‘From now on I’m banning phone usage in this house!’ Poppet announced. ‘Lizzy and I are waiting for you, so the three of us can have a proper conversation.’
‘Go ahead and start without me.’
‘Put the phone down, Nicola.’ Poppet’s voice took on the dangerous edge of a stressed-out mum giving a child their final warning. ‘
Nicola! Put the phone down.
’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’ Nic threw it on the carpet. ‘I’m going for a slash.’
‘Don’t you think Nic’s really aggro at the moment?’ Poppet said after Nic had stropped off to the toilet.
‘Nic’s always aggro.’
‘I mean
really
aggro. I’m worried she’s working too hard.’
Lizzy thought about it. Nic had threatened to brain an entire girl gang on the train on the way there because they’d refused to take their feet off the two spare seats, but these random acts of violence were nothing new. Nic had always been like Mount Vesuvius: a fiery, spitting pit of lava that was liable to blow at any second.
Nic’s BlackBerry was lying on the sofa where she’d thrown it. Lizzy and Poppet both looked over as it started ringing.
‘Don’t answer it,’ Poppet warned. ‘We are not slaves to these contraptions!’
Lizzy was incapable of ignoring a ringing phone. ‘Sorry, Pops, it’s the PR in me.’ She looked at the screen. ‘Ha! Guess who?’
‘Simon?’
‘I hope Nic’s getting overtime.’ Lizzy answered. ‘Hello, Nic Cartwright’s personal answering service!’
‘Nicola?’
‘No, it’s Lizzy. I’m a friend of Nicola’s.’
‘Oh, hello Lizzy!’ Nic’s boss sounded very jolly. ‘I haven’t interrupted anything, have I?’
‘No, we were just about to have some cake. Nic’s away from her phone at the moment, shall I get her to call you back?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve just nipped out from parents’ evening. Can you just tell her I’ll send the new proposals for Beijing through later?’ He paused. ‘What kind of cake is it?’
‘Gingerbread.’
‘My favourite! Well, don’t let me disturb you any more. You girls have a nice evening.’
‘Simon called,’ Lizzy said when Nic returned from the loo. ‘He wasn’t quite the ogre you make him out to be.’
‘You spoke to him?’
‘Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him what a depraved monster you really are. He says he’s sending the Beijing proposal over and he’ll catch up with you first thing.’
Nic threw herself back down on the sofa and closed her eyes. Poppet was right, Lizzy thought. She really did look knackered.
Thursday was a big day for Lizzy. She and her team were doing a pitch for a new client. The super-stylish team and elegant offices weren’t what Lizzy had been expecting at all. Especially as she’d turned up dressed as a giant tomato, complete with a green cap on her head for the stalk. It was only when she was five minutes into her presentation that it started to dawn that something was horribly wrong.
‘Sorry, I just don’t get what a vegetable has to do with the long-term vision for Bellafinique,’ the company director said. A shiny spot was glinting off her frozen forehead, a sure sign of Botox.
‘Bellafinique?’ Lizzy looked to Antonia nervously. Her boss gazed back at her as if they’d never met. ‘I thought we were pitching for Veggie Vibe.’
‘This is a pitch for Bellafinique?’ the director said irritably. ‘The revolutionary new skincare range for women?’
Lizzy looked round vainly for help. Bianca was slouched against the wall in her runner bean outfit, texting.
‘Oh,’ she said feebly. ‘I thought we were here pitching for a new vegetable juice.’
There was a slow tumbleweed moment across the grandiose boardroom. The director looked down her retroussé nose at Lizzy. ‘Do we look like the sort of people who work in the world of
vegetable
juicing?’
One of her colleagues sniffed. ‘And any idiot knows a tomato is actually a fruit.’
On the way out Lizzy got stuck in the revolving door and had to be pulled free by the doorman. They trudged back to Antonia’s Range Rover, which she’d left brazenly in a disabled parking bay in the shadow of St Paul’s Cathedral.
It turned out that Antonia had got her dates wrong and the Veggie Vibe pitch had been last week. ‘I get sent so many briefs. How am I meant to keep up with everything?’
‘I’ve been working on this for
six
weeks,’ Lizzy wailed.
‘And even then you can’t even get your bloody fruit and veg right.’
‘Why didn’t you say something before, then?’
