Remember Me?

“I did everything I could, but…” I exhale sharply. “Anyway. The other news is, I’ve been fired. So Byron, over to you.” I register the jolt of shock on Byron’s face and can’t help a half-smile. “And to all of you who hated me or thought I was a total hard-as-nails bitch…” I swivel around, taking in all the silent faces. “I’m sorry. I know I didn’t get it right. But I did my best. Cheers, and good luck, everyone.” I lift a hand.

“Thanks, Lexi,” says Melanie awkwardly. “Thanks for trying, anyway.”

“Yeah…thanks,” chimes in Clare, whose eyes have been like saucers through my speech.

To my astonishment someone starts clapping. And suddenly the whole room is applauding.

“Stop it.” My eyes start stinging and I blink hard. “You idiots. I didn’t do anything. I failed.”

I glance at Fi and she’s clapping hardest of all.

“Anyway.” I try to keep my composure. “As I say, I’ve been fired, so I’ll be going to the pub immediately to get pissed.” There’s a laugh around the room. “I know it’s only eleven o’clock…but anyone care to join me?”

By three o’clock, my bar bill is over three hundred quid. Most of the Flooring employees have drifted back to the office, including a fractious Byron, who has been in and out of the pub, demanding that everyone return, for the last four hours.

It was one of the best parties I’ve ever been to. When I produced my platinum AmEx, the pub people whacked up the music for us and provided hot nibbles, and Fi gave a speech. Amy did a karaoke version of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire,” then got chucked out by the bar staff, who suddenly realized she was underage. (I told her to go back to the office and I’d see her there, but I think she’s gone to TopShop.) And then two girls I barely know did a fantastic sketch of Simon Johnson and Sir David Allbright meeting on a blind date. Which apparently they did at Christmas, only of course I don’t remember it.

Everyone had a great time; in fact, the only one who didn’t get totally pissed was me. I couldn’t, because I have a meeting with Ken Allison at four-thirty.

“So.” Fi lifts her drink. “To us.” She clinks glasses with me, Debs, and Carolyn. It’s just the four of us sitting around a table now. Like the old days.

“To being unemployed,” Debs says morosely, picking a bit of party popper out of her hair. “Not that we blame you, Lexi,” she adds hastily.

I take a swig of wine, then lean forward. “Okay, you guys. I have something to tell you. But you can’t let on to anyone.”

“What?” Carolyn is bright-eyed. “Are you pregnant?”

“No, you dope!” I lower my voice. “I’ve done a deal. That’s what I was trying to tell Simon Johnson about. This company wants to use one of our old retro carpet designs. Like a special, high-profile limited edition. They’ll use the Deller name, we’ll get huge PR…it’ll be amazing! The details are all sorted out, I just need to finalize the contract.”

“That’s great, Lexi,” says Debs, looking uncertain. “But how can you do it now you’re fired?”

“The directors are letting me license the old designs as an independent operator. For a song! They’re so shortsighted.” I pick up a samosa-then put it down again, too excited to eat. “I mean, this could be just the start! There’s so much archive material. If it grows, we could expand, employ some more of the old team…turn ourselves into a company…”

“I can’t believe they weren’t interested.” Fi shakes her head incredulously.

“They’ve totally written off carpet and flooring. All they care about is bloody home entertainment systems. But that’s good! It means they’re going to let me license all the designs for practically nothing. Then all the profits will come to me. And…whoever works with me.”

I look from face to face, waiting for the message to hit home.

“Us?” says Debs, her face suddenly glowing. “You want us to work with you?”

“If you’re interested,” I say a little awkwardly. “I mean, think about it first, it’s just an idea.”

“I’m in,” Fi says firmly. She opens a packet of chips and crunches a handful into her mouth. “But, Lexi, I still don’t understand what happened up there. Didn’t they get excited when you told them who the deal was with? Are they crazy?”

“They didn’t even ask who it was with.” I shrug. “They assumed it was one of Eric’s projects. ‘You’re not going to save your department by carpeting a couple of show flats!’” I imitate Simon Johnson’s patronizing voice.

“So, who is it?” asks Debs. “Who’s the company?”

I glance at Fi-and can’t help a tiny smile as I say, “Porsche.”

Chapter 20

So that’s it. I am the official licenser of Deller Carpets designs. I had a meeting with the lawyer yesterday and another one this morning. Everything’s signed and the bank draft has gone through. Tomorrow I meet with Jeremy Northpool again, and we sign the contract for the Porsche deal.

As I arrive home I’m still powered up by adrenaline. I need to call all the girls, fill them in on developments. Then I need to think where we’re going to base ourselves. We need an office, somewhere cheap and convenient. Maybe Balham.

We could have fairy lights in the office, I think in sudden glee. Why not? It’s our office. And a proper makeup mirror in the loos. And music playing while we work.

There are voices coming from Eric’s office as I walk into the flat. Eric must have arrived home from Manchester while I was with the lawyer. I peep around the open door to see a roomful of his senior staff grouped around the coffee table, with an empty cafetiere at the center. Clive is there, and the head of HR, Pe

“Hi!” I smile at Eric. “Good trip?”

“Excellent.” He nods, then gives a puzzled frown. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I’ll…explain that later.” I look around the faces, feeling generous after my successful morning. “Can I bring you all some more coffee?”

“Gia

“It’s okay! I’m not busy.”

I head into the kitchen, humming as I make a fresh pot, sending quick texts to Fi, Carolyn, and Debs to let them know all went well. We’ll have a meeting this evening, and talk everything through. I’ve already had an e-mail from Carolyn this morning, saying how excited she is, and listing a load of new ideas and possible contacts for more exclusive deals. And Debs is gagging to take on PR.

We’re going to make a good team, I know we are.

I head back to Eric’s office with a full pot and discreetly start pouring it out while listening to the discussion. Pe

“I’m afraid I don’t think Sally Hedge deserves a raise or a bonus,” she’s saying as I pour her a cup of coffee. “She’s very average. Thanks, Lexi.”

“I like Sally,” I say. “You know her mum’s been ill recently?”

“Really?” Pe

“Lexi made friends with all the secretaries and junior staff when she came into the office.” Eric gives a little laugh. “She’s very good at that kind of thing.”

“It’s not a ‘kind of thing’!” I retort, a little rankled by his tone. “I just got talking to her. She’s really interesting. You know, she nearly made the British gymnastics squad for the Commonwealth games? She can do a front somersault on the beam.”

Everyone looks at me blankly for a second.

“Anyway.” Pe

I know this isn’t my business. But I can’t bear it. I can just imagine Sally waiting for the news of the bonuses. I can just imagine her thud of disappointment.