Chapter 33
The suite at the Savoy feels exactly as decadent as a suite at the Savoy should.
Olivia booked it especially, careful to siphon off the budget as ‘entertainment’ should anyone in Finance be looking too closely at the receipts.
And if they do have a problem with it … well, Olivia is pretty sure that by the end of the night, The Morning’s executive team is going to be concerned with far more pressing issues than the two-bedroom suite Olivia has booked for her, Nina and Deepti to get ready in.
And Rose. Did she forget to mention Rose?
‘I’m pretty impressed with your gall, Greenwood.’ Rose looks around the giant living room, with its commanding views of the Thames. ‘Who would have thought that the woman I went on the lash with not that long ago would be capable of this?’
‘Yeah, well I had some help,’ smiles Olivia, admiring herself in a long, elegant stand-alone mirror.
She is wearing a floor-length ruby-red dress she purchased from Net-a-Porter with the company credit card.
She doesn’t allow herself to feel too guilty about this little purchase.
It’s all for the greater good of the institution, after all.
‘Although I’m not going to lie and pretend that I’m not fucking terrified about what tonight holds. ’
‘All the most important things in life are terrifying,’ says Rose, rummaging in her pockets.
‘And bringing Stephen down will make all the anxiety worth it. I’ve got a few Erling Haalands if you need to take the edge off proceedings?
’ Rose produces a bag of gummies from the pocket of her bright blue suit.
‘Absolutely not,’ laughs Olivia. ‘I want to remember every last bit of the evening. I want to savour it.’
‘So, are we going to do this?’ asks Nina, who appears from one of the bathrooms wearing a gold-sequinned minidress.
‘I’m ready,’ says Deepti, stepping out from a bedroom in an emerald-green gown.
‘Come here.’ Olivia beckons them all over to where she stands in front of the mirror. They assemble next to their leader, a shimmering collection of different women with their own strengths, flaws, talents, beauty, all united by the act of bravery that awaits them.
‘Now, let’s go and show those fuckers who’s boss,’ says Olivia, linking arms with her two colleagues. ‘See you in a bit, Rose.’
‘Have fun being fearless, fabulous journalists.’ Rose waves them off, proudly, into the dark adventure of the night.
There is a nervous silence on the taxi ride to Oceanic House. Or maybe it’s simply the quiet before the storm, a much-needed moment to gather themselves. Whatever it is, it is broken by the ringing of Olivia’s phone, the dulcet tones of Celine Dion’s ‘Think Twice’ bouncing round the car.
‘Nice,’ smiles Nina.
‘She’s my favourite,’ says Olivia, uninhibited, as she answers the video call from Nick.
‘Hi, babe,’ he says, smiling from one of the sofas. ‘We just wanted to call and wish you luck.’
‘GOOD LUCK, MUM!’ shouts Jack, throwing himself into the view of Nick’s camera.
‘Yeah, go smash it for us,’ urges Saskia, pushing her head into shot. ‘Also, nice dress. Can I have it when you die?’
‘I’ll leave instructions in my will that you should wear it to my funeral.’
‘OK, kids, go and do your homework.’ Nick gets up from the sofa, moves through to the kitchen. ‘You OK?’
‘You mean apart from the fact that I’m about to blow up my career of almost a quarter of a century? I’m fine!’
‘You know that whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. You let me figure out my midlife crisis, and now it’s your turn to work out what makes you happy. Speaking of which, I thought I’d let you know that I’ve booked us a dirty weekend in an actual five-star hotel next weekend.’
Nina and Deepti try not to laugh.
‘Nick, I’m with my colleagues! But cool. Can we afford it?’
‘I’m seeing it as an investment. The more attention we give our marriage, the better it gets.
Oh, speaking of which, your dad has gone to a meeting tonight.
’ He mouths ‘AA’ just in case this is too much truth for Nina and Deepti.
‘He’s promised to take the kids to school again tomorrow morning, so you can get out on another run. ’
A week ago, Olivia started Couch to 5K. She wants to graduate to the local Parkrun, once she’s got back into the habit of running regularly.
It’s a small thing, a pretty mundane thing, the type that millions of people up and down the country do each and every day.
