Patrick nodded. ‘Agreed. Although I do think it’s in the—’
‘If you say “it’s in the bag” again, McGregor, I shan’t be responsible for my actions.’
Patrick mimed zipping his lips and the two of them crossed the car park giggling.
Liz was waiting for them in reception. She darted forward and took one of Jo’s bags.
‘You two look happy. It went well then, I take it?’
‘Really well,’ said Jo, instantly breaking her own rule. ‘Patrick was brilliant. He saved the day.’
‘Your hero, eh?’ Liz winked and gave her a nudge.
‘Um,’ Jo stammered, feeling her ears turn red. Patrick forged on ahead up the corridor.
‘Say no more,’ said Liz, beaming. ‘I’ve saved you some sandwiches in case you haven’t eaten.’
‘Thanks, you’re a star.’ Jo rested a hand on the older woman’s arm. ‘And Liz, I’d rather my father heard company news from me in future.’
‘Oh, of course,’ said Liz innocently as two pink spots appeared on her cheeks.
Over a pot of coffee and a plate of sandwiches, Patrick helped Jo carefully unpack all the samples. The shoeboxes were still only at mock-up stage and didn’t stand up to too much handling. As they stacked them on Jo’s purpose-built shoe racks, she couldn’t help fantasizing that soon these boxes would be on display in airports all over the country.
It was the end of a long week and in theory, time to go home, but by unspoken agreement, neither of them was going to stray far from Patrick’s mobile phone until Ian Hamilton rang.
‘Knock, knock!’
Cesca stood in the open doorway. Since being given the title of Designer, she had fully embraced her creative role; she was dressed from head to toe in black and her brown eyes sparkled beneath a long shocking-pink fringe.
‘Liz said it went really well?’
Jo and Patrick exchanged looks.
‘We’re optimistic,’ said Patrick, holding up his crossed fingers.
‘They made all the right noises, Cesca,’ said Jo with a smile. ‘But whatever happens, you are a very talented designer. Remember that.’
‘Text me as soon as you know,’ said Cesca and waved them goodnight.
Len was next to pay them a visit. ‘Spill the beans, then!’
‘No news yet, Len,’ said Patrick. ‘But the signs were good and I think you’ve even got your own fan club up there.’
‘Well done, lad,’ said Len, pumping Patrick’s hand and slapping his shoulder.
He turned to Jo and gave her a big smile. ‘You’ve done your dad proud, young lady.’
‘Thanks, Len.’ Jo stepped forward, assuming he was going to shake her hand too, but he gave her a self-conscious hug instead.
Her heart bounced with emotion. Len knew better than anyone how hard she worked to please her father – he was a pretty tough nut to crack himself. Jo could have had no finer compliment.
She showed Len to the door and closed it behind him.
‘So now we wait,’ she said, looking at Patrick.
He stood against the wall, arms folded, rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. His linen trousers were a bit crumpled now, his face bore a shadow of stubble. He was a good-looking man, she thought with a jolt. It had been a long day, but he looked so alive, so energised by events.
She pulled out a chair from the meeting table, sat down and studied her nails.
‘Patrick, how do you feel about going to work for Ed Shaw?’
He sucked in a long breath and dropped heavily into the chair opposite. She waited so long for him to reply that she thought perhaps he wasn’t going to. Maybe the pause said it all. She mentally crossed her fingers. Looking up, she met his earnest gaze and unexpectedly felt her throat thicken.
‘It’s a great opportunity,’ he began quietly. ‘I’ve only worked for one company since I left university and I guess I’ve realized that I’ll never get any further here.’
Their eyes met. There was a tone to his voice that she couldn’t quite interpret: regret, sadness …?
‘And financially, it stacks up for me,’ he finished.
So that was that; his mind was made up.
‘Then I’m pleased for you,’ she said stoically. ‘I never thought of you as ambitious, but you are, aren’t you?’
He shrugged and grinned at her, but there was something behind his eyes that she couldn’t quite read.
‘Time to stop worrying about what I can’t have and concentrate on securing a future for Holly and me.’
