To Catch a Creeper (15 page)

‘Oh troney, baloney, Cathy. You’d have done the same thing for me.’

‘I wouldn’t have been able to.’

‘But you did. The campaign last year. You saved my job. Hopefully I’ve helped save yours. So now we’re even.’ She pecks my cheek. ‘That’s what friends are for.’

‘Should I sing a little sad song now?’

‘If you like, but I won’t join you in a duet. I need some shut-eye. I’m totally bushed. I’m going to have a long lie-in tomorrow and snuggle under the duvet with a rerun of that global warming documentary.’

‘About the polar bears starving because of lack of penguins to eat?’

‘Seals, you muppet.’ She laughs. ‘Polar bears are in the Arctic, while penguins live in Antarctic and never the twain shall meet. Except maybe the zoo. Anyway, good luck tomorrow. Remember what Frank Sinatra used to say – timing’s the key.’

‘I’ll do my best, I really will.’

‘Knock ’em dead, Cathy. Just knock the lot of ’em sodding bloody dead.’

Chapter 14

I stroll into the office, briefcase in one hand, laptop in the other and head over to my desk. That’s what Rosa instructed me to do.

I’m going by her every word. I’ve memorised all that she said, but just in case I forget anything, I’ve a slip of paper with a number of rules on it.

It all went according to plan this morning. Henrietta came early to the house, so I didn’t have to concern myself with the children, just on getting ready. Then Declan gave me a lift to Finsbury Park Underground Station, so I wouldn’t mess up Isobel’s super smart skirt (which she insisted I borrow) on the grimy bus. My make-up is immaculate. Isobel also lent me her best sea-green blouse, and even Janet, who I’ve never seen wear make-up, produced the perfect colour lipstick to go with it. Henrietta’s contribution (apart from the getting early to my house thing) was a pair of grapefruit yellow and black ankle boots with a fantastically high but fat heel that I’ve long coveted.

‘Big day, huh?’ Alice pops her head round the door.

‘Fairly,’ I reply in a completely calm way before I set to work.

I’m like a finely tuned robot as I unpack my RNW folders, check Declan’s laptop’s working, transfer everything to my office PC with a memory stick so I’ve a copy on my hard drive. Next I fetch myself a cappuccino, hot, very frothy with demerara sugar (which I don’t normally have but it was on the list) and plop in two drops of liquid from Rosa’s rescue remedy bottle. Rosa said that although I had to keep on the ball, I had to also remember to pamper myself. Then I check Janet’s lipstick has stayed put, which it has, as it’s everlasting, and that my tights haven’t accumulated ladders during my commute, which they haven’t. I have two spare pairs just in case (maybe a bit overboard but they were a three pair pack and it’s not like they weigh a ton).

‘Oh, oh, eyes to the right.’ Alice peeks out then rapidly disappears.

Only one downer really. Vivien. She walks into the room, followed by Honour and they both seat themselves behind their respective desks like a pair of security guards.

Stay away from people who have a negative effect on you. Rule No. 4.

‘Ready for the off?’ Vivien twiddles a biro in the air.

‘Ready as can be.’

‘You all right? You look a bit tired?’ says Honour. ‘Rings around the eyes. Did you sleep OK?’

‘Like a log.’ Ignore negative comments. Rule No. 5.

Honour leaves her desk to hang up her jacket. ‘Not too nervous, Cath?’

‘Nope.’ And again, ignore negative comments.

I pull out Rosa’s slip of paper:

1. Stay focused

2. Stay calm

3. Do not leave your laptop unattended

I smile to myself. Rosa’s always fancied herself as a bit of a Mission Controller. I’m half expecting the paper to self combust.

‘Coffee, Vivien?’ Honour rises to her feet.

Vivien puts a thumb up. ‘You’re a doll.’

‘No, I don’t want one,’ I mutter, holding up my cappuccino cup. ‘I’m good.’

They both whisper something to each other and laugh.

‘Sorry?’ I say.

‘What?’ Honour swaps a glance with Vivien.

‘Sorry, I thought something might be funny?’

‘Private joke.’

‘Oh,’ I seethe. And then I remember another thing about Rosa’s conversation. Don’t want to appear petty, but what was it that Honour had said yesterday about penguins. Her with the geography degree and all. Although I can’t just slip penguins into the conversation – unless…

‘Talking of coffee. And snacks. What’s your favourite choccy biscuit?’

‘Mine?’ says Honour.

‘Either of you.’

