‘Because they’re thunderous dickbags, too?’ Livi said.
‘Exactly,’ Charlie agreed. All Hannah could do was nod.
‘Honestly,’ Charlie went on, ‘would anyone be feeling sorry for Marc if he’d posted a bunch of fake one-star reviews of Eventurous on Trustpilot? I don’t think so. But that song is just as toxic! Even worse, because it’s all about hisfeelings, because he’s warbling about having a broken heart in a minor key, it’s hard to fight back without coming off as callous. At least with Trustpilot you stand a chance of getting bullshit reviews deleted, as Felicity the vegan discovered.’
‘Those are some excellent points,’ Livi said. ‘Are you sure it’s your ex-husband who’s the lawyer?’
Charlie tilted her head to indicate,Yes, but I was always smarter than him. She preened a little, then tore open a Tupperware containing six freshly baked, chocolate-covered marshmallow teacakes.
On Tamsin’s advice, their first step today had been to assess and try to categorise the reactions they were seeingto ‘Never The Bride’. Then, it would be up to Hannah to decide whether her accounts should remain open or be locked down while she waited for the fuss around Marc’s song to die away.
Hannah had prepared a statement on her history with Marc before her Teams meeting with Tamsin: an honest account of what had passed between them, including how he’d intimidated her at Ed and Joe’s engagement party, then again in a professional setting. It was well written, the agent had said, but she’d advised caution – suggested that posting it could inflame the situation further, even unleashing a new wave of misogynistic rage if the story ended up in the manosphere.
At the very least, Tamsin explained, Hannah putting forward an alternate narrative would prolong the life of the problem. ‘It’s the equivalent of throwing another log on the fire, I’m afraid,’ she’d said in clipped received pronunciation, her sharp blonde bob swinging as she shook her head through Hannah’s iPad screen. ‘I sympathise, but I’d be inclined to keep this back for now. Deploy it only if you have no other choice a little later down the line.’
The good news, Hannah supposed, was that the comments on ‘Never The Bride’ weren’t universally pro-Marc. A few had criticised it as facile and poorly written, and a handful of people pointed out that Hannah had every right to end their relationship. To Charlie’s delight, several comments also argued that making Hannah so easily identifiable, and gunning for her livelihood, were clear acts of aggression.
TheDaily Mailhadn’t helped in this regard, with this morning’s story on Marc’s new single reproducing – and analysing – the lyrics in full, both in the paper and online. The ‘speculative’ annotations provided drew a line from Marc to Hannah that was so clear even a Premier League referee couldn’t miss it. Hannah hadn’t told Livi or Charlie this, but seeing it first thing had been enough to make her bring back her coffee. As she heaved over the kitchen sink, she knew lines like ‘your smile’s a mile wide, but you’re never the bride’ and ‘my heart’s on my sleeve, but you just don’t believe’ were so objectively bad, she should find the song funny. Unfortunately, she’d discovered she was unable to laugh at any of this.
Who would want to employ a wedding planner who didn’t believe in love? That was the question Marc’s song posed, and Hannah feared the answer was ‘nobody’. He’d made her out to be some hardened cynic, imposing on her clients and laughing at them behind their backs. This was crazy, but it was with some discomfort that she remembered how readily she’d once leaned into a sceptical ‘too smart for this’ persona – how she’d convinced even Charlie she was .?.?. what had she called herself?A realist who enjoys her independence. The truth, of course, was that she’d always wholeheartedly believed in true love, in soulmates, in one person being the right person. It had just been easier to pretend that wasn’t true, to build a life where she didn’twantit to be true, when she thought she’d never see her ‘right person’ again.
Hannah felt worst about how Ed and Joe had been dragged into this. Their engagement and upcoming wedding had already garnered plenty of coverage, but Marc’s attack on Hannah had added a new and interesting dimension to their story. They were mentioned in every single article about her – even referenced in many of the headlines. The two of them had cried laughing at ‘SEX DOCTOR’S SIREN SIS-IN-LAW BROKE MY HEART, SAYS FORMER LITE SKY FRONTMAN’. Hannah had been mortified.
Via FaceTime, Joe had folded his arms and spoken with the sort of calm authority she imagined he used on spiralling therapy clients. ‘Hannah,’ he’d said gently, ‘hasn’t it occurred to you that we might be part of the problem? That Marc knew he’d get more traction with this nonsense because your profile rose after our engagement?’ She admitted she hadn’t thought of this. ‘Well, it seems to me this bastard is calculating enough to have considered it,’ Joe concluded, ‘so less of the mea culpa posturing, please. He might never have thought about using you like this if there wasn’t a celebrity wedding for him to piggyback off.’ Hannah remained unconvinced, but stopped apologising for the stories after that.