‘I thought you were being abstract.’ Antonia dumped her bag on the bonnet and started searching for the car keys. ‘I don’t know why
you’re
so moody. I’m the one who has to try and keep this business going! I’m the one with a husband who lies round the house doing sweet FA all day when he’s meant to be taking care of our daughter!’ She shook the bag. ‘Come on, you fuckers, where are you?
‘It’s not easy existing on three hours sleep a night, when everyone is pulling you in every-which-way direction!’ she continued. ‘The last thing I need is you throwing your toys out the cot. I get enough of that at home.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lizzy said guiltily. ‘I’m sure you’re under a lot of pressure.’
‘You have
no
idea.’ Antonia finally located her keys. ‘I’m meeting the girls for lunch at Soho House. I’ll have to drop you at a tube station on the way.’
‘Can we get changed first?’
‘If you have to,’ Antonia sighed, as if Lizzy had demanded something completely unreasonable.
Bianca was now leaning against a nearby bollard continuing her text conversation. She hadn’t broken her concentration once since they’d left the pitch.
‘Bianca!’ Lizzy managed to get her attention for a second. The sooner they got out of these stupid costumes, the better. She was
never
going to humiliate herself like this again.
‘Oh shit, traffic warden!’ Antonia shouted. The car suddenly roared off with the boot still open and the girls’ clothes and bags in the back.
‘Quick, ring her and tell her to come back!’ Lizzy said.
Bianca tried. ‘She’s not picking up. What do we do now?’
They had no money, no travel cards, no nothing. ‘There’s only one thing we can do,’ Lizzy said gloomily. ‘Start walking.’
They began trudging through the sea of grey suits. It was lunchtime and the streets were rammed. Despite the autumnal temperatures, Lizzy started to sweat profusely. Then she caught sight of herself in a shop window. It was hard to tell where her face ended and the outfit started.
The outfit was also bringing back uncomfortable memories of being dressed up as Henry VIII. ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ she said to a handsome man in a smart black overcoat who was trying to get past her without spilling his coffee.
‘Your stomach’s in the way,’ he said irritably. ‘Can you move it?’
To make matters worse, even dressed as a summer vegetable, Bianca looked stunning. She was attracting admiring looks from the male City workers and someone had mistaken her for Cara Delevingne in post-club fancy dress.
There was a man on the corner of the street dressed as a pizza slice handing out leaflets. He gave them a commiserative look.
‘This way!’ Lizzy shouted gallantly.
‘Sweets, can’t we get a cab?’
‘We haven’t got any money!’
‘I don’t mind begging. I’m sure I can get someone to give us the money.’
‘We are
not
begging.’ Bianca had already swanned ahead. She seemed to have some inbuilt ability that allowed her to dart like a fish through the crowds without looking up from her phone.
A few minutes later they found themselves in a big square flanked by imposing white buildings with Coliseum-style pillars.
‘Look.’ Lizzy pointed. ‘That’s the Bank of England.’
‘Cool,’ Bianca yawned. ‘Is that a new club?’
Lizzy walked towards it, seeing an empty bench she could collapse on. The famous building was a bit grimy close up. You’d think with all their money they could at least hire somebody to give it a good clean.
She plonked down dispiritedly and pulled her cap off. Her bladder was reaching critical point.
‘Sweets, we can’t walk all the way back to Fulham,’ Bianca said. ‘What are we going to do?’
A sleek black car pulled up in front of them with two granite-jawed men sitting in the front. At the same time a small wooden door to the left of the Bank of England’s main frontage opened and a group of people came out. Lizzy’s mouth dropped open as she saw Elliot walking slightly ahead, deep in conversation with someone she was pretty sure was the Chancellor of the Exchequer.
They were heading straight for her. Lizzy thought about running to hide behind a nearby statue, but she wasn’t exactly wearing the right outfit for a fifty-metre sprint. Maybe if she stood
really
still Elliot wouldn’t notice her.
The two men reached the car. As one of the minder guys leapt out to open the rear passenger door Elliot glanced over at Lizzy. His eyes widened first in astonishment, and then horror, before settling for acute embarrassment.
‘Hello!’ she said brightly. ‘Fancy seeing you here!’
As Lizzy walked up to Café Crème Elliot was sat outside, wrapped up in an expensive-looking grey suit and matching dark-grey scarf.
‘No tables inside,’ he announced. ‘Can you brave al fresco?’
‘Fine with me.’ Lizzy put her bag down and took the seat opposite. ‘Whose is this?’
‘Whose do you think?’ Elliot tucked his phone away. ‘I got you a bran muffin.’
