Not Quite Perfect

by Annie Lyons

  Emma looks nonplussed but Miranda offers no further explanation. ‘I take it you know about the company meeting at ten?’

  Emma and Ella nod.

  ‘Good. I’m glad to see the Joy-telegraph is still working its magic. See you anon.’ She sweeps off in a blur of purple silk.

  ‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ says Ella.

  ‘Hmm,’ says Emma turning back to her e-mail.

  ‘Coffee?’ asks Ella heading for the kitchen.

  ‘Please,’ says Emma, grateful to be left alone to read Richard’s e-mail in peace.

  Rachel reaches the coffee shop early for once. She is meeting an old friend from the ad agency who has recently had a baby. Her mother, fearful that her grandchildren are about to be whipped away to the North at any second, was only too happy to entertain Lily and Alfie for the morning. So, having dropped Will at school, Rachel is looking forward to a visit to the coffee shop without having to wipe sticky fingers or buy an endless supply of muffins.

  She orders a large skinny latte and takes a seat by the window. She checks her watch. She is still early and so unused is Rachel to this sensation, that she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She stirs her coffee and sits back in the chair but feels as if she should be doing something. Realising she is experiencing restless mother syndrome, she plucks her mobile from her bag and finds Emma’s number.

  ‘Hey, Rach,’ answers Emma sounding flat.

  ‘Ooh lordy, what’s up with you, tart-face?’ asks Rachel unsympathetic as ever.

  ‘Nothing,’ lies Emma. ‘How was Edinburgh?’

  ‘Brilliant actually. How would you feel about having a sister who lives north of Watford?’

  ‘You’re not serious?’

  ‘I think I am but don’t tell Mum. I’m going to have to ease her into the idea.’

  ‘Good luck with that one. Wow Rach, that’s incredible. It must have been one hell of a visit.’

  ‘It was. I could really see us there and sometimes you’ve just got to seize the moment, haven’t you?’

  ‘I guess,’ says Emma, thinking about her own moment-seizing.

  ‘What’s up, Em? Are you going to miss me?’

  ‘I will actually,’ says Emma.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK? What happened at the weekend?’

  ‘Oh, nothing really. Just a bit annoyed with Martin because I seem to be doing everything for the wedding. Anyway, I’m sorry I’ve got to go as I am tremendously busy and important,’ says Emma, trying to inject a note of humour to reassure Rachel.

  ‘All right but come for tea soon, yeah? The kids love their Auntie Em. And I always like having someone around to take the piss out of.’

  ‘OK,’ laughs Emma weakly. ‘Bye.’

  Rachel feels a little uneasy as she puts her phone back in her bag and wonders if she should call Martin, then chides herself for reacting as her mother would.

  There’s a subdued air in the boardroom as Emma and Ella join their colleagues. Only Jacqui and Joel are the exception, chatting in excited voices, smiling at anyone who will look their way, perched like eager schoolchildren in the front row. Emma notices Miranda, also sitting at the front and is concerned to see her shoulders hunched and her head bowed as if in prayer. They find some seats in the middle row next to Philippa, who gives a small wave.

  ‘Any idea what this is about?’ whispers Emma.

  ‘Not a clue, but I don’t think it’s good news.’

  Their conversation is interrupted as Philip Allen, CEO of Allen Chandler, strides into the room flanked by a tall, well-built man and a short, compact woman. They take their places at the front. Philip turns to face the room, which is full to bursting, with latecomers being forced to stand.

  ‘Good morning!’ he begins.

  The crowd murmurs in reply and Philip looks a little perturbed by this typically British response. Emma fears he’s going to try it again, like some kind of corporate children’s entertainer but happily, he thinks better of it.

  ‘OK guys, I guess you’re probably wondering what’s going on and I just want to say from the outset that none of you need to worry. Your jobs are all safe for the time being.’

  ‘Blimey,’ whispers Emma, ‘if I wasn’t worried before, I am now!’

  ‘I wanted to bring you all together to update you on the strategic review which we initiated last year and which is now complete.’

  Emma, who has an aversion to people who use words like ‘strategic’ forces her brain to carry on listening.

