Chapter Twenty-Two
Venice loomed on the horizon. Depending on who you were, it was either looming like Christmas (exciting, fun, most people) or looming like an iceberg (ready to sink everything, me).
Around meetings and sending briefings and strategy documents between the two Leadership teams, I started packing for the trip, figuring if I started with a week to go, I wouldn’t end up in some kind of frenzy with a need for last-minute panic purchases.
I made a list, then another one, and started reading up on Venice, very much focusing on the gelato and the art and not on the fact that ‘Venetians are sophisticated, put-together people, and they expect visitors to be sophisticated and stylish, too’, a slightly terrifying warning which I came across when trawling the internet for tips.
A quickfire Zoom conference with Sara confirmed that my grooming immediately needed to be prioritised.
I chose a sultry dark red nail varnish which I applied myself, booked a hair appointment, dug out my most expensive bottle of perfume (which was approved of by Sara with the words you go, girl). However, I fell at the final hurdle.
‘Do it.’ Sara was firm.
‘I’ll look stupid,’ I wailed.
‘Winter or no winter, you will have to show some flesh!’ she shrieked. ‘Go on! Dex, tell her!’
Dex’s face loomed into view, tanned against the minimalist white surfaces of their beautiful house. ‘It’s a no-brainer, Liz.’
Sara shoved him out of the way. ‘She hates being called Liz. You’re not helping.’
I put my head in my hands. When I looked up, Sara was pointing down the camera. ‘Do it.’
‘Okay, okay,’ I said. ‘But if I go to the Open Day and people laugh at me, I’m reversing it.’
‘If people laugh at you,’ she said, ‘I’ll fly over and help scrub it off. But for God’s sake exfoliate before you go.’
I saluted her wearily and googled the number of the nearest tanning salon.
My friends Drew and Charlotte were due to come to the Open Day as my significant others, along with their children, Haley and Blake. We were going to make a day of it, and I’d even arranged for my neighbour, Myra, to feed Pebble, seeing that the automatic food dispenser had died a death.
I’d been looking forward to seeing my friends.
Also, I was hoping for some moral support, not least because I’d been working from home and was going to be trialling my new look before we took off to Venice on Monday.
I’d taken Sara’s advice and booked in for a spray tan, opting for an extremely light honey colour which had transformed me from Victorian invalid to looking vaguely like I might belong in the real world, where people were healthy and did outdoor sports or drank wine on Venetian terraces.
It was, though, a departure from my usual deathly pale look, which I liked to think of as ‘classical’ rather than ‘anaemic’.
I attempted to stylishly muss up my newly highlighted hair (couldn’t be seen to be trying too hard) and put on indigo jeans and a cream cashmere jumper, a last-minute purchase which – shocker – was not second-hand.
Otherwise, it was business as usual. Everything totally fine. I was certainly not nervous about seeing Olly. Not at all. Not even a tiny bit.
I was just about to leave when my phone rang.
‘Lizzy? It’s Drew. So sorry. Haley has got some kind of lurgy and now Blake is saying he’s got a headache. We were just about to set off.’
I felt a lurch in my stomach. Going in alone. It was fine. Totally fine, I told myself.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’ll come and see you guys soon.’
‘I can still come?’ he said.
‘Doesn’t Char need you to help?’ I said, hearing Haley wail in the background.
‘Lizzy?’ Charlotte came on the line. ‘Take him with you. He’s no use to me here.’
Drew again. ‘Thanks, my sweetest darling. Is that all right, Lizzy?’
I exhaled in relief. ‘That would be great, actually.’
I’d decided today was officially a day of treats, and on the way to the tube I picked up a coffee.
A latte with a dash of almond syrup, to be exact, a treat I limited myself to once a week (normally on a Sunday morning, but what the hell).
I headed for my favourite coffee shop, an independent which stocked an obscenely delicious range of Italian chocolates and biscotti.
I was served by the proprietor’s son, a good-looking young man who was always polite and chatty. As he rang up my items, he smiled. ‘I like your hair,’ he said.
I almost dropped the pack of chocolate truffles I was adding to my order. ‘Oh!’ I said. ‘Thank you.’ Out of work, my facade was down, and an icy deflection felt inappropriate. As a result, I did not know what to do.
‘You look very beautiful today.’
‘Hah!’ I exclaimed, suddenly, biting back the sarcastic comeback I would have been tempted to give if I was at work.
