up.
Jessie hung up as well, only then thinking of Emily still out in the back yard all by herself.
Her heart started thudding as a mother’s heart always did when she realised she’d taken her eyes off her child for a few seconds too long.
Not that Emily was the sort of child who got herself into trouble. She was careful, and a thinker. Her pleasures were quiet ones. She wasn’t a climber. Neither did she do silly things. She was absolutely nothing like her father. She was a hundred per cent smarter, for starters.
Still, when Jessie hurried back outside into the yard, she was very relieved to see Emily was where she spent most of her time, playing under the large fig tree in the corner. It was her cubby house, with the sections between the huge roots making perfect pretend rooms. Emily could happily play there for hours.
Her daughter had a wonderful imagination. Jessie had been the same as a child. Maybe it was an only-child thing. Or an inherited talent. Or a bit of both.
Whatever, the Denton girls loved being creative.
Jessie realised then that she wanted that job at Wild Ideas, not just for the money, but also for herself. Being a waitress had been a good stopgap, but she didn’t want to do it for the rest of her life. She wanted to use her mind. She wanted the challenges—and the excitement—of the advertising world.
‘Mummy, who rang our phone? Was it Dora?’
Jessie, who’d finished hanging out the washing, bent down and swept her daughter up into her arms. It was time for lunch.
‘No, sweetie, not Dora. It was a man.’
Emily blinked. ‘A nice man?’
‘Very nice.’
‘Is he going to be your boyfriend, Mummy?’
‘What? Oh, no. Heavens, no! He’s just a man who finds people jobs. It looks as if he might have found Mummy a job as a graphic artist. I have to go for an interview on Monday. If I get it, I’ll earn a lot more money and I’ll be able to buy you lots of pretty things.’
Emily didn’t seem as impressed with this news as Jessie would have expected. She was frowning.
‘Why don’t you have a boyfriend, Mummy? You’re very pretty.’
Jessie felt herself blushing. ‘I…I just haven’t met any man I liked enough to have as a boyfriend.’
Even as she said the words, a pair of ice-blue eyes popped into her mind, along with a charismatic smile. Her heart lurched at the memory of how close she’d come to making the same mistake her mother had made. Brother, she’d got out of that bar just in time.
‘I have you, sweetie,’ Jessie said, giving her daughter a squeeze. ‘I don’t need anyone or anything else.’
Which was the biggest lie Jessie had told her daughter since she’d said she liked being a waitress. Because last night’s experience showed her she did need something else sometimes, didn’t she? She needed to feel like a woman occasionally, not just a mother. She needed to have a man’s arms around her once more. She needed some release from the frustration she could feel building up inside her.
Some day, she would have to find an outlet for those needs. A man, obviously. A boyfriend, as Emily suggested.
But who?
Those blue eyes jumped back into her mind.
Well, obviously not him. He was off limits. A married man.
If only she could get this job. That would bring a whole new circle of males into her world.
OK, so lots of guys in the advertising world were gay. But some weren’t. Surely there had to be the right kind of boyfriend out there for her. Someone attractive and intelligent. Someone single—and a good lover.
Of course, attractive, intelligent single men who were good lovers were invariably full of themselves, and unwilling to commit. There would be no real future in such a relationship. She’d have to be careful not to fall for the guy. Or to start hoping for more than such a man could give.
Jessie sighed. Did she honestly need such complications in her life? Wouldn’t it be better if she just went along the way she was, being a celibate single mum?
Men were trouble. Always had been. Always would be. She was much better off without one in her life. Emily was happy. She was happy. She’d be even happier if she got this job on Monday.
Feeling frustrated was just a temporary thing. She’d get over it. One day.
Jessie sighed again.
‘Why are you always sighing today, Mummy?’ Emily asked. ‘Are you tired?’
‘A little, sweetie.’
‘Why don’t you have a cup of coffee? You always do that when you’re tired.’
Jessie looked into her daughter’s beautiful brown eyes and laughed. ‘You know me very well, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Mummy,’ she said in that strangely grownup voice she used sometimes. ‘I do. Oh, I can hear Dora’s car! Let’s go and tell her about your new job.’
‘I haven’t got it yet, Emily. It’s only an interview.’
‘You’ll get it, Mummy,’ she said with all the naïve confidence of a four-year-old. ‘You will get the job.’
THE offices of Wild Ideas were in north Sydney, on the third floor of an office block not far from North Sydney Station. A bonus for Jessie, who didn’t own a car.
She arrived in the foyer of the building early, dressed in her best stone-washed jeans and a freshly starched white shirt, turned up at the collar. She carried a lightweight black jacket—in case the air-conditioning inside was brutal—as well as a black briefcase. Her shoes were sensible black pumps, well-worn but polished that morning till they shone.
Her hair was pulled back tightly and secured at the nape of her neck with a black and white printed scarf she’d borrowed from Dora. Her make-up was on the neutral side, especially around her eyes and on her mouth. The only jewelry she wore were small silver cross earrings. Plus her watch. She’d be lost without her watch.
She glanced at it now. Still only twenty-five minutes to ten. She wasn’t going up to Wild Ideas yet. Only desperates arrived that early. Instead she headed for the powder room, where she spent a few minutes checking that she didn’t look like a femme fatale.
Actually, her appearance would be considered very conservative in advertising circles. But she’d never been a flashy dresser, even when she could afford to be.
Finally, she gave in to her pounding heart and rode the lift up to the third floor. It had been some months since she’d been for a job interview and she felt sick with nerves and tension. Not because she didn’t think she could do the job. Jessie had never been lacking in confidence in her own abilities. But after being knocked back as often as she had, she’d begun to wonder if anyone would ever see what she had to offer.
Still, this chance was the best she’d had so far. An even-money chance.
As Jessie exited the lift on the third floor, she wondered if the other applicant was in there now, being interviewed, impressing the boss so much that he wouldn’t even bother to see her. Maybe the receptionist would say ‘Thank you very much but the job’s already taken’.
Jessie took a deep breath and told herself not to be so silly. Or so negative. Harry Wilde had obviously liked her résumé. Surely, he’d have the decency to give her an interview.
The reception area of Wild Ideas fitted its image. Modern and colourful, with crisp, clean lines and furniture. Red-painted walls, covered