‘What’s the verdict then, Han?’ Livi asked now. ‘I reckon we have a sentiment ratio that’s roughly seventy-thirty on the comments we’ve reviewed so far, negative to neutral-slash-positive. And they’re still coming in.’
Hannah groaned. ‘This won’t be the last of it, either,’ she said dolefully.
‘Nope,’ Livi agreed. ‘There’s no way he’s posting this once and then stopping. There’ll be his reaction to everyone else’s reaction. Some sort of gratitude post that makesout he appreciates all the support he’s had for his new music and his – insert vomit here – emotional struggle. Maybe he’ll put some account of how he wrote the song out there .?.?. And probably some behind-the-scenes footage of shooting the music video, too.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Charlie said, her mouth full of chocolate and marshmallow. ‘How do you know all that?’
‘It’s what I’d do. Business degree, remember?’ Livi explained, pointing at herself. ‘Management with marketing, first-class.’
‘So we shut them down?’ Hannah asked, meaning her social platforms. ‘I hate this so fucking much. I hatehim. I never thought I was the sort of person who’d wish an untimely death on an ex, but I’m pretty close right now. Nothing slow or painful .?.?. but maybe an unfortunate encounter with a bus?’ She reached for a teacake.
‘Fair,’ Charlie commented, pouring fresh tea into all three of their mugs from the pot on the coffee table, then opening a tin of home-made lemon shortbread. She’d turned up this morning armed with tea party supplies, declaring that if they were going to spend the day ‘shovelling Marc’s shit’, they might as well do it with high-quality snacks.
‘I’d say it comes down to how much time we can reasonably spend worrying about this over the next two weeks,’ Livi said sagely. ‘I know there’s a concern that temporarily suspending the accounts and turning off comments could make you look guilty, but it’ll mean you have the headspace you need to do next week’s wedding, plus finish sorting Ed and Joe’s. My other thought is, there’s a chance that going dark works in your favour. The story might shift. It could even become a thing in its own right: angry man bullies blameless businesswoman off the internet, sort of thing.’
‘Let’s press pause then,’ Hannah said with a sigh. It was the right decision, but temporarily deactivating her accounts was a bitter blow; it felt like admitting defeat, when her natural inclination was to take the fight to someone who’d wronged her. How had she gone from organising her biggest ever event, and fending off a triple-digit increase in enquiries, tothis? The injustice of it brought furious tears to her eyes.
At the same time, it struck Hannah that she was abundantly grateful for her sister’s input at this moment. She was too emotional to be thinking about the situation as rationally as Livi could. What was more, she trusted Livi’s instincts and judgement implicitly. Her sister was smart and qualified enough to make the right call, and would only ever act in the best interests of the firm.
Would Hannah be able to say all those things about anyone else she employed? Would she evenneedan assistant or partner next year, given what was happening? She felt the now-familiar pang of wanting Livi to stay on board with Eventurous and, as always, found it rapidly chased away by the thought that she was being selfish. She didn’t want Livi to limit herself or feel beholden to staying part of a family business .?.?. especially not under the current circumstances.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming notification and she flinched, no longer sure that the little glass rectangle couldoffer anything but bad news. She picked it up and eyed it quizzically. She had a text from a number she didn’t recognise, and she had message previews turned off. Hannah rarely had her phone out in front of clients, but as and when she did, the last thing she needed was messages like ‘What curry do u want?’ ‘Can I borrow your black heeled sandals Saturday?’ or ‘Remind me of yr Netflix password pls’ appearing. With three younger siblings – one of whom had been on a student budget until very recently – this tended to be the flavour of text she received.
Hannah supposed this one might simply be spam. Some ambulance-chaser firm, perhaps, or a message from a retailer whose mailing list she’d forgotten she’d joined. But maybe it was another journalist; someone who’d got hold of an old acquaintance or client and managed to wangle her private number out of them. That idea was nauseating.
Queasily, she swiped to open the text, then felt her heart leap in her chest.
Hope you’re OK. I miss you x, it said.
She knew who it was from immediately, and somehow couldn’t find it in herself to be angry that it had taken him more than four years to send it.
Hannah stared at the phone. Put it down for a few minutes, then stared at it again. She repeated this process several times, prompting Livi and Charlie to ask what was wrong with her, besides the obvious.
