Chapter Nineteen
I had feared the Silent Disco would be another high-budget fiasco and that Ajax and Esme had helicoptered someone like Calvin Harris in, to bang out their favourite hits in funky celebration of their endless love.
Imagine my delight, then, when I turned up in the covered courtyard and caught a school disco vibe.
Hallelujah, it was distinctly lacklustre.
Ajax and Esme had apparently ditched it last minute in favour of a spontaneous minibreak in the Cotswolds, and (dear, beloved, sensible) Finance had put the brakes on spending.
A gnomic member of Ajax’s team was handing out the wireless headphones. ‘One charge lasts ten hours,’ he told me flatly.
‘Thanks,’ I said, popping them round my neck and thinking definitely won’t be here for ten hours.
Hospitality had been wheeled out to provide basic catering, but I was glad to see all the drinks were non-alcoholic, if garishly coloured, and the snacks were budget: cheese straws, jellybeans and some bizarrely flavoured tortilla chips which were definitely going to taste like battery acid. I sighed contentedly.
Jacob strode in, hands in pockets, scanned the room and the arrangements, nodded at me in satisfaction and departed. I read his expression: just for once, the budget had not been blown, and he was off home to relax for the first time in a while.
In the time I’d taken to look around, younger members of the team had trickled in, coltish and bright-eyed.
I watched them whooping, laughing, and beginning to dance, most of them completely unselfconscious.
Within five minutes, half were drinking mocktails and throwing chocolate hearts at each other, the other half were doing some hardcore dancing.
I had a feeling this party might get messy later, but I found myself smiling.
At least someone was having fun with the A whose charity, business and whole life was based on the power of art.
Shock and anger blazed through me; I looked up at Olly.
‘Yep, it’s a zinger,’ he said. ‘If it makes you feel any better, Ajax said that thing a while ago on the podcast. It’s been blown out of all proportion.
He had a celeb guest in’– he named a hot stuff actor – ‘and they were joking about, showboating.’ He named the art exhibition they’d been discussing.
‘There was rotten fruit in the exhibition, they started making silly remarks.’
‘The fruit was a comment on the impermanence of human life,’ I said.
He cleared his throat. ‘Whatever you say.’
I shook my head. ‘I can’t believe Esme gave a quote on this. Someone must have called her directly and caught her on the hop. We’ll need to draft a response, quickly. I’m amazed I haven’t had people on the phone already.’
‘It was published two minutes ago.’
‘Right,’ I said, clicking into efficiency mode. I hit ‘Call’ against Esme’s name in my phone. She did not pick up. I looked back at Olly. ‘Do you want to pop up to my office with me? Get it sorted?’
He took a step back, looking anywhere but at my face.
‘If you don’t mind making a start, then sharing the document.
I’d prefer to do things remotely, if possible,’ he said.
‘The last couple of days have worked well, yes? We can figure things out by email and hop on a call if needed.’ His eyes flicked back to my face.
‘Of course,’ I said, handing his phone back. ‘Is anything wrong?’
He frowned. ‘No. Everything is fine. It’s just…
’ He glanced in the direction of the dance floor, where hands had been raised, trance-style.
Looked down at his feet. ‘I think we should minimise the time we spend in a room together, don’t you?
As you said, EKArts and Resilience Needs aren’t a natural fit. As this latest debacle proves.’
His words, and the cold tone in which he said them, stole the breath from my lungs. ‘Right,’ I said. ‘I guess the work friendship’s off, then? No problem.’
I turned on my heel and walked away, removing the headphones in one smooth movement and putting them back on the table from where they’d been distributed, before heading for the staircase.
As I crossed the room, I was aware that Olly was following me, and picked up the pace, but he caught up with me as I reached the stairs.
‘Lizzy.’
‘What?’ I put venom into the way I said it. Not wanting to admit how hurt I was. If he wanted cold and remote, he was going to get it.
‘Will you let me explain?’ he said, softly, his expression grim.
I gave my best fake smile. ‘No need. Everything’s crystal clear.’ I turned and climbed the steps two at a time, with a toss of the head that said, take that, gym bro.
‘Wait,’ he said. But I ignored him. He was so close behind that when I reached the top of the stairs I broke into a run, sprinted across the landing, flew through the door and across the empty open-plan office to my own, where I piled my full weight behind the slow close door, then locked it.
Olly arrived at the door just as I locked it and batted his hands against the glass. ‘Lizzy!’ I could barely hear him, and made a heroic attempt to ignore him, starting to shut down my computer as he pressed his hands against the door.
When he spoke again, his voice was deeper, louder. ‘Don’t make me force this door open. You know I could do it.’
I strode across the room and stood facing him through the door. ‘Are you threatening me?’ I bellowed.
Something changed in his face. He stepped away. ‘Of course not.’
Play fair, Lizzy, my inner voice chimed in, inconveniently, combining with the kicked puppy expression on his face to defuse the sharp edge of my anger. Huffing, I unlocked the door and turned my back to him as he came in.
