Sweet Deception (16 page)

So I took a deep breath, and started to speak. “Look, I appreciate you're busy. But this won't take long, I promise—”

Rex flashed a worried look at Helena. “Charlotte, this really isn't a good time—”

“I know that. But I just had something I wanted to show you.” I lifted up my portfolio. “It honestly won't take a moment.”

“Maybe later—” Rex began, but Helena cut him off.

“Actually, why don't you show us what you've got there?” She leant back in her chair and folded her arms. “I, for one, wouldn't mind seeing what you think is so important that you need to disturb us.”

I could tell she wasn't expecting much, and that she was primed to rubbish whatever I showed them. But I tried to block that out. I looked around the room. I needed somewhere to rest my portfolio, so I could unzip it and take the storyboard out. One of their desks would have been an obvious place, but I didn't think either of them would take kindly to that. The couch caught my eye. So I rested the portfolio on the spare chair, and started to unzip. As I did so, I talked.

“Look, I know you guys think I haven't been paying attention.” Helena snorted at this. I ignored her, and ploughed on. “But I did hear you brainstorming over this anti-drugs advert.”

“Charlotte, please—” Rex said warningly. But I ignored
him, and carried on.

“So I went home last night, and jotted down everything I remembered you saying.” I took out the storyboard, and straightened up. I was standing in the centre of the room, with them both facing me—Helena staring at me with a bored, contemptuous look, while Rex was shooting her worried glances, as if he expected her to explode at any minute. “And I wondered—what about something like this?”

I turned the storyboard around, so that they could both see it.

I'd spent the night focusing on the print ad. The picture showed a family huddled together by a graveside, sobbing softly. To the side, stood the ghostly figure of a teenage girl. On the headstone, I'd written the words, “It's Your Funeral,” and then at the bottom ran the line, “Think Before You Take Drugs.” I'd kept the colour scheme simple—black, white and grey—to suit the sombre tone of the message.

My eyes were focused on Helena, wanting to gauge her reaction. At first, she sat with her arms folded, looking bored. But as she took in what I'd drawn, I saw interest flicker across her face, and then she leaned forwards, wanting to get a better look. Her forehead creased a little. She didn't say anything, but she held out her hands for the picture.

I guessed there was a chance that she might just want to rip it up, as a way to get me back for yesterday. But somehow
I sensed that wasn't the case. I walked over, and gave her the drawing.

She shook a little as she took it. Her eyes roamed the scene, taking every detail in. I watched her mouth soften, and her eyes begin to water.

Without warning, she let the drawing slip from her hands onto her desk.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured.

Before I could say anything, she got up and hurried from the room. I stared after her, completely stunned. Of all the reactions I'd anticipated, I certainly hadn't expected that one—particularly not from her. I knew people who cried at the drop of a hat, to the point where it became meaningless, but with someone like Helena, you had to take a breakdown like this seriously, because she was one of those people who no doubt cried only once every few years, if something really deserved it. What had I done now?

I turned to Rex. “What the hell was that all about?”

He hesitated for a second, I could tell he was debating whether to tell me or not. But then he obviously decided that Helena's behaviour needed some kind of explanation. “It's to do with her older sister. She died fifteen years ago, after taking Ecstasy at a rave.”

Suddenly I understood why Helena had had such an extreme reaction yesterday. Even though I'd appreciated that I'd messed up, I'd also felt she'd overreacted a little. Now I
knew why. This was a campaign close to her heart. She hadn't been upset for professional reasons—it had been more personal than that.

“The loss devastated Helena's family,” Rex went on. “Her mum fell into a depression, and her father couldn't cope and eventually left. I think that's why Helena's so straight-laced. She ended up becoming this perfect person, because she didn't want to cause her family any more distress.”

I suddenly understood why she'd been so unimpressed with my slacker ways when I'd first started working with her and Rex. I'd felt irritated with her for giving me a hard time, without considering the reason she'd reacted that way—that there was something so awful in her past that she was just trying to compensate for it through her behaviour.

