Page 29 of Last Christmas in London

Needless to say, I escorted him out with a typical casting-director ‘we’ll call you’ smile.

The second applicant was memorable for all the wrong reasons. She showed up smartly dressed, with eyeliner so heavy it looked like war paint. As she arrived, she handed me a list of airlines that she had been blacklisted from for previous inappropriate behaviour – apparently, she’d glued herself to a jet plane to protest against the environmental impact of aviation fuel.

‘I know the role involves travel,’ she said briskly, as if anticipating my confusion. ‘But I believe in changing systems from the inside.’

The list was alarmingly long, and the interview became less of an interview and more of a rant from her on climate-change activism. A worthy cause, but not ideal for an interview regarding a job that requires constant air travel with a celebrity.

The third applicant was a straightforward no. A fresh-out-of-school young woman, who opened with ‘I think Pim Hardcastle is overrated.’ Apparently, she’d only applied for the job as there was travel involved and her parents wouldn’t fund her gap year.

Megan actually ended that interview for me, marching the girl out, muttering under her breath something that sounded suspiciously like ‘My child would never…’

‘How many more?’ she asked, as I made us both another round of coffees.

‘Just one.’

‘One more to go,’ Megan echoed, looking as dispirited as I felt.

I fetched the last applicant from reception with low hopes and even lower expectations but was pleasantly surprised.

Alison was a thirty-something woman wearing a sensible dress and a three-quarter-length blazer and actually looked like she had prepared for an interview – neither overdressed for a corporate gig nor too casual for a coffee date.

She shook my hand with a firm grip, smiled warmly, and said, ‘Lovely to meet you.’ It’s true what you’re told in school, the first minute of an interview is the most important. I was judging her so much – down to the dark academia book she had been reading while waiting – but so far everything was a tick from me. Walking up the stairs, she asked about the role, rather than prying into celebrity gossip. She seemed relaxed yet in control and perfectly pleasant to be around.

‘Would you like some water?’ I asked, as we sat in the alcove. I could see Megan peering over the top of the screen and nodding approvingly.

‘That would be great, thanks,’ Alison said. ‘How long have you been a personal assistant?’ She caught me off guard in a good way.

‘About eight years,’ I told her, offering her the glass. ‘Although it feels like less some days, more on others.’

‘I get that.’ She nodded, taking a sip of her water. ‘I’ve been an administrator at various companies over the years, and some weeks can fly by, but others drag as if for months.’

‘The ever-changing highs and lows of working life.’

‘Indeed,’ she said. ‘But that’s kind of why I’m after a change.’ I loved how she was answering my questions without me even needing to ask them. This was becoming less of a formal interview and more of a chat, and that’s precisely what being a personal assistant was like most of the time: anticipating needs, reading the room, and keeping things moving.

‘So I’m aware the job description didn’t give much away with regard to the client, but this role is actually as a personal assistant for Pim Hardcastle, the actress and TV personality.’ I watched her carefully for a reaction, but she just nodded, perfectly composed. ‘She’s a bit of a jet-setter; she rarely stays in one place for more than a month.’

‘Got it.’ Alison continued to nod. Still no sign of star-struck curiosity.

‘The role is a bit hard to describe as well. There are weeks where you’ll be handling your standard schedules, meetings, minuting, organising travel, and general administration, but there is also a lot of personal administration involved as well. Dry-cleaning clothes to return to stylists, fetching food, holding bags, that kind of work. Would that be a problem?’

‘Not at all,’ Alison said, relaxed as ever. ‘I was a PA for a fashion director once. It wasn’t an always-on role like this one, but it was a lot of “personal administration”, as you politely called it.’ She smiled knowingly. ‘As long as it’s not inappropriate, it’s fine by me.’

I couldn’t help but grin. I liked her already.

‘A lot of people would class it as scut-work,’ I admitted, and Megan cleared her throat from behind her desk. She was definitely one of those people.

Alison laughed. ‘Well, it is and it isn’t. Particularly, I imagine, when it comes to a celebrity client.’

More ticks were appearing in my eyes.

‘How do you feel about the travel element? It would mean having to give up any kind of long-term lease, probably furniture, and any semblance of a social life, if I’m being entirely honest.’ Another cough from Megan.

Alison shifted in her seat. ‘London is out-pricing me anyway, all my furniture is second-hand, and, as for family and friends, I hardly see them as it is.’

‘You would see them even less.’ I had the urge to be entirely truthful with Alison, not in an attempt to scare her off, but to give her the full picture. ‘I’ve worked for Pim for eight years and in that time my “time off” was limited and usually spent exploring for a day or two in whatever city we found ourselves in. I’ve never been able to leave her for longer than three days without phone calls, emails, and disasters occurring. She’s incredibly needy, and I say that with affection as well as honesty. She needs an assistant full-time. Someone that isn’t going to go on holiday or return home without her.’

Alison took a moment, processing everything I’d said. ‘That sounds manageable to me.’