‘Glorious day.’

‘Aren’t we blessed with the weather?’

‘Fabulous morning.’

Just because it had stopped flaming raining, Lisa thought, with contempt.

‘Remember last summer?’ Kelvin shouted across the office to Ashling, his eyes sparkling gleefully behind his black-framed fake glasses.

‘Indeed I do,’ Ashling replied. ‘It was on a Wednesday, wasn’t it?’

Everyone roared laughing. Everyone except Lisa.

Mid-morning, Mai tripped gracefully into the office, flashed a sly, sweet smile around and asked, ‘Is Jack in?’

Lisa experienced a small thrill. This was obviously Jack’s girl and what a surprise. Lisa had expected some pale, freckly Irish girl, not this coffee-coloured little piece of exotica.

Ashling, standing at the photocopier, copying several million press releases for distribution to every clothes designer and cosmetic manufacturer in the universe, paid attention also. It was the finger-biter, looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in her cherry-plump mouth.

‘Have you an appointment?’ Mrs Morley drew herself up to her full four foot eleven, intimidatingly extending her enormous bosom.

‘Tell him it’s Mai.’

After a long, hard glare, Mrs Morley trundled away. While she waited, Mai absently twirled a slender finger in her heavy hair, looking every inch a wet dream. Then Mrs Morley was back. ‘You can go in,’ she said, her disappointment obvious.

Mai passed through the office in lemon-scented silence, and the second Jack’s door closed behind her there was a collective release of breath and a clamour of talk.

‘That’s Jack’s girlfriend,’ Kelvin informed Ashling, Lisa and Mercedes.

‘More trouble than she’s worth, if you ask me,’ Mrs Morley said grimly.

‘I’m not so sure about that, Mrs Morley,’ Kelvin said lasciviously. Mrs Morley turned away with a disgusted sniff.

‘She’s half-Irish, half-Vietnamese,’ Silent Gerry piped up.

‘They fight like cats and dogs,’ Trix thrilled. ‘She’s really violent.’

‘Well, that’s not her Vietnamese side,’ Dervla O’Donnell said firmly, delighted to abandon Hibernian Bride for a moment. ‘The Vietnamese are a very gentle hospitable people. When I was travelling there –’

‘Ah, here,’ Trix moaned. ‘The ex-hippy’s having another ‘Nam flashback. I feel rigor mortis kicking in.’

Ashling continued with her press releases, but the photocopier groaned slowly, made a few clicks that it shouldn’t have, then ground into unwelcome silence. The display panel flashed a yellow message. ‘PQ03?’ Ashling questioned. ‘What does that mean?’

‘PQo3?’ The older office members looked at each other. ‘Haven’t a clue!’

‘That’s a new one.’

‘But be grateful for small mercies. It usually breaks down after two copies.’

‘What should I do?’ Ashling asked. ‘These press releases have to go out in the post tonight.’

She glanced at Lisa, hoping she’d let her off the hook. But Lisa’s expression remained smooth and closed. At the end of the first week it was clear to Ashling that Lisa was a slave-driver with huge vision for the magazine. Great in many ways, but not if you’re the person landed with the responsibility of single-handedly implementing every one of Lisa’s ideas.

‘No point asking any of these eejits to fix it.’ Trix nodded scornfully at Gerry, Bernard and Kelvin.

‘They’d only make things worse. Jack’s fairly handy with machinery – though I wouldn’t disturb him at the moment,’ she added meaningfully.

‘I’ll do something else.’ Ashling returned to her desk, momentarily paralysed by the volume of work on it. She decided to press on with her list of the hundred most sexy, interesting, talented Irish people. Everyone from DJs to hairdressers to actors to journalists. And as quick as Ashling was coming up with names, Trix was arranging for Lisa to have breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea or dinner with them – Lisa was on a crash-course to infiltrate the movers and shakers of Irish society.

‘After all those meals you’ll be the size of a house,’ Trix laughed.

Lisa smiled scornfully. Just because you ordered food didn’t mean you had to eat it.

The office hummed with work until Jack’s office door opened and Mai exited at high speed. Instantly, everyone jerked their heads up in anticipation, and they weren’t disappointed. Mai made a violent attempt to slam the exit door behind her, but it was wedged permanently open, so she had to satisfy herself with giving it an angry kick.

Seconds later, Jack came out, also going at high speed. His eyes were dark, his face was like thunder and his long legs were gaining fast on Mai. But halfway through the office he seemed to come to his senses and slowed down. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ he muttered, and banged his fist down on the photocopier. There was a whirring noise, then a click, then page after page began to flop out of the machine. The photocopier was working again!

‘We have the technology! Jack Devine saves the day,’ Ashling declared and started to clap. The others followed suit. Jack glared around at them as the entire office applauded, and then, to everyone’s surprise, he began to laugh. Instantly, he looked like a different person – younger and nicer.

‘This is madness,’ he muttered.

Ashling quite agreed.

Jack hovered uncertainly. Should he follow Mai or… Then, on Ashling’s desk, he saw a pack of Marlboro, a cigarette extended from the box. The office was technically non-smoking but, by general consensus, everyone smoked. Except for Boring Bernard who surrounded himself with Thank You For Not Smoking signs. He’d even got himself a little fan.

With a raise of his eyebrows, Jack indicated a silent ‘Can I?’ and extracted the cigarette with his lips. Striking a match, he lit up, extinguished the match with a firm flick of his hand, then inhaled deeply.

Ashling followed all of his movements, repulsed yet unable to look away.

‘Looks like I picked the wrong girl to quit smoking.’ Jack trailed back to his office.

‘I need your help, girls,’ Dervla O’Donnell boomed, distracting everyone. She leapt up from Hibernian Bride’s Autumn fashion spread, her large-is-lovely silk-knit three-piece swishing, as she began pacing. ‘What will the well-dressed wedding guest be wearing in Autumn 2000? What’s hot, what’s happening, what’s now?’