by Rosa Temple
Anthony’s mobile rang. He raised an apologetic hand when he saw who was calling. It was Inez.
‘Hello, baby,’ he said. ‘No, you go ahead, I’m eating. A late lunch. No, with Magenta. Yes, you met her.’ Here he looked up at me and smiled weakly. What had Inez said about me? ‘No,’ he continued. ‘As soon as we finish here I’ll head for the tube. Yes, I’ll call you when I’m on my way.’
Anthony was blushing throughout his conversation with his fiancée.
‘Sorry about that. Actually, Magenta,’ he said, ‘I should have your number shouldn’t I?’
‘You sure?’ I said, picturing Inez seeing my number come up on his phone and wanting him to either fire me or have me bumped off.
‘You don’t mind your boss having your number do you?’ He said it in all innocence but my head was working overtime. I was picturing me in a bust-up with Inez.
I took his phone and put my number in.
‘There.’ Our hands touched when I handed it back and again I had to control the sensation it caused.
‘So,’ Anthony said, ‘you know about me and why I’m here. You were about to tell me your story.’
Over our meal, Anthony listened intently to the Magenta Bright saga: my family, my parents’ divorce, the big house we lived in, the art school days, the failed jobs and lack of direction. I talked about Anya but I never mentioned Nana Clementine’s will. I also said nothing about Hugo. Not that I would. Not to Anthony. Why would I? It’s not as if it was confession time and we were about to become a couple who needed to talk about exes.
Then I did it. I asked him about Inez. A big mistake I was sure, just like ordering that massive rich chocolate and cream Italian dessert after a plate of pasta in a stodgy sauce was a mistake, but I ate it all anyway.
‘I’ve known Inez nearly my whole life,’ Anthony began. ‘My parents had a holiday home in Spain and Inez was the little Spanish girl I met on the beach when I was six. Everyone started calling us a couple from then.’
‘But she doesn’t sound Spanish.’
‘No, she lost her accent because her family decided to move to England. Her father got a job here and we used to write to each other. Eventually we started meeting up again and, like teenagers do, we ended up snogging in my bedroom one day and that was it. We were a real couple after that. But we’re both so different.’
‘In what way?’
‘Inez is in banking and I paint. We fell in love and I wanted to go to Italy and paint landscapes. She left her job straight away and joined me out there. It was easy for her to do. Inez speaks quite a few languages and got a job for a finance company in Italy. It was ideal. Or it was until I started getting calls from Dad last year. Inez convinced me that I should do it. Come back to London, that is. I think she’d lost faith in me making it as an artist anyway. I’d sold a few paintings, mostly portraits, because they were what people wanted. I sold one or two landscapes, had a few paintings in an art gallery or two but Inez was always the main breadwinner.’
‘So how did you afford that ring?’ Me and my big mouth.
Anthony blushed.
‘It’s not the one I bought her,’ he said. ‘I proposed to her after we’d been in Italy for four years and gave her the ring a struggling artist could afford. She accepted my proposal but upgraded the ring the next day to the one with the bigger diamond. She had to insure it and everything. I know it doesn’t sound romantic but …’
‘But you love her.’
There was a moment of hesitation before he said, ‘More than anything.’
Something inside me sank. A combination of knowing what that kind of love was like and that I might never ever find it again hit me.
Anthony paid and we left the restaurant. He was about to head to the tube and I was on the lookout for a black cab to hail.
‘Until tomorrow?’ he said.
‘Until tomorrow,’ I repeated.
For an awkward moment, I thought he was about to kiss my cheek. I leaned forward but he didn’t advance further. Then I stepped back, turned my head and pretended I needed to adjust my bag over my shoulder.
‘Why don’t you pay a visit to your sister tomorrow, Magenta? If it’s okay with her, that is. Let’s face it, I’m desperate. Any help we can get would be deeply appreciated.’ The desperation showed in his half-smile.
‘Good idea,’ I said. I saw a taxi approaching and waved it down.
Anthony fidgeted around with the door and closed it for me. I watched his expression as the taxi pulled away. I couldn’t make out what was on his mind.
Chapter 9
‘Well if it isn’t the prodigal daughter.’
Amber always said this when she saw me. It was true I didn’t visit my oldest sister as often as I might do Indigo or Ebony but those two were in London and Amber had moved out to Sussex. I’m not very good in the countryside. The last time I visited her house, Amber was throwing a garden party. All the people wearing heels found themselves sinking into the grass – including me, only worse.
I’d spotted a gorgeous hunk by the chocolate fountain and after, boldly, walking over to him I found I’d arrived at his side with only one shoe on. The heel of one of my favourite Christian Louboutins was firmly wedged in the grass about twenty feet away on the other side of the garden.
I kissed Amber on the cheek. She was leaning back in her office chair, coffee cup in hand and her desk looking as if a bomb hit it.
‘I’ve seen you twice in two weeks, Amber,’ I said. ‘Before that I’m sure I saw you … well it must have been …’
‘Don’t strain your brain, Magenta.’ She sat up, put her cup down on the desk and rested on her elbows. ‘It was good to hear from you last night and I’m intrigued to know what it is you want to learn from me.’
