So what if he had a girlfriend? When had that ever been an impediment?

‘We’re all very excited about Colleen,’ Jack insisted. But Lisa heard a nugget of weariness at the heart of his statement. His smile had disappeared and he was once more serious and broody.

Then he proceeded to tell Lisa about her ‘team’. ‘There’s Trix, your PA, then your assistant editor, a woman called Ashling. She seems very efficient.’

‘So I’ve heard,’ Lisa said drily. Calvin Carter’s exact words had been, ‘You’ll provide the vision, she’ll do the donkey work.’

‘Then there’s Mercedes, who will primarily be the fashion and beauty editor, but will also contribute to general editorial. She’s come from Ireland on Sunday –’

‘What’s that?’

‘A Sunday newspaper. There’s Gerry, your art director, who’s been working on the other publications. As has Bernard, who’ll be handling all the admin, billing, etc. on Colleen.’

Then Jack stopped. Lisa waited for him to tell her about another eight or so staff. He didn’t.

’Is that it? Five members of staff? Five?’ She was giddy with disbelief. At Femme her secretary had had a secretary!

‘You also have a generous freelance budget,’ Jack promised. ‘You’ll be able to commission stuff and use consultants, both regulars and one-offs.’

Hysteria lunged at Lisa. How had she ended up here, in this awful situation. How? She’d had a plan for her life. She’d always known where she was going and she’d always got there. Until now, when she’d been diverted so unexpectedly into this backwater.

‘Who… who do the other desks belong to, then?’

‘Dervla, Kelvin and Shauna, who edit all our other magazines. Then there’s my PA, Mrs Morley, Margie in advertising – she’s great, an absolute Rottweiler! – Lorna and Emily in sales and the two Eugenes in accounts.’

Lisa was finding it hard to catch her breath, but she had to resist the urge to run to the ladies’ and scream into her hands because Ashling, the assistant editor, was being ushered into the office.

‘Hello again.’ Ashling smiled warily at Jack Devine.

‘Hello.’ He nodded, with nothing like the warmth he’d greeted Lisa with. ‘I don’t believe you’ve met each other. Lisa Edwards – Ashling Kennedy.’

Ashling looked momentarily startled, then beamed at Lisa, openly admiring her flawless skin, her nipped-waist power suit, her shimmering ten-denier legs. ‘I’m delighted to meet you,’ she declared with nervous animation. ‘I’m very excited about this magazine.’

Lisa, on the other hand, wasn’t one bit impressed with Ashling. She’d made ordinariness into an art-form. We could all let our hair hang there, being neither curly nor straight, if we were so inclined, Lisa thought scornfully. None of us are born with smooth, processed hair, it’s something you have to work at. With Trix, although her make-up was a little less than subtle, at least she showed willing.

Then Mercedes arrived and Lisa wasn’t sure about her either. She was sleek and silent, dark and sinuous as liquorice.

The only one Lisa hadn’t met yet was Bernard, and he turned out to be the worst of the lot. The red sleeveless tank-top he wore over his shirt and tie was obviously from when it was in fashion the first time round, and frankly that was all she needed to know about him.

At ten o’clock, the Colleen team, Jack and his PA Mrs Morley gathered in the boardroom for a get-to-know-each-other session. Lisa was surprised that Mrs Morley wasn’t a fragrant, efficient, Miss Moneypenny type, but a sixtyish, pug-faced dragon. Jack had inherited her, Lisa subsequently discovered, when he took over from the previous Managing Director. He could have hired a new person, but for whatever reason decided not to, and consequently Mrs Morley was highly devoted. Too devoted, popular opinion had it.

As Mrs Morley took the minutes, Jack reiterated the brief – Colleen was to be a sexy, sassy read for Irish women aged eighteen to thirty. It should be open-minded, sexually overt and fun. Everyone was to have a good, hard think about features.

‘How about a regular piece on meeting men in Ireland?’ Ashling piped up nervously. ‘Perhaps one month do a girl going to a dating agency, another month get her to surf the net, another month get her to go horse-riding…?’

‘Not a bad idea,’ Jack said reluctantly.

Ashling gave a wobbly smile. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep this sort of thing up – ideas weren’t really her strength. The feature had been Joy’s suggestion – only because Joy hoped to be the guinea-pig. ‘I’m always trying to meet men, anyway,’ she’d said. ‘I might as well get bankrolled while I’m doing it.’

‘Any other thoughts?’ Jack prompted.

‘How about a celebrity letter?’ Lisa put forward. ‘Find some Irish celebrity. Like…’ Then she was completely stumped, because she didn’t know any Irish celebrities. ‘Like… like…’

‘Bono,’ Ashling suggested, kindly. ‘Or one of the girls from the Corrs.’

‘Exactly,’ Lisa said. ‘A thousand words, about flying first-class, going to parties with Kate Moss and Anna Friel. Risqué and glam.’

‘Very good.’ Jack was pleased. But Lisa was back in the horrors. She’d been hit anew by the size of the task ahead of her. To set up a completely new magazine in an unfamiliar country!

‘And how about an uncelebrity letter?’ Trix suggested in her hoarse voice. ‘You know the sort of thing – I’ an ordinary girl, I got really pissed last night, I’m two-timing my boyfriend, I hate my job, I wish I had more money, I lifted a bottle of nail varnish from Boot’s…’

Everyone had been nodding enthusiastically until she got to the bit about stealing the nail varnish, then the nodding slowed down and stopped. Everyone had done it but no one was going to admit to it.

Trix noticed immediately and recovered with aplomb. ‘… My ma hates my boyfriend – both of them – I bleached my hair and burnt my scalp, that kind of thing.’

‘Good idea,’ Jack said. ‘Mercedes, any thoughts?’

Mercedes had been doodling, her dark eyes distant and opaque. ‘I’m going to showcase as many Irish designers as possible. Attend the degree shows of the fashion colleges –