  ‘As a result of this review we have decided to undertake a restructure at the top level and it is my duty to inform you that Digby Chandler will be taking a well-earned retirement and relinquishing his responsibilities as MD. I would like to take this opportunity to thank him for all his hard work.’

  He continues to speak but Emma is no longer listening as she is watching Miranda, who is motionless. Eventually Philip stops speaking and then the well-built man, who is something to do with finance, starts enthusing about bottom lines and five-year profit projections.

  Shut up, shut up, thinks Emma. Can’t you see that people are in shock?

  After a lot of arm flapping, he stops talking too and then the small woman, who announces herself to be the Head of Human Resources, tells them to come and see her if they have any questions. Her voice is as soothing as honey and Emma distrusts her on sight. They are dismissed but no one really moves and the room is silent apart from the odd murmured word between colleagues. The Americans, obviously fearing a mutiny, are quick to leave, closely followed by Joel, who can be heard calling ‘Phil? Phil? Can I have a quick word please?’

  ‘Judas,’ mutters Emma, ‘he’s probably going to put himself forward.’ As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Emma realises the horror of the situation. ‘Oh my God, he’s probably going to go for the job and then he’ll be my boss and I’ll have to kill myself!’

  ‘Emma,’ says Ella quietly and then again as her friend continues to rant, ‘Emma!’

  ‘Yes? Sorry! What?’

  Ella nods over to where Miranda sits. People are starting to leave now, but Miranda continues to sit and stare into the distance. One or two stop to see if she is all right, but she waves them away and stays where she is.

  Emma approaches her. ‘Miranda?’

  Miranda looks up and Emma sees tears in her eyes. Emma sits down beside her and takes her hand. ‘Oh Miranda, I’m so sorry.’

  Miranda pats her hand. ‘Thank you, dear girl.’

  ‘How is Digby?’

  ‘Oh, he’ll be fine, silly old fool. He’ll just go to his club every day and write his memoirs. It’s just another nail in the coffin of imaginative publishing. Another step towards letting the bind-weed of pappy fiction take over the world, rather than allowing some interesting new seedling to flourish alongside.’

  ‘That’s a great metaphor’ says Emma. ‘Have you ever thought of going into publishing?’ Miranda gives a weak smile. ‘So, what do you think will happen? Do you think the Americans will stop us publishing literary titles?’ she asks, suddenly concerned about Richard.

  ‘I really don’t know, but I tell you one thing, Emma, if they start telling me how to publish fiction, I’ll be off to the nearest competitor before they can tell me to “Have a nice day”.’

  Emma laughs. ‘I’m very glad to hear it.’

  ‘Right, well I’m off for lunch with my literary husband. Can I count on you to keep the home fire burning?’

  ‘Always. Give Digby our love, won’t you?’

  Miranda stands and puts her arms around Emma.

  ‘You are a good woman, Emma Darcy.’

  Emma smiles and watches Miranda leave the room, feeling as if her world is slowly and quietly imploding.

  Rachel is enjoying her morning, although she leaves the coffee shop feeling oddly unsettled. It had been lovely to catch up with her friend, Olivia. Her baby had been cute and thankfully asleep so they were able to have a grown-up conversation without distractions. Olivia w
as planning to go back to work once her baby reached six months and Rachel had felt a pang of envy at her confident decision.

  ‘I just can’t stay at home all the time,’ she had declared. ‘It would drive me potty!’

  Rachel knows what she means.

  ‘And what about you? How do you cope with it all?’

  Rachel had considered the question and brushed it off with her usual self-deprecating humour. ‘Oh you know, there’s always a bottle of wine in the fridge but I try not to touch it until at least eleven!’

  They had laughed and gone on to discuss work and the latest gossip from the ad agency. Whenever she met old work-colleagues, Rachel always longed to be told that it was all falling apart without her. Of course that never happened.

  ‘So, Amanda, you know, who took over your job has just been promoted. She’s such a lovely person and so good at her job,’ Olivia said.

  Rachel had nodded and smiled. Curse the woman. ‘And how’s Daniel?’

  ‘Oh you know Daniel, married to the job but fine, I think. I think he misses you.’ Rachel clung onto the sentiment like a life raft. ‘So what about you and Steve? How are things?’

