Authors: Sophie Kinsella
‘Let me show you some work by our other pupils!’ says the headmistress, hurrying along beside me as I head towards the door. ‘This is by a very talented little girl called Eloise Gibbons, who’s now left us …’ She gestures at a painting of a field full of poppies, which looks just like a Van Gogh.
‘Derivative,’ I say dismissively, barely shooting it a glance. ‘Thank you so much. Goodbye.’
I stride swiftly out of the school gates and head down the pavement, clamping my lips together so I don’t laugh. Ha. Maybe they’ll start to appreciate Ernie now. And I meant it! OK, it was a bit weird – but I still thought Ernie’s dead sheep was the best thing in the whole place.
As soon as I arrive at The Look I can tell Danny’s already here, from the limo parked outside and the cluster of girls on the ground floor, comparing autographs on their T-shirts.
I head up to the conference room on the top floor – and as I walk in the big meeting is already in progress. There are plates of Shetland Shortbread everywhere, and images of the new collection up on the walls, and the table is full of business people. Danny is in the middle of it, looking like a peacock in a bright-blue and green coat over jeans. As he sees me he waves and pats the chair next to him.
All the top executives from The Look are here, plus some people I don’t recognize who must be from Shetland Shortbread, and Luke’s friend Damian, who has become a consultant to Tarkie. Brenda from our marketing department is doing a PowerPoint presentation, and she’s on some kind of graph showing pre-orders of the new Danny Kovitz collection, compared to last year’s.
‘Absolutely thrilling,’ she’s saying. ‘We’ve never had a reaction like it. So, thank you Danny Kovitz, for a wonderful partnership, thank you Shetland Shortbread for coming on board – and here’s to us all working together!’
‘Awesome job you guys have done,’ says Danny. ‘Hey, Becky, you should have come to Scotland for the shoot! We had a blast! Did my bagpipes arrive yet, Zane?’ He suddenly turns to a boy with dyed-red hair who is hovering behind his chair. He must be one of Danny’s five zillion assistants.
‘Um …’ Zane is already whipping out his phone, looking anxious. ‘I can check …’
‘You bought some bagpipes?’ I can’t help giggling. ‘Can you play the bagpipes?’
‘As an
accessory
. Believe me, they’re gonna be the new It Bag. Hey, you should have bagpipes in the store display.’ Danny turns to Kathy, the head of merchandising, who instantly grabs her notepad, writes down ‘Bagpipes’ and underlines it three times.
‘We’re also tremendously excited by the pre-launch publicity we’re getting,’ Brenda continues. ‘We’ve already had mentions in
Vogue
and the
Telegraph
, and I understand Lord Cleath-Stuart has recently done an interview with
Style Central
magazine.’
‘Tarkie’s in
Style Central?’
I stare at her, wanting to giggle.
Style Central
is the most cutting-edge Bible for avant-garde designers and fashion editors who live in places like Hoxton. And Tarkie is … well … Tarkie. I mean, he still wears the cricket sweater he had at Eton.
‘He did it with me,’ chips in Danny reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, I did most of the talking.
Great
pictures,’ he adds. ‘He wasn’t afraid to push the boundaries. There’s, like, a real experimental edge to Tarquin, you know?’
‘Really?’ I say dubiously. Is this the same Tarquin we’re talking about? Tarquin who still washes his face with carbolic soap, no matter how many bottles of designer facewash Suze buys him?
‘Well, now.’ Trevor, our managing director, speaks for the first time, and everyone turns to listen. ‘While we’re all gathered here, I would like to single out another person at this table. Becky was the inspired member of staff who came up with this collaboration. First, introducing Danny Kovitz to the store in the first place – and now forging a relationship with Shetland Shortbread. Well done, Becky!’
There’s a smattering of applause and I start to beam modestly around, but Trevor holds up his hand to stop it.
‘Not just that. As we’re all aware, times are hard for the high street at the moment. However, Becky’s department has demonstrated a
rise
in sales over the last month of 17 per cent!’
He pauses for effect, and everyone else shoots me looks of either awe or hatred. Gavin, our menswear director, has gone all red around the neck and has a sulky frown.
‘And Becky’s customer testimonials are incredible,’ Trevor adds. ‘Jamie, would you like to read some out?’
