The Forgotten Girl. Kerry Barrett

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       Chapter 2

      That may have been a fairly terrible way to start my new job, but as it turned out, Lizzie was a pussycat compared to the rest of the Mode team.

      There weren’t many of them – lots of staff had left recently and a few people had gone with the former editor, Sophie, to her new role on a supermarket magazine. The features desk was down two writers, I had no deputy, and the art editor was working out her notice. The words rats and sinking ships crossed my mind, but I dismissed that. I had to make this work. I’d sacrificed a lot for this job.

      My office was bare, with a clean desk and a shiny computer. There was no good luck card, or welcoming cup of coffee. In fact, there weren’t even many smiles. I stared round at the stony faces in our planning meeting that morning and wondered if I hadn’t just made a massive mistake.

      ‘So,’ I said, uber-brightly. ‘What have we got for the next issue?’

      I looked at my new features director, whose name I couldn’t quite remember. She was tall and angular with pale skin and fine blonde hair pulled back into a bun – like a ballerina with a bad attitude.

      She looked back at me, unsmiling.

      ‘Veronica?’ I said.

      ‘Vanessa.’

      Shit.

      ‘Sorry,’ I sang. ‘Vanessa, who’s on the cover this month?’

      She named a soap star, Dawn Robin, who was well into her forties and though stylish, nothing like the celebs our readers were interested in.

      ‘Oh,’ I said, so surprised that manners deserted me. ‘That’s an interesting choice.’

      ‘It was Sophie’s choice,’ Vanessa said.

      I chuckled.

      ‘You got that right.’

      No response. Clearly humour didn’t work.

      ‘Is the interview done?’ I asked. Perhaps Dawn had said something amazing that we could spin.

      ‘It’s done, and her PR has approved it,’ Vanessa said. She stared at me as if challenging me to tell her to start again.

      For a moment I considered pulling rank, spiking the whole thing and getting a new cover star. But it was early days and I needed the team behind me if I was going to make this happen.

      Instead I smiled.

      ‘Great,’ I said. ‘It’s good to have it in the bag. What about next issue?’

      Vanessa made a show of flicking through the pages in her notebook and I forced myself to stay smiling.

      ‘I’m talking to Sarah Sanderson’s agent,’ she said. I groaned inwardly. Sarah Sanderson was a breakfast news presenter who’d been around for donkey’s years. Maybe it was time to get tough.

      ‘She’s not the right cover star for us,’ I said. ‘Scratch that. Give the interview to one of the other mags if you like. We need someone younger, sassier, more exciting.’

      Vanessa pointedly scored out something on her notebook and gave me a steely glare.

      ‘Like who?’

      I looked round at the tiny team.

      ‘Let’s have a brainstorming session tomorrow,’ I said. ‘We can line up some really exciting interviews. Anything goes – don’t just stick to actresses and musicians. Think about politicians, sports stars, writers, bloggers – anyone doing anything or saying anything interesting.’

      Vanessa scribbled something in her pad without meeting my eyes.

      ‘Oh and Vanessa,’ I said. ‘I don’t want publicists approving interviews.’

      She rolled her eyes.

      ‘Tricky,’ she said.

      ‘I know,’ I admitted. ‘Let them sit in on the chat if they have to, but remember we’re Mode magazine – they need us just as much as we need them. In the future, let’s be a bit sassier.’

      Vanessa made a face.

      ‘Do we have one?’

      ‘I’m sorry?’

      ‘A future. Does Mode magazine have a future?’

      My stomach lurched. I’d been hoping to give the team a boost before I started talking about closures and redundancies. But judging by the grim faces that surrounded me, I had to tackle this now.

      I was sitting behind my desk, but now I got up and came to perch on the front instead.

      ‘Honestly?’ I said.

      Vanessa nodded, her pale lips a tight line.

      ‘I hope so,’ I said.

      I took a breath.

      ‘I have always wanted to work on Mode,’ I said. ‘This is my dream job and I was so excited about it.’

      ‘But?’ Vanessa said.

      ‘But things are trickier than I thought,’ I admitted. ‘Our circulation is lower than it’s ever been.’

      ‘Because of Grace?’ said the art editor – a tiny redhead called Milly.

      ‘Because of Grace,’ I agreed. ‘They’ve really raised their game, and of course print’s a tricky place to be anyway because of digital. But Grace’s success is proving there’s still a place for glossy mags – we just need to remind people we’re here СКАЧАТЬ