The Other Side of the Story (46 page)

'You deserve it.'

'But do you think I'll get it?'

'Tarquin Wentworth, Aurora French and Lobelia Hall have all been there longer than you. If we go on longevity, Tarquin should get it.'

She hit him. 'C'mon, stop being Mr Let's-Look-at-the-Facts, we all know it's between me and Richie Gant.'

'OK, it's between you and him.'

'Yeah, and
let's
look at the facts. I'm a great agent, I make more money than anyone else including Gant
and
I've done everything I can to blacken his reputation. Can I do more than that? I don't think so.'

She believed in thinking positive. But she woke up in the middle of the night, thinking not so positive. Mark had gone home and she was glad; she didn't want him to see her like this.

She was imagining what it would be like if she wasn't made partner tomorrow. Apart from the shock and humiliation, Richie Gant would be her new boss, well, one of them. And he would not be a gracious winner. She'd have to leave Lipman Haigh and start all over again for someone else. Prove herself, build alliances, generate income. It would set her back at least two years. The panic was starting to spiral within her, moving up and up to block her throat.

She got it together. Richie Gant was good — and sneaky. But his corporate sponsorship project was all talk. No one was in any immediate danger of making any money from it. She was a better agent. Fact. She generated more income. Her authors were excellent long-term prospects. How could she not get it?

Lily

Anton was home from work. He shot into the room and said, 'Look at what I got sent today.' I had not seen him so animated in a very long time.

He brandished a book and when I saw that it was Gemma's book,
Chasing Rainbows
, I lunged and grabbed it, desperate to read it. Nausea set up a familiar churning.

'How did you get this?'

'Proof copy. Jim Sweetman, the media fella over at Lipman Haigh, sent it to me. And the good news,' Anton said, all aglow, 'is that it's not about us.'

'And the bad news?'

'There is no bad news.'

But no one ever says, 'The good news is…' if there is no bad news.

'What's it like?' I asked. 'Is it good?'

'Nah.' But excitement was hopping from him, zigzagging like colour through the air.

Surprised, I accused, 'You like it.'

'I don't'

'You do.'

'I don't.'

I held my breath because I knew there was a 'but' coming.

'But,' he said, 'I'd like to option it.'

I was stunned into silence.

All I could think was that he had not optioned my book. Either of them.

It was five weeks since we had moved out of our house, but it felt a lot longer. We had passed a bleak Christmas in our cubey flat - the bleakness made worse by Jessie and Julian being expected home from Argentina but delivering a last-minute cancellation.

Despite several invitations for New Year's Eve - everyone from Mikey and Ciara to Viv, Baz and Jez to Nicky and Simon — we spent the night alone and toasted each other with the champagne Dalkin Emery had given me in those long ago days when
Mimi's Remedies
had been storming the charts and they still liked me. Our toast was to 'next year', in the hope that it would be better than the year just gone. Then January had dawned but - what can I say? - it was January. The best anyone can do is breathe in, breathe out and wait for it to pass.

Crystal Clear
did not, as I had prayed for, rally at the last minute. My confidence and creativity were in shreds and since October I had done no writing. What was the point when no one would publish it? It was too cold to go out and I spent my days with Ema, watching
Dora the Explorer and Jerry Springer
.

Losing our home had been catastrophic but I was under no illusions that there was still a lot further to fall. Anton and I were unravelling. I was watching it happen from a distance, like it was happening to another couple.

We no longer had anything to say to each other; our disappointment was too huge a presence. I bitterly resented Anton's recklessness with money. I was obsessed with the house we had lost and felt it was all his fault. He had persuaded me to buy it - I kept remembering my many and varied objections - and if we had never bought it, we could not have lost it. The loss was excruciating and I felt unable to forgive him. For some reason I kept thinking of the day he had taken me shopping in Selfridges; we had not had a penny and what did we do? Go further into debt. At the time, I saw it as a glorious
carpe diem
, now it signalled idiotic irresponsibility. The type of irresponsibility that urged us to buy a house which we could only lose.

And, although Anton did not articulate it, I knew
he
blamed
me
for not writing another hit book. Briefly, we had been on the crest of the wave and it was difficult to adjust to all that excitement and hope being whipped away.

We barely spoke and when we did, it was simply to snap childcare instruction at each other.

It felt like a long, long time since I had drawn a proper breath. Every inhalation was a shallow panicked little effort which brought no relief and I never slept more than four hours a night. Anton kept promising me that life would improve. And he seemed to think it just had.

'Chloe Drew would be perfect for the lead!' he enthused.

'But Eye-Kon have no money to option the book.'

'The BBC are interested in a co-production. They'll put up the money if Chloe is on board.'

I leant towards him quizzically. He had already spoken to the BBC? He was putting a deal together? 'Have you actually spoken to Chloe about this?'

