Chapter 54
‘Are you heading upstairs, Lisa?’ Andrea asks, as I hit send on my umpteenth email of the day. ‘We haven’t had a catch-up before the scheduling meeting. Maybe we could talk as we walk.’
‘Good idea,’ I say, grabbing my bag, pens and folder as she and I walk along the corridor together.
‘I read your script notes for My Teenage Bombsite and I must say this project sounds excellent,’ she says.
‘Well, it hasn’t been without its teething troubles.’
‘Nothing good ever is.’ I open the door for her. ‘Oh, by the way – this is going to be a marathon meeting, so when you do the notes, would it be possible to try and send them round before tomorrow? It would be very helpful.’
I keep walking. I consider not saying anything. And then—
‘Actually Andrea,’ I say casually, ‘I think it’s probably someone else’s turn to take the notes.’
She looks at me, confused. ‘Um . . . all right,’ she says, shiftily. ‘I’ll ask Angikka to take them.’
‘Angikka is in the south of France.’
‘Suzy then.’
My feet come to an abrupt halt.
‘Andrea, can I level with you?’
She clutches her necklace. ‘What is it?’
‘Look, I’m sure this is completely unconscious but . . . do you realise you only ever ask the women to take notes? In all the years we’ve worked together, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you ask one of the men.’
Her mouth pinches. ‘That can’t possibly be true. Can it?’
I nod. ‘I think so.’
We start walking again, slowly. ‘Good Lord.’
‘Thing is, none of us mind doing our bit, Andrea. I’m the last person to try and—’
‘Has anyone else noticed this?’
‘Well . . . some of the women certainly have,’ I confess.
‘Oh my God,’ she says, horrified. ‘I hope people don’t think I’m some sort of . . . dinosaur.’
‘Nooo,’ I say dismissively. ‘Not at all. You’re far too young for the thought to have crossed anyone’s mind.’
A flash of satisfaction appears across her face before we speed up again. ‘Hmm. Well, duly noted, thank you.’
We reach the lift, where Julian Mullins from Reality is already waiting.
‘Are you heading to the scheduling meeting, Julian?’ she asks.
‘I am, Andrea,’ he says.
‘Do be a love and go and grab your notepad then,’ she smiles, as the doors open and she steps inside.
The meeting goes on for more than two hours, not helped by the fact that Julian keeps telling people to slow down so he can make sure he’s captured everything on his notepad.
But that’s fine, because I am sitting opposite Zach Russo for the final time and frankly I can’t help thinking this is a moment to savour. He’s wearing a blue shirt today and looks so ridiculously gorgeous that it’s hard to tear my eyes away from him and concentrate on the latest budget figures instead. Especially as, each time I look up at him, his eyes meet mine and hold me captive for a few moments all over again.
When the meeting is finally over, I have to dart to the ladies’ straight afterwards, wondering how anyone can be expected not to empty their bladder for that length of time and trying to think back to a time when I didn’t have to.
Then I head downstairs and find Zach at my desk.
‘You left your bedtime reading behind,’ he says, handing over a folder that contains a handout from the digital department.
‘Oh, thank you.’
‘How’s Leo?’
‘Alive but shamefaced I think sums it up,’ I say, as Calvin clears his throat.
‘Er . . . Lisa, Daisy wanted to mention something to you,’ he says.
She frowns at him furiously, but he ignores her. ‘She’s got an idea for a show. It’s good. I mean, I think so anyway.’
‘I think we need to hear this,’ Zach says.
She looks suddenly uneasy.
‘All right. Well, remember that show we almost got involved in – Our Girl in Milan ? Well, I just wondered if the producers might be interested in something similar . . . but different.’
‘Go on.’
‘You know how on most catwalks there is still this crazy obsession with being thin? Well, there’s a movement away from that. I was listening to a podcast which interviewed the owner of an agency for models who are an average size and a healthy weight. You wouldn’t believe the brick walls she’s hit because the industry wants most girls to be either super skinny or pigeon-holed as “plus size”.’
I glance over at Zach, who is listening intently.
‘But the tide is changing,’ Daisy continues. ‘This agency has just won several big contracts. So, my idea was a sort of fly-on-the-wall format for one or more of their models? I think it’d be so much more interesting than any old agency. People would be interested to see which companies were willing to use them – and which weren’t. It would shine a light on this aspect of the fashion industry and I guess be a talking point about our own weird prejudices based on people’s body shapes.’
Zach looks at me.
Daisy swallows.
‘I like it,’ he decides, approvingly.
‘Hands off, Russo,’ I warn him, with a smile. ‘Don’t go trying to poach my department’s talent and offer her a job in LA . . .’
Daisy inhales and her eyes begin to sparkle. ‘Does that mean you like it, Lisa?’
‘I do. I think you could be onto something. In fact, I’ll be dropping Martin O’Donoghue a line this afternoon.’