Getting Even (28 page)

Eventually Orianna regained her voice. “How do you know? Did she tell you?”

“Not yet she hasn't, no.”

“Oh?” Orianna looked hopeful for a second. “So she might not be, then?”

If Ivy couldn't alter her tactics, at least she could adopt a kind manner to alleviate her guilt. “I'm afraid, sweetheart, that I'm pretty sure she is. Sorry.”

Orianna was crestfallen. “Honestly?”

“Yeah. I didn't want to tell you until I was positive.”

“Oh.”

Ivy noticed Orianna's hands had started to shake. Oh dear, she thought, conscience pricked further. She took hold of one of Orianna's hands and squeezed it; whether to make herself or Orianna feel better she didn't quite know.

“What makes you certain?”

Orianna was speaking so softly that Ivy had to lean closer to hear her. Ivy took a deep breath. Here at least she could be truthful. “Well, the first thing I noticed was several weeks ago. She seemed to be spending
hours
in the loo.”

“But she's always done that,” protested Orianna, hope rising in her voice.

“I know, I know,” agreed Ivy patiently. “So I wanted to be sure, and I am—she's had morning sickness. In fact, not merely morning sickness, but afternoon sickness too. Even Cassie couldn't spend
that
much time repairing her makeup.”

“I suppose she has been looking a bit rough recently. I just assumed that was because she and Dan were … well, that she wasn't getting much sleep.”

“Anyway, I think she's over the worst of that now.”

“You do? Perhaps it was nothing, then. Although…”

Ivy detected that she was bracing herself. “Mm?”

“You could be right…”

Ivy chivvied, “Don't you think she might be a bit plumper, too?”

“Again, I thought that was going out with Dan.” Orianna's voice was small. “He likes his food so much. I suppose I didn't like to look at her too closely—I've been avoiding her.”

She glanced up and smiled at Ivy, weakly. “You've helped me manage that by getting her off my back. Thanks.”

“That's OK.” There was a long silence.

“And it's hard to tell exactly what she's been wearing lately.”

“Precisely. All that loose flowing stuff—ghastly! We should christen her the bag lady!” Ivy laughed, attempting to lighten the conversation. “And tonight she refused a glass of champagne, whereas normally she'd happily have at least one.”

Orianna narrowed her eyes, recollecting. “Oh, now that you mention it, she did. Dan got her that juice, didn't he?”

“Yes.” There was another silence. Ivy waited, conscious Orianna had a lot to assimilate.

At last Orianna said, “Christ, how awful. Awful.” Her eyes filled with tears. “So how many months do you think she is?”

“I don't know.” Ivy shrugged. “Four? Something like that?”

“But Dan and I broke up less than eight weeks ago! That must mean she got pregnant while Dan was going out with me!”

Lord, thought Ivy, imagine working out the sums that quickly. She knows when she and Dan split to the actual day. “Er … maybe…” she muttered.

“Oh, Ivy! I don't know if I can handle all this. I really don't.” Tears streamed down Orianna's cheeks.

“Of course you can!” said Ivy, suddenly stricken that Orianna would be the colleague she'd lose, not Cassie. Although she still resented Orianna's professional supremacy intensely, she didn't necessarily want her to leave the agency.

Who knows what will happen then, she thought, who might be brought in to replace her? Whereas Orianna and I have been doing lots of nice work together recently and if things carry on the way they are, Orianna could even see to it that I get promoted to creative director too. Either that or Trixie will find
me
a job—she's only put a couple of suggestions my way so far but obviously it takes time when you're at my level of seniority—and then I'll be the one to move somewhere new.

Orianna sighed. “Honestly, I'm not sure I can. Lord knows, it's been tough enough already. But seeing Cassie getting bigger and bigger before my eyes, and what will everyone at Green say?”

“I'll take care of that,” said Ivy, matter-of-factly.

“How?”

“I'll tell Cassie she'd better keep quiet about who the father is,” said Ivy. “If she wants to keep her job. Put up and shut up, I'll say. You know I'm good at getting people to do that.”

“Thanks,” said Orianna quietly. “That would make life a bit easier.” She stopped, then added, “Jesus, Ivy, you don't think he'll
marry
her, do you?” And at this thought, she couldn't hold back any longer, and began to wail.

For a brief moment Ivy could see the humor in it all; here they were causing a scene in Cassio's
again.
But she could hardly point this out, and instead said vehemently, “God, no! I'm sure he won't.” Then she reached across the bar for a napkin and handed it to Orianna.

Orianna wiped her eyes. “You never know … what with their both being Jewish, and all.”

Ivy shook her head. “You know me, honey, my instinct is usually pretty good. I
truly
don't think he'll marry her.” Ivy remained niggled by guilt, so at least could reassure her on this front. “Let's face it, if he was seriously into her he'd be more public about their affair, wouldn't he? He'd think bugger the consequences?”

“He might just be doing that to be kinder to me.”

This is unbelievable, thought Ivy. She's still potty about him! Will Orianna never learn? Once more she felt a mite spiteful. “Or not wanting everyone in the agency to think he's a prick.”

But Orianna's mournfulness continued unabated. “I suppose a part of me hoped…” Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if she could barely face saying it. “Well, that it would be me, having children with Dan.”

“Of course.” Although this was the first Ivy had heard of it directly, she wasn't surprised Orianna felt this way. Unlike Ivy, who didn't concede to a maternal bone in her body, Orianna had made no secret of the fact she wanted children. They never talked about it, but it was an unspoken understanding. But at least, thought Ivy, Orianna wasn't one of those desperate women so broody they'd use a turkey baster to impregnate themselves. A born romantic, Orianna believed children should be the result of a happy union, preferably a marital one—she'd always said so.

