Not Quite Perfect (12 page)

‘You say it to Daddy,’ declares Lily. ‘And anyway, he deserves it.’ Rachel can’t disagree and leads the children home feeling rather proud of her daughter and a bit sad at the possibility of losing her best friend.

Emma returns to her desk to find a hillock of post and her answerphone flashing red. ‘Talk to me now!’ it seems to be saying. She dumps her bag on the floor and spies the manuscript for
The Red Orchid
, its pages curled from being read again and again. She enjoyed her morning with Richard, although she wouldn’t say she’d managed to keep control of the situation at all times. Richard was a shameless flirt but he was good company and she told herself that it was important to build good relations with your authors. He had bid her farewell at the Tube station with a kiss on the cheek.

‘I enjoyed our first date,’ he’d said smiling mischievously. ‘When can we do it again?’ Emma had tried to steer him back to business. ‘Why don’t you crack on with the revisions we discussed and we’ll take it from there. You can call me if you need me.’

He had clicked his heels together and saluted. ‘I’ll be in touch very soon then,’ he said with a wolfish grin before disappearing through the ticket barrier.

‘How was the dreamboat author?’ asks Ella, popping her head over the partition that separated their working areas.

‘Ella, you scared me!’

‘Sorry. Daydreaming about literature’s great new hope, were you?’ teases Ella.

‘Oh stop it, Ells. I’m practically a married woman’

‘Of course, of course, but you’re still allowed at little low-level flirting.’

Emma smiles. ‘Well, maybe a little.’

‘Ha! I knew it.’

‘What? I was an angel and Richard’s not that easy to deal with, you know. You’re lucky to have straightforward Clive and his historical fiction.’

‘Yeah right. Clive stares at my breasts while I’m trying to give him sound editorial advice and, to be honest, I’d rather endure that from a good-looking man than someone who reminds me of my uncle, Dennis.’

‘Poor Ella,’ says Emma with a little pout.

‘I appreciate your sympathy. By the way, Joel popped round. I think he left you a love note.’

Emma snatches up the sticky note attached to her computer screen before scrunching it into a ball and throwing it in the bin. ‘Patronising moron. Who does he think he is?’

‘Alistair Campbell?’

‘With a splash of Genghis Khan. Right, I better go and see him, I guess. Wish me luck.’

‘
Bon chance
. I’ll come and rescue you if you’re not back by home time.’

‘Thanks.’

Emma strides along the corridor ready to do battle. Joel’s door is slightly ajar and she can hear voices.

‘I just can’t stand another day sucking up to that buffoon,’ she hears Jacqui purr.

‘Patience, Jacqueline. It’s only a matter of time before the Americans see what a drain on resources he is. I’ve already been exchanging e-mails with Phil. He’s coming over in a few weeks. As soon as he sees Digby for the fool he is, they’re bound to be looking around for some strong leaders and they won’t have to look far, will they?’

‘What about Miranda?’

‘Oh, she’s an old bag, but she’s a useful old bag. I’m sure there’ll be room for her in the new regime.’

Jacqui laughs like a pantomime villain. Emma freezes. She can hear movement in the room and in a fight or flight moment, chooses flight. She rounds the corner straight into the not insubstantial bosom of Miranda.

‘Ahh Emma, I was just looking for you. Ella said you were on your way to see our little Marketing spin-doctor but you appear to be going the wrong way. Is everything all right?’

Emma is caught off guard. She would like to talk about what she’s just heard, but doesn’t want to seem as if she’s telling tales.

‘Er yes fine. Joel was just sort of busy.’

‘Yes, he’s a busy boy, that one. I need to tell you about some bloody awful course I’ve got to send you on. Can you spare a moment?’

‘Absolutely.’

Once back in her office, Miranda rummages through the myriad paper that covers her desk.

‘Ah yes, here it is: “Communicating with Authors”. Hmm. Arse-gravy of the worst kind. In my day we just slept with the good-looking ones and got the ugly ones drunk, but these days it’s all about psyches and egos and analysing each other until we disappear up our own backsides trying to find whatever it was we’d forgotten we had. Ho-hum. However, it will be a good opportunity to network as they like to call it and find out what the enemy is up to. It’s at a swanky little hotel just off Sloane Street, so you can go and lust after some shoes at lunchtime. Ok?’

‘I will suspend judgement and look forward to the shoe-shopping.’

‘Good woman. So is everything all right with you and Mr Riches?’

‘Fine, fine, why?’ says Emma with a little too much enthusiasm.

