Getting Even (6 page)

“Good God!” Ivy was agog.

“—and take up fine-art painting.”

Ivy snorted. “Has the man no style?” She paused to take a sip of G&T, then delivered her verdict. “Well, well. Though I always said he couldn't cut it. Downsizing? How dreadfully passé.”

*   *   *

The next morning, Ivy went straight to Russell's office.

“Got a moment?” she asked, shutting the door and taking a seat opposite him before he could answer. “What are you doing?” He appeared to be counting out pens of some description.

“UV markers,” said Russell. “I'll be handing them out later. I want you all to label your PCs, Macs, printers—anything valuable—with Green's postcode. The ink's invisible to the naked eye, but it shows up florescent under ultraviolet light. Helps the police track stolen goods.”

“Sounds like something from a bad detective novel. Can't Green afford anything more state-of-the-art?”

“Sometimes you don't have to spend heaps—so long as it does the job.”

“Yeah, right.” At times Russell was so tight it was laughable. He was exacting too: papers stacked in trays, files sorted by date, books stored alphabetically—it was a wonder he could create the mess necessary to work. Everything had its place;
I'm in control
, it said, doubtless why he was such a good FD. But she wanted his attention so came straight to the point. “I gather our beloved creative director's resigning.”

Russell turned to face her. “News travels fast.” He appeared unfazed.

“Indeed.”

“Who told you?”

“Dan.” Ivy was dammed if she owed Dan her discretion now. “When does Neil go?”

“Sooner the better, far as I'm concerned. He hasn't been pulling his weight for quite a while.”

“Any idea of who'll replace him?”

Russell shrugged. “Not yet. I suppose we'll begin the usual trawl using headhunters at some point.” He removed his reading glasses to focus on her. “Why?” His pale blue eyes narrowed. “Got someone in mind?”

“Oh no. Just wondered, that's all.”

“Whoever it is, I'm sure you'll be able to wind them around your little finger.”

Ivy smiled. “Maybe.” She paused. She didn't fancy resuming her writerly duties yet; she was still preoccupied with the revelations of the evening before. The prospect of umpteen letter variants was boring—far more stimulating to bait her lover, and it made her feel better to show she got to hear agency gossip first. “Yeah, I met up with Dan for a drink last night—that's where he told me about Neil.”

“Oh?”

“And guess what?”

“What? He fancy you or something? Make a pass?”

“No. In fact…” She spiraled a string of her hair provocatively. “He's already seeing someone in the agency.”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Guess.”

“Jeez, I don't know … He's a good-looking man, or so I gather. Can't see it myself. Could be anyone. Wasn't he having a fling with that blonde in accounts?”

“Lara?”

“Yeah, that was her. Cute little thing.”

Ivy bristled. She didn't like Russell finding another girl attractive, however patronizing his appreciation. “You're way out of date. That was months ago—he soon tired of her. No, this is altogether more serious, been going on a while.”

Russell frowned, then admitted, “You've got me. Who?”

“It's off the record.”

“Of course. You can trust me.”

Ivy hesitated. On one hand her loyalty to Orianna remained; she wouldn't want Russell to know. On the other, both she and Dan had irritated Ivy the night before; that Dan had jumped to Orianna's defense had made Ivy feel more excluded. Besides, Russell was a master of concealment. It was this that swayed her. “OK…” She paused for effect. “It's Orianna.”

“Orianna!?”

Ah! The joy of revelation. “What do you think of that?”

Russell raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Well, I'll be damned.” He chuckled to himself. “Never would have put those two together. How sweet.”

“Mm.”

“It'll be very interesting to see how long that lasts.”

“Yes.” She got to her feet. “It will indeed.”

As she reached to open the door, Russell remarked, “Have you only just found out?”

She didn't like to be reminded. “I've had my suspicions for a long while.”

“But you didn't know for sure?”

“No.”

“I'm surprised she didn't tell you.”