Amber always did that, too: acted as if I only ever called her when I needed her. To my shame, that was somewhat true.
I sat on the chair opposite her and smiled sweetly.
‘I know I’m the world’s worst sister,’ I began. ‘In fact, I’m probably the world’s worst everything but I’ve got a job that I need to hold on to.’
‘For a year.’
‘Well, who knows? It might be longer – if you can give me some advice.’
‘Anything. I’m not trying to be difficult, Magenta, but I would like to see you more often.’
‘I’m sorry, Amber, I know you do.’ My smile faltered in genuine embarrassment.
‘Don’t worry about that for now,’ Amber said, gathering her shoulder-length curls into a handy scrunchie. ‘What’s happening?’
‘I was hoping you could tell me how I can turn Anthony’s company around and keep hold of my job.’
‘You know you could always get a job here and forget this Anthony character. I’d employ you straight away and I can put up with you for a year – I think.’ She laughed.
‘Somehow, it’s not the same,’ I said.
‘Something to prove?’ Amber was astute as ever.
‘Probably, to myself more than anything. I can do this, Amber; I know I can. And I’d really be helping Anthony out. He’s as desperate as I am.’
‘Oh really?’ Amber said, squinting at me suspiciously. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on this guy.’
‘How did you get to that?’
‘Something about the look in your eye. I’ve seen it before. It lasted for a long week in a very hot summer ten years ago and by autumn you were a basket case.’
As if I needed reminding. Of course she meant Hugo. It was steaming in London when we met. London was having what the weather reporters called an Indian summer. To be honest I didn’t notice the weather; all I cared about was Hugo. Yes, I’d fallen hard but I’d met Hugo at a time when we were both in transition. Me going to study art at university and him about to go on tour with his band. He was about to leave the country for an indefinite time and he wanted me to come with him.
‘I love you, Magenta,’ he’
d said. At first I’d thought he meant he loved to make love with me because that was all we’d done. We’d only known each other two days when he’d asked me to drop everything and leave home.
‘Come away with me,’ Hugo insisted. ‘University isn’t going anywhere.’
But he’d already done his stint at university. He’d already had the experiences I was hoping to have and that I would miss out on if I just upped sticks and left with him. Besides, my parents would have gone crazy. Not to mention Nana Clementine.
‘If he loves you, then his love will always be there.’ That’s what Nana told me. ‘Go to university, study and make something of yourself so you have a whole person to offer and not one who’s just started out. He has already found himself and you’ll never do the same if all you’re doing is following someone else’s dream.’
I knew Nana Clementine was right. She had to be. But then why did I say goodbye to Hugo at the airport and cry so desperately that all three of my sisters had to come and scoop me up off the floor at departures, take it in turns to watch over me at home, pack my bags for university and make my excuses to the Head of Admissions about why I was three weeks late starting my course?
Amber knew I’d cried myself to sleep over Hugo for the months that followed. She also knew he never once wrote and he never once called me.
‘Don’t worry about me, big sis,’ I said with a devil-may-care smile. ‘I like Anthony because he’s a good person.’ True. ‘I don’t fancy him.’ Not so true. ‘And besides he’s engaged to an absolute goddess.’ Completely true.
‘Well good,’ said Amber. ‘So let’s get you a coffee and let’s get started.’
It was an amazingly useful meeting with Amber. I knew it would be. Amber was a marketing genius and she’d often been headhunted by various large companies and asked to give talks at universities and marketing seminars. They even called her about being on the panel with Alan Sugar on The Apprentice. She’d refused everything but the seminars and university lectures. Those she loved with a passion and I could see from the inspiring way she spoke to me why people paid a fortune to hear her talk.
I arrived back at the office full of life and brimming with ideas to give to Anthony. I ignored a sneer from Cassandra on my way in.
‘Must be nice to be a PA and keep such flexible hours,’ she said to me.
‘Chill, Cassandra. I’ve been at a meeting. One that might save you your job.’
Her face fell. I bounded up the stairs to find Anthony.
‘Okay,’ I declared to him. Anthony clicked off the art supplies website he was checking out and sat to attention. I carried on, full of the enthusiasm I’d left Amber’s office with. ‘According to Amber we have two main choices facing us. One: carry on as we are and downsize dramatically. Two: carry on manufacturing goods in the same field but find a new target market.’
‘I think I know what a target market is,’ Anthony said. ‘But what would we make and how would we target them?’
‘Well that’s what I wondered at first,’ I said. ‘But the answer was sitting on my lap the whole time. Actually, the answer was all around me. On the tube, at the bus stop, walking around the streets, in fact everywhere I turned.’
Anthony looked blankly at me. His usual frown line appeared so I decided to put him out of his misery.
‘Bags!’ I said.
His frown grew deeper and I worried it had constricted his brain. He didn’t see it.
‘We all use them, every day, for all our carrying needs.’ I tried to prompt him.
‘You mean bags like ladies’ handbags? You want us to target women?’
