Page 127 of Who’s That Girl?

My insides clench, but pinning on a smile, I thank him and rejoin the launch.

‘Charlotte, this is amazing.’ I glance sideways to see a journalist from one of the UK’s top beauty magazines. ‘And what a coup, getting the Star Smile account. I’d heard a whisper, but until I got the invite …’ She raises her glass to toast me.

‘Oh … thanks, yes,’ I manage brightly, but my throat has gone dry. I spot Larry Thompson over by the door, chatting to some journalists, and screw up my courage. It’s now or never. ‘I’m sorry, but will you excuse me a moment?’

‘Oh, sure.’ The journalist beams back. ‘I think I’m going to help myself to another cocktail.’

As she disappears, I make my way towards Larry. I feel absurdly nervous. The palms of my hands have started to sweat, and I can hear my heart beating loud and fast in my ears over the chattering din. Then suddenly I hear Lottie’s voice inside my head: ‘What’s the point of worrying all the time? If the worst is going to happen, it’ll happen.’ Drawing reassurance from it, I take a deep breath.

‘Hi, Dr Thompson, could I have word?’

He pauses from narrating some anecdote and turns to me. ‘Hey, Charlene, come and join us. I’m just telling these girls about the time I went in a certain famous actor’s private jet.’

I smile politely and swallow hard. ‘Actually, it’s really important.’

‘What can be more important than an actor’s private jet?’ He cocks his head at the two young journalists, who laugh politely into their cocktails.

I clench my fists, digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands. OK, here goes. ‘My resignation,’ I say evenly.

He looks at me like I’ve just told him there are little green Martians in the room. Actually, he’d look less shocked if I’d told him there were little green Martians in the room.

‘Oh, I get it, this is the famous British sense of humour.’ He laughs.

I swallow hard. ‘No, I’m being serious. I’m afraid Merryweather PR can no longer represent you.’

The two journalists stop laughing and look at me uncertainly.

Larry Thompson, on the other hand, looks like he’s just been shot. Grabbing me roughly by the elbow, he marches me into the corridor outside. His head tips as if he can’t compute what I’ve just said. ‘Say that again?’ he demands. ‘I’m not quite understanding here.’

Shaken, I pull my arm free and take a step back to regain my composure. ‘It was too late to call off the press launch at such short notice, and it would also have been unprofessional.’ I’m struggling to keep my voice steady. ‘And so I followed through on that commitment. However, I’m afraid we can no longer represent you or the actual launch of the Star Smile clinic in December and we wish to formally resign from the account.’

There. I’ve done it.

As my words register, his eyes turn glassy and he pales underneath his tan. ‘You. Are. Dropping. Me.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t use those words …’

His face turns hard and he laughs scornfully. ‘I think you’re getting a little bit confused, Charlene. I’m the one who drops people, not the other way round.’

‘You can call it what you like, Dr Thompson, but I’m still firm in my decision. Merryweather PR will no longer be responsible for your public relations.’

As the words leave my mouth, his face puckers into a glare and it’s suddenly as if the smooth veneer has fallen away and the real Larry Thompson has been exposed.

‘Some poxy little agency is dropping me, Mr Celebrity Smile?’ His voice is almost a hiss, and his face is contorted with fury. ‘Who do you think you are? I’m offering you the chance to go global. To take on a big-name client. To further your career. To play with the big guys. To take your second-rate agency into the major league.’

‘If you thought we were so second-rate, why did you choose us?’ I fire back defensively.

‘Because I thought I saw something in you. I thought you reminded me of me. That you were hungry for success.’

I shake my head. ‘No, I’m not like you. I don’t want the kind of success that comes from ruining someone’s livelihood.’

He screws up his face. ‘Huh?’

‘The antique shop.’

Even now he doesn’t register. And why should he? Business is business to him. He probably didn’t even register what kind of shop it was. He just saw it as an opportunity.

‘The space you chose for your new clinic,’ I explain, ‘the space you threw money at to obtain the lease. The man had been in that shop for over sixty years and suddenly his rent was tripled. He’s losing his livelihood.’ I’m like Lottie now, the old me, speaking my mind, wearing my heart on my sleeve, putting my personal feelings first, and it feels good.