  Rachel had confided the Scotland news and watched as Olivia’s eyes grew wide with horror. ‘Oh God and do you really want to go?’

  Rachel considered the question. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Well, good for you,’ chimed Olivia. ‘I don’t think I’d be up for Scotland. I’d miss London and my parents too much,’ she added, giving voice to Rachel’s deepest worries.

  Rachel had kissed Olivia goodbye and promised to meet her for a drink soon. She could feel a knot of uncertainty growing in her stomach. She thought she’d made a decision but now the doubts were flying round her head again like a swarm of persistent flies. She had phoned her parents to see how they were getting on and thankfully her father had answered. He had insisted that Lily and Alfie stay for lunch and Rachel had gratefully accepted. So now she is working her way along the shops on the high street, relishing not having to negotiate doorways with a heavy pushchair or endlessly apologise for her children being children. She makes her way to her favourite haven; their local, independent bookshop. Once inside she scans the shelves, admiring the covers, enjoying the luxury of time. She breathes in the heady smell of new books and runs her fingers along their spines, picking out titles at random and reading the blurb on the back. She is just considering the new Anne Tyler when she hears a voice next to her.

  ‘I can strongly recommend –’ She looks up into the handsome, round face of Tom.

  ‘Hello!’

  ‘Good day, Mrs Summers. Are you going to buy it then?’

  ‘You’re a fan of Anne Tyler?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Isn’t it a bit girly for boys?’ teases Rachel.

  Tom looks at his watch. ‘That’s a new record.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Less than thirty seconds and you’re already taking the mickey out of me.’

  Rachel laughs.

  ‘Anyway, haven’t you forgotten something?’ says Tom gesturing around him. ‘Where are the small people?’

  ‘With their wonderful grandparents.’

  ‘Good for you. Actually, I’m just going for a quick sandwich. Fancy joining me?’

  ‘Don’t you ever go to work?’

  ‘Not if I can help it. No, I’m using up the holiday that sad losers such as myself seem to have in abundance at this time of year. So, do you want to have lunch with me or not?’

  Rachel smiles feeling more excited than she probably should. ‘I’d love to,’ she says.

  ‘Of all the cafés in all the world, you have to walk into ours!’

  ‘Hi, David. Hi, Simon,’ says Emma, her voice flat.

  ‘Oh dear. Someone’s having a crapper of a day. Oreo cheesecake for two is it?’

  ‘No, just a cappuccino, thanks.’

  ‘Hairy Jesus, things must be bad. Simon, any of those doughnuts left?’

  ‘Just the one.’

  ‘Put that sweet baby on a plate for Miss Emma, and Miss Ella, how about you?’

  ‘Just a peppermint tea thanks, David.’

  ‘A peppermint tea? Are you pregnant Sugar-Cheeks?’

  Emma suddenly catches the thread of the conversation and looks at her friend who is blushing and looking at her shoes.

  ‘Are you?!’

  ‘Emma, I’ve been wanting to tell you but actually, yes I am.’

  ‘Oh my God! Oh my God!’

  The next five minutes is spent in a frenzy of hugging and dancing as Emma, David and Simon fire questions at Ella. Suddenly, David grabs her arm.

  ‘Do you know who the father is?’ he asks looking worried.

  ‘I think I do,’ says Emma.

  ‘Who?’ says Ella in surprise.

  ‘It’s Joel, isn’t it?’

  Ella looks at her friend, with a confused frown. ‘Are you ill?’

  ‘Ella, I saw you.’

  Detecting danger ahead, David and Simon retreat to fetch drinks.

  ‘When?’

  ‘The other week. I heard you having sex.’ She is trying to keep her voice down but she can see David and Simon nudging each other.

  Now it’s Ella’s turn to be cross. ‘Well congratulations, Poirot, but did you honestly think I would do that to you and for God’s sake, Emma, with Joel? Do you think I have no taste?’

  Emma can sense she’s made a huge mistake. ‘Oh, I see. I’m sorry. Well, if it wasn’t Joel, who was it?’

  Simon and David are practically falling over the counter trying to hear.

  ‘It’s Jamie.’

  ‘Jamie?’

  ‘Yes, Jamie.’

  ‘Our twelve year old post-boy?’