He gently pushed my coffee and chocolates towards me, because I’d become unexpectedly dithery all of a sudden, then I bid him a loud and cheerful farewell before leaving, almost tripping up as I opened the door. Sara and Dex really had been right about the tan.
As I walked away, I tried to calculate how long I would have to wait before I could go into that shop again. I’d have to wait for the tan to fade, clearly. Buy a hat, dark sunglasses, possibly a wig.
I met Drew at the tube station nearest to The Hexagon, and despite my self-consciousness, absolutely nothing on his face betrayed the fact that I looked any different from usual Lizzy.
But then that was what I had always liked about Drew: his dreamy, up-in-the-clouds approach to life meant he never judged anyone according to their appearance.
He was the ultimate creative – he worked for an uber trendy graphic design company – and was prone to passionate enthusiasms. He was also one of the kindest people I’d ever met.
Today, post toddler meltdown, he wore a look of relief to be out.
His hair was sticking up, he was wearing his usual selection of silver earrings, a pair of green cords and a rainbow striped jumper.
‘Wow.’ Drew looked at the front of The Hexagon. Its glass and steel frontage stretched up into the pale London sky, the canopy – faceted with hexagonal panes of glass – glinting in the winter sunlight. ‘This place is epic, Lizzy.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I can’t take credit for the architecture, but I’m glad you like it.
’ Seeing it through his eyes reminded me of the optimism and excitement I’d felt when I started working for EKArts.
Funny how I never looked at this extraordinary building anymore, just rocketed through the door each morning and up to my minimal office to work.
As a newbie, I’d been fully convinced that it was a modern, forward-focused company, interested in innovation but also in a sustainable, ethical approach.
I had no idea, that first day, how personal it would become. That I’d wear my work now like a backpack filled with stones. The thought stopped me in my tracks for a moment, before I gathered myself and went on, trying to look relaxed.
We bypassed the public queue waiting for a tour of the building and went through the staff lane. I introduced Drew to Alix and Ashley, our sustainability and EDI reps, who were at the entrance to the covered courtyard.
‘Do you know why Sasha bailed on today?’ Alix asked me, frowning. ‘She was meant to be giving tours – she’s left the team short.’
‘No.’ I glanced at my phone, in case Sasha had messaged. ‘That’s not like her.’
Alix shrugged and turned to talk to a new arrival. I put my phone away. It wasn’t just not like Sasha, it was the antithesis of how she had been since I’d known her: conscientious, sunny, always willing to take part in things.
‘Maybe she’s rebelling against the tyranny of work,’ suggested Drew cheerfully.
I rolled my eyes at him. ‘Maybe. I guess I’ll find out next week.’
The covered courtyard looked serene. Its solar-powered water feature trickled clear water over white stones in the borders.
As Drew enthusiastically commented on the planting (including the monster palm tree Olly and I had argued behind at the Silent Disco), I started to relax.
My colleagues were arriving with partners and children, flatmates and friends, and the noise level started to rise, a buzz of talking and laughter.
There was a buffet of salads, breads, cheeses and fruit laid out on white cloths, and waiting staff handed out sparkling wine or elderflower cordial.
‘I feel like I’m on holiday,’ said Drew, attempting to balance his glass and plate, as he enthusiastically ate a piece of Brie with a slice of baguette and a handful of red grapes. Meanwhile I attempted to gracefully nosh on a folded lettuce leaf filled with Baba ghanoush.
‘I was talking about you to my colleagues the other day,’ he said, sipping his elderflower.
I made a questioning noise through the Baba ghanoush.
‘Just saying to them, what a big deal you are. When we moved to London, you were our north star, but always so quiet. Always going to your room when things got raucous, or making us big breakfasts to nurse our hangovers. Always the sensible one. Then you turned into someone who could take on the press and be part of the change for companies like this. You’re such a leader now, Lizzy.
To see you do what you’ve done – you’re amazing. ’
‘Oh, stop it.’ I swatted him on the arm and took a glass of sparkling elderflower from a waiter, waving at a member of my team who was chasing her toddler. ‘It’s just a job, like any other job.’
‘Please stop downplaying yourself.’ His blue eyes were suddenly serious. When dreamy Drew focused, it could be disconcerting. ‘Look, she’ll kill me for saying so, but Charlotte said to me when she first met you, she was seriously intimidated.’