Chapter Thirteen
I phoned and texted him several times. Anxiety at the injustice of not being able to find out what had made him so angry made me sleepless and irritable.
It wasn’t like him to jump to conclusions or to get so mad without giving someone a chance to explain.
I felt aggrieved that he hadn’t and still wouldn’t talk to me and the more he ignored my attempts at communicating, the angrier I got and the more determined that this was it.
I’d had it with his constant about-turns.
I certainly wasn’t going to say anything to Emily, who happily lapped up the success of the event and the resulting press coverage. It made a very pleasant change for her to be so easy-going. I made the most of it.
The best part of my week was the premiere post-mortem with the happy clients from Beautiful Babes Luscious Lips.
They were delighted with all the pictures in the Sun and Mirror of Miranda and the close-ups of the Minx Red kiss on her bottom.
They might have been even happier if we’d been able to show them the five-minute slot we got on the BBC news, but someone had forgotten to arrange for it to be recorded.
How many ways can you interpret, ‘Please ring the press cuttings agency and make sure they monitor all broadcast coverage’. Unfortunately, by the time I realised that Emily had failed to even manage this, it was too late to even resort to BBC iPlayer.
‘That went well,’ exclaimed Emily, as the client disappeared escorted by David. I glanced at her. She was perfectly serious. No sweaty palms for her then when the client asked where the DVD of the news coverage was. Shaking my head, I started to pack up my desk.
‘Well, I’ve had enough for one week. I’m off. Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind and come down with me? Nip back to the flat and get some stuff for the weekend. I don’t mind waiting.’
What a total hypocrite. At least making the offer for her to come along made me feel better.
Not quite so guilty. She was staying at home by herself while I was heading off for a weekend at home, the big cricket match and to face Daniel.
After a lot of heart searching, I knew I needed to make more effort stay away from him.
Maybe I should go out and join Kate in Australia.
This weekend would be the last event I’d go to where I knew he’d be without Emily.
Avoiding him was difficult in the flat, if not impossible, but doable.
I would just do social chit-chat when I had to and then retreat to my room, making sure I stayed out of his way as much as I could.
Unfortunately, there was no way I could back out of the weekend. My family would know something was wrong. I never missed this fixture. It would be a dead giveaway if I didn’t go at this late stage.
Emily fidgeted in her seat before looking up at me with a pitying expression on her face. ‘Thanks, Olivia, but no thanks. I’ve got better things to do than play cricket widow.’
It never occurred to me at the time that she really did have ‘better things to do’. I thought it was just sour grapes.
‘I don’t see why I should spend my Saturday making sandwiches for a bunch of blokes I don’t even know.
Some women might enjoy being a throwback to the fifties, humouring their men — not me.
Daniel’s welcome to play cricket. His choice, but I’m not giving up my weekend to have the pants bored off me.
It’s all right for you. You know everyone.
You’re staying with your family. I’d have to stay at Daniel’s and I can’t stand his stepmum. ’
My guilt pangs curled up and died. They’d done well to survive the snide remarks about cricket groupies and teas that had been tossed my way in the last couple of days. Sod her. I didn’t care if she was on her own this weekend.
Heaving my holdall over my shoulder, I was about to leave when David appeared in the office.
He didn’t say anything but with one finger he beckoned to me.
Shit, was I going to be in trouble about the missing BBC coverage?
Emily exchanged a quick, nervous glance with me and then shrugged her shoulders, as well she might. It wasn’t her problem, was it?
* * *
As if I hadn’t had enough drama for the week, David’s summons to his office was just what I didn’t need late on a Friday afternoon. I thought I knew what was coming and was fully expecting a bollocking.
The satisfied grin on his face belied his words. ‘I’ve had a few complaints about you.’
‘Really. I’m surprised,’ I said coolly. He’d dumped me with the job from hell. If there was any complaining to be done it should be coming from me.
‘Miss Emily Mortimer is not very happy with your management skills.’
I frowned at him, that wasn’t what I was expecting him to say. Bloody cheek. I wasn’t too chuffed with her either.
‘Isn’t she?’ I said grimly, thinking of the missing coverage, the single ticket and her general ineptitude. ‘Eleanor Braeburn looked pretty pleased — and she’s the client. I’d have thought her opinion counted most. She’s the piper after all.’