Orianna sniffed. “I'm sorry. You must be sick of me crying.”

“No, no, not at all.”

“But I'm ruining your birthday.”

“Don't be silly!”

“You know what? I think I'd like to go home.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I just want to be on my own for a bit. If we go now”—Orianna checked her watch—“I can still catch my train.”

“True.” Ivy nodded, thinking
and I can get laid.

While they were waiting for the bill, Ivy dashed to the loo for another quick snort, purely to ensure she maximized her stamina for Russell. At the train station she gave her friend a hug. Orianna had momentarily stopped weeping.

“Will you be OK?”

“Yeah, I'll be fine.” Orianna forced a faint smile. “You gonna get a cab?”

“Mm.” Ivy was elusive.

“I'll see you in the morning then.” She disappeared into the crowd.

Just then Ivy's mobile beeped to indicate a message. Ah, good, it must be Russell. She opened the text.

Still tied up in work matters. No can do to the X-rated version. Catch up with you tomorrow.

Ivy was incredulous. Russell—refusing a shag? In order to
work
? It was totally out of character. And it was her birthday! As his words sank in, she grew more enraged. The tone was so insouciant, it was downright insulting. And now, thanks to him, she was wide awake at midnight in the middle of Soho, with no one to hang out with and nowhere to go.

 

33. I must leave her company

To:
Everyone

From:
Dan Cohen

Date:
Monday, November 24, 11:15

Subj:
Fond farewell

This may come as something of a surprise to some of you, but I will get straight to the point. I'm leaving Green. I am taking vacation time in lieu of notice, so will depart at the end of next week.

After much deliberation, I have decided to go freelance to give myself time to consider what my next permanent move should be.

Lastly, owing to the personal nature of my departure, I won't be having a farewell drink.

May I take this opportunity to say how much I have enjoyed working with everyone.

All the best,

Dan

Well, that's it, thought Orianna. He's leaving and I find out through an e-mail. He might have had the guts to tell me himself. It sounds so formal, not like Dan remotely. “The personal nature of my departure” indeed! It's me and Cassie he's talking about! Why doesn't he have the balls to say so? I could have helped him phrase it: “I've fucked around with women, perhaps even the occasional man, and I've fucked up” would be more appropriate.

At that moment the internal phone rang.

“Hi,” said a familiar voice.

“Oh, hi,” she said, caught short. It was Dan, but she didn't recognize the extension number. “Where are you calling from?”

“The boardroom. I didn't think you'd answer if you knew it was me.”

“I wouldn't have,” said Orianna bluntly. She was still trying to gather her thoughts about his departure.

“I wanted a private word.”

“I see.”

“Er, I wondered, did you get my e-mail?”

“Yes, why?”

“Bollocks,” said Dan. “I wanted to tell you first.”

“Shouldn't have pressed
Send
then, should you?”

“I guess not.” His voice was quiet, subdued. As it should be. Though it was a bit late to be sheepish.

“So,” said Orianna. “You couldn't cut it.” She knew she sounded aggressive, but that was how she felt.

Dan sighed. “Guess not.”

“Don't know what you're expecting me to say about it.”

“I thought perhaps we could talk.”

“What about? So I could wish you bon voyage? Good luck? No Dan.”

“Oh.”

“Look, it just didn't work out. You're leaving. In some ways I'm glad.”

“You are?”

Although a voice inside her head was screaming otherwise, she said, “Yes. It'll make things easier for everyone. Let's drop it there, shall we?”

“Are you absolutely sure that's what you want?”

Orianna wasn't, remotely. Then she pictured Cassie, growing contentedly bigger only yards from her, and Dan close by, tactfully playing it down, but all the while becoming increasingly attached to both Cassie and the baby.

They won't be able to keep their relationship secret much longer, she thought, and when the truth comes out, it will be more than I can stand. Yes, if Cassie isn't going to resign, I suppose Dan leaving is the best option.

“I'm sure,” she said, trying not to let her voice betray her upset and anger, and put down the phone.

 

34. What's the business?

To:
Everyone

From:
Russell North

Date:
Monday, December 10, 9:15

Subj:
Keeping Green in the black this Christmas

It may or may not have escaped your notice, but the world is currently in the midst of a global recession, and unfortunately Green Integrated has not avoided its impact. As a result things are tight, budget-wise. I'm hoping we can make it to New Year unscathed in terms of layoffs but this requires your help. Some general pointers follow.

1. I'm sorry to have to inform you that bonuses will be suspended until further notice. For precise details, speak to your line manager, though I'm sure you appreciate it's better to curtail these than have to lose staff.

2. I'd also venture to suggest now is not the time for extravagance in terms of expenses. I'll be keeping a close eye on your applications for reimbursement over the Christmas period. I am sure you will appreciate this is not just for your sake but for the sake of the agency as a whole.

3. Finally, although it pains me to announce this, we will not be able to hold the annual party at the Groucho Club this year. Because we on the board believe we should practice what we preach, Stephen has gallantly forgone his company membership (thereby saving a tidy sum) and we will be holding the party on January 3, when it's more cost-effective, at Kettner's. Also, the party will start at 6 p.m., not lunchtime, so we can continue to service our clients fully during the day.

Thank you for your understanding and patience.

And Happy Christmas!

Russell

To:
Orianna Bianchi

From:
Ivy Fraser

Date:
Monday, December 10, 9:23

Subj:
Re: Keeping Green in the black this Christmas

Tight git.

Oh well. Orianna couldn't say she was sorry. She'd been dreading the party and it was a relief it wasn't going to echo the evening she'd got together with Dan.

What a year it's been, she thought, glorious and torturous in equal measure. If spring and summer were the happiest months of my life, the three months since have been surely the most miserable.

At that moment there was a knock at her door.