For months now, Amelia had searched in vain for another job. Everyone in the department had, but the recession was biting, and people were staying put, believeing it better the devil they knew.

          Nothing anyone did was ever good enough for Nancy, and she wasn’t one to mince words. Most days some unfortunate soul would shuffle out of her office, face flushed, head bowed with the weight of his apparent inadequacies. Nancy had been with Delacroix and Tomlin for twenty years, and even the partner in charge of Accounts lived in mortal fear of her. She would be there for life, they all knew it.

          On Friday Nancy had berated the whole department again about shoddy work.

          After she left, the anger hung in the air like a thundercloud, though no one said a word. Amelia looked around the bitter faces, and could almost hear their collective prayer.

 

          On Monday morning, with the whole week looming like a dentist’s chair, Amelia saw Mairi lumbering towards her. ‘Have you heard the news?’

          She shook her head while Mairi leaned her bulk on the banister and got her breath back.

          ‘There’s been a reshuffle at head office. We’re to get a new partner in charge’

          ‘What!’ the sudden surge of hope was like the sun peeking out of the clouds.    A new partner might be able to stand up to Nancy, might not put up with her bully-girl tactics. Mairi was grinning, her eyes almost disappearing in her plump face.

          ‘When does this happen?’

          ‘Next week’

          Amelia smiled. At last there was something to look forward to. On the following Monday, the accounts department gathered early, waiting with a mixture of hope and dread to discover their fate.

 

          He came striding into the open-plan office like a man with a mission.

          ‘Good morning!’ he boomed. ‘My name is Du Matin. I am taking over from        Mr Peters, and I want to see each of you this morning to get to know you all.’

          He grinned at them, his teeth incredibly white. He had deeply tanned skin, and eyes that moved like shadows in the trees. Amelia felt her heart thudding, and she glanced across to see Mairi gazing at the man, transfixed. 

          Amelia was called to see the new boss immediately after Nancy, and she noted with satisfaction that even the manager from hell was affected by his charms.

          Du Matin said a few words about keeping up the good work, that things were just going to get better, and she was so intent on gazing into his fathomless eyes that she just nodded, not quite hearing the rest.

 

          Hope dwindled that afternoon, when Du Matin and Nancy were seen going out to lunch together. Later, young Dave was called into Nancy’s room for a dressing-down, and they were appalled to see the new boss in attendance. Worried glances were exchanged across the office floor, tempered with relief that it wasn’t them in the firing line.

          Things got worse in the coming weeks. Poor gentle Mairi was sacked outright one afternoon. By this time there was not a bean of self-confidence left between them, and no one dared speak up in her defence. Later, Amelia overheard Nancy and Du Matin talking by the coffee machine.

          ‘She made the place look untidy’, she was saying, ‘the great fat thing’

          Du Matin laughed his silky laugh.

          ‘Vindictive’ he said softly. ‘I like that’

          Two long-serving accountants were given written warnings. Amelia herself received a verbal thrashing for her poor time-sheet keeping. When Nancy left at night, arm in arm with her new friend, she left behind an atmosphere as bleak as any battlefield.

 

          Then, one day, everything changed.

          It was a Friday night, and on the way out, Du Matin smiled at Amelia.

          ‘Have a nice weekend.’

          As if, she thought. ‘You too,’ she replied gloomily.

          ‘Don’t look so down,’ he said, and suddenly he was towering over her, the dark eyes and shining teeth mesmerising.

          ‘Things will get better now. Remember my promise?’

          ‘Um,’ she said. Promise? What promise. What was he talking about?

          ‘I keep my promises,’ he said gently. ‘Just as you will, my dear.’

          That night she lay awake wondering what he meant. She had only spoken to the man once, and she couldn’t for the life of her remember what was said. She drifted eventually into a dream where Du Matin was dancing with her. All around were lights of gold and orange, the sparkling of candles. ‘You will keep your promise, won’t you?’ he said, and she just nodded, overwhelmed by his beauty and the wonder of him holding her. She woke with a start, a memory on the very edge of her thoughts, which slid away like a little fish as she tried to grasp it.

 

          On Monday morning, Du Matin had gone. A new partner had been installed, a quiet man called James Gold, who seemed far too gentle to withstand Nancy. She was nowhere to be seen, however, and when she eventually arrived she looked dazed.

          Amelia met Roger Boyd at the coffee machine.

          ‘Have you heard about Spiegler?’ he whispered. Amelia shook her head.

          Roger glanced round warily. ‘They’ve repossessed her house!’

          ‘That can’t be right, she’s loaded!’

          He shrugged, his pale eyes gleaming for the first time since the written warning.

