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Subject: Re: Now the fucking food???
No, I’m not. None of the acts are changing. I’m trying to bring us in on or under budget. Not everyone has the same expectations when it comes to the catering as you.
James
From: Estelle Foxbrooke
To: James Hunter-Savage
Subject: Re: Now the fucking food???
We need to get on a call. I can’t keep doing this over email.
From: Estelle Foxbrooke
To: James Hunter-Savage
Subject: CALL ME!
I know things are hectic there, but please find a way for us to thrash this out over the phone.
From: Estelle Foxbrooke
To: James Hunter-Savage
Subject: Re: CALL ME!
James???????
‘Motherfucker!’ Estelle yelled, then threw her moody cow stress ball at James’s empty desk. It crashed into the fur Q, knocking it over.
There was a knock at the office door.
‘It had better be important because I’m in a foul mood!’ Estelle shouted.
The door opened and a smiling head appeared. ‘Am I important enough?’ Eveline asked.
‘Oh, my god, yes!’ Estelle pushed her chair back and ran to greet her best friend. ‘What are you doing here? Are you alright? The baby? Come and sit down.’
Eveline laughed as Estelle dragged her to the chaise longue. ‘I’m absolutely fine. I’m pregnant, not ill.’
Estelle’s heart rate returned to normal as she inspected her friend. ‘You do look even more gorgeous than normal. And your hair! It’s glossier than Duke’s mane.’
‘I consider it the highest compliment to be likened to him,’ Eveline replied with a huge smile. ‘Apparently my hair follicles are now stuck in their anagen phase.’
‘Their what?’
‘It means they don’t stop growing. Jack read it in one of the books he’s bought. And the diameter of each hair is increasing as well. That’s why it’s so thick.’
‘Oh.’ Estelle was once again struck into silence by the living proof that life never stood still. She’d only ever known Eveline as single and Jack living permanently abroad. Now her past and present friends had met, fallen in love, got married, and were having a baby. It was surreal.
She shook herself. ‘So, why are you here?’
‘Because if Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, the mountain must come to Mohammed.’
‘So, if I’m Mohammed, then you’re a mountain? I thought pregnant women were more like hippos. Or elephants?’
Eveline rolled her eyes. ‘It’s an idiom and you know it. The point is that you’ve been so busy I haven’t seen you in what feels like weeks. So, I thought I’d pop over and visit you here, then see how Beverley is holding up. Jack and I are off to Monaco in a few days and I didn’t want to go without seeing you.’