‘Absolutely!’ Jamie from Customer Services nods enthusiastically. ‘Here’s one from Davina Rogers, a doctor. “Dear sir, I would like to commend you on your personal-shopping department and in particular, Rebecca Brandon. Her far-sighted and discreet approach to shopping in these times has made all the difference to me. I will be returning many times.”’
I can’t help glowing with pleasure. I had no idea Davina would write a letter! She emailed me a picture of herself at her reception – and she did look spectacular in that Alberta Ferretti dress.
‘Here’s another one.’ Jamie reaches for another print-out. ‘ “Finally someone understands what women need and want when they shop! Thank you so much, Chloe Hill.”’
I remember Chloe Hill. She bought up about ten pieces from the new Marc Jacobs collection and left them in the store. We arranged that the next evening, Jasmine would go round to her house with the clothes in a bin bag and pretend to be a neighbour returning to New Zealand, off-loading unwanted clothes. Apparently Chloe’s husband was there and was totally fooled. (The only hitch came when he suggested Chloe might give some of the clothes to their cleaner and accused her of being small-minded when she said not in a million years.)
‘In honour of this achievement,’ Trevor is saying now, ‘we would like to present Becky with this small token, and ask her: how on earth did you do it?’
To my astonishment he produces a bouquet of flowers from under the table, passes it across to me and leads a round of applause.
‘There’s no doubt who we’ll be announcing as Employee of the Year next month,’ Trevor adds, with a twinkle. ‘Congratulations, Becky.’
‘Wow.’ I can’t help blushing with pleasure. ‘Thanks very much.’
Employee of the Year! That’s so cool! You get five grand!
‘And now, seriously.’ Trevor barely waits a beat. ‘How
did
you do it, Becky? Can you explain the secret of your success?’
The applause dies away. Everyone around the table is waiting alertly for me to answer. I bury my face in the flowers and smell them, playing for time.
Thing is … I’m not sure I
want
to explain the secret of my success. Something tells me no one here would understand about delivering clothes to customers in bin bags. And even if they did, they’d all just start asking tricky questions like when did we start this initiative and who approved it and how does it accord with company policy?
‘Who knows?’ I look up at last with a smile. ‘Maybe all my customers are just trying to support the economy.’
‘But why only in your department?’ Trevor looks frustrated. ‘Becky, we want to harness your methods and apply them to
all
departments, whether it’s because of a particular product … a sales technique …’
‘Maybe it’s the department layout,’ suggests a young guy in glasses.
‘Yes, good idea!’ I say quickly.
But Brenda is shaking her head. She’s quite bright, Brenda, that’s the trouble.
‘Customer service is the key, in my opinion,’ she says. ‘You’re obviously pressing the right buttons somewhere. Could I come and observe you for a few days?’
Oh my God. No
way
do we want Brenda skulking around. She’d instantly realize what we were doing and blab to Trevor.
‘I don’t think so,’ I say hastily. ‘Jasmine and I work very well as a team, with no one else. My worry is that if we start messing with the formula, we might jeopardize the success we’ve got.’
I can see that word ‘jeopardize’ lodge in Trevor’s brain.
‘Well, let’s leave it for now,’ he says heavily. ‘Just keep doing what you’re doing. Good work, everyone.’ He pushes his chair back and looks at me. ‘Danny and Becky, would you like a spot of lunch? We’ve booked a table at Gordon Ramsay, if that suits?’
‘Yes please!’ I say joyfully.
Lunch at Gordon Ramsay with the managing director! Employee of the Year! I am
so
heading towards the board of directors.
As Trevor takes a call on his mobile, Danny pushes his chair over to mine.
‘So, how’s the party going?’
‘Sssh!’ I glare at him. ‘Not so loud!’
‘Only I was at this fashion bash in Shoreditch last week and I thought of you.’ He offers me some gum. ‘I don’t know what security firm you’re using, but Fifteen Star Security is in
really
terrible form. The bouncers were, like, totally aggressive and the valet parking was a shambles. So if you’ve booked them, you might want to think again.’
For a moment I can’t quite find an answer.
Bouncers? Valet parking? I haven’t even
thought
about bouncers and valet parking.
‘Well, I certainly won’t use
that
company, then,’ I say as convincingly as I can.
‘Cool.’ Danny swings his feet up on to a chair. ‘Who are you using?’
‘I’m just … er … firming up on security arrangements.’
It’s fine. Don’t panic. I’ll just add it to the list.
Book bouncers and valet –parking
.