‘They say she invested all her money in some scheme of Du Matin’s, and lost the lot. Couldn’t happen to a nicer soul.’

          No wonder Nancy looked shocked. When Amelia saw her later, she put on her best sympathetic charm, and it all came flooding out. Du Matin had insisted Nancy invest in an internet company that had quickly gone bust, then he had made love to her and left, taking with him all her jewellery and her prized Jaguar car. Apparently he had told the partners in the firm that he was leaving, and his final report had called Nancy’s work sub-standard. For Nancy, this seemed to be the hardest thing to bear, and she sobbed uncontrollably, ‘it couldn’t be worse!’

          But Amelia had an odd feeling that it was just starting.

 

          Mr Gold was as good as his name. In the weeks that followed, he proved himself to be clever, fair, and even quite good fun. He wrote recommendations to the partners that all the warnings be removed, and twice complimented Amelia on her work.

          Nancy however, was even nastier than ever, especially to Amelia, as if she regretted ever mentioning her troubles. Nancy was now living with her mother, who shared the rest of the world’s dislike for her daughter, not to mention Nancy’s smelly cat, Oscar. One day, looking for his way back home, Oscar was run over and killed. Nancy was inconsolable, and it was a bitter blow when the partners from head office chose that day to visit. Everyone now knew it was only a matter of time before Nancy was booted out, and there was an almost festive feel to the office, like Christmas come early.

 

          Nancy got the sack the same day her mother died. To make matters worse, her cat-hating mother had willed all her property to the dog’s home, leaving her daughter both homeless and jobless. Amelia was the only one who went to Nancy’s office, and this time she did feel some genuine sympathy. Nancy was not there, but lying on her desk was a letter on hospital notepaper. She knew she shouldn’t look, but she couldn’t help it. ‘- Miss Spiegler, we urgently request that you contact Dr Ross. In the early stages of the malignancy, treatment is vital-‘

          She couldn’t bear to read any more. She wandered back into the office, dazed.

          Roger saw her and came over. ‘What’s up?’

          ‘Nancy. She’s-‘

          Amelia stopped. What could she say? Nancy’s life lay in tatters.

          ‘Amelia? What’s wrong?’

          ‘What dear Amelia is trying to say is-‘

          They turned around. Du Matin was leaning against a desk, his smile bright as ever.

          ‘Miss Spiegler is no longer a problem. Job done.’

          Worried glances were exchanged. ‘Why are you back, Mr Du Matin?’

          Du Matin stood up. ‘Come, come. I’ve come to think of you all as friends. Comrades, even. Call me Etoile!’

          Etoile? Amelia thought. The rogue thought was flickering in the back of her mind again, something to do with a promise, something she had agreed to, not with words, but-

          His eyes fixed on her. ‘Yes, Amelia. You are nearly there. Well, shall we go downstairs?’

          ‘Downstairs?’ someone said, ‘Whatever for?’

          ‘Why to visit Miss Spiegler, of course. I do so love it when a plan comes together, don’t you?’

          He began to descend the stairs to the empty basement, but Amelia stood back.

          ‘What’s wrong my dear, are you squeamish?’

          Her heart was pounding now, with the certain knowledge of what she would find in the darkened lobby of the lower floor.

          Du Matin laughed.

          ‘It’s always the same,’ he said sadly. ‘You do people a favour, and they never want to repay you. Come now, ladies, gentlemen. We had a deal.’

          ‘We don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Dave, fiercely.

          Du Matin smiled at him in a friendly way. ‘You don’t remember the night you all called to me? All of you as one, as I remember... except the fat girl, of course. The nice one.’

          Amelia felt her mouth go dry.

          ‘Yes,’ he said, scratching his head absently. ‘I’m afraid that does rather make you the nasty ones, doesn’t it. But I must say, only the fat one wanted another job. The rest of you wanted something – ah, more specific.’

          ‘We wanted rid of Nancy,’ Roger whispered, horrified.

          ‘That’s a terribly sweet way of putting it.’ He chuckled nastily.

 You remember now, don’t you?’

          And they did. They remembered his intense eyes upon them, the words they didn’t quite hear aloud, the way they all nodded.

          ‘Things will get better from now on. I will solve this problem for you, but in return, you must solve one for me. You see, where I come from, there are so few souls. I get so lonely. I’d like you to come and keep me company. Will you do that for me?’

          Dancing through lights of orange and gold, the sparkling, not of candles, but of flames. 

          ‘Come,’ he said, his gleaming teeth bright in the gloom of the stairwell. ‘It’s time to go. I must say, I have plenty of lawyers, but I could use a good accountant.’

          He began to walk, his hand beckoning, and they found themselves following, down into the place where shadows of red and gold illuminated the shape twisting in the darkness.