‘Smart girl. That’s why I made Fiona give you the job. Eleanor is crapping herself with delight. But don’t think you’re getting a pay rise out of this.’
‘What about a car? After all you pinched mine.’ The words just popped out of my mouth.
I’m not sure who was more surprised, me at thinking so quickly on my feet for once, or David at my outright gall.
He’s not used to that. Most people are either so busy tugging their forelocks that they miss the wicked glint in his eye (he does have a very warped sense of humour) or so darn scared of him, he treats them with contempt.
He put his head on one side, studying me. ‘Think you deserve one, do you?’ he asked, his grey eyes dancing with arrogant mischief as he reclined in his chair, his ankle hooked over his knee.
‘Yes, I do,’ I said, tilting my chin to emphasise that I was taller than him. He pushed himself up. ‘Go on then. Speak to HR. I suppose I’m going to have to promote you permanently — which means I do have to give you a bloody pay rise.’
He picked up a small plastic box from the windowsill and tossed it at me.
‘You’ll need these.’
Typical David. Through the clear plastic lid, I could see my name, Olivia Middleton, Account Director on a stack of business cards.
‘By the way, what did you do to upset Emily? You’ve achieved in two weeks what Fiona’s been trying to do for three months.’
I frowned at him, puzzled. There was a letter on his desk, which he picked up and with a flourish he began to read.
‘It is with regret that I formally tender my resignation. Since the advent of Olivia Middleton in the role of temporary Account Director, I have found my position totally untenable.’
He tutted, looking sternly at me.
What? Cheeky cow. How many times had I saved her bacon?
David continued. ‘She has made my working life intolerable with her constant, unfounded criticism and the unremitting undermining of my position in front of other team members.’
I stared at David, my face frozen while my mind raced. Two-faced witch. Five minutes ago in the office she’d given no clue that this was how she felt.
Giving an exaggerated sigh, he softened his voice with a sympathetic tone to read, ‘Since assuming responsibility for the team, Olivia has gone out of her way to humiliate and insult me on a regular basis in front of my juniors.’ He shook his head with mock disapproval at me.
‘Sadly I have no choice in the circumstances but to terminate my employment with Organic PR.’
He laid the letter on his desk and looked at me. ‘What do you have to say for yourself?’
‘You don’t believe all that,’ I started indignantly.
‘Noo! Think I’m dense!’ He slapped his hand on his desk and cackled with laughter. ‘God, she’s a pain in the arse. You deserve the car for putting up with the silly cow and not coming moaning to me every five minutes. Bloody Fiona’s in here every week. She’s—’
‘Did you give me this job to piss her off?’ I interrupted, clenching one hand behind my back as the pennies and pounds began to drop. My stomach was churning and I felt sick and shaky.
He grinned devilishly. ‘It did the trick, well done.’ Completely ignoring my outraged glare, his expression changed to one of shrewdness.
‘You’re a smart girl, Olivia. Luscious Lips pay us quarter of a million every year — I don’t piss about when fees are involved.
She’s off to another agency. Says she’s taking her expertise and ideas where they’ll be appreciated. Silly bitch.’
Her ideas. That was rich. Ever since I’d known her, she’d been desperate for promotion. Now I knew why it had never happened and why it was unlikely to. I bet she’d taken all the credit for the Luscious Lips campaign to impress the new agency.
‘She’s on a month’s notice — leave her to stew over the next week. I’ll leave it up to you to sort out next Friday. Up to you whether she fucks off straight away or stays for the month. Still have to pay the little madam. Make it bloody clear she won’t get a reference if she plays silly buggers.’
With that I was dismissed. He was a wily devil, he knew damn well after reading that little litany that my blood was up but he had just given me carte blanche to do as I pleased.
As I left his office, he growled, ‘Just don’t tell everyone what a pussycat I am.’
As if.
* * *
David had always believed I was a sharp cookie, but he was clearly wrong.
The contents of Emily’s letter had been a complete surprise.
Leaving the top floor, I’d taken the back stairs, very slowly, disbelief running through my head.
My hand was shaking so much I could barely grasp the handrail.
Any delight at the unexpected promotion was well and truly overshadowed by the tone of Emily’s letter. Had I really upset her that much?