‘Look Emma, I know he’s a bit cocksure but to be honest, we’re under a bit of pressure. The Americans are on our backs a little, so we need to make sure we all pull together, OK?’

‘Of course, but we’re doing all right, aren’t we?’

‘Yes, yes, but you know how things are changing in this industry. Blink and you’ve missed another retailer going down the Swannee. We need to make sure we’re all on top form. We have to rise above it sometimes, don’t we?’

Emma isn’t sure if she’s being advised or scolded. She nods and takes her leave. Joel is waiting at her desk.

‘Ah, Emma. We need to talk. Have you got five minutes?’

‘Yes, Joel, what is it?’

‘It’s about this new campaign for Tim Deakin. I think we should drop the above the line stuff and go with a viral approach. Thoughts?’

‘Fine. You’re probably right.’

‘Sorry?’ Joel looks stunned and slightly disappointed.

‘I said, I think you’re right. It’s your budget and you’re in charge of Marketing so I will go with your call and thanks for checking with me.’

‘Oh, right, OK. Is that it?’

‘That’s it. Sorry, lots to do. Was there anything else?’

‘Er, no. Thanks, Emma.’ Joel strides off.

Ella appears by Emma’s side. ‘Did that just happen?’

‘What?’

‘Did you just agree with Joel Riches?’

‘I did. Do you think it’s the beginning of the end?’

‘Well, I am a little concerned, but let’s just dismiss it as a one-off, shall we?’

Emma laughs it off but feels strangely unsettled. She spends the afternoon editing, grateful for a distraction from real life, and trying to dismiss thoughts of Richard Bennett from her mind.

Rachel looks at her watch: 4:28. Still two hours until Steve is due home and at least an hour until she can legitimately open a bottle of wine without feeling guilty. Will is having tea at a friend’s house, and Lily and Alfie have coerced their mother into a long and intricate game of Doctors and Nurses.

‘You are very sick,’ announces Lily. ‘We will have to operate. Nurse Alfred!’

Alfie appears looking pleased to be included.

‘Prepare the gas mask for the patient!’

Alfie finds a fireman’s helmet and passes it to Lily who applies it to her mother’s face with some force.

‘Now count to ten, patient.’

Rachel does as she’s told, relishing the chance to close her eyes as her torturers empty out their doctor’s kit and set about cutting her open and removing the foreign object.

‘Aha!’ announces Lily. ‘You have been eating Lego again, you naughty lady. You will have to go to prison.’

‘For swallowing Lego?’ asks Rachel.

‘Yes. It is against the rules.’

‘Sounds a bit harsh.’

‘And you have to stop talking. PC Alfred, fetch the handcuffs!’

Alfie obeys and soon Rachel is shackled by her ankles because, according to Lily ‘your wrists are too fat’.

‘Right, Mummy’s had enough of this game and needs a cup of tea. Can you bring me the keys please?’

Lily looks disappointed, but knows better than to cross her mother when she needs a hot drink. ‘Aww, OK. Alf, where are the keys?’

Alfie, in true foppish sidekick fashion looks blank. ‘I thought you had them, Lils?’

‘No, you did!’

‘You did!’

‘OK, both of you stop! Now let’s just stay calm and think. Where did you last have them?’ says Rachel realising how ridiculous this phrase sounds and trying to mask her growing panic.

Lily looks worried. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh for goodness sake!’

Alfie, always thrown by conflict, starts to cry.

‘Oh for goodness sake, Alfred!’ chastise Rachel and Lily together, just as the doorbell rings.

There are times in Rachel’s existence when she can’t quite believe what has happened. Ten years ago she was sashaying her way through life with a brilliant job, nights out, dinners at Nobu, lots of sex and the overarching feeling that she was a strong, confident woman in control and at the top of her game. Now, she is never very far away from chaos and frustration and the compelling urge to shout ‘Oh for fuck’s sake!’ This is one of those moments.

‘Who is it?’ she asks pogo-ing towards the living room door, buying herself some time, and hoping it’s the postman so she can open the door without revealing her shackles.

‘It’s Tom! Sorry, is this a bad time?’

Rachel stops and considers. She’s not sure if she really wants Tom to see her like this but on the other hand, she is a take as you find sort of girl so, in for a penny. She opens the door with the words ‘Please don’t ask but please come in,’ and hops back down the hall.

‘Oh,’ is all Tom wisely opts to say as he follows her into the kitchen. ‘Shall I make us some tea? I’ve brought you some biscuits by way of a thank you for rescuing me the other day.’

