Chapter 35
‘Hi, Simone. How was your holiday?’
Nora had sashayed into the office kitchen where Simone was having a bowl of cereal, her usual posh coffee and croissant ritual now seeming too excessive.
‘Great, thanks.’
‘I bet you’re sad to be back, aren’t you?’
She was, but not in the way Nora meant. She’d woken up early with a weird mix of nerves, anticipation and melancholy lodged in her throat, like a hairball that she’d not yet managed to cough up.
‘You’re looking very casual today,’ said Nora. ‘Still in the San Fran vibes, eh?’
Simone had attempted to squeeze herself into one of her standard work outfits this morning, but having worn flat shoes and relatively non-constrictive waistbands for a fortnight, it was like mild torture. She’d opted instead for some wide-legged pants and a short-sleeved shirt. Work was challenging enough without having to navigate it in corporate bondage gear.
‘No clients in today, so…’
Nora, by contrast, was almost dressed in a tiny high-waisted skirt, tight polo shirt and towering platform sandals. Remembering all the times she’d seen Ollie ogling her, she had the sudden urge to guide Nora to a better, less-sexualised version of herself.
‘Did you know Winston Churchill once said skirts were like speeches?’ she began. ‘They should be long enough to cover the subject and short enough to maintain interest.’
It was a quote her dad often used when she was heading to school with her skirt waistband rolled over.
Nora was gazing at her phone and only half listening. ‘Who’s Winston Churchill?’
‘Prime Minister of Britain.’
‘When did he get in?’
Okay, change of tack required.
‘What I mean is, if you don’t feel comfortable, you don’t have to wear such short skirts.’
‘I want to wear this.’
‘Do you? Or do you feel like you have to wear it, you know, for people to find you attractive?’
Nora glanced up from the screen. ‘Do people find me attractive?’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Which ones in particular?’
‘Probably all of them, if we’re honest.’
‘Well, that’s a nice thing, isn’t it?’
‘That depends,’ said Simone. ‘What if it means they don’t see you for your other virtues?’
‘You think I should show off my boobs too?’
This wasn’t going well.
‘I’m just saying I’ve been where you’ve been and?—’
‘You’ve had everyone in the office fancy you?’ Nora seemed doubtful, which, given what they were discussing, was far more annoying than it should have been.
‘What I mean is, I don’t want you to feel any pressure to look a certain way or wear certain clothes. I want this to be your choice.’
Was she mansplaining? Was it possible to mansplain if you were a woman? She found the whole thing very confusing.
Nora cocked her head to one side and smiled sympathetically. ‘Thanks. I really appreciate it. I’ll think about what you’ve said.’ She went back to scrolling.
That was a start at least.
‘Great.’
She really needed to get her head into gear. Tony would be in shortly, and she still had some reading about this potential new client to do.
‘Nora.’
‘Hmm?’
‘Can you make sure there’s enough Post-its, pens and pads in the boardroom for the meeting on the Wolfe pitch this morning?’
Nora’s thumb paused in its perpetual flicking. ‘I don’t know if I should. Is that not exploitative?’
‘Well, you are still an employee, so it’s okay for me to ask you to do things.’
‘Is that in the sisterhood rule book?’
Was she messing with her?
‘No, it’s in your contract of employment.’
‘Still, perhaps I should check the details.’
‘I tell you what,’ said Simone. ‘I’ll get the Post-its, shall I?’
‘If you’re sure.’
Nora went back to scrolling and she went back to her desk. Some people just couldn’t be helped.
* * *
Ollie swivelled round in his chair as she entered the boardroom. He had Steri-Strip stitches across his nose, and bruises like viola petals under his eyes.
‘You’re back then,’ he grunted.
‘You nose it.’
‘Come on, you pair,’ said Tony. ‘I need you to put your differences to one side.’
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘Time to repair that broken bridge between us.’
‘Go fuck yourself,’ said Ollie.
‘You’re no-stril upset, are you? I have no idea who that man was.’
‘If I find out you do, I will take you down to Chinatown.’
‘Hah!’ she said. ‘You’re about as gangster as Vanilla Ice.’
‘That’s enough,’ said Tony. ‘Can we crack on? Simone, you’re going to head this up.’
‘What the fuck, Tony!’ shrieked Ollie.
‘I can’t put you in front of one of London’s most powerful landlords looking like some posh cage fighter. When your face is sorted, then you can face the client.’
Ollie went into an immediate sulk.
‘Besides, Simone has certain advantages that we’ll need to exploit.’
‘That’s right, Ollie,’ she said. ‘This is predominantly an event brief, requiring the full gamut of my extensive experience.’
The response was going to be a total ball-ache. They had less than three weeks to come up with a full programme of events, one that would not only creatively beat anything Wolfe’s incumbent agency might come up with, but also exceed the company’s previous column inches and sales, all on a reduced budget. It was going to mean early mornings, late nights, and calling in a lot of favours from suppliers to get it all costed in time.
‘I was talking about your tits,’ said Tony.
Ollie sniggered.
‘He’s a notorious ladies’ man.’
‘But—’ she said.
‘We need to play to our strengths.’
‘But—’
‘What are you wearing anyway? You look like a 1950s sailor. You just need a doughboy hat. I need more legs and cleavage tomorrow.’
‘But—’
‘Exactly. More butt too. Whatever it takes, yeah?’
Miraculously, she’d somehow forgotten how much of a bellend Tony was. It was okay, though, because she was in charge and Ollie would have to play second fiddle to her. She just needed to get it done and then, maybe, she’d finally get her promotion.
Back at her desk afterwards, she received a message from Marcus.
How’s Mother Theresa? Fancy a little ‘missionary’ work later on this eve? Bryony is going to Max’s school play.
Shouldn’t you be going too?
He sent back a ROFL emoji. She didn’t respond. He was typing again.
I’d much rather be behind the bike sheds with you.
She shook her head. How had she ever found this shit endearing? Or more appallingly, arousing? Why was she wasting her time on him? She sometimes wondered if he represented some kind of father figure for her, a mature influence in her life. But Marcus was nothing like her father. Her dad had been a lovely man who worshipped her, whilst Marcus was an immature selfish prick who wanted everything on his own terms. It was incredible she hadn’t seen it before. Well, there was no taking back what she’d done, but she could exert what little power she had now.
She tapped out a message.
Grow up, Marcus. It’s over. Go be a father to your sons.
He sent a line of question marks back.
She didn’t respond. There was too much other stuff going on.