So he wanted her job; to be Managing Director. Oh, the irony. Jo would give it up in a heartbeat. To be free of the responsibility of Gold’s – not to have her father breathing down her neck with his ultimatums and lack of confidence in her. Perhaps she should be the one to go? She could take the Josephine Gold collection and strike out on her own, let Patrick take over. Her dad might actually prefer that, she thought bitterly. He’d referred to Patrick more than once as the son he’d never had.
‘Just bear in mind that this deal would give us a reprieve,’ she said, ‘the chance to sort out the cash flow. No redundancies. No one would have to leave. Not even you. Especially not you.’
Patrick stretched a hand across the table that divided them. Jo held her breath. For a second, she thought he was about to take her hand. And for that heart-stopping second, she wished he would. She blinked and wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her heart dipped with disappointment; he pressed a finger to his phone and checked the screen for messages.
‘I’m very grateful to you, to Gold’s: taking me on after university, training me up in the business. But lately …’ His voice died away and he raked roughly through his hair, leaving it standing in little peaks.
‘There’s stuff I’ve never told you … About me and Melissa.’
Jo couldn’t drag her eyes from him. This was the first time he’d opened up about his divorce. ‘Go on.’
Patrick’s mobile started to ring loudly. They both jumped and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
‘It’s Ian,’ said Patrick with a gulp.
He snatched up the phone, stood up and pressed it to his ear. Jo leapt round to his side of the meeting table and leaned as close to him as she dared. Her heart was thumping and despite being desperate to eavesdrop on their conversation, she couldn’t help noticing how divine he smelled; woody and fresh. She closed her eyes and concentrated on Ian’s voice.
It was bad news.
After only five seconds, Jo edged away, her heart plummeting, along with her hopes for saving the business. Ten seconds after that, Patrick ended the call.
The dream was over; Global Duty Free had turned the Josephine Gold collection down.
‘Shit.’ Patrick dropped the phone on to the table. He covered his face with his hands, rubbing fiercely at his eyes.
‘We lost,’ whispered Jo.
‘I’m so sorry.’ He groaned and turned to face her. ‘It was between us and a new brand, Hooray Henry. Ian said it was close but they went with them because they’ve got a celebrity designer.’
‘I’ve never heard of them.’ Jo racked her brains but the events of the last few minutes had made her mind go fuzzy and she couldn’t think straight.
‘It has been set up by a rich girl from one of those reality TV shows.’
Jo felt a wave of fury at the injustice of it all. ‘And Global chose them over us? So much for integrity and British craftsmanship.’
Patrick nodded. ‘Ian was gutted. He said it was the Americans who voted against Gold’s. You know how impressed they are with the whole celebrity culture thing.’
‘Well, that’s that, then.’ She swallowed hard. ‘The last chance saloon has closed its doors.’
The energy seemed to drain from her body and her shoulders sank.
Patrick stepped closer and placed his hands on the tops of her arms.
‘Don’t say that,’ he murmured.
She reste
d her head against his broad shoulder, relishing the feel of his solid presence, the soft fabric of his shirt against her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut and contemplated Gold’s’ next move.
Perhaps this was a sign. Maybe she should start something new. Call time on her father’s business and start from scratch.
She locked eyes with Patrick. He looked so apologetic, it broke her heart.
‘It’s not your fault,’ she said quietly.
‘Even so, I’m still sorry.’ He hung his head. ‘I was so bloody cocksure of myself. I was convinced we’d win.’
They sprang apart at the sound of the door opening.
‘Oops, excuse me!’ Liz beamed at them from the doorway.
Jo groaned. No doubt this would be all over the company by Monday morning.
‘I’ll leave you to it, but just wanted to say I’m off now. See you Monday.’ Liz winked, performed an excited little shimmy and closed the door behind her.
Jo rubbed her face, ‘I’m not sure I can do this anymore.’ Especially not without you, she added to herself. ‘And I’ll have to tell Dad.’
‘Not yet. Don’t give up yet,’ Patrick urged. ‘We’ve still got options.’
She rolled her eyes impatiently. ‘We’re running out of time. The cash flow has trickled to nothing.’
‘I’ll go to the bank. Talk to them about an overdraft, show them the projections.’