‘The restrooms were
great
, though,’ he adds enthusiastically. ‘They were in a separate tent, and everyone got a foot massage. Are you hiring foot masseurs?’
I can’t reply. I’m too gripped by horror.
Restrooms.
Shit
. How could I have forgotten those? Was I expecting two hundred people to use Janice’s en suite?
Surreptitiously I write ‘Book loos’ on my hand with a biro.
‘Of course I’m having foot masseurs.’ I try to sound nonchalant.
‘And
hand masseurs. And … reiki people.’
I’m not letting some stupid fashion bash in Shoreditch beat
my
party.
‘Excellent.’ His eyes gleam. ‘And Luke has no idea?’
‘None. And keep your voice down!’
‘Well, that won’t last. No one ever threw a surprise party that was a genuine surprise.’
‘Yes they did!’ I retort crossly, but Danny is shaking his head.
‘Take it from me, Becky. Some moron’ll blab. Hey, look what I made for my god-daughter.’ He pulls out a little tartan T-shirt with “Minnie Rocks” in hot-pink letters.
It’s always the same with Danny. Just as you’re about to clonk him over the head for being so annoying, he does something really sweet and you fall in love with him all over again. I can’t help throwing an arm around him and giving him a hug.
But, oh God. What if he’s right?
*
As I’m arriving home, my mobile rings, and it’s
finally
Bonnie calling me back.
‘Bonnie!’ I retreat into the bushes. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m well, thank you.’ Bonnie sounds a bit strained, and not like her usual self. ‘All’s well.’
I peer at the phone dubiously. ‘Bonnie, what’s wrong? You sound really hassled.’
‘Well, the truth is …’ Bonnie sighs. ‘Luke didn’t react well when I tried to mention his shower gel just now. In fact, he became quite irritable with me.’
‘Oh, sorry,’ I say guiltily. ‘Well, don’t worry about that any more. It was worth a try. How’s the party going your end?’
‘We’ve had lots more acceptances today! I’ve made a file of all the details and special requests.’
‘Special requests?’ I echo uncertainly.
‘We’ve had requests for vegetarian food, kosher food, wheat-free food … I assume your caterers can take care of that? In addition, one guest needs a waiting area for his driver, another needs a baby-feeding area, one government minister would like to send in his security people first to sweep the area …’
‘Right! No problem!’
I’m trying to sound confident and can-do, but inside, I feel a bit daunted. Since when did birthday parties get so
complicated?
‘Becky?’
‘Sorry.’ I wrench my mind back. ‘Bonnie, there’s something else. I need to ask you something.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Is Luke hiding something from me?’
There’s silence and my heart plunges. I
knew
it.
‘Is it about Minnie? Be honest.’
‘No, dear!’ She sounds taken aback. ‘I haven’t heard Luke talking about Minnie at all!’
‘Oh.’ I rub my nose. ‘Well, something to do with work, then?’
There’s another silence. The answer is obviously ‘yes’. Suddenly I have an ominous feeling about this.
‘Bonnie, I thought you were my friend,’ I say at last. ‘Why can’t you tell me what’s going on? Is it bad? Is it another court case?’ My mind is racing with awful possibilities. ‘Is Luke in trouble? Is he
bankrupt?’
‘No!’ Bonnie cuts in hastily. ‘Please, Becky, don’t think anything like that!’
‘Well, what am I supposed to think?’ My voice rises in agitation. ‘I know Luke wants to shield me from all the bad things, but how can I help him if I don’t know what’s going on?’
‘Becky, please don’t get upset! It’s not bad! It’s simply … a new client.’
‘Oh.’
The wind is slightly taken out of my sails. That’s not what I was expecting. Although now I remember it, Luke did mention another new client, didn’t he? But why is it a huge secret?
‘Who is it?’
‘I can’t tell you,’ Bonnie says reluctantly. ‘Luke specifically asked me not to mention it. He thought you might get … overexcited. He wanted to be sure it would work out first.’
‘Over-excited?’ I stare indignantly at the phone. ‘Bonnie, you
have
to tell me.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Yes you can! We’re a team, remember?’
‘I can’t.’ Bonnie sounds pained. ‘Becky, you must realize that Luke is my boss—’
‘And I’m your
friend
. Friends are more important than bosses! Everyone knows that.’
There’s silence, then Bonnie whispers, ‘Becky, I should go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’