I swore under my breath. “I shouldn't have done this.” I picked up my storyboard and walked back to where my portfolio lay open on the couch. “I was trying to put things right, and instead I've just made them worse—”

Suddenly Rex was by my side, his hand on my shoulder, stopping me from putting my picture away.

“It was a good thing that you did. And your picture was great—making someone cry . . . that's the ultimate. It's exactly what we're aiming for in advertising—to create a strong reaction through our storytelling.”

“Yeah, well, I'm not sure Helena will see it that way.”

“Actually,” Helena said, “that's exactly how I see it.”

We whirled round to see Helena standing in the doorway. She was back to her usual composed self—and there was no evidence of her breakdown a few minutes earlier.

She walked over and took the drawing from me, studying it again, more clinically this time.

“As Rex said, this really evokes a reaction. You've managed to capture everything that we talked about. It's not perfect, by any means—but it's the kind of quality that we could easily present to the client to get our ideas across.”

Relief coursed through me. But I didn't feel I was out of the woods yet. “Look, I really am sorry about yesterday. I know you thought I did it on purpose, but I didn't. It was an honest mistake.”

Helena stared at me for a long moment, clearly weighing up whether to trust me or not. “Tell you what,” she said finally. “If you manage to put together more storyboards like this for the TV advert, then I'll forgive you.”

I smiled. “I think that sounds like a fair deal.”

“Good. Well, you better get on with it, then, because the one thing we don't have is a lot of time to waste.”

*  *  *

I spent the next few days putting together the storyboards for the TV advert. It was an extension of the print ad I'd come up with—the teenage girl getting ready for her night out, saying goodbye to her parents, and then hitting the club
and enjoying her evening, before accepting drugs. Then there were scenes of her collapsing, and paramedics working to revive her. This was all in colour, and intercut with scenes of the family getting ready for the funeral, all sketched—and to be filmed—in black and white. The final shot, by the grave, was the same scene as the print ad—the family gathered by the grave, while the ghostly figure looked on.

It was a lot of work, but I enjoyed it. The sketches were easy enough for me. I worked late each night, and came in early every morning to get it finished. While I was doing that, Helena and Rex worked on their presentation.

By Friday, everything was ready. The pitch had been moved at the request of the client, from midday to three in the afternoon, which meant more waiting around.

At two, I stood to say goodbye to Helena and Rex. “Thanks for everything you did for us this week,” Helena said.

“We would invite you along, sweetie, but there's already going to be a lot of people there,” Rex added.

“Of course. I understand.”

It was only once they'd gone that I realised how exhausted I was. I'd been working flat-out for the past three days, and I'd been running on adrenaline. Now that my purpose for working had been taken away, I just wanted to sleep. That wasn't an option, though, so I busied myself for the rest of the afternoon, catching up on the mundane tasks that I'd
put to one side over the past few days.

I tried to keep myself distracted, but my mind kept wandering to the pitch. I was surprised at just how desperate I was to find out how it had gone. I wasn't sure how long it would take, but by five I was certain that it should be over. I doubted that Helena and Rex would come back to the office—they'd both worked their butts off as well, and no doubt wanted to head home and relax—but I thought they'd probably call to let me know how it went. After all, whatever had happened earlier that week, we'd worked as a team on this.

But over the next hour, I still didn't hear anything. Whenever my phone went, I'd snatch it up, hoping it was going to be one of them, but it never was. Gradually I began to feel deflated. Either the pitch hadn't gone well, or they hadn't ever seen me as part of the project. Either way, I couldn't help feeling disappointed. I'd put myself out there, but clearly it still hadn't been enough.

By half six, I decided to leave. I was just sending off a last email when I heard a man clearing his throat above me. I looked up to see Richard, looking impressive as usual in a well-cut suit. I felt my heartbeat speed up a little at the sight of him. It was strange, the effect he'd had on me ever since I'd started working here. I put it down to the fact that he obviously commanded so much respect around the office—I suppose anyone would feel a bit intimidated by him.

