Chapter 36
The following fortnight passed by in a blur. The opportunity with Wolfe was by far the biggest thing she’d worked on, a potential annual revenue of over two million pounds if it came off. Tony was acting like a sweaty limpet, shadowing every meeting, questioning every decision, insisting on being more closely involved than he’d ever bothered to be before. Proof, if it was needed, that this was BIG. She was glad for the distraction. Left to her own devices, she risked running out of energy; she wasn’t sleeping particularly well, and she was unable to shake a vague feeling of ambivalence towards the task at hand. Sure, she really wanted to win it and put Ollie back in his box. Plus, Tony had all but promised that if she pulled this off, the directorship was hers. But her usual hunger had been tempered with a gnawing feeling of the inanity of the whole endeavour.
She’d built up a dossier on Wolfe Holdings, and it made for interesting reading. It was a behemoth, a multi-headed beast of a corporation, spawning more subsidiaries and satellite businesses than a spider might eggs. It enjoyed a presence on notable boards across the capital, pulling levers in the public sector in a way she hadn’t realised private companies could. She’d spoken to Tony about it, wondered out loud if the whole organisation didn’t seem suspicious. He’d regarded her like she’d grown a second head and told her she was getting soft. We’re in reputation management, he’d said. People with good reputations don’t need them managed.
As for Wolfe, she was on her way now to meet him for the third time. The first two occasions, he had been far less ‘avuncular’ and far more ‘creepy uncle’ than his online pictures suggested. He was in his late fifties, with oddly dyed hair, the ghost of his greyness hovering just below the surface of a peculiar auburn brown that made his skin seem jaundiced. His face bore the expression of a man who could get whatever he wanted, although a better barber had clearly never made the list. At their last meeting he’d invited her to a charity gala Wolfe Holdings was hosting. It was the very last thing she needed, given how much was left to do for the response, but Tony had insisted she go: she needed to see what other people in their employ did to put on a show, and to butter Wolfe up, obviously.
In the cab on the way there, she allowed herself a moment to think about how everyone was getting on back at the shelter. Who had replaced her? Was there some other thirty-something woman enjoying banter with Jasper? She’d been meaning to text Tasha, and perhaps get his number – she still had his T-shirt and shorts to return, and he still had her playsuit – but her mind was frazzled. The brain space required to create a casually worded and not-at-all leading message was beyond her capabilities. It was hard to explain to anyone who hadn’t been involved in a pitch just how all-encompassing and draining they could be. Still, she would be seeing Tasha soon enough, and when everything had settled down at work, well, maybe then she’d find the time to pop in.