Heart Beat

A Very Good Morning...

"Get that will you? It might be Kevin..." Simon's voice interrupted her raking through the costume and prop cupboard. "About time you spoke to him like a proper human." his laughter seared her conscience. The last time she'd spoken to him, she'd acted like an idiot. Was this going to make things any better?

With a sigh of resignation, she stood up and walked over to where one of the two office handsets lay on the shelf above her. Balancing it on her shoulder and pressing it to her ear, she continued to rake through the box of background rolls, looking for just the right shade of blue for this afternoon's appointment. It was one of Simon's old school shoots, so she was taking extra care - no digital touch ups this time!

"Morning SP Photos, Angie speaking. How may I help?" the standard greeting rolled off her tongue like clockwork. She was crouched down, balanced on her heels, back against another of the shelving units. She might have been prepared to answer the phone but she definitely wasn't prepared for the less than standard reply.

"Well, a very good morning to you too. When Kevin told me you had a lovely voice, I had no idea just how lovely." the man on the other end of the line almost purred into the phone. Her head jerked up and she lost her balance, the phone clattering to the ground as she sprawled back bumping her head on a shelf.

"Owwww!" she cried, tears springing to her eyes and a flush to her cheeks. Simon heard the thump and came hurtling in. As he saw Angie, like a stranded turtle, all flapping arms and legs and screwed up face he burst out laughing.

She silently pointed at the phone now lying at his feet. He bent down and picked it up.

"Hello? Chuckle Brothers Photographers at your service?"

"Ahhh, I see Angie's reputation is well deserved then? Kevin did warn me that she was, how can I put this politely? Entertaining?"

"Tom!" Simon recognised the voice instantly and clapped a hand to his forehead "I mean Mr Hiddleston... I'm so sorry. It's me , Simon. Could you hold on for just two seconds please?" he reached forward and helped Angie to stand. She pressed a hand to the back of her head then showed him .... blood! Not alot, but blood nonetheless. Dragging her by the arm, he pulled her into the staff room and sat her on a chair. He raised his hand in a "stop" gesture and stood up.

"Sorry about that, can I help? Do you want to discuss dates?" he walked through to the main shop where the computer was that held his schedule. A schedule that as from Monday was closed to anyone except The God of Mischief.

Angie sat, head thumping and tears threatening as she listened to the one-sided conversation. Trust her, a chance to make a good impression and what does she do? Decides to make an impression ok, in the shelf. With her head.

She suddenly started to feel incredibly tired and in need of forty winks. As the faint drone of Simon's voice floated back to her, she looked at the little sofa in the corner of the room. Simon sometimes slept on it if he was meeting a tough deadline for proofs and it was too late to go home. Yes, just a quick nap she thought. That would make her feel so much better. Just freshen her up. Lying down, head on the plush little arm rest, she closed her eyes and everything was so much better. Before she knew any more, she was gone. Out like a light.

"Angie? Come on love, sit up. You can't sleep. Angie..." a voice, a male voice full of concern interrupted her dream. She smiled and went right on sleeping, this was nice. "Angie, hey come on you. " a little louder, a little more concern. She frowned without opening her eyes, he was disturbing her snooze. She wanted to snooze some more. "Angie, honey please? Wake up sweetheart." now she was being shaken.

With a frown and a little mewl like a sleepy cat, she opened her eyes. Instantly her head started to pound again. She scrunched up her nose and screwed up her eyes, "It hurts."

"I know lovie, but you can't sleep. I looked it up, come on. Sit up." Simon was the voice, his was the concern. He gently pulled her upright and sat next to her, passing her a dampened cloth. "Here freshen up with this," she took it and wiped her face and the cool water soothed and revived her.

"I'm sorry Si, I was just so tired..." she said grumpily, "I needed a snooze. I did hurt myself in the line of duty you know." She passed the cloth back to him with a scowl "I think I gave myself quite a clatter." Now she began to giggle "was that who I thought it was on the phone?"

Simon, relieved she was back with him, even if she was a grumpy little moo, nodded. "Yep and he said to tell you he hopes you're ok. He's going to call back tomorrow and arrange a date to come in for the shoot. Says he'll give you the details and so forth. Today was just a 'hi' so to speak. Or as he said, a 'low' for you! Seems like you made an impression again!" Simon laughed loudly and she blushed crimson. "Now, come on, we're shutting up shop for today..."

"But the shoot later...." she began to protest.

"Is postponed until tomorrow. I spoke to them and they're more than happy under the circumstances." he grinned and held out a hand as he stood.

"Circumstances?" she was confused and it wasn't just the knock to the head.

"Well, I told them that my assistant had been attacked and that she needed to rest. They didn't need to know you'd argued with a set of shelving now did they?" he shrugged. "Come on Calamity Jane, let's get some coffee and cake to go and have an afternoon in the fresh air. Keep you awake for a bit and away from murderous shop fittings."

They walked out into the sunshine and Simon paused looking at her as she stood blinking in the bright sunshine. She was his assistant, yes, but she was something else. Something he cared about, a great deal. The affection he felt was far from romantic, that had died the moment he realised she was almost - but not quite - young enough to be his daughter. No, Angie was definitely his little work-sister.

Accident prone, silly, superbly talented and infuriatingly organised. Clever, kind, honest and ALWAYS seemingly right, he wouldn't swap her for the world. He would never knowingly hurt her and he would most definitely hurt anyone else who did. It struck him that until today, he'd also never let anyone else make fun of her, good natured or otherwise. That had changed. In one conversation, that had changed. He just had to make sure that the fun was entirely mutual. Otherwise, that person, no matter how important, would have him to answer to.