‘You are very kind, and in answer to the tea, yes please.’

‘Do you want me to see if I’ve got a hacksaw?’

‘Again, that would be lovely, but let’s have a cup of tea first, shall we? Anyway, how come you’re home so early? In fact, I don’t think you’ve ever told me what you do.’

‘Ahh well I’m actually a trained assassin so I only work at night.’

‘Oh really. I don’t think snails count as targets,’ jokes Rachel. ‘But seriously, what do you do?’

‘I’m a business analyst mainly covering Asia, so I get to start very early but knock off at 3.30. It’s lovely really because I never miss
The One Show
.’

‘Gosh Tom, your life sounds almost as exciting as mine!’

Tom laughs and Rachel wonders at how at ease she feels with this man. He reminds her of Steve in the early days with his easy banter and ability to make each other laugh with just a remark. She is just contemplating opening a bottle of wine when the doorbell rings again.

‘Oh drat!’

‘Never fear, shackled maiden. I’ll get it.’

‘Thank you.’

He returns moments later flanked by Rory the bodyguard, Christa and Roger.

‘Rachel, so sorry to drop in without the announcement, but we were just driving past and Roger was very keen to see Alfie and Lily. I hope you don’t mind.’

Rachel does mind a little but is far too British to admit it, and soon they are all sitting around the kitchen table. Rachel and Christa are drinking wine, Tom is on coffee and Rory has opted for green tea. Rachel smiles to herself as Tom nervously tries to interact with the burly Russian minder.

‘
Zo
,’ says Christa, ‘you were not telling me that you had such a handsome man living in the next door.’ Tom blushes and Rachel feels oddly irritated by her flirting.

‘No, well, we’ve had him locked in the cellar for six months. We only bring him out for special occasions,’ jokes Rachel.

Christa looks perplexed and then sees Rachel’s face. ‘Ah yes, I see, this is one of your jokes, isn’t it, Rachel? Ha, ha,
sehr gut
. Rachel is teaching me how to be funny, Tomas. You see even though I am Swiss, I am still German so I do not have the sense of humour. In fact, do you know, we don’t really have a word for it. Funny eh?’

‘More wine, Christa?’ ask Rachel.

‘
Ja
, why
nicht
? I have my driver here and we Muttis deserve a little treat,
nicht wahr
?’

Rachel has forgotten about her compromised ankles and her attempt to move is followed by her falling flat on her face. ‘Shit! These bloody handcuffs!’

‘Ah,
mein Gott
, what has happened to you? Oh I’m so sorry, were we interrupting you and Tom?’

‘Oh Christa, don’t be ridiculous! It was the children,’ laughs Rachel feeling bizarrely pleased by the insinuation.

‘
Natürlich
,
natürlich
. Sorry Rachel. I must stop thinking that just because Rudi is having an affair, that everyone is. I might be able to help.’

‘With what?’

‘With those handcuffs. I have many sets of keys.’ She reaches into her bag and pulls out a key ring adorned with about twenty of what can only be handcuff keys. She crouches down and looks at the handcuffs, sorts through her selection methodically and within minutes, has released Rachel.

‘Thank you.’

‘You are
sehr
welcome. I always carry these. Rudi and I are always getting into situations like this so it is
gut
to have them to hand, you know?’

‘Erm, I’m sure,’ agrees Rachel. She notices that Tom is watching Christa open-mouthed.

‘Well, we better go. Roger!
Heim jetzt, mein Schatz!
Thanks for the wine and so
schön
to meet you, Tomas.’

When they are gone, Rachel and Tom burst into helpless laughter.

‘Is she for real?’ asks Tom.

‘I know, she’s brilliant, isn’t she? But actually, I do feel a bit sorry for her with her husband and being in a strange country. It must be hard.’

‘Hmm. Anyway, I’m sure you’ve got to sort the kids. I better be off too.’

‘Oh, OK, of course,’ says Rachel feeling a little disappointed.

‘Thanks for the tea and remember to let me know if you ever need a babysitter.’

‘You might regret that but thank you.’

When Tom is gone, Rachel pours another glass of wine. She looks at the handcuffs on the table and laughs to herself. Her phone rings and she sees that it’s Steve.

‘Hi love,’ she says, making her way over to the fridge ready to select something imaginative for tea.

‘Rach, hi. Listen, I’m really sorry but I’m going to be a bit late home tonight.’

‘Again?’

‘Yeah, sorry love. There’s lots going on with the plans for the new office. I shouldn’t be too late but I won’t be back in time to help with the kids. Sorry.’