She sighed. ‘Patrick … What’s the point?’
He reached across and squeezed her arm. ‘Please, Jo. Let me try.’
‘OK. Whatever,’ she said wearily, too tired to argue. She collected her things, managed a small smile and headed for the door.
She unlocked the car and slung her bag on the passenger seat. Thank goodness the drive from Gold’s to home was short. She planned to have a quiet night in; she’d watch a romcom and drown her sorrows with a bottle of wine. But as she pulled into the car park outside her flat, she had a feeling that her evening would be anything other than quiet.
There, sitting on the pavement outside the communal entrance, were Carrie and Sarah, looking as miserable as she felt.
Chapter 27
‘This is a lovely surprise,’ said Jo tentatively, registering the smudged mascara hiding Sarah’s freckles, and Carrie’s pale face and matted hair. There was also a distinct whiff of vomit coming from somewhere.
‘Our husbands are having affairs,’ Sarah said with a sniff.
‘So we wondered if we could move in with you,’ added Carrie.
Today just keeps on giving. Jo’s heart squeezed for them. She jerked her head at the entrance door. ‘You’d better come up.’
Ten minutes later, Jo had made everyone tea, listened to their woes and shared her own. She carried a tray into the living room and set it down on the coffee table.
‘So, in summary,’ she said, squeezing between the pair of them, ‘you two have lost your husbands, Sarah’s lost her chance at becoming a partner and I have as good as lost the business. An outsider could be forgiven for thinking that our wish list hasn’t exactly been a resounding success.’
From their positions, huddled either end of her sofa, neither Sarah nor Carrie smiled. Jo felt a rush of warmth towards her two friends. In spite of the fact that their presence had successfully put the kibosh on her own plans for self-indulgent misery, she was secretly flattered that they had both fled to her in their time of need. She would feed them, make up the spare bed, listen to all their problems … and generally keep herself so occupied that she wouldn’t have time to think about Patrick, or shoes, or her father until tomorrow. Now she thought about it, having their company felt a whole lot better than an evening on her own.
‘You’re right,’ said Carrie glumly. ‘I’ve lost weight but at what cost?’
Sarah took a mug and spooned two spoons of sugar into it.
‘In the space of one day,’ she said, stirring her tea in slow motion, ‘I’ve lost everything: my career dream, my marriage, maybe even my home.’
‘You’ve still got Zac, you won’t lose him,’ said Jo helpfully.
‘Won’t I? Oh God!’ Sarah gasped and dropped the teaspoon on the coffee table, creating a small puddle of tea on its surface. ‘Do you think Dave will want custody? He will. And he’ll probably get it. I mean, Dave has been Zac’s main carer since Christmas.’
Carrie wiped the spilt tea up with a clean tissue.
‘Before you get too carried away,’ she said calmly, ‘there could be an innocent explanation for kissing Rebecca, like …’ She glanced at Jo to back her up. Jo shrugged; in her book there was no such thing as innocent kissing. ‘Like perhaps he wasn’t even kissing her, it just looked like it,’ Carrie suggested.
Jo nodded. ‘Yeah. Perhaps he had something in his eye and she was getting it out?’
‘With her tongue?’ Sarah eyed them cynically.
Carrie chewed her lip. ‘Don’t you think if he had something to hide, he wouldn’t be doing it in a public place?’
‘Like a shop?’ said Jo, raising her eyebrows pointedly at Carrie.
‘That’s different,’ Carrie replied. ‘Dave was virtually on his own doorstep; Alex would never expect to see me in a shop.’
Tears trickled down Sarah’s face and Carrie’s face crumpled.
‘Sorry, Sarah,’ Carrie murmured.
Jo felt a lump the size of a conker in her throat too.
‘I’ve been a terrible wife and mother,’ continued Sarah. ‘If it wasn’t for the fact that he’d chosen Rebecca to do it with, I wouldn’t even blame him.’
‘Rubbish,’ Jo retorted.
‘I think we’re going to need more tissues, Jo,’ said Carrie in a wobbly voice.
