Anybody Out There - Marian Keyes Read Online Free PDF

the other
hand, could be considered good-looking and charismatic--he certainly thought so.

Ariella began a gracious welcome, but George cut right across her, demanding "ideas."

"If you got the Candy Grrrl account, what would you do?" He pointed a finger at Franklin.

Franklin stammered something about celebrity endorsement, but before he'd finished, George
had moved on to the next person. "And what would you do?"

He worked his way around the table and got the usual cookie-cutter PR ideas: celebrity
endorsement; feature coverage; flying all the major beauty editors somewhere fabulous--
possibly Mars.

When he got to me, Ariella desperately tried to tell him that I was a nothing, a nobody, just one
step up from a robot, but George insisted. "She works for you, right? What's your name? Anna?
Tell me your ideas."

Ariella was in the horrors. More so when I said, "I saw these great alarm clocks in a store in
SoHo at the weekend."

This was a pitch for a multimillion-dollar account and I was talking about weekend shopping
trips. Ariella actually put a hand to her throat like a Victorian lady planning to swoon.

"They're a mirror image of a regular alarm clock," I said. "All the numbers are back to front and
the hands go in the wrong direction; they actually turn backward. So if you want to see the right
time, you've got to look at the clock in the mirror. I was thinking it would be perfect to promote
your Time-Reversal Day Cream. We could do a shout line like `Look in the mirror: You're
reversing time.' Depending on costings we could even do an on-counter giveaway." (Note to the
girl who wants to get ahead: never say "cost"; always say "costings." I've no idea why, but if you
say "cost" you will not be taken seriously. However, liberal use of the word costings allies you
with the big boys.)

"Wow," George said. He sat back and looked around the table. "Wow. That is great! The most
original thing I've heard here today. Simple but...very wow! Very Candy Grrrl." He and
Candace exchanged a look.

The high-tension mood around the table shifted. Some people relaxed but some others got even
more tense. (I say "some others" but I mean Lauryn.) The thing is, though, I hadn't planned to
have a great idea, it wasn't my fault, it just happened. The only thing I will say in my favor is
that I'd stopped at Saks on the way home the night before, picked up a CG brochure, and learned
about their products.

"Perhaps you might even consider changing the name to Time-Reversal Morning Cream," I
suggested. But a tiny fierce head shake from Ariella stopped me. I'd said enough. I was getting
overconfident.

Lauryn tinkled. "Well, isn't that the thing! I saw those alarm clocks, too. I--"

"Shut up, Lauryn." Ariella cut Lauryn off with terrifying finality, and that was that.

It was my finest hour. Ariella got the account and I got the job.

     4

D inner chez Walsh was from the local Indian takeaway and I did well: half an onion bhaji,
one prawn, one chunk of chicken, two okra fingers (and they're quite big), approximately thirty-
five grains of rice, followed by nine pills and two Rolos.

Mealtimes had become silent battles where Mum and Dad forced cheer into their voices,
suggesting another forkful of rice, another chocolate, another vitamin-E capsule (excellent for
preventing scarring, apparently). I did my best--I felt empty but never hungry--but whatever I
ate, it wasn't enough for them.

Exhausted by the madras-based tussle, I retreated to my room. Something was rising to the
surface: I needed to talk to Aidan.

I spoke to him in my head a lot, but now I wanted more: I had to hear his voice. Why hadn't this
happened before now? Because I'd been injured and in shock? Or too subdued by the knockout
painkillers?

I checked on Mum, Dad, and Helen, who were deeply ensconced in the kind of TV detective
drama they're hoping will be made out of their lives. They waved me in and began elaborate
shifting along the couch to make room, but I said, "No, I'm