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By the time Thursday dawns, everything is in place for the launch. I’ve checked and double-checked every detail, and even run the whole plan past Emily, which absolutely delighted her. I took the evening gown I’m planning to wear, along with a reserve in case of disaster, to the dry cleaner near the office earlier this week, so they’re both pressed and ready to go. Shoes and tights are also sorted, and I’ll change at the office just before I leave to go to the venue. I’m staying over in London tonight so I don’t have to worry about missing the last train, but I’ll head home as soon as I can tomorrow.
The venue looks amazing when I get there and I breathe a sigh of relief. I stick my overnight bag in the cloakroom and check in on the caterers, who seem to have everything under control. The waiting staff also seem well briefed, but we walk through the timings on a whiteboard just to be certain. The main function room layout is exactly as I’d planned it, and every table has a large bottle of the new fragrance as the centrepiece. They’re actually filled with coloured water to keep the costs down, but nobody will notice that, particularly once they’ve had a glass or two of fizz. The celebrity, an American pop star, is due to make her appearance at 9.30 p.m., when she will give a short speech written by a publicist at the perfume company followed by a meet-and-greet with selected guests. It’s all choreographed to the second and, assuming nothing goes wrong, there shouldn’t be much for me to do.
Of course, things do go wrong, but I’m able to keep on top of them and the client declares himself delighted when the evening finally wraps up a little after two in the morning. The guests have melted away, clutching their freebies, and the staff are packing everything up as I do my final checks before summoning a taxi to the hotel.
My mind is already contemplating the weekend as the taxi trundles through the deserted streets. I don’t really know why; I’ve been invited to Daisy’s on Saturday evening, which should be fun, but I don’t have anything else planned. I’m looking forward to sharing what I’ve learned about Elliott. It’s slim pickings, but it’s more than Bronwyn has been able to find out. I do need to sort out the reusable coffee cup, though; I don’t think I’m going to learn much more about him if I keep throwing coffee at him.
23
I am a free agent, at last. It’s been just over six months since I left James, and the divorce has finally come through. I don’t miss him at all, but I am weirdly going to miss Alison, the lawyer. Ed was completely right about her; she’s been as tenacious as a Rottweiler all the way through. I know she was just doing her job, but it’s felt like more than that. It’s as if she’s been fighting my corner for me, which I suppose she has, and I’m hugely grateful to her for it. The money landed in my account a few days ago, and I’ve not only repaid the various loans Mum and Dad have given me, but I’ve also arranged a bouquet of flowers as a thank-you gift to Alison. Dad won’t tell me what the bill from the law firm was, but I know it must have been a lot.
The train is a bit quieter today and Elliott and I are sitting opposite each other at a table. We do have the occasional conversation now, but it’s still pretty limited. On Mondays we enquire after each other’s weekends, and on Fridays we wish each other a good weekend. Mostly, we only see each other on the train platform, but we have occasionally found ourselves leaving our flats at the same time, or we’ve met by chance in the café when getting our coffees. When that happens, we walk to the station companionably enough, but our conversation is strictly surface level.
Now that I’m completely free of James and I have the money to start again, it feels like I need to make some decisions, so I’m staring out of the window and pondering things this morning rather than dealing with emails or fighting with Nutsy. Even after repaying Mum and Dad, I’ve got enough to put down a substantial deposit on a property if I want to, but I’m not sure I do. I’m quite happy in my flat for the time being. It has everything I need, and there’s a real sense of community. Okay, so I still don’t know Elliott that well, but I’m kind of used to him, and he seems to have accepted me in return. Bronwyn has firmly inducted me into their Saturday-night club, and we now rotate around the three flats. It does get out of sync occasionally if I’m working over a weekend, but the Saturday nights are definitely the highlight of my week. I’d lose all that if I moved. On the other hand, paying rent is ‘dead’ money, as my father puts it. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll keep a vague eye on the property market and see if anything tempting comes up.
‘You seem preoccupied this morning, if you don’t mind me saying. Is everything all right?’ Elliott’s voice makes me jump.
‘Sorry?’ I bring my focus back inside the carriage and look at him.
‘I didn’t mean to pry, it’s just that you look like you’ve got the weight of the world on you this morning, and I wondered if you were okay.’