But to Olivia, these moments outside, huffing and puffing around Victoria Park in the early hours of the morning with nothing but her own thoughts for company …
It feels like magic, to be having this time to herself that is only about her.
What’s even more revelatory is that for the first time in her life, she’s running for the way it makes her feel, not the way it makes her look.
She’s running for the gains, not the losses – she wants to make her world bigger, not her waist smaller.
And out there on those runs, she’s had the time to appreciate how much has changed between her and Nick; how their relationship feels better than it’s ever been simply because, all those weeks ago, she took a blue gummy that gave her the courage to send him a text asking him to do more with his tongue.
‘Will wonders never cease?’ She feels herself snap out of her reverie as the taxi draws to a halt and pulls up outside the venue. ‘I better go now. Love you!’
‘Love you too. You look beautiful, Olivia. Go give ’em hell, babe.’
She blows him a kiss and ends the call, zips her phone safely in her matching red clutch bag, feels a sick excitement as she steps out of the car.
Oceanic House is looking almost as fabulous as Olivia, Nina and Deepti.
It should be, given that the Anniversary Architect and her team have, on the say-so of their boss Stephen, spent a lot of money creating the kind of party that will have him go down in legend.
The entrance to the building has been fitted with a blue carpet, the same cerulean tone as The Morning’s logo, while fantastical sculptures made from turquoise balloons frame all the doorways.
Searchlights scan the building, while men dressed in naval uniform line the halls, guiding guests in the right direction to the lifts that will take them directly to the penthouse apartment hosting the party.
Olivia sends Deepti and Nina up but remains at the entrance to greet Stephen.
She doesn’t want to miss a moment of his arrival.
Deepti has done a stellar job in gathering the great and the good of British society to witness The Morning’s big night.
There are politicians, there are cabinet ministers, and there is even a rumour that the prime minister will try and make an appearance at some point during the evening.
Stars of stage and screen sweep down the blue carpet, posing for The Morning’s photographers.
Olivia spots a string quartet playing to people as they arrive and thinks to herself, ‘What a nice touch.’ But she won’t be able to start enjoying herself until Stephen is actually here.
Like all the most awful megalomaniacs, he arrives only when he is sure that everyone else has got there first. There will be no greeting guests on arrival for Stephen, no lowering himself to the level of someone who has to stand and wait around for other people.
Joanna, his PA, scurries behind him, the nervous energy coming off her in waves which Olivia does her best to shield herself from.
She cannot afford to falter now. Not when she has come this far, and she is so close to finally, really making a difference.
‘Liv!’ Stephen comes at her with his arms open, his suit and shirt perfectly starched. ‘I know it’s not the done thing to compliment a woman any more, but if I may be so bold, you are looking rather fabulous this evening.’
Olivia projects a rictus grin on to her face, reminds herself that she won’t have to keep up appearances for much longer.
‘That’s very kind of you, Stephen,’ she says, curtsying for effect.
‘I can’t wait for you to see what we’ve put together upstairs.
Can I escort you up?’ She smiles, tries not to flinch as he slips his arm through hers.
‘I love the uniforms, Liv,’ Stephen says, noticing the staff dressed up in early-twentieth-century attire. ‘Is there some sort of sailing theme going on? Oceanic House? Men who look like they’re on the deck of the Titanic …’ He guffaws, his pomposity erupting from his hideous, twisted gob.
‘Well, funny you should mention the Titanic,’ says Olivia, carefully guiding him into a lift. ‘Turns out that Oceanic House was originally the London headquarters of the White Star Line. It was from this very building that the company sold people tickets for the Titanic.’
The lift door closes on the two of them.
‘Gosh, how fascinating.’ Stephen looks up at the bright lights of the floor display. ‘Well, let’s hope, for your sake, Liv, that this party has a better ending than the Titanic did.’ He pauses, waits for her to protest.
‘Oh, I’m certain that it will.’ She continues to smile tightly.
‘Also, I’m glad you’ve finally come round to the idea of me calling you by a pet name.’ Another guffaw, another moment to remind herself that, soon, this will all be done. ‘Next week, we need a proper chat about you taking over from—’ The door pings open as they reach their floor. ‘Nina!’
