“Up to Jake.” I spread my hands. “This is his thing. He says it’s a ‘curated’ guest list.”
“Oh, curated,” says Hannah, and shoots me a sardonic look, which I return.
Hannah is the only person to whom I will ever be disloyal about the family, because basically she is family. So she knows what I think of Jake. And all Jake’s ideas.
“He went through the customer database,” I tell her, lowering my voice. “And he chose all the ones with posh post codes.”
“Posh post codes!” echoes Hannah incredulously. “What counts as posh?”
“God knows. And he’s got an ‘influencer’ coming. This YouTube girl called Kitten Smith. And the local press. And we’ve all got to look ‘glamorous and sophisticated.’ Jake gave all the staff a lecture today. Poor Morag looked totally freaked out.”
“Well, you look very glamorous and sophisticated,” says Hannah loyally, and I roll my eyes with a grin. I went to get a blow-dry this afternoon, but no way was I splashing out on a new dress, so I’m in the dark green shift I wore to be Nicole’s bridesmaid. “What does your mum think?” Hannah adds. “Isn’t this costing a fortune?”
“Mum’s OK with it,” I say with a shrug. “She says it’s Jake’s thing and it’s harmless enough.”
I try not to give away my sense of betrayal. I phoned Mum up two weeks ago because I was worried about all Jake’s grandiose party plans. I wanted her to agree with me and tell him to rein it in—but she said, “Ah, love, I’m sure he knows what he’s doing,” in her easy way. And I didn’t want to press it and cause stress and ruin her holiday. So here we are.
“There’s a red carpet when you come in,” says Hannah, her mouth twitching. “A red carpet.”
“I know,” I say. “Jake says it’s for ‘VIP photo opportunities.’ ” I meet her eye and bite my lip and suddenly I can feel giggles rising up. It all seems so ridiculous. Although maybe Mum’s right—maybe Jake understands promotion in a way we don’t.
“He’s given the shop a total makeover,” I add. “Him and Nicole. They insisted. They want it all to look more ‘cool.’ You know Nicole’s started yoga classes?”
“I got her email.” Hannah nods. “To be honest, I thought, Why would you do yoga at Farrs?”
“Exactly! But she’s got about six friends who do it, and she keeps moving the front displays and it’s been so disruptive. She and Jake have cut the food storage department by half, and they’ve lost the jam-making department completely, and Jake’s brought in these really expensive garden lanterns that his friend imports. I mean, garden lanterns when we don’t have a garden department!” My voice rises with indignation. “Why are we stocking them but not the full range of storage containers?”
“I know,” says Hannah sympathetically, and I belatedly remember that I ranted to her about this a few days ago. “But there’s nothing you can do about that now, is there? Try to forget about it, Fix. Enjoy the evening.” She tops up my glass. “Is Ryan coming?”
“As soon as he finishes at work,” I say with a nod.
“And how’s it going?” She raises her eyebrows meaningfully.
“His work, you mean? Or us?”
“Both,” she says. “Everything.”
“Well, we’re great,” I say firmly. “We’re like an old married couple.”
And it’s true: I’ve felt really close to Ryan these last weeks. It’s all so natural and lovely. I’ve come to expect his presence in the house, once, twice, or even three times a week. And our relationship is …
Well.
I mean, it’s a bit different from the way I imagined. We don’t have quite as much sex as I thought we would. There was that one time, when we first got together, and since then it’s been … I guess the word would be sporadic. Or maybe intermittent. Five times in total is what it boils down to. In a month.
But what that says to me is that Ryan needs to be nurtured. He needs to heal. He’s been through a very tough, humiliating time, so his libido has inevitably gone down. It’s totally normal. (I googled it.) And the last thing I must do is make him sensitive or self-conscious about it. So I haven’t even mentioned it. I’ve just looked after him in the most unconditional, supportive way I know. Good home-cooked food, lots of hugs, lots of listening.
“And his job?” inquires Hannah.
“Patchy,” I admit. “Not straightforward. He’s having power struggles in the office.”
“Power struggles?” Hannah opens her eyes wide. “Already?”
“Don’t repeat this,” I say quietly, “but the boss—that guy I met—is jealous of Ryan. He said he wanted someone with experience of the world—but when it came to it, he didn’t. He wanted the same old thing: a young, wide-eyed intern he could push around and not be threatened by. It’s a shame.”