  ‘He’s twenty-four actually and would probably prefer it if you didn’t call him a post-boy.’

  ‘Right, sorry. Wow! That’s incredible. You dark horse. But jeepers, Ella you’re pregnant! You’re going to be a mum.’

  ‘I know,’ says Ella in a quiet voice.

  Suddenly Emma sees that she is crying and realises how selfish she’s been. She rushes to her friend’s side. ‘Oh God, Ella, I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry. It’s all going to be OK. Have you decided what you’re going to do?’ David and Simon appear with the drinks, offering red paper napkins to help Ella dry her tears.

  ‘Thanks, everyone,’ sniffs Ella blowing her nose.

  They sit for a while and Emma takes her hand. ‘Whatever you decide to do, I’ll help you.’

  ‘Thanks, Emma.’

  ‘What does Jamie say?’

  ‘He says he’ll do whatever I want, but I don’t want to get married or even be with him really. It was only meant to be a bit of fun.’

  ‘I know,’ says Emma. ‘And what fun! You filthy cow!’

  They laugh.

  ‘Hey, I’ve just had a thought!’ says Emma.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I could be your birthing partner!’

  ‘Emma, you hate blood.’

  ‘I know, but I could stay at the head end.’

  They giggle and Emma pushes a strand of hair out of her friend’s face. ‘It will all be OK,’ she says, unsure of what else to say.

  Ella forces a smile. ‘Just popping to the loo.’

  While she is away David brings over the drinks. ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘I think so. How much do I owe you?’

  ‘On the house, gorgeous girl.’

  Emma’s phone beeps with a text and she casts a glance. It’s from Richard: ‘Did you get my email? I meant every word. R x’

  Ella returns, her eyes red and puffy. ‘Do I look like shit?’

  Emma takes her friend’s hands again. ‘No, you look blooming.’

  ‘Yeah right.’

  Emma’s phone starts to ring and she looks at the caller ID: Martin. She switches it off.

  ‘Shouldn’t you get that? Who was it?’

  ‘It was no one. Now then, Ells-Bells, when’s your next scan? Do you want me to
come with you?’

  Ella’s face crumples with gratitude.

  ‘Now, now, none of that. I can see I’m going to have to employ the “don’t be nice to me tactics”. Right, well you’re going to get fat and your boobs will never be the same again.’

  Ella snorts with laughter through a veil of tears. ‘Thanks, Em. I’m glad we’re friends again. I missed you.’

  ‘Me too,’ says Emma. She wishes she could talk to Ella about Martin and Richard but she realises that at this moment in time, she doesn’t know what to say.

  ‘And now I’m just feeling utterly confused about the whole thing.’ Rachel pops a slice of tomato into her mouth and looks at Tom.

  ‘Hmm, that’s not easy and I don’t really feel like the best person to advise you.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Well, it won’t really be in my interests for you to go and live in Scotland.’

  ‘Why, will you miss me?’ asks Rachel, realising that she’s fishing for compliments.

  ‘I’ll miss all of you,’ says Tom blushing slightly, ‘but you are my chief counsellor so yes, I suppose I will miss you most of all. Another coffee?’ he adds hastily.

  Rachel checks her watch and is pleased to see that she still has time. ‘Cappuccino please,’ she smiles.

  She watches Tom make his way to the counter and scolds herself for checking out his bottom. Get a grip, Rachel, he’s your neighbour and you’re married. She tells herself it’s nothing more than a little harmless flirting and it is nice to reconnect with the old Rachel, the pre-children Rachel, who was attractive to men and was more than just someone’s mother.

  ‘What are you grinning at?’ asks Tom as he returns with their drinks.

  ‘I was just thinking what a lovely day I’m having.’

  ‘Careful, Mrs S, you’re dangerously close to paying me a compliment.’

  ‘Oh stop it. No seriously, I’m really glad I bumped into you. I enjoy our chats.’

  ‘Me too,’ says Tom, his neck flushing slightly.

  They sit for a moment and Rachel, hating silence, says the first thing that pops into her head. ‘So what about your love life?’

  ‘My love life? Are we teenagers?’

  ‘No, I was just wondering why a handsome fellow like you is still single.’