It Had to Be You (17 page)

‘Three young people have died in the last year after overdosing on these so-called new legal highs,’ the reporter informed her. ‘Don’t you think you’re being irresponsible? What kind of message is this sending out to kids?’

‘Santa’s Little Helper is completely natural and safe,’ Lizzy said desperately, searching for Antonia to come and rescue her. ‘It’s just to help stressed-out mums when they need a little pick-me-up.’

‘I think you’ll find there’s another product that’s cornered that market already,’ the reporter quipped.

‘It’s called white wine.’

At least the products were going like hot cakes now. All the local kids had lined up at the Santa’s Little Helper stall and were bulk-buying.

‘Let’s go and get wasted,’ Lizzy heard one of them say to their friends.

This was a disaster! Bloody Antonia was nowhere to be seen. An incandescent Brian Baxter dragged Lizzy to one side.

‘You couldn’t have made more of a pig’s ear of this if you’d tried!’

‘I understand, Brian, but I’m trying my hardest.’ She tried to look on the bright side. ‘At least the product is selling.’

‘Yeah, to a bunch of drug-crazed school kids!’ He shook his head. ‘Well done, Lizzy, you’ve just ruined three years of my and Deb’s hard work in one afternoon!’

Lizzy miserably watched him stomp off. This was a complete and unmitigated disaster.

A few minutes later the same police car that had come past earlier wailed into the square. The two young officers jumped out. ‘All right, we’re shutting this down!’ one of them cried.

‘You can’t!’ Lizzy wailed. ‘I’ve been working for months on this! You’ve already tested them – you know they’re fine!’

‘We can’t be seen to be condoning drug use,’ one of them told Lizzy, ‘even if we know they’re legit. It’s all about public perception these days … All right everyone, move along! If you go peacefully no arrests will be made.’ The officer snatched a bottle of Santa’s Little Helper off a small boy standing nearby. ‘Does your dad know you’re down here?’

Half an hour later the square was empty again, debris and litter strewn across the ground. The Santa’s Little Helper stall looked like it had been ravaged by wild animals: someone had even stolen the themed umbrellas.

Debbie Baxter’s mum had suffered a sugar overdose from eating too many mince pies, and had been carted off home. Brian Baxter was striding round the square doing a good impression of the Incredible Hulk.

‘It’s a bloody great shower of shit!’ he was shouting at Antonia, who had miraculously reappeared from somewhere now everyone had gone.

‘I know, I know,’ she gusted sympathetically. ‘I will be having
strong
words with Lizzy about her strategy for press launches in the future.’

‘Bit late for this one, though, isn’t it?’ He jabbed a finger. ‘I’ll tell you something for nothing, Antonia, Debbie and I will be reviewing our relationship with Haven PR
very
closely in the morning.’

Lizzy escaped her boss’s death stare and went to cry in the toilet of Caffè Nero. If she still had a job on Monday morning it would be a miracle.

It was obviously a quiet news day, because the launch, with the added bonus of Lizzy’s stardom, swiftly went up on the
MailOnline
. The next day the
Sunday Mirror
went with the headline: ‘Headbutt Girl in Legal High Scandal’ and
#santaslittlehelper
was trending on Twitter. Lizzy turned her phone off and spent the day hiding in her flat updating her CV. It was almost like ‘Girl Who Gets Jilted …’ all over again.

Antonia had been ominously quiet the whole way back to London, and had said they would ‘review the situation’ on Monday. Fearing the worst, Lizzy got into the office early. Her boss was already at her desk, which was definitely a bad sign.

‘There you are,’ Antonia said unsmilingly. ‘Let’s go into the meeting room.’

Feeling increasingly sick, Lizzy followed Antonia in. Her boss shut the door. ‘I’ve just got off the phone to Brian Baxter.’

Lizzy swallowed. ‘Oh?’

Antonia sat down heavily in her usual chair. ‘It would …
appear
that pre-order sales of Santa’s Little Helper have shot through the roof.’

‘Oh?’

‘In fact so much so, that Brian and Debbie are talking about taking on extra staff to meet demand.’

‘Oh?’

‘Will you stop sounding like a complete moron?’ Antonia snapped. ‘What I’m trying to tell you, Lizzy, is that despite the
adverse
conditions, the launch has been deemed a raging success and the Baxters are delighted.’

‘Right,’ Lizzy said faintly.

At that point Antonia actually smiled. ‘Which just goes to show, there’s really no such thing as bad press.’

‘So I’m not sacked?’ Lizzy asked.