‘I quite like Twix,’ Vivien announces.

‘I sometimes buy Bounty Bars,’ Honour says. ‘Or Crunchies.’

‘I like Penguins myself,’ I say ultra casually. ‘Ooh, talking of penguins…didn’t you say something about the polar bears eating them, Honour?’

‘
Not
eating them, I said.’ Honour plucks the change from her purse. ‘And starving because of it. Yes.’

‘Well, funny thing, ha, I suppose that was another joke because anyone worth their salt knows polar bears live in the Arctic and penguins don’t. And never the twain shall meet.’

She looks momentarily stunned and ever so slightly shifty. ‘Yes…Of course I knew that. And yes it was a joke.’

‘You’re
so
funny.’ I pretend to laugh and smack my thighs. ‘Ever thought about stand-up?’

‘I’ll go fetch the coffee.’ She rushes off, face burning.

***

‘Oh, Cath, forgot to mention,’ Vivien’s on the phone to some client but she puts her hand over the mouthpiece, ‘there’s something for you to sign at reception. Alice just told me. I’ll be right along, Mr Delaney.’ And with that she stands up and marches off down the corridor.

Right now, what do I do? Leave the laptop with all my valuable information out for anyone to steal or corrupt? Take it with me and look like Scrooge with his moneybags? It’s only a second, there’s nobody in the room for Christ’s sake.

‘Reception, yes. OK.’

When I return, Honour’s back and is busy on the phone talking to some hotel person about the brochures. I grab my glasses but they feel funny… I peer through. No, they’re mine OK, clear glass. I can see perfectly.

***

I follow Turks down the glistening shiny-floored lobby of the RNW building, up the thickly carpeted steps into the swish glass lift, and down another luxury carpeted corridor to a set of double doors.

The conference room. We stand outside for a second. Turks squeezes my shoulder, gives me a wink. I take a deep breath and we walk in.

Oh God. I’m faced with a semi-circle of grey-suited, hard-faced, unsmiling, middle-aged men.

Rosa’s voice is inside my head, going, ‘It’ll be fine. It’ll be cool.’

But it’s not cool. It’s not fine. It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever had to do in my entire life. They’re not even hip.

I try and flick my mind back to last night’s briefing as my eyes slowly scan the semi-circle. First one up is Derek Howes, married two kids, recently promoted. Second,
Philip Salamander, Head of Sales. I’m clicking them with my eyes, like a camera shutter. Then the next, the one in the middle sitting in the biggest chair. He’s the main boss, Martin Brandon, likes a laugh but underneath he’s as mean as a rabid mongoose. Beside him there’s Jordan Hills, likes the skirts, while the guy next to him, Boris Elphin likes the shirts.

We went through all this last night. Henrietta holding up the photos that Rosa had downloaded from RNW’s website, trying to get me to memorise them, while Isobel began chanting memory rhymes, ‘Elphin goes for shirts, Hills the skirts, Martin the Mongoose, Phil the sales.’

It was kind of like that game of
I went to the market
.

They’re all looking really very sombre and far more formal than in their bios.

‘Hi, there, everybody.’ Thankfully Turks seems entirely unfazed by their grave faces as he takes a pew on the last chair. ‘This is Cathy, our new top Creative. She’s going to show you what we’ve been working on.’

‘Right.’ I pull out a sheet of paper with all Rosa’s little tips for the boardroom and sneak a peek.

A. Smile, you can’t be depressed when you smile

B. Chin up, it makes you feel in control

C. Stretch your shoulders back, it will make you seem more relaxed while making you feel more relaxed

D. Laptop check

E. Overhead projector check

‘OK,’ I say with a confident smile. ‘I’m ready when you are.’

Someone draws the blinds.

‘The new RNW Landscape is special – really truly special. Why?’ Pause. ‘Because…’ Another pause while I take a metaphorical sip of wine, in other words water – but I’m imagining it to be wine and I’m away. Surprisingly relaxed. It’s going well. I go to start, program, Presentation RNW and double click. Rosa went through this so many times, it was like I was in some US army film, stripping down a rifle – especially when she kept timing me with her stopwatch and bawling, ‘Not fast enough. Again!’ Only difference was she never made me do press-ups, though Janet did suggest it.

Still it worked. Not a hitch.

You know I’ve got a good feeling about this.

A real good feeling.

‘So…’ I start the slideshow for the photos to begin. But instead of the dropping tears visual that’s meant to come first, and the slightly alien music we’d found, or rather Janet had found on her iPod Touch. It’s a list. Josh’s How to Make a Gingerbread House list.

