They laughed and Joy smiled, happy they’d each come to the conclusion they couldn’t work together on their own terms. Rachel had to be protected, she already had enough on.
The only person missing out now would be Simon, but he’d made the decision himself and seemed fine about it. Joy looked at him, sprawled in the chair, his long legs stretched out, gazing up at the ceiling.
He’d lost a lot of the tension he’d been carrying when he’d arrived that morning, but there was still that sense of unfinished business hanging around him. She had wondered if the giddy relief of confessing about Tessa might make him ready to talk about whatever that was, but it didn’t seem like it. Maybe later.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘if you two don’t mind I think I’m going to go and have a little rest, before we start thinking about dinner. Will you stay, Simon?’
For a moment he was tempted to say yes. He felt so comfortable there with the two of them, just as he had the first time he’d visited Tessa’s house, but better not to push his luck.
‘Thanks so much for the offer,’ he said, standing up, ‘but I’ve got to get back to town, so I think I’ll get going.’
Tessa got up from her sofa and Joy struggled to do the same. Seeing her difficulty, Simon rushed over to help, putting his hands under her arms with great gentleness and lifting her onto her feet in one sure move.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked her, putting his arm out to steady her as she found her balance on her good leg and then helping her onto her crutches.
‘Thank you, Simon,’ she replied, looking at him with one of her penetrating gazes. How easily and gracefully he’d done that. ‘How kind you are.’
‘I think you’re the one who deserves the thanks,’ he said, smiling, and while taking care not to push her over, he wrapped his strong arms round her in a warm hug.
‘Thank you, Saint Joy,’ he said, quietly in her ear, ‘you’re a marvel.’
He kissed her cheek and Joy lifted her hand and let it fall gently onto the side of his head for a moment. Not ready to spill it all out yet, she decided. But getting closer.
Friday, 4 July
Queen’s Park
Rachel was standing in her kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil and looking at the new pile of letters that had arrived the day before, wondering if she could bear to open them. They weren’t the dreaded brown envelopes of debtor tradition, companies pursuing you for money didn’t seem to use those any more, it was all innocuous white ones these days, so it was hard to tell what you were in for before it was too late. It could give you the most horrible shock.
She’d learned not to open post when she got home from work because it guaranteed a sleepless night, and she’d promised herself the evening before that she’d get onto these first thing.
But now it didn’t seem a good idea to do it before a busy working day either. It wouldn’t do to arrive at the office feeling stressed out about her personal finances, when she needed to project confidence, success and positivity. Especially as she had some important meetings with three companies she was trying to get involved with the Lawn & Stone press trip.
She’d had a fiendishly cheeky idea to spread the costs across several complementary clients to everybody’s benefit; the smaller outfits getting the kind of glamorous PR exposure they would never be able to afford on their own for a small fee, which, multiplied by three, would reduce the cost of the trip for the main client.
Lawn & Stone would also get some crucial referred cool cred by association with the more cutting-edge names, which would be very helpful in establishing them as a hip upscale brand, separate from the main mass-market company, which had zero design prestige.
Rachel was really looking forward to presenting her stroke of marketing genius to Simon as a done deal, once she’d signed a couple of them up.
She was also gagging to hear how he’d got on the day before, down at Tessa’s house – or Hunter Gatherer HQ, as she tried to remember to think of it in the context. Even though she wasn’t working on the account any more she still had a professional interest in it, with regard to the bonus she was going to get for bringing in the business.
She’d tried ringing Tessa a few times to get an update on Simon’s visit but she hadn’t heard back yet.
After sending Tessa a quick text – it would be great to know how it had gone before she saw Simon – Rachel picked up the envelopes and shuffled through them. There were a couple she recognised from the return addresses as credit card bills, the rest were more mysterious. Could be anything. Unlikely to be anything good. She tapped them against the palm of her left hand a few times, then noticed the time and threw them back on the table, running out of the kitchen and upstairs to see where the girls had got to. There was exactly five minutes until they had to leave.