‘I’m fine, just grappling with some decisions, that’s all.’
‘Work stuff?’
‘No, personal. My divorce has just come through, so I’m thinking about what to do next.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were married.’
‘I’m not. At least, not any more,’ I smile. ‘But now that it’s all finalised, I’m trying to decide whether to stay in the flat, or whether I should look at buying something.’
He studies me for a minute. Just as I’m starting to feel slightly uncomfortable under his gaze, he speaks.
‘Would you consider it very rude if I made a suggestion? One divorce veteran to another?’
That’s an interesting nugget. I didn’t know he’d been married either, and I file it away to report back to Bronwyn.
‘Go ahead.’
‘Don’t feel you need to make any decisions right now. Divorce is traumatic, so take time to heal. Rediscover yourself and what you want out of life, and then make the changes you need.’
I know he’s probably right, but I do feel a little patronised and annoyed. I did invite his comment, though, so I thank him as gracefully as I can, and he seems to take that as his cue to disengage. I resume staring out of the window. Annoyed as I am, he does have a point. Maybe I can invest the money from the divorce, and then it’s there at a later date if I need it. That seems like a sensible idea, and I make a note to ask Dad to put me in touch with one of his financial advisers as the train begins to slow down on the approach to London Bridge. To Elliott’s obvious surprise, I also get off the train.
‘I’ve got an all-day meeting with a client near here today,’ I explain to him as we make our way towards the escalators. ‘I’m not stalking you, I promise.’
‘I never thought for a moment that you were,’ he replies with a smile. I find his smile slightly unnerving. I’ve only ever seen it a couple of times because he’s normally very serious. But when he smiles, there’s a brief glimpse of a different person to the intensely private man he normally is. I’d love to meet that one; he looks like he might be fun.
* * *
The engagement is one of the biggest we’ve ever pitched for. We’ve been shortlisted to organise a trade fair, and we’re all involved with it. It’s so important to her that Annabel has even hired a temp to answer the office phones for the day so that we can all be here. I hurry to the coffee shop where Annabel, Lucy, and Emily are already waiting. We’ve agreed to meet here beforehand for final checks before we go up in front of the prospective client. It’s going to be a gruelling day and we’ve got to make sure our plans are watertight to have any hope of landing the job. If we get it, it will be a major boost for the company, but we’re up against tough competition and Annabel is keen that we leave nothing to chance. We’re the last to pitch, so we’ve really got to stand out. The fair itself is not for another twelve months, but we’ll need to start work on it right away if we’re successful. It’s going to be a stretch handling this on top of our other work, but Annabel is muttering about recruiting another planner if we land this client, so that will help.
Annabel is going to be first up, presenting the company and its ethos. The aim here is to demonstrate ‘synergy’ between us and the client, according to her. Then we’ll walk through our proposals, and she has warned us that the people on the panel are going to be forensic, diving deep into every detail. We’ve prepared a wealth of materials, from slide decks to 3D walkthroughs, as well as large-scale prints to go on the walls and packs covering every aspect of our proposal. Annabel has spared no expense on this one, so we’re all really keen for it to pay off.
By the end of the day, we’re exhausted but optimistic. The panel was initially hostile, but they definitely softened through the day and were making very positive noises by the end. Everyone on our side worked incredibly hard, and I was particularly impressed by Emily, who answered some challenging questions confidently and with just the right amount of detail. I really don’t think we could have done any more, and now we just have to wait. We agree that we’ll debrief in the office tomorrow and head our separate ways.
* * *
If I thought Charing Cross was busy during rush hour, it’s nothing compared to London Bridge. It may be an enormous station, but it’s teeming with people. I make my way over to the departure boards to try to figure out when the next train to Sevenoaks leaves, before heading towards the escalator to take me up to the right platform. It’s even worse when I get up there. The whole platform is crammed with people and, every time a train comes in, there’s a surge forwards as people rush to board. It’s making me feel quite claustrophobic. A Sevenoaks train arrives, but it turns out I’m standing in the wrong place and, by the time I get to the nearest door, it’s obvious that I’m never going to be able to squeeze myself in there even if I wanted to.