Skittles

Writing gel

Pink icing

Fizzy strawberry laces

Marshmallows

Jelly snakes

Jelly babies

Gingerbread house

‘Er…’ I give a tight little smile to Turks, before I click another button. Photos of Declan being buried on the beach. Then another. Sophie’s Egypt homework from last year.

And another.

EVIDENCE POSSIBLY LEFT BEHIND AT A SCENE

And another.

***

‘At last!’ Rosa can hardly contain the excitement in her voice. ‘I’ve been trying to ring you all afternoon. Your mobile’s been off.’

‘Battery’s dead.’

‘Not again! You really must fork out for a new charger. So how was it? Come on, tell all.’

‘It was terrific! Fantastic! I got all the names right.’

‘They’re going with it? You won the account?’

‘Is the Pope a Catholic?’ I smile as wide as I can, because they say people can tell if you’re smiling or not down the phone.

‘Brill! I knew you could pull it off. I want to know everything. Start to finish.’ From the sound of things she’s snuggling under her duvet. Probably with a mug of Horlicks to hand.

‘I’ll tell you but…I’ve…I’ve got to…ring a…a…restaurant.’

‘You’re going out to celebrate?’

‘Something like that. But I have to be there, er, now.’

‘Declan must be thrilled. You both must be. Send him my love.’

‘I will.’

I replace the receiver and promptly sniffle into my sodden tissue which I’ve been doing half the afternoon. It could have been worse, I guess. If she’d come round she’d bound to have sussed.

I’m determined not to lie. Not again, not to Rosa. OK, I can evade the truth, manipulate the conversation, give obscure answers to direct questions, but downright lies? Well we’ve shaken and spat haven’t we? Thing is, if she thinks I’ve lost the campaign, her placenta might well start acting up again. And I can’t be responsible for that.

I hear a jangle of keys outside and quickly hide my tissue up my sleeve. I’ll have to tell Declan, but it won’t be easy. Hey, darling, remember how I prattled on about how well I was managing this super wondrous job, the one you were so proud of that you boasted about it to everyone in the world. Well you can inform all your buddies, that it’s all gone terribly wrong, that I’ve been suspended. Yes, that’s right.

Turks was livid. I won’t go into all that he said – I’m trying to block – suffice to say he doesn’t lose his temper much but when he blows he blows. And yesterday afternoon I swear the roof of the Younger and Wilding building lifted at least three inches.

I told him someone must have tampered with my computer, but it didn’t wash with him and then when I attempted to explain how I had really meant to advertise RNW’s products, with the eerie alien music and the teardrops representing… He cut me short and said it seemed like something a pile of tipsy housewives had cobbled up the night before over a bottle of wine and an Indian take-away. He said he’d thought I was better than that.

I tried to act indignant (and it was pizza not curry), but my words didn’t ring true and that was when he suggested I take a bit of leave, in other words suspension. It’s obviously his thing. He did it to Rosa last year and now he’s done it to me.

His harsh words echo around my head…professional organisation…laughing stock…child’s play…high hopes dashed…disappointment…lost faith.

Honour didn’t say anything as I handed her back her glasses. Yes, I was wrong, they were hers. I realised as soon as I became flustered manically scrolling through files and they kept falling off my nose.

Suspiciously enough when I returned to the office, Honour didn’t even ask why I was clearing out my desk, why my face was stinging like I’d been stung by a trillion
jellyfishes, and why I was stomping around everywhere, although she did give me a few nervous darty glances.

Was it because she felt guilty about something? Could she have sabotaged my work, or did she know who had? Could it have been Vivien or someone else? Could it even have been my fault messing the computer up again, trying to do things that were far too technical for me? I shrug. All I knew was it didn’t matter anymore. Younger and Wilding were finished with me and I was well and truly finished with them.

Declan walks into the kitchen where I’m pulling out fish fingers from the little freezer above the fridge. ‘I’ve been thinking about you today.’ He kisses my cheek. ‘I bet you blew them away. Mmm, something smells nice.’

‘I’m boiling Josh’s shirt.’ I nod to the cooker. ‘His pen leaked in his pocket and no…’

‘Yep, both Alec and I were sending you good vibes over London.’

‘That was nice.’ Damn… I forgot about Alec. Even if I could lie, Declan won’t find it easy, not to his cousin. I shove the fish fingers into a frying pan and turn up the heat.