It was times like this when she really missed Branko. The new au pair, Pilar, was very nice and the girls really liked her, super impressed that she was a real-life grown-up dancer – missing the point that she wouldn’t be their au pair if she was getting any work in her ‘real’ career – but she wasn’t fully entwined in their family life the way Branko had been.
Although he often worked late in his various bar jobs, Branko had always got up in the morning to have breakfast with them. He said it reminded him of his own big family, back in Belgrade, to have a rowdy breakfast with kids, and he’d often already be up and making it before Rachel came downstairs.
French toast was his speciality and the girls still called it ‘Branko klebbe’, one of the many Serbian words which still littered their conversation, constantly reminding Rachel what had happened. She felt a little stab of renewed hurt at Natasha’s betrayal every time.
Pilar’s bedroom door was firmly closed as Rachel raced past, and she assumed she was still asleep, as it turned out was Daisy, who’d got straight back into bed after their wake-up call twenty minutes earlier. Ariadne was sitting on the floor, still in her pyjamas, engrossed with her doll’s house.
Rachel wanted to scream, furious with herself more than anything, for not checking on them sooner, but managed to keep it together, issuing simple, firm commands and physically putting Ariadne into her clothes.
She got them to school just on time, still eating the Tunnock’s tea cakes which had been the nearest thing she’d been able to grab to give them for breakfast. It wasn’t ideal to have your six-year-old arrive in class with a luxuriant chocolate moustache, but in the circumstances, she was just happy they’d made it at all.
And then driving off on a relieved high, she was halfway into town in her car before she realised what she was doing. She hadn’t paid the congestion charge and she didn’t have anywhere to park when she got there. Horribly aware that parking rates would go up with every inch closer to Chelsea, Rachel started desperately looking for a car park.
She found one near the top of Edgware Road, parked and ran down to the Tube station, very happy it was on the District and Circle line, which would take her straight to South Ken. She might actually be on time for work.
Rachel didn’t get to see Simon until after five that afternoon. Her meetings successfully accomplished by lunchtime, she was practically hopping from foot to foot with impatience to tell him her news – and hear his, about the trip down to Cranbrook, because Tessa still hadn’t called her back – and kept finding excuses to walk past his office door, but it was always closed.
By the time he messaged her to ask if she’d like to pop down, most of the other staff had already gone. She tottered into his room carrying a large stack of magazines festooned with Post-it notes and dumped them on his desk.
Simon smiled when he saw her. She was so alive with enthusiasm. He’d had a day of tedious meetings with the landlord and the accountant, and then some of his less inspiring staff members, reporting on their dreary ideas for their dull clients. A shot of Rachel was just what he needed and she was looking particularly perky, with high colour in her cheeks.
‘Good afternoon,’ he said, as she sat down on the chair opposit
e him, bolt upright. ‘Nice to see one of my staff is still in the office on Friday afternoon. I know you’ve been waiting to see me, sorry about that, what gives?’
‘Well,’ she said, reaching over to open several of the magazines at the marked pages and spreading them across his desk. He picked up the second-century Greek marble sculpture of a foot and put it on a shelf behind him. He didn’t want it crashing to the floor with one of her more vigorous gestures. After a moment’s thought, he moved the flowers, too.
‘Are you familiar with this light?’ she said, pointing at a wood-and-copper table lamp.
Simon nodded. ‘Isn’t it by that young bloke who just won the John Lewis award?’ he said.
Rachel nodded, keenly. ‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘And how about this rug?’
‘I can’t remember the name, but I remember seeing it at Decorex. I really liked the use of different textures on the dogs’ heads. It was on a shared stand, wasn’t it? The up-and-coming area …’
‘Yes,’ said Rachel, ‘the ones who’ve only been going two years or less, but Kit Kemp has just used their rugs right through her new hotel. They’re going to be huge. And, finally – for now, anyway – this teapot?’
‘Yes, that I do know. It’s by my friend Richard Taplow’s daughter, Mercy. She’s the third generation of ceramicists in that family.’
