Chapter 3 #2
Charlie shook her head, as though Hannah were being deliberately obtuse.
Her raven-dark curls swung with the motion, and for roughly the thousandth time Hannah thought how beautiful her friend was.
Charlie had the looks of a young Elizabeth Taylor and the culinary nous of Julia Child.
It was little wonder Neil had begged for a second chance with her, and no surprise that Charlie, whose self-belief was inversely proportional to her tolerance for other people’s twattery, had refused to give him one.
‘You and I both know that’s not how the internet works,’ she said.
‘Surely you’re online enough to be aware there’s a dark side. ’
‘It’s not like I see a lot of nefarious action on my Instagram,’ Hannah said, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes and repeat the phrase ‘dark side’ in a Darth Vader voice.
‘It’s mostly, “God, those blush peonies are just THE PRETTIEST” and “Venue goals” and “Where did you source that vintage glassware?”’
Hannah had a private, altogether neglected personal account on the app, but had invested considerable time and effort in building up a following of just over twelve thousand on the Eventurous Instagram profile.
Gorgeous images of the occasions she planned had become a key calling card for the business, enabling her to reach and attract clients across the north of England – and generating so much work that, this summer, she’d jumped at the chance to hire Livi as a temporary assistant.
Her sister had immediately begun cross-posting Hannah’s photo carousels and short videos to TikTok, where she’d already racked up 4,500 followers.
‘I’m serious, Hannah,’ Charlie said, ‘and you’re not taking this seriously enough.
He’s a former pop star who’s still good-looking and charismatic enough to have women swooning over him and men wanting to emulate him.
People feel like they know him. They care about him – or at least, they think they do. ’
‘So?’ Hannah said wearily. If Charlie was trying to make a point, she had no idea what it was.
‘So, some proportion of his followers are always going to leap to his defence if they think he’s been screwed over,’ Charlie said. ‘How many does he have again?’
‘Er – about fifty thousand, I think. Then some more on Instagram. Maybe another thirty k?’
‘So it’s fair to say he understands how these channels work,’ Charlie declared.
‘In which case, he’s either so gutted you’ve dumped him that he’s had temporary brainfade – or .
. .’ She paused for dramatic effect, as if she was Hercule Poirot on the Orient Express, not herself in a small-town co-working cafe.
‘Or?’ Hannah asked.
‘Or, he understood full well that sharing that sappy song, with a caption that’s clearly about a specific woman who’s wronged him, would get some of his most ardent fans riled up.
In my book, that’s putting you at risk – especially because a good handful of his followers, local people, will have seen you out together. ’
Hannah sighed, ready to admit defeat.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘Maybe it’s all a bit passive-aggressive. He’s acting out – most likely because, from what I can gather, he’s used to being the one who decides when things end. But he hasn’t named me, I’m not identifiable . . . I don’t think he means me any harm.’
‘Hmm,’ was the only response Charlie would offer.
She went back to drawing combinations of carefully labelled foods, and a peaceable silence descended as Hannah returned to work on drafting a new price list for corporate events.
She tended to work on a ‘what’s your budget?
’ basis for weddings, outlining what she could achieve based on how much a couple was able to outlay, then working with them to design a day they could afford.
On the other hand, clients who hired her to organise meetings, awards ceremonies and conferences tended to want an upfront idea of what different sums of money would buy them – in terms of time, facilities, catering, and so on.
‘What was the name of that conference centre we worked at in Sheffield last November?’ she asked Charlie. ‘I’m trying to think of another example venue for my mid-tier corporate events package.’
‘It was the Mercury Centre, wasn’t it?’ Charlie said. ‘The one just outside the city – three different-sized rooms, plus kitchen facilities.’
‘That’s the one,’ Hannah agreed.
‘Aren’t we there again on Friday, now you mention it?’ Charlie asked. ‘For that spoddy-sounding university thing. Something to do with doctors? Medicine?’
Hannah felt her neck get hot and her heart rate kick up as she said, ‘Oh god, yes, we are.’ She’d booked the job six months ago and still had no idea why.
She could only assume she’d been having a ‘push through it’ sort of day, and must have decided walking across hot coals was preferable to running away from them – especially if she was going to get paid for it.