“Yes, well, she didn't.” Ivy left his office abruptly. Pointing out she'd been kept in the dark made her feel stupid, even—anathema—naïve. She hated being seen as less than 100 percent knowing, especially by the ever-worldly Russell. She headed back to her desk, resentment mounting.

Yes, she concluded, I'm far from ready to forgive Orianna yet …

 

6. A constant, loving, noble nature

Sunday afternoon, a fortnight later, Orianna was gardening. She had a gift with plants, and nurturing her small patio supplied a broader canvas on which to express her artistic talents. Over countless weekends she'd lovingly created a verdant haven, albeit overlooked by Victorian terraces. It provided her with a sanctuary away from the cut and thrust of work—within its four whitewashed walls there were no briefs, deadlines, or client demands.

A pair of carefully trimmed box trees on either side of the back door paid lip service to the formal gardens of her classical heritage, but otherwise it was a pleasing hodgepodge. She'd stuck a variety of antique tiles willy-nilly on one wall because they seemed “meant” to go there, painstakingly decorated a cheap garden table with a huge mosaic daisy because daisies made her happy, and commissioned an eccentric potter friend to make her a fountain which would not be to everyone's taste, but which she appreciated.

After five years of planting, pricking out, and pruning, the garden was to some extent looking after itself, and a mix of perennials had grown to fill gaps that had once needed weeding constantly. This was fortunate, as now that Dan was on the scene she'd slacked off, preferring to spend time in bed with him than on her beds and borders.

Nevertheless, by the end of May she was reaping the rewards of a morning spent sowing seeds two months previously, and all that was required this afternoon was to fill a few small remaining spaces. This Orianna was doing with her favorite scarlet geraniums, while Dan emptied ash from the barbecue. For Orianna had made clear—in as diplomatic a fashion as possible—that this was her room of her own, and Dan was only permitted a walk-on part.

She pressed the bottom of a plastic container to dislodge a plant. “Have you heard any more about a replacement for Neil?”

“No, have you?”

“Apparently they've problems finding someone.”

“Do you know why?”

“We do such a mixture of stuff. It's been hard to find a candidate with a broad enough background.”

Dan finished shoveling the ash into a bucket, stood up, and dusted himself down. Then he said, “You should apply.”

Orianna was stunned. “Me?”

“There's no one else in the garden, is there?” Dan lifted a pot and peeked under it with mock seriousness.

“I hadn't thought of it…” She assimilated. “Do you think I'd be any good?”

“I wouldn't suggest it otherwise. I reckon you'd be brilliant.”

She put down the tray of plants, focusing on him. “
Really?
”

“Yes. I do.”

“Why?”

“Well, you've shed-loads of experience, for starters. How long have you been in this industry?”

“Eleven years.”

“And at Green?”

“Four.”

“You're a group head, right, so you and Ivy are responsible for overseeing several juniors?”

Orianna nodded.

“It goes without saying you've knowledge of the whole marketing mix.”

“Mm.”

“You've won lots of creative awards.”

“About ten.” Orianna smiled. She was beginning to see what he meant.

“Plus you work extremely hard and everyone likes you. You're one of the most popular people in the agency.”

“
Am
I?” Orianna hadn't seen herself that way at all.

“Of course you are.” He came over, took her hands in his, and squeezed them.

“You're biased.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Yup. Still, you know I'd never say these things if I didn't believe they were true.”

Orianna frowned. Surely Dan wouldn't raise my expectations needlessly, she thought. He's been managing juniors a while, and is aware of the troubles it can cause. Moreover, thanks to his role, he's a hub of the agency, so often gets to know how people feel about each other … Suppose he's right?

But he had forgotten one thing. She pulled away. “What about Ivy?”

“What about her?”

“I couldn't put myself forward without her. We'll apply as a team.”

“I'm not sure the company would go for it,” said Dan, taking a seat on a low wall edging a flower bed.

“Why not?”

Dan paused, as if thinking how he should put it. “You'd be quite expensive as a duo, wouldn't you? Be too costly for them.”

