Cinderella & The Copywriter

"Somebody a lot better looking than me, you mean?"

Brian tried to think fast. "Well, I'm no film star either. It's just a fact of life that some people have the luck when it comes to looks. I suppose that's why some guys and some girls get to be professional models and the rest of us don't."

"Yes, only there's a difference between you and me," she answered, looking glum for the first time, "You've got a job you like doing where looks don't matter. But this is the only chance I'll ever have in my life of being anything but a secretary. It would have been nice to have had one glamorous night in my life to remember. I mean, a cruise sounds nice, but I'll still only be a secretary on holiday."

She stared at him across the candles on the table. "What happens if I don't sign this contract? Suppose I go to the papers and tell them that I'm the girl in that shoe advertisment and I can prove it. You'd have to tell the truth, wouldn't you?"

Brian's well filled stomach sank heavily. "Well, I suppose I'd have too, but I don't think you'd get your cruise if you did something like that."

"Stuff the cruise," Mary said pithily. "No, I tell you what. I'm getting sick of going from office to office all the time and your agency was the best place I've ever worked in. You go back and tell them I want a permanent job there as a secretary or a receptionist or something. If they want to talk to me about that then I'll talk about signing this contract for my picture."

"Er -- I don't know how I'll go, suggesting that," Brian baulked, trying to figure out the different angles. "It may take some time to fix it. Will you just let things ride for a while until I can talk to some people?"

Mary stirred the remains of her dessert with a fork and lifted out a wood strawberry soaked in wine. Her tongue reached out to gently lick a trace of cream from it. "For a fellow who's prepared to stand me a meal like this most evenings I'd do just about anything."

Brian conceded the point immediately. "Mary, I'd love to take you out just as often as I can."

The sharp white teeth snapped down on the strawberry like a trap. Then Mary smiled at him coyly. "That's sweet of you, Brian."

In the next week Brian just about wiped out his meagre savings, put on three kilos in weight from rich food and began to develop an overwhelming desire to bed Mary Shact. Almost as overwhelming an urge as the one he was aquiring to defenestrate Georgina Tench from the highest possible altitude.

"What is the matter with you, Brian? Can't you make her happy enough for one minute to do what you want? For God's sake, all you have to do is to get her to sign one sheet of paper. Even a boy like you should be able to manage that."

"Look, you stupid . . . look the only way I've managed to keep her quiet so far is by saying I'm trying to get her the job she wants here. That excuse has worn out. What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Georgina shook her head. "Haven't you caught onto female psychology yet? That story about getting a job is just her excuse to keep on seeing you. If she was only interested in getting a job here she would have shown up days ago and spoken to Du Cann. As long as you keep cuddling up to her she won't cause any bother."

"I've got to tell her something, Georgina, some reason why she mustn't say anything until this ball is over."

She picked up one of her drawing pens and tapped her teeth with the wooden tip. "OK, tell her you think she's getting a raw deal from the agency and you're going to be her knight in shining armour. Better still, tell her you're going to be her fairy godmother. You're going to take her to the ball and tell Du Cann you're both going to make a scene right in the middle of the promotion if she doesn't get a job here."

"What!" Brian sat up straight and stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"Sure, why not? Just as long as you keep my name out of it. Tell Du Cann you were the one who was supposed to get the contract organised. Then tell him you've managed to keep the girl quiet by promising her a job and she won't cause any trouble if she gets one. After all she is presumably good enough at her sort of work so where's the problem? Du Cann won't sack you for something like that -- you're shaping up to be too good a copywriter."

Cheered, comforted and resolved to do or die, Brian went off that evening and told Mary about Georgina's advice. She smiled at him with her innocent eyes: "People are surprising, aren't they. I always thought that Georgina was one of the selfish sort. Just shows how wrong you can be, doesn't it?"

A week later the lobby of the Lord Forest hotel greeted them with a scene of restrained yet decided luxury. Inwardly sick with apprehension but bolstered by Mary's faith in him Brian walked arm in arm with her towards the ballroom. Slap into a barricade of silken rope across the entrance and two burly men dressed in footmens' clothes and wigs. Brian thought it was a hell of a way to earn a few dollars.

"Your passes, please, sir."

"Er -- passes." What passes was the guy talking about? "Nobody said anything to me about needing any passes."

"This is a private function. No passes, no entry. It's that simple, mate."

He'd been right, it was a hell of a way to earn a few bucks, standing around dressed like a ponce, and the guy had clearly built up a load of resentment he was eager to drop off on somebody else, even a somebody as insignificant as Brian. Mary stood patiently waiting as Brian appealed, protested, threatened and finally begged for admission to the ball room. All the good it did him was to bring Georgina to the other end of an internal phone line.

"What the hell is going on here, Georgina? Tell these people to let us in!"

Georgina's tone was cool and distant. "Sorry, Brian, but it was better this way. You were so wrapped up in the idea of making a shock entry here that you both kept quiet for the extra week I needed. I thought it better not to mention to you that I'd arranged security coverage for the ball."

"You don't think you'll get away with this, do you?"