‘Hey.’ He stood on the opposite side of the desk as I kicked off my heels and put my trainers on.
‘Well,’ I said tightly, ‘this isn’t very remote.’
‘Do you have a problem with me keeping my distance?’ he said. I glanced at his face; expressionless, like mine, apart from his eyes. ‘You seem to.’
‘I thought we reset everything.’ I double-tied my left trainer and tried not to look at him. Because he looked smoking hot and I very much needed him not to.
‘We did,’ he said. His dark eyes were blazing and searching my face in a way that sent a little flutter from my stomach up my ribcage and into my chest.
Breathe, Lizzy. I stood up, hands on hips. ‘So, if we reset, there’s no need to go full Greta Garbo on me,’ I chimed, finally managing to hold his gaze. ‘I think I can just about keep my hands off you, okay?’
I made to move past him, but something stopped me.
The absolute tension between us, like its own separate force in the room, drew me up short.
I remembered the taste of his lips, the way he had pulled me towards him.
I had been merry then, and I wasn’t now, but I certainly wasn’t clear-headed either; I was possessed with a heightened feeling that was completely beyond my control.
My eyes focused on his collarbone; his shirt was unbuttoned at the top and that tiny patch of skin became my sudden obsession.
My brain-slash-hormones were rolling around like a monkey in a sack.
We stared at each other, both of us breathing hard, the silence fizzing until he finally broke my gaze and turned away.
When he turned back, his voice was clear, businesslike, as though he was at a meeting.
‘You’re the one who’s gone Greta Garbo, Lizzy.’
‘I—’ I struggled to put words together. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You disappear from the office and start sending robotic messages. “Best wishes”? Shit.’ He shook his head. I sensed hesitation, which was so rare in him. ‘Must, must swear less. Anyway. I was trying to keep things uncomplicated.’
‘Uncomplicated is good,’ I said softly.
‘Unless the complication involves Jack Dillane, I guess?’ he bit back.
‘Olly!’ I stepped back, and, deflated, sat down in my chair.
‘Sorry.’ He flattened his hands, a gesture that said I surrender. Shook his head again, in exasperation. ‘That was not okay. I apologise.’
‘Damn right. And it was a great example of why work relationships aren’t workable.’ I stared miserably at my desk. Feeling right didn’t mean feeling good. ‘Apology accepted, by the way.’
‘Thank you. Ping me the document link once you’ve started it,’ he said.
I nodded to indicate I would, and just like that, the atmosphere lost its charge, its high-definition colour.
He flashed a smile; that hard, shiny, PR smile. It was like the first day I’d met him, and I felt despair uncurl itself in the depths of my stomach. We had dismantled our defences, but he was building them high again – I needed to do the same.
‘So glad we survived our first proper fight,’ I said, in a tone that sounded airy but was also one hundred percent forced.
He laughed; not his wonderful, rich laugh, just an exasperated ha. ‘See you later,’ he said, his hand brushing my office door as he walked away and left the floor.
Buzzed, and unsettled, I put my computer back on and started the statement to defuse the latest A forcing all of my pent-up energy into action, striking the keys hard.
Left Esme a voice note explaining. Forwarded the link to her and to Olly. Then I jumped as my phone buzzed.
DAD: Thanks for dealing with the benefits query, Lizzy. Alex has had a good week so far.
It was nice that he thought it was dealt with, but I’d just started the process; requesting a time to speak to the person who’d been allocated as Alex’s so-called ‘work coach’ from the job centre.
Still, I highlighted Dad’s message, gave it an (old school) thumbs up, put on a coat of lipstick and shut the computer down.
It had been one of my mum’s cardinal rules: always put your lippy on, even if you’re just nipping to the shops.
You never know who you might see, friend or enemy, either way you could meet them with your defences intact and your armour on.
Or maybe I’d added that last bit myself.
Mum’s lipstick colour: a soft, barely there rose pink. Mine: a hard, bold, sock-it-to-them red.
As I passed over the bridge on my way out, I glimpsed Olly on the dancefloor with his team below.
Worst news ever: he could really move, and the hummingbird was fluttering in my ribcage again.
Second worst news ever: Amber had temporarily shed her work persona and was bumping and grinding next to him.
I felt a whiplash of jealousy so cutting that I had to do a minute of deep breathing to calm it, and somehow my eyes found their way back to them.
They looked amazing together and I had to stifle – honestly – a bark of anguish that rose in my throat.
As if to taunt me, Amber moved closer to him, and with a toss of her perfectly coiffured caramel locks, she executed a near-perfect slutdrop.
There was a slight recklessness in her movements which indicated she must have had a hip flask alongside all those mocktails.
I saw him smile and applaud her and she shrieked with laughter.
Excellent: he’d found a woman with the upper thigh strength to match his own, and I wanted to literally kick myself. Olly had found himself a woman from Finance.
At least I had been sensible, quashing a potentially damaging work love affair. Because sensible was such an enjoyable thing to be.
Home time, Lizzy, I thought, as I stomped angrily off towards the exit. Your furious cat needs you, you sensible woman.