She stands there, welcoming Stephen with a glass of fresh champagne and a smile as fake as her new hair extensions (also paid for on the company credit card). ‘Everyone’s waiting for you, boss,’ she purrs.
Olivia declines any champagne. It’s not just that she wants to be fully present for what is about to happen.
It’s that she realizes, with a start, that she doesn’t need it.
She can do this, all by herself. Booze has always been her go-to for Dutch courage, but in the last few weeks, she has learned how to be genuinely brave.
Smugness rolls off Stephen in waves, his whole demeanour projecting the attitude of a person who believes he has everything – and everyone – in his control.
They step out of the lift and into the packed party, Olivia guiding Stephen past MPs eager to chat and women in more White Star Line uniforms bearing trays full of canapés and drinks.
‘So I hope you don’t mind, but I asked the organizers to create a sort of stage area,’ Olivia says, motioning to a purpose-built platform at the back of the grand room, complete with a lectern, microphone and large screen behind it.
‘It’s the perfect position for your speech, and after that I’ve got a little surprise for you.
A special video we’ve made to honour you. ’
Olivia watches as the most satisfied of smiles spreads across Stephen’s face. He is delighted. ‘Well, if you insist, Liv.’
‘I do, I do,’ she says, scanning the crowd near the platform for Rose’s bright blue suit so she can motion to her secret sidekick that they’re ready.
‘Do you think I should freshen up first?’ he asks, putting a hand through his oily dark hair. ‘Don’t want to disappoint my public.’
‘I think you look perfect, Stephen,’ Olivia lies. ‘No time like the present, I’d say. You don’t want everyone too drunk to appreciate what you have to say.’
‘You’re right,’ he nods, his hand on the small of her back sending ripples of revulsion through her. ‘What would I do without you, hmm? I always knew you were the woman for the job.’
Olivia bites her tongue.
As Stephen walks towards the stage, Olivia feels a tap on her shoulder. She spins to see Deepti standing alongside a tall man in a suit.
‘Surprise!’ Deepti says. ‘I thought you’d like to meet the guest of honour!’
‘Oh, wow,’ says Olivia, staring at Erling Haaland. ‘My son is not going to believe I met you!’
The young footballer shakes her hand, just as Stephen reaches the stage and starts tapping the microphone vigorously.
‘Is this thing on?’ He laughs hollowly, surveying the room.
‘Hi, everyone. If I could just have your attention for a few moments.’ He pauses as the guests turn to the stage.
Behind Stephen the screen flickers to life, the bright blue logo of The Morning casting a light on his starched suit.
‘So, as the editor of this esteemed organ, I just wanted to say a few words to thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate our hundredth birthday. I know, I know, we look much younger than that!’ He pauses again, as a smattering of polite laughter bubbles up from the crowd.
Olivia smiles at the Norwegian Goliath standing next to her, who gives her an awkward shrug in return.
‘So yes, I know you’re all here to have fun, but I just wanted to take a moment to do a bit of serious reflection, about the important work this news organization has carried out in the one hundred years it has been going.
I’ve only been editor for a relatively short portion of those hundred years, of course, but it’s an absolute honour to take it into the next one hundred.
Especially with a story as important as the one we recently broke, about the sexual predators existing in plain sight in the Tory party. ’
He pauses once more as people in the crowd murmur their approval.
‘My promise to you tonight is that I will continue to uphold those values, and The Morning will continue to be a paper of integrity, whatever the next one hundred years hold. So if you will join me in raising a glass … to The Morning!’
‘The Morning,’ repeat the crowd, with all the enthusiasm of a group of people who have come to sample the free champagne, rather than be lectured by a smug middle-aged man.
Stephen turns to look at the screen behind him just as the masthead of The Morning flickers, switching to a static image of Olivia, sitting at the grand oak table in his office.
Stephen lets out a small laugh and leans into the microphone.
‘I believe that we are now going to watch a little video that my dear colleagues have made to mark this momentous occasion.’
In the back of the room, Rose clicks a button, and the static image of Olivia begins to move.