"Why not? We're all ready to see the real Cinderella in here. If she doesn't show up I guess I'll have to stand in for her. It's a pity but there it is. If somebody forgot to send her a pass, well, even the best of organisations make mistakes sometimes. Not much of a story for the papers, I'm afraid."

Brian was shaking with anger: "Tell these goons to let us in, or else!"

Georgina giggled, totally unimpressed: "Tell them your girlfriend is the glamour pot all the boys in here are lusting to meet. Maybe they'll laugh so much they'll let you in anyway."

Brian threw the receiver down in fury and tried to charge past the guards. They grabbed and held him with ease.

"OK, mate,you've got two choices, either walk out nicely or we take you out of sight and give you a few bruises to go home with."

"I don't think you should try to do that," Mary warned the guard, displaying one of her widest smiles for no good reason Brian could see. "It might be you who gets hurt."

The two bouncers grinned at each other, then at Mary. Until four men suddenly seemed to materialise out of nowhere -- four men wearing the uniform of the Special Air Service Regiment. One of them had sergeant's stripes on his sleeves.

"Excuse me," the sergeant said quietly. "But I think my sister would like to go through that door."

The footman were looking at each other again, but they weren't grinning this time. Without any further consultation they stepped aside, white faced. Brian reached up and straightened the guard's wig. "There you, cuddles, you look delicious now. Why don't you slip down to the docks and say hallo to all the sailors?"

The bouncer made one flicker of movement towards him, an involuntary movement stifled as quickly as it was begun by the sergeant's eyes. As blue and empty as fragments of desert sky, set in a face with the texture of stretched rawhide. Brian had a feeling that absolutely nothing which the sergeant saw happen or caused to happen would alter the total calmness in those eyes. It was not a pleasant experience to have them focus on him.

"Hi, Brian, my name's Eric. Mary's told me a lot about you. I hope we'll be able to have a drink together soon. Mum and Dad are looking forward to meeting you."

Brian's mouth fell open and he was happy to find himself excused from any need to answer as Mary led him into the ballroom. Behind him walked their escort with the winged dagger badges prominently displayed on their sand coloured berets.

How did he get here?" Brian whispered.

"Oh, I thought Georgina would try to pull some kind of a dirty trick. I never liked her when I was at the agency. And it's useful sometimes, having Eric based here in Perth at Campbell barracks."

"Yeah, useful." Brian glanced behind him and then spoke even more quietly into her ear. "He seems to think we're engaged or something."

Mary giggled. "Oh, I must have been talking about you too much."

Brian thought remarkably quickly. He thought about he felt about having a man like like Eric as a brother in law; then he thought even more quickly about having a man like Eric as an unhappy non-brother in law. Perhaps the favours he did for his sister included avenging her honour if someone was ill advised enough to jilt her. Brian shuddered and felt his palms begin to sweat. Christ, this was worse than the mafia. The SAS, the deadliest bunch of trained killers in Australia -- who knew what they were capable of if you upset one of them?

The scene inside the ballroom was one which he would never forget. Fifty two girls lined up on the stage, giggling and posing for a posse of photographers as they lifted up their ball gowns to knee level to give the contestants a sneak preview before the cards were dealt out for the first time. A piercing wolf whistle came from behind him and the girls, every one a beauty, looked over the heads of the seated crowd of men towards the soldiers. The SAS men returned the looks with interest. Especially when the tallest of the girls hurriedly left the stage and rushed towards them. Georgina, with Du Cann following on her heels.

"What do you pair want?" she demanded.

"We don't want anything at all," Mary said. "We hope you have a wonderful ball and everything goes well."

She turned to Du Cann and continued talking. "In case you don't know it I'm the girl who's the real Cinderella, so I hope you don't mind my brother and his army friends coming along. You see, I made a few enquiries from people I know in the agency and I found out that Georgina here was planning to stand in for my legs, if I can put it like that. I'm not sure it's quite right for an employee of the ad agency to be given a prize offered by a sponsor, especially under false pretences. But if you don't bother my guests I don't think I'll mention it to those reporters."

Du Cann seemed nonplussed. "You're the real Cinderella? I can't pretend I know what's going on but if it's about the prize I'm sure we can come to some arrangement."

"She wants a job at the agency," Georgina snapped angrily. "That's what she's trying to get out of us."

"I don't want your prize and I don't want any job you have to offer," Mary answered calmly. She opened her handbag and gave Du Cann an envelope from inside it. "I just came to hand you Brian's letter of immediate resignation from your agency."

"My what!" Brian found Mary holding onto his arm.

"I've been a naughty girl," she confessed. "I faxed copies of your shoe ad to every major advertising agency in the Eastern states. The creative director of Ransdown and Mitchell in Sydney was the first to call back. For a start they only offered you twice what you're getting now, but I held out for three times what this bunch of cheapskates are paying you. It didn't take them long to agree."

Mary carefully smoothed down the front of Brian's jacket in a proprietorial manner and smiled at the other girl: "I guess it's true what they say after all, Georgina. It does pay to advertise."

THE END