'Yep. She's game.'

Oh my goodness.

'Gemma will never let you option it. After what we did to her, you haven't a hope.'

But he had a hope. I could see it in his eyes. Already he was persuading her and using whatever means necessary. I knew that Anton, for all his shabby, laid-back charm, was ambitious but the extent of it impacted like a blow to the chest.

Because our lives had collapsed so spectacularly before Christmas, he needed this desperately. It had been a long time since he had successfully pulled a deal together. He had gone back to making his dreaded infomercials to bring in some money, but this was where his heart lay.

'Lily, this will be the saving of us!' He was a ball of fervour. 'It's got fantastic commercial potential. Everyone could make a pile of money from it. Life would get back on track for us.'

Anton needed this for his pride. And he needed to feel something good could happen to us. But to secure the rights to her book, how far would he go with Gemma? Because of the fierceness of his desperation, I was hit with a powerful conviction that it could be quite some way. Her last words to me flashed into my head:
remember how you met him because that's how you'll lose him
.

'Don't get involved in this,' I urged, low and desperate. 'Please, Anton, nothing good will come of it.'

'But Lily!' He insisted. 'What an opportunity! It's exactly what we need.'

'It's Gemma!'

'It's business.'

'Please, Anton.' But the light would not go out in his eyes and I could have wept.

How the world turns.

During the past three and a half years, Gemma had been a constant source of worry. But since I had read about her book, my ephemeral dread had solidified and taken real shape. For months now I had been braced for some form of consequence. But I could not have guessed it would manifest itself in this shape; that she would hold the key to Anton salvaging his career, his pride and his sense of hope.

And she could not have timed her rearrival in Anton's life any better if she had tried: he and I were so shaky…

How shaky? I had to ask myself, as terror darkened my vision. How shaky? What would happen if Gemma launched a bid for him… ?

It was then that I discovered I no longer had faith in me and Anton. I had once thought that, as a unit, we were indestructible. Now we seemed small and fragile and perched on the rim of a catastrophe. I didn't know the precise nature of it, or exactly how it was going to come about, but with hideous certitude, I reached a calm still place right at the centre of me and saw my future set in stone: Anton and I were going to split up.

Jojo

9.oo Monday morning

Probably the most important morning of Jojo's entire career. On her way to her office, she passed the boardroom — behind the closed door, they were all in there, even Nicholas and Cam.
Vote for me
. She tried to send voodoo thought waves. Then she laughed at herself: she didn't need voodoo thought waves. She was a good enough agent.

All the same she was very jumpy. She accused Manoj of banging her coffee cup too loudly on her desk and when her phone rang her heart almost pushed out through her ribcage.

'We'll know by lunchtime,' Manoj soothed.

'Right.'

But just after ten, someone appeared in her doorway. Mark! But it was far too soon. Could be they were on a break…

'Hi…'

In silence, Mark closed the door behind him, leant against it, then looked her in the eye. Immediately she knew. But couldn't believe it. She heard herself say, 'They gave it to Richie Gant?'

A nod.

She still couldn't believe it and for a moment felt she might burst from her body. This wasn't happening. It was just another worst-case-scenario imagining. But Mark was still standing there, looking at her with concern and although she felt like she was dreaming, she knew it was real.

Mark crossed and tried to hug her but she moved out of his arms. 'Don't blow my low.'

She stood by the window and stared at nothing. It was over. The vote had happened and she hadn't got it. But it was too soon. They'd only been in that room for an hour. So long had been spent waiting for this that she wasn't ready for it to have happened yet. A bubble of panic rose.
This isn't real
.

She was trying to think logically but her processes were hit hard. 'Is it because of you and me, do you think?'

'I don't know.'

Mark looked grey and exhausted and Jojo had a momentary insight into how horrible this was for him. 'Who voted for me? As well as you?'

'Jocelyn and Dan.'

'I lost three-four. Close, but no cigar, right?' She forced a wry smile. 'I just can't believe Nicholas and Cam didn't vote for me. I really thought they would.'

Another powerless shrug from Mark.

'I so don't get it. I've great authors who're going to have long careers. Short-term
and
long-term I'm a better bet. What d'you think happened? Seeing as I bring in more money than Gant.'

'Only just.'

'Excuse me?'

'That came out wrong. What I mean is they looked at this year's income and you and Richie are neck and neck.'

'No, we are so not. I'm ahead, by lots. How can we be neck and neck?'

Mark looked like he wanted to die and she was sorry for taking it out on him. He couldn't control the other partners, they made their own decisions. But she needed to know. 'Tell me.'

'I feel so bad for you.' His eyes glistened with unshed tears. 'You deserve it and it means so much to you. But the way they look at it is, if Richie pulls off even one corporate deal, that puts him way ahead of the game.'