‘Thanks.’ Lizzy looked over at his plate. ‘What have you got?’
‘Chocolate truffle cake.’
Lizzy gazed back at her muffin. It was rather bland and boring by comparison.
‘Don’t you want it?’ He looked rather crestfallen. ‘I thought that was the sort of thing girls like. You’re all watching your weight, aren’t you?’
‘Are you saying I need to diet?’
‘No!’ His eyebrows shot up in alarm.
Lizzy smiled. ‘Elliot, I’m joking.’ Although that was the second comment he’d made about her weight. Amber was as thin as a rake, maybe he thought that anyone over a size twelve was classified as obese.
The waitress came out. ‘Usual, is it?’
‘Yes please,’ Lizzy said.
Elliot sat back in his chair. ‘I’m probably going to regret asking, but why
were
you in the heart of the financial district dressed as a giant tomato yesterday?’
Running into him had turned out to be their saving grace. He’d lent Lizzy the money for a taxi no questions asked, clearly not wanting to be seen with her in public for a moment longer. Antonia hadn’t got back from lunch until after five, so Lizzy and Bianca had had to sit around in their costumes all afternoon. Lizzy could now confirm: going to the loo in a giant spherical red suit
definitely
had the edge over the Henry VIII costume.
Elliot winced after she’d finished relaying the whole debacle.
‘Your boss sounds like a muppet.’
‘I could think of a stronger word.’
‘Although I thought a tomato was a fruit and not a vegetable?’
‘I realize that by now, thank you,’ Lizzy sighed.
A man selling roses had been moving down the cafés on the street. He approached Lizzy and Elliot’s table.
‘Red rose for your pretty lady?’
‘No!’ they said in unison. ‘We’re not together!’
The flower seller shrugged and moved on.
‘I’m not saying, you know, I find you
repulsive
or anything,’ Elliot added awkwardly.
‘Thanks,’ Lizzy said sardonically. ‘I’ll take it as a compliment.’
The waitress came back with their order. ‘So, come on then!’ Elliot said afterwards. ‘What’s going on with your love life?’
‘Why are you speaking like that?’
‘Speaking like what?’ he asked confusedly.
‘Asking me about my love life in the manner of a hearty uncle. I get plenty of that from David, my parents’ next-door neighbour.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now answer the question.’
Lizzy wasn’t comfortable with the conversational swerve. ‘Can we talk about something else, please?’
‘Come on, I want to know. You’re always asking me; now it’s your turn.’ He was like a terrier on a scent. Lizzy was beginning to understand what his interview subjects must feel like.
‘You sound like my mum. There isn’t an abundance of single, hot men who aren’t secret psychopaths on every street corner. Believe me, I’ve been looking.’
‘Well, you’re hardly going to meet one staying in and watching
The Housemaids of Atlantic City
every night.’
Lizzy flushed guiltily. ‘It’s
The Real Housewives of Orange County
and I don’t watch it
every
night.’
‘You’re not trying hard enough,’ he told her. ‘There must be some bloke who will take you out.’
‘I don’t want “some bloke” to take me out. I want to meet my Mr Right.’ Lizzy corrected herself. ‘Or, my Mr-You’re-Not-Quite-Right-But-You’re-Perfect-To-Me-Anyway.’
Elliot looked cynically amused. ‘Do you really believe in all that stuff?’
‘Yeah, I do actually. Just because it didn’t work out for you.’
The words were out before she could think. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean it.’
Elliot’s face had shut down again. ‘You’re right,’ he muttered. ‘Who am I to sit here and cast judgement?’
There was another long silence. Lizzy looked down at Elliot’s half-eaten cake. It was glistening at her invitingly. Picking up her fork, she sliced a bit off.
‘Don’t take the icing!’ he said in outrage. ‘That’s the best bit!’
‘So why aren’t you eating it?’ She popped it in her mouth.
‘I was saving it until the end!’
‘Don’t be so stingy.’ Lizzy went in for another mouthful. ‘Ow! What are you doing?’
A man reading his paper on the next table gave them an odd look. Lizzy retreated to her side of the table, rubbing her knuckles.
‘I can’t believe you just hit me with your fork!’
Elliot had a mildly triumphant look about him. ‘When you’ve been to boarding school you get territorial about your food.’
After retreating on to more familiar ground and arguing about their top five cultural destinations in London (‘I can’t
believe
you wouldn’t have M&M’s World in there,’ Lizzy told him facetiously), they paid up and left.