‘Bingo,’ said Rachel, ‘and all three of these exciting new brands would like to be part of the Lawn & Stone press trip. They will pay for their products to be shipped over to Tangier and will contribute something – not much, but something – to the travel costs for the journalists and me, ha ha. In return they will get exposure to the top-tier editors and bloggers we’re taking and will most likely snag some choice bits of editorial, which is a brilliant opportunity for them at this stage before they have the budget to take on a PR company. And when their businesses have grown to that level, they’ll already have a link to us. Kerching.’
The growing delight on Simon’s face was like watching a moon rise.
‘And Lawn & Stone will get the association with the cool award-winning young brands,’ he said, clearly thinking it through as he spoke, ‘which will help establish their place in the elite design market, as opposed to the trashy naffness of the parent brand …’
‘You got it, sunshine,’ said Rachel, wiggling in her seat with excitement. ‘Pretty good, huh?’
‘Are these deals agreed?’ asked Simon.
‘Yep,’ said Rachel.
‘How much?’
Rachel smiled. It was so like Simon to bring it straight down to the money, but he did it with charm. He was never tacky about it.
‘Just a grand each, but it will cover part of the air fares and enable us to give the editors proper limo transfers to and from Heathrow.’
‘Have you told Arkwright Industries what you’re up to?’ said Simon. ‘We don’t want them thinking we’re piggybacking other clients on to their trip.’
‘Yep. The old man loves to save money. That’s how I sold it to him. I saved the brand-association aspect for the kids. What do you think?’
‘I think you’re a bloody marvel,’ said Simon. He glanced at the clock. He could have one drink before he had to drive. ‘Shall we have a glass of wine to celebrate? It is Friday, after all. I’ve got a nice bottle of white in the fridge.’
Rachel opened her mouth to say yes and then remembered her car. Dammit.
‘I can’t,’ she said, ‘I accidentally drove halfway to work this morning so I have to pick the car up on my way home.’
‘Accidentally?’ said Simon.
‘Don’t ask,’ said Rachel, ‘kid-wrangling stuff, but the good thing was I wasn’t even late this morning.’
‘Maybe you should drive every day.’
‘Maybe you should get me a parking space.’
‘Yeah, right, dream on. Shame about the drink, but this is brilliant work, Rachel. I’m thrilled, well done.’
‘Can I have another pay rise?’
He laughed. ‘Well, maybe not quite so soon after your last one, but if you carry on like this I’m sure you’ll be promoted again fairly soon.’
‘Well, at least I’ve got the bonus from the Hunter Gatherer business to look forward to,’ said Rachel, seizing the opportunity to remind him of it. There wasn’t likely to be a better moment, but she had to be careful not to let a note of desperation creep into her voice. ‘When do you think I might get that?’
Simon’s face immediately changed.
‘Ah, yes,’ he said, ‘that’s something I wanted to talk to you about.’
‘How did it go yesterday?’ she asked, still bright with enthusiasm. ‘I’ve tried ringing Tessa, but she still hasn’t got back to me and I’m dying to know how it went.’
Simon said nothing. Tessa was probably still letting everything which had happened the day before settle down in her head. He wished he’d had that luxury. Then perhaps this awkward issue might have occurred to him: that Rachel was expecting – and quite fairly – to get the new-business bonus for bringing in the Hunter Gatherer account. The bonus she now wouldn’t be getting, because he’d pulled out of the deal for reasons he couldn’t possibly explain to her, i.e. he’d temporarily been a weirdo pervert sex maniac sleaze bucket about her sister. Oh god.
‘So did you and Tessa work out an action plan?’ Rachel pushed on.
‘Well, the thing is,’ said Simon, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, ‘Tessa and I had a good look at all the stock, with Jack, the manager …’
‘Why on earth did she get that Neanderthal involved?’ asked Rachel, irritated. ‘He’s just a human forklift, he hasn’t got a clue about any of the décor stuff.’