I’ve been really disappointed in Seb. It just shows: You can be completely wrong about someone. Apparently he’s insisted that Ryan stop attending some of the meetings he was going to—which makes no sense, because how’s Ryan supposed to learn the business? Ryan’s theory is that Seb now bitterly regrets hiring, as Ryan puts it, “a man, not a boy.” Especially as the rest of the company love Ryan and keep asking his opinion.
“Hmm.” Hannah thinks about this. “Can’t Ryan keep his head down?”
“He does. As much as he can. But, you know, he’s Ryan.” I spread my hands. “If he thinks someone’s going to make a bad decision, he’ll tell them so.”
As I speak, I feel a little glow of pride. It’s exactly because Ryan won’t keep his head down that he’s such a remarkable guy. He says he can see at least ten ways in which ESIM is going wrong. He says he’s not going to rest until he makes his case, and already people are cornering him, asking his advice. He reckons Seb is a nice guy but doesn’t know how to manage people, and the company has grown too fast, too soon. “It’s all over the shop,” he keeps saying, shaking his head. “All over the shop. They’ve got no idea.”
He talks quite a bit about someone called Erica, who is apparently the oldest and most experienced person on the team. She’s a massive fan of Ryan’s. She reckons he’s much more a natural leader than Seb and could run things in a heartbeat. But Seb essentially owns the company, so there’s not much chance of things changing.
At first I found it dizzying, the way Ryan was already talking about leading. But I’ve gradually got used to him, to his huge ambition. He sees the world as a place to conquer. When he tells me how he made it through Hollywood, it’s like listening to an SAS commander talking about a campaign. And, yes, he crashed and burned—but isn’t that the same with any success story? Great leaders fail, learn, pick themselves up, start over, and reach even greater heights.
“Anyway, he’ll work it out,” I conclude. “He gets on with a lot of the team, at least. They go out together and play pool, like, three times a week. It’s nice.”
“Well, here’s to it all working out,” says Hannah, and we’re clinking glasses when in come Morag, Greg, and Stacey.
My jaw drops at the sight of them. They’re all in party clothes, but none are what I would call “glamorous and sophisticated.” Morag is in the most lurid, shiny purple dress I’ve ever seen, with shoulder pads and a peplum. As she moves, it turns blue under the lights. It’s hideous. Where did she even get it from, the Flammable Dress Shop?
Stacey is in a dress which essentially consists of a set of black lace underwear with black chiffon draped over the top. And Greg is in what he probably thinks is a “sharp” suit, with gelled hair. He’s wearing white socks and pointy shoes and looks like he’s going to a 1950s party.
“Hannah!” Morag greets her like an old friend, which in fact she is. Everyone at Farrs knows Hannah. “Lovely to see you! Although, should you be drinking?” Her eyes fall on Hannah’s glass reprovingly.
“Tim doesn’t want a baby anymore,” announces Stacey. “He’s changed his mind. Just like that.”
“Stacey!” I gasp. “That’s private!”
“Couldn’t help overhearing,” she says unrepentantly, clearly meaning: “Couldn’t help listening in on your conversation.” “Bummer,” she adds to Hannah.
“Has he found out he’s already got a kid, then?” says Greg sympathetically. “And he doesn’t want another one because, you know, child support?”
“No!” exclaims Hannah as though stung. “Of course not.”
“Happens,” says Greg with a shrug. “Happened to a mate of mine on The Jeremy Kyle Show. He got a free DNA test out of it, though. So, you know, not all bad. Funny story,” he adds, reminiscing. “They messed up on his expenses. He ended up ten quid up. Result!”
“I’m sure that’s not what’s up with Tim,” I say hurriedly, seeing Hannah’s frozen expression. “And as I say, it’s a private matter, so could we all—”
“I say divorce him,” says Stacey to Hannah, ignoring me. “And sleep with all his friends. Then, when he’s an emotional wreck, find another friend—maybe his very best friend, the one he thought would never betray him—and sleep with her.”
“Her?” Hannah’s eyes widen.
“Her.” Stacey nods without a flicker. “And you better be good.”
“Stacey, love, I don’t think that’s the way at all,” puts in Morag. “Why not bake Tim a nice cake?” she adds to Hannah. “A Victoria sponge, or a nice carrot cake … He may have a gluten allergy!” Her eyes suddenly light up. “That may explain everything.”