26
I Don’t Want to Talk About It
I dragged myself to the office early on Monday morning and forced myself into crisis-management mode, but this time I directed my attention to where it was most urgently needed – the magazine. Being busy with work helped me to cope with my feelings for Simon. Because, even after all that had happened, the ache in my heart was for him. He was the last thing I thought about at night, and the first thing I thought about in the morning. Gavin had been right. Sometimes you just had to feel your feelings.
I needed to talk to Mike, but I sat at my own desk first to gather my courage. I reread Lucy’s interview with Jonny Delaney to double-check that she hadn’t gone all fangirl on us, the way Gavin had suggested she had.
Of course she hadn’t. I should never have doubted her.
Lucy had got some pretty good stuff out of him. He almost sounded sensible, which only proved what a great writer she was.
I put the proof down and took a long breath. Then I slowly walked to Mike’s office.
He always looked so cheerful in the mornings; despite the fact that he got up at 5 a.m. and did a five-mile run before getting into work. I hated that I was here to wipe the smile off his face.
I walked in and he checked his watch.
‘Goodness, Zoë. Did someone change your alarm clock for a joke? It’s not even eight.’
I shook my head and sat down. ‘We need a Plan B. The Marcie interview isn’t going to happen.’
‘I thought you were getting along with Nick Jones.’
‘He has his limits. Marcie doesn’t want to talk and I’ve been a fool thinking I could be the one person to convince her otherwise.’
I was on the verge of tears.Oh come on, I chided myself.Pull yourself together. ‘I’m sorry, Mike. I’ve let you down.’
Mike’s expression didn’t change, but his face seemed to drain of colour. ‘Any ideas for this Plan B?’
‘Only one. We go big on Hands Down – make them the cover story.’ Christ, had I really just suggested that? I gritted my teeth to carry on. ‘Lucy’s done a great interview with Jonny Delaney. We need to talk to the others and pray they’ve got something interesting to say.’
‘I thought you were dead against that?’
‘I’ve grown up.’
‘All hope for Marcie is gone?’
I sighed. ‘Maybe when her new publicist is in post they’ll be able to persuade her.’
Mike frowned. ‘Nick is out?’
I suddenly faltered. ‘I probably shouldn’t have told you that. He told me in confidence.’
‘Okay,’ said Mike. ‘Let’s get our boy band game on.’
*
A couple of hours later, when the rest of the team was in, I called an impromptu meeting. It was harder telling them than Mike because I’d never let them see how furiously I’d been paddling to get Marcie, all the while keeping up a calm exterior.
‘That’s a bummer,’ said Lucy.
‘It sucks donkey’s balls,’ added Gavin.
I tried to rouse their spirits, reminding them that it was Lucy’s birthday in two days and that we were going to have a small party in the office. Her proper celebrations would take place at the weekend but she was turning twenty-four on Wednesday and I hated the idea of not marking it.
It might be the last birthday we all spent together.
I’d staked the magazine on Marcie and I’d failed. If the Hands Down issue didn’t push up our circulation, our days were numbered. The idea filled me with dread.
