendly enough. “How can I help?”

“I was phoning on a… a technical matter. It’s about…” I can hardly bear to say it. “Glazerbrooks.”

“Oh, you’ve heard about that,” says Charles Conway. “News travels fast.”

The room seems to shrink.

“Heard… what?” My voice is higher than I’d like. “I haven’t heard anything.”

“Oh! I assumed that’s why you were calling. Yes, they called in the receivers today. That last-ditch attempt to save themselves obviously didn’t work…”

I feel light-headed. Black spots are dancing in front of my eyes. Glazerbrooks is going bust. They’ll never draw up the new documentation now. Not in a million years.

I won’t be able to register the charge. I can’t put it right. I’ve lost Third Union Bank £50 million.

I feel like I’m hallucinating. I want to gibber in panic. I want to thrust down the phone and run.

“It’s a good thing you phoned, as it happens,” Charles Conway is saying. I can hear him tapping at a keyboard in the background, totally unconcerned. “You might want to double-check that loan security.”

For a few moments I can’t speak.

“Yes,” I say at last, my voice hoarse. “Thank you.” I put down the receiver, shaking all over.

I’ve fucked up.

I have fucked up so big, I can’t even…

Barely knowing what I’m doing, I push back my chair. I have to get out.

Chapter Five

I walk through reception on autopilot. Out onto the sunny lunchtime street, one foot in front of the other, just another office worker among the midday crowds.

Except I’m different. I’ve just lost my client £50 million.

Fifty million. The amount is like a drumbeat in my head.

I don’t understand how it happened. I don’t understand. My mind keeps turning it over. Over and over, obsessively. How could I have not seen… how could I have overlooked… It must have been put on my desk, then covered up with something else. A file, a pile of contracts, a cup of coffee.

One mistake. The only mistake I’ve ever made. I want to wake up and this will all be a bad dream, it happened to someone else, it’s a story I’m listening to in the pub, agog, thanking my lucky stars it wasn’t me… But it is me.

My career is over. The last person at Carter Spink who made a mistake like this was Ted Stephens, who lost a client

£10 million in 1983. He was fired on the spot. And I’ve lost five times that.

My chest feels tight; I feel like I’m being smothered. I think I could be having a panic attack. I sit down on a bench set against some railings and wait to feel better.

OK, I’m not feeling better. I’m feeling worse.

Suddenly I jump in terror as my mobile phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and look at the caller ID. It’s Guy.

I can’t talk to him. I can’t talk to anybody. Not right now.

A moment later, the phone tells me a message has been left. I lift the phone to my ear and press 1 to listen.

“Samantha!” Guy sounds cheery. “Where are you? We’re all waiting with the champagne to make the big partnership announcement!”

Partnership. I want to burst into tears. But… I can’t. This mistake is too big for tears. I thrust my phone in my pocket and get to my feet again. I begin to walk faster and faster, weaving through the pedestrians. My head is pounding and I have no idea where I’m going.

I walk for what seems like hours, my head in a daze, my feet moving blindly. The sun is beating down, and the pavements are dusty, and after a while my head starts to throb. At some point my mobile starts to vibrate again, but I ignore it.