British Bachelors: Perfect and Available: Mr. Jessica Hart
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imagine him ever needing to assemble any flat packs in any case.
‘In fact, why not get him to do your whole assignment?’ Max said and Allegra sighed and tucked her legs more comfortably beneath her.
‘It wouldn’t be much of a transformation story,’ she said. ‘Besides, I haven’t seen him for a while. He wasn’t really my boyfriend.’
She had tried to be upset when Jeremy stopped calling, but honestly, it had been a relief not to have to try quite so hard for a while. Jeremy’s conversation might be impressive but it was light on humour and, in spite of growing up with Flick Fielding as a mother, the sad truth was that Allegra’s interests veered more towards celebrity gossip and shoes than political intrigue. Flick would be appalled if she had guessed, and Allegra did her best not to disappoint her mother, but sometimes it was hard to keep up.
‘We only went out a couple of times,’ she said. ‘Jeremy was just...someone Flick introduced me to.’
That would be right, thought Max. Allegra’s mother liked to keep her daughter toeing the line and would soon veto any unsuitable boyfriends. Tricky Flicky, as she was known by those unfortunate enough to have been subjected to one of her gruelling interviews, was a media heavyweight, famous as much for her style as for her incisive questioning. Much as they might squirm under the lash of her tongue and steely-eyed gaze, politicians lobbied to be interviewed by Flick Fielding. Flick had gravitas, they all agreed that.
Whereas Allegra...Allegra was warm and funny and creative and kind, but gravitas? No.
Max had never understood why Flick, with all her brains, didn’t just accept that rather than trying to force Allegra into her own mould.
‘So, you’re not heartbroken?’ he asked Allegra cautiously. Because he had learnt that with women you never could tell.
‘No.’ Allegra blew out a long sigh and pushed her hair away from her face. ‘Jeremy was just the latest in a long line of men who turned out not to be The One after all. I had such high hopes when I first met him too.’
‘You know, you might get on better if you stopped letting your mother choose your boyfriends.’ Max kept his voice carefully neutral but Allegra bridled anyway.
‘She doesn’t choose them!’
‘Come on, when have you ever gone out with someone your mother wouldn’t approve of?’
‘I happen to like men who are attractive and intelligent and witty and successful,’ Allegra said defensively. ‘Of course she approves of them.’
‘Maybe I should have said that you should try going out with someone because you like him, not because you think your mother will.’
‘I did like Jeremy.’ Clearly ruffled, Allegra wriggled her shoulders. ‘Anyway, that’s all beside the point. Jeremy’s not around and you are, and Max, you’re perfect for my assignment! There’s so much scope for you to improve.’
‘Thanks a lot!’
‘You know what I mean. You could get so much out of it too. You should be leaping at the chance to learn how to give a woman what she really wants! You’re going to Shofrar in a couple of months and the piece won’t be out until after you leave, but if you play your cards right you could win Emma back and take her with you. That’s what you want, isn’t it?’
Was it? Max thought about Emma. She’d been so easy to be with. They’d been comfortable together, and it would be good to have that back again. Of course he wanted her back...but he wanted her the way she had been before she lost her head and started wanting more of everything: more excitement, more passion, more attention, more effort. Max thought the whole idea was to find someone you didn’t have to make an effort for, but apparently he was wrong about that.
He missed Emma, though, and he missed the warm feeling of knowing that you’d found the woman you wanted to settle down with. He would never find anyone better than Emma. She was perfect for him.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Of course I do.’
‘Well, then,’ said Allegra, satisfied. ‘I bet if Emma gets wind of the fact that you’re going out with Darcy she’ll be jealous.’
‘I wouldn’t really be going out with her,’ Max pointed out.
‘Emma won’t know that, will she? She’ll be back in no time, you’ll see.’
‘I don’t know.’ Max pulled down his mouth. ‘I wouldn’t bet on it, and in the meantime I really don’t want to dress up and learn to dance just on the off chance that she does. I can’t imagine Emma caring about whether I can waltz or not.’
‘You couldn’t imagine her being carried away by passion either,’ Allegra pointed out.
‘No, but—’
It was at that point that Allegra gave up on arguments and threw pride to the winds. Grabbing his hand, she held it between her own.
‘Oh, please, Max! Please, please, please, please, please! Please say you’ll do it! This is my big chance to impress Stella. If I don’t find someone to take part in this assignment, I won’t get another one. I’ll be a failure!’ she said extravagantly. ‘My career will be over before it’s begun and how will I tell Flick?’
She leant beseechingly towards him and Max found himself snared in the big eyes. Funny how he had never noticed before how beautiful they were, or how green, the lovely dark mossy green of a secret wood...
Secret wood? Max gave himself a mental slap. God, he’d be spouting poetry next!
‘I know you don’t think much of Glitz,’ Allegra was babbling on, ‘but this is my career! What else am I going to do if I’m a failure as a journalist?’
‘You could illustrate those children’s books the way you always said you were going to.’ He and his family shouldn’t have been surprised when Allegra announced that she was going to follow Flick into journalism, but none of them had ever had her down as a writer. Max always thought of her drawing—quick, vivid sketches that brought a face or an animal to life in a few simple lines.
She drew back, thrown by his suggestion. ‘I can’t make a living as an illustrator.’
What she meant was: Flick wouldn’t be pleased. Flick wanted a daughter who would follow in her footsteps, a daughter who would be a journalist on television or for some respected newspaper. Flick had no time for Allegra’s ‘little drawings’. Max thought it was a shame.
‘It’s just a few hours of your time, Max.’ Allegra reverted to the problem in hand.
Would it cost him that much to help her? Max found himself thinking. She was so longing to be a success, and she deserved a break. She’d been a good friend to Libby—and to him, he acknowledged. Allegra tried so hard to be ruthless and driven like her formidable mother, but she just couldn’t quite manage it. She liked to pretend that she was tough, but she was a sucker for every sob story that came along. Allegra would never admit it, but she was hampered by warmth and kindness and humour from ever pleasing Flick.
‘And if I say no, I suppose you’ll refuse to pretend to be my fiancée when I meet Bob Laskovski?’
Allegra looked momentarily disconcerted and Max had to stop himself rolling his eyes. It had obviously never crossed her mind that she could do more than beg him to help her. She had such a transparent expression. He could read the agonizing in her green eyes, practically hear her wondering how she could possibly threaten to go back on her promise when she’d given her word.
If he had any decency, he’d put her out of her misery and tell her that he’d do her stupid assignment, but it was fun to see how far she would go for a success she could lay at Flick Fielding’s feet—and frankly, Max considered, if he was going to make an idiot of himself, he deserved some amusement in return.
‘Er, yes...yes, that’s right,’ said Allegra after a moment and put up her chin