‘I think Tessa felt he needed to be there, because he runs the business day to day.’
‘Well, he shouldn’t,’ said Rachel. ‘That’s just Tom putting the nearest macho man in charge while he goes gadding off. That is exactly why Tessa needs to be running the thing.’
‘I totally agree,’ said Simon, ‘and I told her that. I think she’s ready for it too, she was very passionate about the stuff she showed me, they’ve got masses of stock in the barn that hasn’t seen the light of day for years.’
Or a duster.
‘So what’s the plan?’ asked Rachel. ‘Are you going to make Tessa the face of the brand and leave Chimney Stack Jack and Tim Chiminey out of it? That’s what I’d do. Get her styling pictures though, rather than personality-led pieces. She’s terrible at having her photo taken, which is nuts considering what she looks like.’
‘Well,’ Simon said, turning Rachel’s comment about Tessa’s looks over in his mind and finding it hadn’t sent him off on one of his perve-a-thons. That was a positive, anyway.
‘You see …’ Damn, this was hard. ‘Tessa showed me her old door knobs and stuffed birds and all that carry-on and I’m afraid I just don’t relate to it, Rachel.’
She frowned. What on earth did he mean?
‘I know the deep grunge end of vintage is red hot right now,’ Simon continued, ‘all that exposed brick, birds’ nests and filthy old Chinese jackets on wire hangers about the place … I know it’s a moment, but I just don’t love it and I can’t represent something I don’t love. It wouldn’t ring true. I know myself and I know the clients I can work with and although I really respect Tessa’s style – the house is amazing – it’s not for me.’
‘Are you saying you want me to take on the account after all?’ asked Rachel.
‘No. I’m saying Hunter Gatherer isn’t right for Rathbone & Associates. It wouldn’t work out well for either side.’
‘You’re going to turn away the business?’ said Rachel, starting to feel quite nauseous.
‘Yes. I know it’s somewhat out of character, to put it mildly, but I think in this case it’s the right thing to do. The brand just doesn’t fit with the rest of our client roster, but don’t worry, Tessa is fine about it.’
Rachel laughed bitterly.
‘Oh, that’s great then,�
�� she said, ‘as long as Tessa’s fine about it.’
Now Simon felt really uncomfortable. Just when he thought he’d elegantly released himself from what could have been a very tricky situation, both personally and professionally, he now seemed to be stuck in the middle of some kind of sibling stand-off. The last thing he needed, frankly. He had quite enough of that crap in his own life.
‘I’m sorry, Rachel, but she could see I didn’t like it. Stuffed birds make me feel physically ill. So she totally understands it would be better for Hunter Gatherer to work with an agency which really loves what she does – who would you suggest, actually, have you got any ideas?’
‘Are you kidding me?’ said Rachel. ‘Now you’re asking me to suggest some other firm where someone else will get the kind of new-business bonus I thought was coming my way? Well, you can jolly well work that out for yourself, Simon Rathbone – and you can tell your new best friend Tessa that from me.’
She could have said a lot more but managed to stop herself. She was all too aware she’d just crossed a line with him anyway – exactly the kind of thing she’d known would happen with this toxic family/work combination. The only positive outcome she’d ever been able to see in this whole hideous scenario was the bonus and now she’d had all the hassle and upset, which had just made her be dangerously rude to her boss, without even that compensation.
How could Tessa have done this to her?
Simon blinked at Rachel’s outburst. The ‘new best friend’ comment particularly hit home. Had Rachel seen what was going on between them when they had that lunch? Was that what this was really about? But surely she would have been odd with him right after, if that had been the case. He decided to wait and see what she said next. Always better to say nothing than to plunge in and make it worse.
Rachel closed her eyes for a moment to contain her anger. She might have had her job confirmed, but she still couldn’t afford to blow it with Simon. Especially now she wasn’t getting the £1000 she’d been relying on to start paying off her Barclaycard.
Secret Keeping for Beginners Page 26
