person who spent her whole life getting in and out of large black cars with cream leather interiors. I sat at the edge of the room while Agnes had her hair washed and styled by a woman whose own hair appeared to have been cut with the aid of a ruler, and an hour later the car took us to the dental appointment where, again, I sat in the waiting room. Everywhere we went was hushed and tasteful and a world away from the madness on the street below.
I had worn one of my more sober outfits: a navy blouse with anchors on it and a striped pencil skirt, but I needn’t have worried: at each place I became instantly invisible. It was as if I had ‘STAFF’ tattooed on my forehead. I started to notice the other personal assistants, pacing outside on cell-phones or racing back in with dry-cleaning and speciality coffees in cardboard holders. I wondered if I should be offering Agnes coffee, or officiously ticking things off lists. Most of the time I wasn’t entirely sure why I was there. The whole thing seemed to run like clockwork without me. It was as if I were simply human armour – a portable barrier between Agnes and the rest of the world.
Back in the car, Agnes, meanwhile, was distracted, talking in Polish on her cell-phone or asking me to make notes on my tablet: ‘We need to check with Michael that Leonard’s grey suit was cleaned. And maybe call Mrs Levitsky about my Givenchy dress – I think I have lost a little weight since I last wear it. She maybe can take it in an inch.’ She peered into her oversized Prada handbag, pulling out a plastic strip of pills from which she popped two into her mouth. ‘Water?’
I cast around, finding one in the door pocket. I unscrewed it and handed it to her. The car stopped.
‘Thank you.’
The driver – a middle-aged man with thick dark hair and jowls that wobbled as he moved – stepped out to open her door. When she disappeared into the restaurant, the doorman welcoming her like an old friend, I made to climb out behind her but the driver shut the door. I was left on the back seat.
I sat there for a minute, wondering what I was meant to do.
I checked my phone. I peered through the window, wondering if there were sandwich shops nearby. I tapped my foot. Finally I leant forward through the front seats. ‘My dad used to leave me and my sister in the car when he went to the pub. He’d bring us out a Coke and a packet of pickled onion Monster Munch and that would be us sorted for three hours.’ I tapped my knee with my fingers. ‘You’d probably be done for child abuse now. Mind you, pickled onion Monster Munch was our absolute favourite. Best part of the week.’
The driver said nothing.
I leant forward a bit further, so that my face was inches from his.
‘So. How long does this usually take?’
‘As long as it takes.’ His eyes slid away from mine in the mirror.
‘And you wait here the whole time?’
‘That’s my job.’
I sat for a moment, then put my hand through to the front seat. ‘I’m Louisa. Mrs Gopnik’s new assistant.’
‘Nice to meet you.’
He didn’t turn around. Those were the last words he said to me. He slid a CD into the music system. ‘Estoy perdido,’ said a Spanish woman’s voice. ‘¿Dónde está el baño?’
‘Ehs-TOY pehr-DEE-doh. DOHN-deh ehs-TA el BAH-neeo.’ The driver repeated.
‘¿Cuánto cuesta?’
‘KooAN-to KWEHS-ta,’ came his reply.
I spent the next hour sitting in the back of the car staring at the iPad, trying not to listen to the driver’s linguistic exercises and wondering if I should also be doing something useful. I emailed Michael to ask but he simply responded: That’s your lunch break, sweetie. Enjoy! xx
I didn’t like to tell him I had no food. In the warmth of the waiting car, tiredness began to creep over me again, like a tide. I laid my head against the window, telling myself it was normal to feel disjointed, out of my depth. You’re going to feel uncomfortable in your new world for a bit. It always does feel strange to be knocked out of your comfort zone. Will’s last letter echoed through me as if from a long distance.
And then nothing.
I woke with a start as the door opened. Agnes was climbing in, her face white, her jaw set.
‘Everything