out the problem in the car for me. There’s no one who can sort out the problem that is my job.
Nope. That task is solely down to me, and the only plan I can come up with to fix it is one I don’t feel comfortable with in the slightest.
I’m going to have to butter up Nolan Reece as much as possible . . . as fast as possible. I literally have days before my goose is cooked, so I need to do something big, obvious and impressive to get on his good side, and wipe away the appalling first impression I gave of myself.
Now, I’m not going to lie. I did briefly think about trying to seduce him.
I can do sexy perfectly okay, thank you so very much – provided I have enough time to organise things properly. The knicker and bra set Robert bought me from Vicky’s Secret is still in very good condition, and I’m pretty sure I can still get it on, if I only eat dust for a couple of weeks. And Nolan Reece is unconventionally handsome, as we’ve already noted. The consumption of dust could end up being entirely worth it.
But I dismissed that idea almost as soon as it came into my head. First, what kind of message would I be sending to womanhood if I debased myself like that? Not a good one, that’s what.
And second – for all I know, Nolan Reece is in a happy relationship with another woman . . . or he’s gay . . . or celibate . . . or he might have a knackered penis. I simply do not have the time to find any of these things out.
And who wants to force themselves into a pair of pants that feel like they’re garrotting your undercarriage, and a bra that stops you breathing, if the target in question stays resolutely floppy throughout?
Not this lady, I can tell you.
With that line of attack firmly ruled out, I’m truly stumped. I just can’t think of another way of improving my situation.
. . . actually, though, thinking about it, I do have a nice man who can help me with my second clobberdy-bang – my ever-so-reliable and sensible brother, Sean. He’s a problem solver. And he’s very good at it. I should know, he’s been helping me with mine for decades.
‘Hello, sis, what have you done now?’ are the first words out of my brother’s mouth when he answers my call.
‘Um, excuse me . . . why would you think I’ve done something?’
‘Because, Ellie, it’s half ten in the evening. You only ever call at this time of night when you’ve done something, have thought about the problem for as long as you can on your own, have arrived at no decent solution, and therefore decide to give me a call about it.’
My brother is unwholesomely smart, as I’m sure you’ve probably noticed. He’s also bang on the money, 90 per cent of the time.
It must be a nightmare for the kids in his class.
‘Well, okay. You’re right. But try not to be smug about it.’
‘What’s up?’
I take a deep breath, and fill Sean in on all the gory details.
I’ve been filling Sean in on all the gory details for the best part of my life. Out of the two of us, I’m always the one that creates the gory details, and he’s always the one that suggests ways to clean them up. That’s always been the dynamic of our relationship. I’ve been promising myself that I’ll do something about it at some point, but life always seems to get in the way, and I never get around to it.
‘Hmmm, tricky,’ he says, when I’ve finished weaving my sorry tale.
‘Any ideas?’
Sean pauses for a moment.
‘Pot plants?’ he suggests.
‘Pardon me?’
‘You say you need to impress your new environmentalist boss . . . how about some pot plants around the office?’ he says. ‘They’re green – in both senses of the word.’
‘I don’t think that’s going to cut it, Sean. Me waggling a rubber plant in Nolan’s general direction isn’t likely to do me that much good. I need something a little bigger, and more obvious, to get me on his good side.’
‘Well, I don’t know, sis. Maybe look him up on social media? Find out what he gets up to in his spare time? That might lead you to something.’
‘Facebook-stalk him, you mean?’
‘Yeah. I guess so. You’ll get to know him a bit better, if nothing else. That couldn’t