Jo jumped up and fetched them all a loo roll each. Not very classy, but it did the job. No one spoke for a few seconds while they all had a mop-up. Jo felt at a loss to help her friends, especially as her own heart was breaking after the Global Duty Free disappointment, but she felt as if they were both giving in a bit too easily. Weren’t their marriages worth fighting for? A little voice in her head reminded her that she hadn’t exactly been fighting to keep Patrick at Gold’s. She shook the thought away. Men. As soon as you start realizing just how nice it is to have them around, they’re off …
‘Did you confront your husbands?’ she asked.
Sarah shook her head. ‘No. I packed a bag and drove straight here; he doesn’t even know where I am.’
‘And I did the same,’ added Carrie. ‘Although I sent Alex a text to let him know where I was going.’
‘Which reminds me,’ Sarah rifled through her handbag and pulled out her mobile, ‘do you have a charger I could borrow? My phone’s dead.’
Jo retrieved her charger from the kitchen and Sarah found a socket and plugged her phone straight in.
‘Alex’s mistress is gorgeous, with lovely silky hair.’ Carrie sighed and raked a hand through her own hair, wrinkling her nose when she reached the crusty ends at the front. ‘I should probably have a shower.’
‘Of course,’ Jo said with relief, she’d been wondering how to put it politely.
Suddenly Sarah’s phone came back to life; it beeped and flashed in her hand.
‘I’ve got loads of missed calls. The office, home, Dave’s mobile …’ Her face paled. ‘I can’t talk to him yet. If he rings, you won’t make me talk to him, will you?’
Carrie reached for her own phone. ‘You’re lucky,’ she said flatly. ‘Alex hasn’t bothered to text me back. He’s probably moving Goldilocks into my house as we speak.’
Right on cue, Sarah’s phone rang. She threw it up in the air like a hot potato and yelped. ‘It’s Dave.’
‘I think you should talk to him,’ said Jo. ‘He doesn’t know that you know about Rebecca and he’ll be worried that you didn’t come home.’
Carrie nodded in agreement as Sarah pressed herself back into the sofa cushions and bit her lip.
‘Will one of you answer it?’ she asked.
Jo crossed the floor to
the phone.
‘Sarah’s phone? Jo Gold speaking.’
Dave’s voice was so full of panic that Jo could hardly make out what he was saying. All the same, a prickle of fear spread its way from Jo’s knees to her scalp and her heart began to pound. She looked across at Sarah who’d gone pale.
‘Hold on, Dave,’ Jo said after a few seconds. ‘I’ll put her on.’
She held out the phone with a shaky hand. ‘Sorry, Sarah. Dave’s at the hospital with Zac.’
‘Oh my God.’ Sarah grabbed it off her. ‘Dave? What’s wrong?’
Zac had suspected meningitis.
Dave had taken him to the doctor, concerned about his high temperature and a rash on his stomach. The GP had taken one look at the baby boy and phoned ahead to let the hospital know Dave was on his way. Now they were in the children’s accident and emergency unit and Dave had been frantic with worry about Sarah’s whereabouts.
After that phone call everything seemed to speed up. Sarah went a bit hysterical, gulping at the air and declaring herself to be the worst human being ever. Jo and Carrie had calmly gathered her things, dried her face and forced her to breathe deeply. As soon as they could, they all ran outside to the car park and Sarah threw her bag on to the passenger seat.
‘Let me drive you,’ Jo begged, unconvinced that Sarah was in any fit state, but she shook her head desperately.
‘I want to be on my own. I’ve let my little boy down,’ she whispered.
Her face was so pale her skin was almost transparent and her eyes had taken on a haunted look. ‘If I had been there for him, this might never have happened. If … if … I’ll never forgive myself.’
Jo kissed her cheek.
‘Children get ill,’ she said, putting on a brave voice, despite feeling sick with worry for the little family. ‘Don’t blame yourself, and stay safe on the journey to the hospital.’
‘And phone us as soon as you know anything,’ Carrie insisted, pulling her in for a hug.
Jo linked her arm through Carrie’s and after waving Sarah off, they made their way back inside.
‘Poor Sarah.’ Jo sighed. ‘Motherhood seems to be fraught with dangers and problems.’
B01ESFW7JE Page 26