'But he's delivered zilch. He's talking the talk and they fell for it. It's a crass, crap idea and I bet no one will go for it. Writers still have some self-respect.'

Mark shrugged and they stood in silence, miserable and separate.

Then Jojo got it and surprise, more than anything, made her blurt, 'It's because I'm a woman!' She'd heard about this but never thought it would happen to her. 'It's the glass ceiling!'

Right up to this minute, she wasn't even sure she'd believed in the existence of glass ceilings. If she'd thought about it at all she'd suspected it was something lame-duck female employees used to salve their pride when their more deserving male colleagues got promoted over them. She'd never felt part of a sisterhood: it was up to each woman to do it for herself. She'd always thought she was as good as men and that she'd be treated on her own merits. But guess what? She was wrong.

'This has got nothing to do with you being a woman.'

'The bottom line,' Jojo said slowly, 'is they made him partner because he might pull off a deal with one of his golf-course cronies.'

'No, they made him partner because they think long term he'll bring in more money.'

'And how's he going to do that? By playing golf with other men. Stop peeing in my ear and telling me it's raining. This is a case of glass ceiling.'

'It isn't.'

'It is.'

'It isn't'

'Whatever.'

'It isn't.'

'I hear you. Hey, we'll talk about it later.' She wanted him out of her office. She needed to think.

'What are you going to do?'

'What do you think? Whack Gant?' She pointed towards her desk. 'I've got a job to do.'

He looked relieved. 'I'll see you later.' He tried to hug her again and she slipped away from him. 'Jojo, don't punish me.'

'I'm not.' But she didn't want anyone touching her. She didn't want anything. She was on auto-pilot until she figured out what to do.

Ten minutes later

Richie Gant stood in her doorway, waited until he had her attention, then sniggered, 'They're oversexed, they're overpaid and they're OVER.'

He moved off, leaving Jojo with a heart racing with anger.

Manoj came in. 'What's going on?'

'Richie Gant is the new partner, not me.'

'But-'

'Exactly.'

'It's not fair! You're far better than him.'

'Exactly. But, hey, no one died, right?'

'Jojo.' He sounded surprised, almost disappointed. 'Are you just going to take this lying down?'

'Manoj, I'm going to tell you something I've told very few people.'

'Because you like me?'

'Because you're the only person in my office. The reason I left the force and came to London?'

Manoj nodded encouragingly.

'Because my brother killed someone. He was a policeman — still is. Needed overtime money so went out cruising to arrest someone. Happens a lot in October when they're trying to make the overtime pay for Christmas. Anyhow, he finds a dealer who, in the course of arrest, pulls a gun on him. My brother loses it. Pulls his own gun and kills the guy. And yeah, maybe he had to, get them before they get you, like they say, but you know what? I so did not want to do a job where I might kill someone. Very next day I gave notice, came to England three weeks later. Worked in a bar, worked as a reader and when I became an agent I was happy because no matter what happened, I wasn't going to kill someone. Nothing -negotiations, whatever - mattered to me
that
much because, bottom line, it wasn't life and death.'

Manoj nodded.

'So Richie Gant has been made partner when it should have been me, it's all wrong, but no one got hurt, no one died right?'

'Right.'

In silence she twisted it over in her head. 'But all the FUCKING same!'

'Quite.'

'I should have got that promotion. I'm a better agent and I deserve it.'

'Too right. You can't just take this.'

Jojo considered. 'Yeah. I'm going to see Mark.'

Instantly, Manoj's head was full of images of Jojo on her knees in front of Mark giving him an on-duty blow-job. Jojo put her face very close to Manoj's and hissed, 'I don't do that sort of tiling.'

Manoj swallowed and watched her departing back. How did she know?

Mark's office

She didn't mean to bounce his door against the wall. She wasn't looking to be dramatic, but hey, these things happen. He looked up, startled.

'Mark, I'm going to sue.'

He looked even more startled, 'Who?'

'Lipman Haigh.'

'For what?'

'For what? A broken ankle? A dented fender?' She widened her eyes. 'Sex discrimination, what else?'

Mark went the colour of dust. Suddenly he looked ten years older. 'Don't, Jojo. Richie got it fair and square. It's just going to look like sour grapes.'

Slightly perplexed, she focused on him. 'This is my career. I don't care what it
looks
like.'

'Jojo-'

But she was gone.

Back in her office, she hit the phones. She rang Becky but the only solicitor she knew was the one who helped her and Andy buy their flat and — because of the last-minute shenanigans involved — whom they hated. 'Ring Shayna. Brandon will know someone. Or else ring Magda, she knows everyone in the whole world.'

There was no need to ring Magda because Brandon knew someone. 'Eileen Prendergast, the best there is. She's like you: nice but scarily good at her job. When do you want to see her?'

