The Fortune Teller

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VIRGO 23 Aug – 22 September

You are intelligent and you know it. You will encounter some changes this week, but if you keep your cool and act rationally then they may prove to be full of new opportunities.

***

I didn’t think much of this particular horoscope at the time. Although I made a point of reading mine every week, I didn’t really believe in predictions of the future. I’m just not that sort of person. Or at least I never used to be;

It was just an ordinary Monday morning. I had read the horoscope in my paper while commuting to work in the centre of London. I was working as a secretary in a big office block.. It wasn’t a bad job and the pay was reasonable, so it suited me fine. The job wasn’t permanent, (I was really interested in P.R.), just helping to pay the bills while I sorted out my life. After my break up with Bill I needed to get back on my feet quickly, with as little pain as possible. But I won’t go into that now.

I got off the train at Earls Court and hurried towards the exit, swept along with the crowd. I really looked the part; black high heels, short black skirt and a hair swept back into a neat pony tail. I suppose you could describe me as a typical secretary. Mind you, secretaries are often misunderstood.

My working day started off pretty much the same as always. I entered the building and was informed that Mrs Higginbottom’s parcel needed to be delivered to New York. It had to be there by 8 o’clock on Friday morning and I was being relied on to sort it out; everyone else had much more important matters to attend to. This was normal practice, although it always irked me. As if I don’t have better things to do! But I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.

Anyway, after I had made sure that Mrs Higginbottom’s parcel was safely on its way to New York, I headed up to my office on the third floor. The fact that it was on the third floor seemed to signify something, but at the time I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I let it go.

Upon entering, I was greeted by a mountain of paperwork. Piles of documents waiting to be typed up and papers to be faxed to clients littered my desk. Heaving a sigh, I set to clearing it, knowing full well that I would have to repeat the same process the next day.

At noon I headed down to the cafeteria to grab a sandwich and a coffee. But before I got there, I was intercepted by a woman whom I knew worked for my boss, Mr Clarkson.

“Mr Clarkson requests you presence in his office, now,” she told me before bustling off. I was quite surprised as he never normally had any reason to see me. I did my job well and that was that. Extremely puzzled, I headed to his office.

Gingerly, I knocked on the door.
“Come in,” boomed a loud voice. I stepped into the office and pulled the door close behind me.

“Good afternoon Ms. Price. Have a seat.” Pulling up a chair, I sat nervously in front of his desk. He must have seen the look on my face as he quickly reassured me,

“Don’t worry Ms. Price. It’s nothing too serious. Well, at least not in a bad context.” This made me even more puzzled.

“I have some good new and I have some bad news,” he told me. “The bad news is that my top secretary and P.R. assistant is going to leave the company.” As I didn’t know her, I wasn’t too worried by this news.

“The good news is that I want you to take her place.” I was rather taken aback by this. I had always wanted a job in P.R, but had never had the opportunity. Mr Clarkson saw that I was rather unsure.

“Your working hours will stay the same, of course. Obviously we’ll have to negotiate your wages …” He was trying to sweet talk me, and I knew it. But what had I got to lose? Yes, this had come out of the blue, but hadn’t I always wanted a job in P.R? As far as I could see, this was as good as any. So, rather tentatively, I said,

“Shall we negotiate wages then?”

***

That was over a year ago. A lot has happened in the space of that year. I am now Mrs Clarkson, married to none other that my old boss. I am joint director of the company and enjoying every minute of it. And I now realise what my third floor office symbolised. It was the same floor that my son was killed on, ten years ago.