He was smiling down at me, and looked a lot more relaxed than he had the last time I'd seen him.

“Charlotte, I'm glad I caught you. I wanted to let you know—we heard back from the client, and they loved the concept. It looks like we're going to get the whole account.”

“Really?” I couldn't keep the delight out of my voice. “That's amazing! Helena and Rex are going to be so pleased.” I started to reach for the phone. “I should let them know—”

“There's no need for that.” Richard's voice stopped me. “I've already called Helena and Rex to tell them the good news. In fact, it was they who asked me to stop by to let you know the outcome—which I have to admit was something of a surprise. But then Helena explained you'd actually ended up putting the visuals for the campaign together for them. They said you saved the day.”

There was a question in his voice that couldn't be ignored. “I just took their ideas and brought them to life.” I wasn't sure it was fair to take the credit, when it was my mistake that had caused all the problems in the first place. “It wasn't a big deal.”

“Still, you could have walked away and not bothered. Instead you pulled through for them. That's all I wanted from you, Charlotte—for you to do your best.”

“Yeah?” I grinned. “And I thought you just enjoyed being
a controlling arsehole.”

He laughed. “Trust me—I have far better things to do with my time than interfere with your life. I wouldn't have bothered if I didn't think you were worth it.” He grew serious. “You're extremely talented, Charlotte. I hate seeing you throw your life away.”

His dark eyes held mine for a moment. Feeling flustered by the intensity of his gaze, I glanced away, picking up some papers on my desk, and straightening them, to give me something to do.

“Yeah, well. It was pretty simple stuff. I'm just glad it all worked out.”

I snuck a glance up at him. Whatever had been there before—that soul-searching stare of his—had disappeared. I didn't know whether to feel relieved or sad.

“Anyway,” he said briskly, as though he wanted to put our relationship back on more familiar footing, “I just wanted to pop by and let you know that everything worked out. And that you did a good job.”

I smiled up at him, unexpectedly warmed by his praise. “Thanks,” I said softly.

“And I also hope that you'll consider staying on now. At least until the three months are up.” He held up his hands. “But it's entirely up to you. I'm not making any threats or bargains. This time I want it to be your decision.”

It hadn't even occurred to me that this offer might be
forthcoming. Earlier in the week, I would have expected to run in the opposite direction, but now I wondered what would be the point of that. So I could go back to pulling pints in the Nick? This week had been the first time in ages that I'd felt good about myself. Maybe Richard knew me better than I realised. “If it's all right with Helena and Rex, I'd like to stay on.”

Richard looked like he was about to say something else, but instead he gave a brief, satisfied nod. “I'm glad to hear that.”

There was a silence then. We both stared at each other, as though waiting for something to happen, though I had a feeling neither of us was entirely sure what. I felt a little awkward, like an actor who'd forgotten her words in the middle of a play.

It was Richard who recovered first. “Now, get out of here,” he said, backing away. “And enjoy your weekend. You deserve it.”

He turned away without another word.

By then it was coming up for seven, and I felt keyed up. I had a message on my phone. It was from Gavin, asking me if I was coming out that night. I sent him a quick text saying I couldn't make it, and headed home instead.

Lindsay was working, so I had the flat to myself. I made a quick dinner of pasta and pesto, and then collapsed on the sofa in our sitting room, wondering what to do with the rest
of my night. My eyes went to the mezzanine, built into the eaves, where I'd stored the half-finished paintings from my college course. I hadn't been up there since we'd moved in, but tonight I wanted to.

I walked up the metal spiral staircase. At the top, I saw my canvases were where I'd left them, piled up in a corner, with a big plastic sheet covering them. Before we'd moved in here, I'd thought about throwing them out, to save space, but Lindsay had convinced me to keep them. I hadn't looked at them for years, and frankly hadn't expected to again. But now something was drawing me to them.