‘No, men,’ I beamed. ‘Man bags. Men use them all the time. If we start manufacturing those, you stay in your lane, as it were. You’re still making leather goods for men but the men you’re targeting are younger, they have disposable income and can easily be persuaded that without a bag from A Shearman Leather Designs, their possessions are somehow inferior. We sell them the idea that they’re leading the way and we also sell them a good quality bag that comes in a range of colours, sizes, shapes and prices.’
Anthony sat and stared at me. I could tell I’d blown his mind. I’d already blown mine. I didn’t know I could be that creative.
‘Well?’ I said.
‘I … well it sounds great the way you put it, but … would it work?’
‘There’s only one way to find out.’
In the weeks that followed I set up a number of meetings with product designers, advertising and sales people, got costings, met with our finance department every day, went back to the factory to hold staff meetings, met Amber several times for lunch to pick her brains and totally pissed Cassandra off because I was sure she’d thought I wouldn’t last a week.
Anthony’s confidence grew. He led meetings as if he was a seasoned pro because between us we educated ourselves in all the processes, budgeting requirements and advertising standards possible. In the time that went by I felt like I was in a montage for The Devil Wears Prada. I was the Anne Hathaway character rising from inexperienced but well-meaning newbie to well-groomed go-getter – only I had my own fabulous clothes and was already well groomed. In fact, I’d taken to gathering all my big hair and forcing it into executive-style buns and twists, much to the amusement of Amber who didn’t recognise me for the one last brainstorming lunch I had with her.
‘What on earth …?’ Amber’s mouth fell open when I got to The Langham where Indigo had joined her. ‘Magenta, I never thought I’d say this but I’m so proud of you.’
‘Well I’ve got you to thank for all your patience,’ I said giving my big sister a squeeze.
‘But you picked everything up so quickly. Are you sure you don’t want to come back to the folds of the family business? We could do with a spark of vitality. Sales have plateaued so I might be coming to you for advice.’
‘Well I still have to prove to myself that everything I’ve done is going to pay off,’ I assured her. ‘There’s the big launch to come and I still need to convince Anthony to rebrand the new bags under the name Shearman, which I think will look a lot cooler on the label or embossed in a shoulder strap.’
‘It’s a brilliant idea,’ Indigo added. ‘Just make sure you go through all the legal stuff, registering names and all that. I’ll help you.’
‘Thanks, Indigo,’ I said. I sat looking at my marvellous sisters and wondered if I could ever really be in their league. But, until then, I had a launch party to organise and if there was one thing I knew how to do, that was to throw a party. I needed to call Anya and see which celebs she could muster up for me and I needed to get to grips with some meaningful publicity. My guest of honour would be Ebony – she got me the job after all, plus I had to coax her into buying items from the new Shearman line for Harrods.
As the champagne lunch with my two big sisters progressed well into rush hour, we were in no rush to go anywhere. My Moët et Chandon brain counted off the days I’d stayed in employment – 41 to be exact (I was counting weekends even though I didn’t work any) and that left only 324 to go. Three hundred and twenty-four and I’d walk away from A Shearman Leather Designs and away from Anthony, for good.
PART 2
AUTUMN IN LONDON
Chapter 10
Anya had left the country almost as quickly as she’d arrived and well before summer had fizzled out. She went to LA to discuss a role in a film. Again she turned them down. It wasn’t a major role but she would have had a chance to get up close and personal with Christian Bale so what was the problem? I suspected it had something to do with the new man in her life. We made it our business to never mention him. Not my choice but if we were to stay friends it was clear by every flash of her startling green eyes that Anya wasn’t going to give any more detail than she already had and that I should hold my tongue until she was ready. The suspense was killing me.
But she was back again in the autumn having done a couple of winter shoots in some snow-c
apped settings and a Christmas advert for Clinique. She was taking a well-earned rest, which meant that she and I could finally catch up with each other.
‘You’ve changed,’ she said to me as I walked up the front steps to her London house.
‘Me?’
‘You’ve done it, haven’t you?’ she said.
‘Done what?’
‘Fallen in love with that Anthony man.’
‘What is it with you and my sisters?’ My voice rose in volume. ‘That’s all any of you ever talk about. Don’t you care that I’ve been the brainchild of a major attempt to save a failing business? Don’t you care that I’ve kept a job for nearly two months? Maybe that’s what’s changed. Maybe I grew up.’
‘Maybe.’ But Anya wasn’t convinced.
Anya led me to the kitchen where she’d set up the ingredients for cocktails, laid out some popcorn and very little else considering she’d said I was invited to dinner – and I was starving.
‘Forget about me,’ I said, unable to resist. ‘When are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?’
‘Don’t look at me ven you say elephant,’ said Anya. ‘I’ve been positively starving myself for my next shoot. Svimvear.’
‘It’s almost winter.’
‘You know how this verks. Ve never shoot these things in season, Madge. All I know is I don’t vont any airbrushing. I refuse to let them do it.’
‘So you starve yourself instead.’
‘Like I said, you know how this verks.’
‘So,’ I said, grabbing a handful of popcorn while Anya worked her magic with slices of lemon and a bottle of vodka. ‘About the elephant. I take it you’re still seeing this mystery guy.’
I dared to mention it – maybe the smell of vodka had made me lose my self-control for a second but could you blame me? Anya nodded but kept her head down.
