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She’s playing to the gallery again. I wonder if she went to drama school and got chucked
out for being too melodramatic.84
“It’s … complicated.”
The word complicated seems to inflame Willow even more.
“Oh, ‘complicated.’ ” She makes little jabby quote gestures. “ ‘Complicated.’ Wait a
minute.” Her eyes suddenly narrow to disbelieving slits as she surveys my outfit. “Is that Sam’s
shirt?”
Ah. A-ha-ha. She’s really not going to like that. Maybe I won’t answer.
“Is that Sam’s shirt? Tell me right now!” Her voice is so hectoring and abrasive, I flinch.
“Are you wearing Sam’s shirt? Tell me! Is that his shirt? Answer me!”
“Mind your own Brazilian!” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Oops.
OK. The trick when you’ve said something embarrassing by mistake is not to overreact.
Instead, keep your chin up and pretend nothing happened. Maybe Willow didn’t even notice
what I said. I’m sure she didn’t notice. Of course she didn’t.
I dart a surreptitious look at her, and her eyes have widened so much, I think her eyeballs
might pop out. All right, so she did notice. And from David’s gleeful expression, it’s clear he did
too.
“I mean … business,” I amend, clearing my throat. “Business.”
Over David’s shoulder I suddenly see Vicks. She’s striding through the clusters of White
Globe Consulting employees, and her grim expression makes my stomach turn over. I glance at
my watch. Quarter to ten.
“Vicks!” Willow has noticed her too. She blocks Vicks’s way, her arms folded
imperiously. “Where’s Sam? Someone said he was with you.”
“Excuse me, Willow.” Vicks tries to get past.
“Just tell me where Sam is!”
“I have no idea, Willow!” Vicks snaps. “Can you get out of my way? I need to speak to
Poppy.”
“Poppy? You need to speak to Poppy?” Willow looks as if she’s going to explode with
frustration. “Who is this fucking Poppy?”
I almost feel sorry for Willow. Completely ignoring her, Vicks comes round to my seat,
bends down low, and mutters, “Do you know where Sam is?”
“No.” I look at her in alarm. “What’s happened?”
“Has he texted you? Anything?”
“No!” I double-check my phone. “Nothing. I thought he was with you.”
“He was.” Vicks does her eye-rubbing thing with the heels of her hands, and I resist the
temptation to grab her wrists.
“What happened?”’ I lower my voice further. “Please, Vicks. I’ll be discreet. I swear.”
There’s a beat of silence, then Vicks nods. “OK. We ran out of time. I guess you could
say Sam lost.”
I feel a plunge of disappointment. After all that.
“What did Sam say?”
“Not a lot. He stormed out.”
“What will happen to Sir Nicholas?” I speak as quietly as I can.
Vicks doesn’t reply, but her head turns away as though she wants to escape that particular
thought.
“I have to go,” she says abruptly. “Let me know if you hear from Sam. Please.”
“OK.”
I wait as Vicks walks away, then casually raise my head. Sure enough, Willow is fixated
on me, like a cobra.
“So,” she says.
“So.” I smile back pleasantly, just as Willow’s eyes land on my left hand. Her mouth
opens. For an instant she seems incapable of speech.
“Who gave you that ring?” she utters at last.
What bloody business is it of hers?
“A girl called Lucinda,” I say, to wind her up. “I’d lost it, you see. She gave it back.”
Willow draws breath and I swear she’s about to launch her fangs into me, when Vicks’s
voice comes blasting through the PA system at top volume.
“I’m sorry to interrupt the party, but I have an important a
employees of White Globe Consulting, please make your way back into the main conference hall
immediately. That’s back into the main conference hall, immediately. Thank you.”
There’s an outbreak of chatter around us, and all the clusters of people start moving
toward the double doors, some quickly refilling their glasses.
“Looks like my cue to leave,” says David, getting to his feet. “You’ll be needing to go.
Give my regards to Sam.”
“I’m not actually an employee,” I say, for accuracy’s sake. “But, yes, I do need to go.
Sorry about that.”
“Really?” David shakes his head, looking mystified. “Then she’s got a point.” He jerks
his head at Willow. “You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and you don’t work for this company. Who the
hell are you and what have you got to do with Sam?”
“Like I said.” I can’t help smiling at his quizzical expression. “It’s … complicated.”
“I can believe it.” He raises his eyebrows, then produces a business card and presses it
into my hand. “Tell Sam. Exotic mini-pets. I’ve got a great opportunity for him.”
“I’ll tell him.” I nod seriously. “Thanks.” I watch him disappear toward the exit, then
carefully put his card away for Sam.
“So.” Willow looms in front of me again, arms folded. “Why don’t you start from the
begi
“Are you serious?” I can’t hide my exasperation. “Isn’t there something else you need to
be doing right now?” I gesture at the crowds surging into the conference room.
“Oh, nice try.” She doesn’t even flicker. “I’m hardly going to make some tedious
corporate a
“Believe me, this tedious corporate a
“You know all about it, I suppose,” Willow shoots back sarcastically.
“Yes.” I nod, suddenly feeling despondent. “I know all about it. And … I think I’m going
to get a drink.”
I stalk away to the bar. I can see Willow in the mirror, and after a few seconds she turns
and heads toward the conference room, her expression mutinous. I feel drained just from talking
to her.
No, I feel drained by the whole day. I order myself a large glass of wine, then slowly
walk toward the conference room. Vicks is standing on the stage, talking to a rapt, shocked
audience. Behind her, the massive screen is on silent TV.
“ … as I say, we don’t know exactly what shape the report will take, but we have made
our response, and that’s the only thing we can do at the present time. Are there any questions?
Nihal?”
“Where’s Sir Nicholas now?” comes Nihal’s voice from the crowd.
“He’s in Berkshire. We’ll have to see what happens about the rest of the conference. As
soon as any decisions have been made, obviously you will all be informed.”
I’m looking around at the faces. Justin is a few feet away from me, gazing up at Vicks in
a pantomime of shock and concern. Now he raises his hand.
“Justin?” says Vicks reluctantly.
“Vicks, bravo.” His smooth voice travels through the room. “I can only imagine how
difficult these last few hours have been for you. As a member of the senior management team,
I’d like to thank you for your sterling efforts. Whatever Sir Nicholas may or may not have said,
whatever the truth of the matter—and of course none of us can really know that—your loyalty to
the company is what we value. Well done, Vicks!” He leads a round of applause.
Ooh. Snake. Clearly I’m not the only one to think this, because another hand shoots