“Bet it would be cheaper than getting someone new. They're paying us already so could get away with giving us a raise rather than shelling out an additional six-figure salary for some high-flyer.”

“I suppose … But you know how sacrosanct they consider the board to be. They won't put me on it, and it could upset the balance to have
two
creatives join them at the top.”

“Not as much as having a brand new CD wanting to stamp their mark. Imagine what upheaval that might cause.”

“True.” He paused again. “I don't think Ivy would be as good a creative director as you, though.”

Orianna was taken aback. “Really?”

“No.” He held her gaze, and said gently, “Ivy isn't as dedicated as you.”

“She works bloody hard!” Orianna protested. “And lots of copywriters don't work such long hours as art directors—the writing often gets finished first.”

“Agreed.” Again Dan hesitated. He seemed unsure whether to be frank. “I just don't think she'd be quite as popular as you, that's all.”

“Lots of people love Ivy!”

“Mm … they do, and I agree, she's very good—”

“She's won almost as many awards as me!”

“I know, I know.” Dan held up a hand to slow her. “Though people like her in a different way; she's ever so clever, but she's not as good a people-manager.”

“Oh.” Orianna could sense her face fall on behalf of her friend.

“You know what it's like, I get to see a lot, and some account handlers—Ivy rubs them the wrong way. She can be a bit uncompromising, compared to you, and they find her abrasive sometimes, sharp. And as for the juniors … She can be rather intimidating.”

“But that's not such a bad thing, surely?”

“By and large it doesn't matter, and I think the two of you work well together. She benefits from the way you handle things, I suppose.”

Orianna had always seen their partnership as mutually beneficial. It hadn't crossed her mind Ivy might be profiting from her own more softly-softly approach. She mulled it over for a while, silent. It was true Ivy hadn't been as friendly of late—she hadn't asked Orianna much about Dan, a sign she was miffed. But Orianna hoped it would pass once Ivy got used to their relationship.

Just think of all the years we've worked together, she reminded herself. What fun we've had, building our reputations, developing our roles and earning extra responsibilities as a team. Surely nothing could seriously come between us? She remembered their joint success at winning new business as well as awards. No, she decided, I really value the part Ivy has played in my career, and I'm not going to jeopardize it.

“Wherever I go, Ivy goes with me,” she said, turning to resume her planting. “I'm not applying on my own. So the board will have to take us as a team. Or not at all.”

*   *   *

The following morning Orianna and Ivy were bouncing around ideas for a new hair-care product, when Ivy said, “There goes the power lunch,” as a catering trolley was wheeled by.

Orianna swiveled her chair. From where she was sitting, she could see that it was laden with high-class canapés—crackers and caviar, salmon vol-au-vents, prawns in batter, chicken satay, even quails' eggs. All that food made her hungry.

“I can't believe it's a month since the last board meeting.”

“Notice they don't get the boring sandwiches we have to suffer at our lowly meetings,” said Ivy. “No wonder they're all so bloody fat.”

Suddenly Orianna felt rather plump. “They're not
that
bad. Russell's quite slim.”

“Well, aside from Russell.”

“And Neil's not that overweight either.”

“Evidently he doesn't have the fat cat mentality, does he? Going to live up north.”

“There are fat cats up north too,” said Orianna. She knew Ivy in this mood; there would be no shifting her cynicism.

“Anyway.” Ivy checked the clock. “That's persuaded me. I'm off to the gym.”

“What,
again
?”

“I haven't been since Friday. If I go now I'll catch a class.” She nodded toward the boardroom. “Last thing I want is to end up like that lot.” And with that she picked up her sports bag and was gone.

Orianna was growing accustomed to spending this time alone. Ivy seemed to be spending more lunches away from her and Dan only ever had time to dash out for a sandwich. Besides, she was still cautious about being seen overtly socializing with him, not wanting to expose their relationship to the agency as a whole. Shopping alone wasn't the same, so she decided to explore the ideas she and Ivy had been discussing further on the Internet.