'Now.' Jojo was surprised. 'When else?'

'You
do
mean business. Eileen's booked up weeks in advance but let me see what I can do.'

He rang back three minutes later. 'You owe me big. She's cancelled a lunch. Come over now.'

'See you in twenty.' She grabbed her bag and told Manoj, 'If Mark is looking for me, tell him I've gone to see the employment lawyer, but don't tell anyone else.'

Monday lunchtime

Walking into the glass tower in the City, Jojo had a moment. Her circumstances zipped by her head like something tangible and she actually felt dizzy. How did it ever come to this? And so quickly? This time yesterday she'd been looking forward with tentative confidence to celebrating her partnership. And now it had turned one-eighty and she was
suing
.

Brandon met her in reception and took her to meet Eileen, who was tall, beautiful and had more than a touch of Liv Tyler about her.

He made introductions, left, then Jojo sat down and launched into the details of Richie Gant. 'I bring in more money than him. But they picked him because he can play golf, bond with corporate guys and try to shake them down for sponsorship. As a woman I can't do that.'

Eileen listened, making notes in a pad, interrupting occasionally to ask questions.

'There isn't a pattern of you being passed over in favour of him or another man?' Jojo shook her head.

'So this is a one-off, which will make it harder to prove.'

'I'm not sticking around, waiting for it to happen again!'

Eileen smiled. 'Fair enough. Now, things you should know: even if you win, the tribunal doesn't have the power to order an appointment. In other words, no matter what the decision of the tribunal, you won't make partner.'

'So why am I doing this?'

'If you win, you get awarded compensation and your reputation recovers.'

Jojo made a face. 'Better than a kick in the head, I guess.'

'Some other things. This is a tribunal, not a trial. It's meant to be accessible, in other words, there's meant to be no need for legal representation, but in practice, most people do. But because of that, they don't award costs. So Jojo, even if you win, you could be looking at a bill for ten thousand, twenty thousand, even more. Any compensation you receive could be wiped out by legal costs. And that's if you win.'

'What are the chances of that?'

Eileen thought about it. 'Fifty-fifty. Even if you win, it may be difficult for you to continue working there. And if you lose, you'll find it impossible. And probably very difficult to find employment in another agency — you might have acquired a reputation for being difficult.'

'For what? Doing the right thing?'

'I know, but unfortunately some women use this process in a vexatious way. For example, if they've been having a relationship with a male colleague and it ends messily, sometimes they cry "sexual discrimination" to cause trouble… what? What is it?'

'Yeah, look.' Jojo took a breath. 'I've been having,
am
having, a relationship with, as you say, one of my colleagues. The Managing Partner. But we haven't broken up, we're very together. Is this a problem?'

Eileen considered. 'You promise me the relationship is ongoing? That he hasn't just dumped you and you're doing this for revenge?'

'I promise.'

'And you're ready for it to be in the public domain?'

'Excuse me?'

'These hearings are held in public and they're haunted by members of the press looking for a juicy story. I've a feeling yours might count as one of them.'

'People from the newspapers?'

'Yes.'

'But do I have to tell this tribunal about Mark?'

'You won't be able to keep it secret.' Eileen was stern. 'All relevant details must be submitted. And if you don't volunteer it, it could be used against you.'

Jojo thought about it. It was tacky but it was all going to come out soon anyway. 'OK. So have I got this straight? I have a fifty-fifty chance of winning. My legal representation — you, yeah? - will cost me thousands but if I win I'll get compensation which should cover it. If I lose I'll have to eat it — but hey, I won't lose because I have right on my side!'

Eileen couldn't help smiling but had to add, 'The tribunal may not agree with you. They may decide that Richie was simply the better agent, that he deserved the appointment —'

'They won't. They picked him because the slimy fuck can play golf. The sole reason. So let's do it. What happens now?'

'The first thing we do is serve your employers with notice. Let them know they're being sued.'

'When can we do that?'

'Asap.'

'Yay!'

But in the taxi back to work, Jojo's positive mood dwindled. She'd just embarked on a long, scary ordeal. Eileen had said she had a fifty-fifty chance of winning; Jojo had thought the odds would be better than that, but Eileen was an expert…

What if she lost? She went cold with fear that she might. Just because
she
knew Richie didn't deserve the promotion didn't mean it would be clear to a tribunal. Justice didn't always get done; she'd been in the police, if anyone knew that, she did.

She had a sudden powerful desire to halt it. It would be easy to stop right now, before notice had been served on Lipman Haigh. What was the point of suing them? Eyen if she won, Richie Gant wouldn't be removed and she wouldn't be installed in his place. Like, the worst had already happened; she could not undo the decision of the partners. Nothing would fix that. Did she want to run the risk of being humiliated again, this time in public?