‘I won’t pretend I wasn’t cross. You put Haven PR’s reputation – and my reputation – on the line.’ Antonia sighed, as if she had to make the world’s most difficult decision. ‘But seeing how everything has turned out, I’m willing to give you another chance. But if you do have any maverick ideas for launches in the future,
do
try and share them with me first.’

Lizzy walked out feeling completely stunned but relieved to still have a job. That was the thing about PR: you slogged your guts out all year trying to get someone to write about your product, and then just when it looked like your job was on the line, you unintentionally pulled off the coup of the year.

She received a standing ovation as she walked into San Marco that evening.

‘Here she is!’ Nic announced. ‘The woman responsible for the new designer drug sweeping Britain!’

‘Don’t.’ Lizzy sat down and poured herself out a huge glass of wine. ‘I’ve already had my mum in my ear about bringing the family name into disrepute.’

‘You did look really cute in your elf costume,’ Poppet told her. ‘I think you should wear hats more often.’

‘See, every cloud?’ Nic said. ‘Now you know you suit hats.’

What would she do without her friends? ‘And how were
your
weekends?’

Poppet crossed her arms and looked at her lap. ‘What’s wrong?’ Lizzy asked Nic.

‘While you were caught up in the Santa’s Little Helper drama, Poppet had her own little drama.’

‘What happened?’ Lizzy put her glass down. ‘Pops, are you all right?’

‘Do you want to tell Lizzy, or do you want me to?’

‘You can.’ Poppet put her napkin over her head. ‘I don’t want Lizzy to see my shame,’ she whispered.

Nic shot Lizzy a look. ‘She slept with Pencil Dick Pete on Saturday night. She’s been wallowing in a pit of self-loathing ever since. I’ve told her it doesn’t matter and we all make mistakes, but she isn’t having any of it.’

There was a load moan from under the napkin. ‘I hate myself!’

‘Oh dear,’ Lizzy said. ‘How did this happen?’

Nic explained quickly. ‘Pencil Dick Pete asked Poppet to meet up for a drink, but it turned out he was upset about splitting up with this girl and needed someone to talk to.’

‘And I was fine with that!’ The napkin blew in and out. ‘I’d completely convinced myself I could do the whole female friend thing! But then he bought another round and I hadn’t had anything to eat, and before I knew it we were in bed together! And
then
I sent him a text afterwards, not because I want to get back with him or anything, but because it’s just polite to check in with someone after you’ve had sexual relations with them – and he hasn’t even had the courtesy to text me back!’

Nic pulled the napkin off Poppet’s head, but she still wouldn’t look at Lizzy.

‘Poppet, darling,’ Lizzy said. ‘You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. So what if Pencil Dick didn’t text you back? It just proves what a douchebag he is.’

Nic nodded. ‘And at least he didn’t threaten to put a video of you having sex on the Internet.’

Poppet gasped. ‘How do I
know
he didn’t film it? There was a suspicious tin on the bedside table that he didn’t want to open in front of me. Oh God, it could have had a secret camera in it!
And
my hair was looking awful because we’d just had sex in the shower!’ She flopped face-first on the table. ‘My parents will never live this down. And even worse, Pencil Dick Pete has now got one over me.’

‘Who gives a shit about him?’ Nic told her. ‘Look, you obviously needed a shag. He was there to be used and abused. It’s not what he got out of you. It’s what
you
got out of
him.
’

Poppet’s eyes widened. ‘I didn’t think of it like that.’

‘Start thinking of it like that.’ Nic put a hand on Poppet’s shoulder. ‘Stop beating yourself up about it.
You
used
him.
’

‘You’re right. I used him.’

‘Say it like you mean it.’

‘I used him! I used him and I abused him and I left him there like a bit of discarded meat!’

‘Jesus, Pops,’ Nic said. ‘What did you guys
do
together?’

‘Oh God,’ she said after they’d all laughed for about five minutes. ‘I needed that.’

Lizzy looked at her friends. Nic had dark circles under her eyes and Poppet even had a spot on her chin, which was a first in all the years Lizzy had known her.

‘You know what we need?’ she told them. ‘A weekend away.’

Poppet lit up like a Christmas tree. ‘Ooh, that’s a great idea!’

‘Nicholas?’ Lizzy asked. ‘I know your aversion to leaving London when you’re not working, but how about it?’

‘I suppose I do need a break,’ Nic sighed. ‘I’ve been having these really disturbing dreams about Zac Efron.’

‘Zac
Efron
?’ Lizzy and Poppet said in unison.

Nic shook her head violently. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. So where are we going?’

‘Pops, where do you think you left your car?’ Lizzy said. ‘Are there any landmarks that might help?’

The three were stood in a myriad of backstreets on the Clapham/Brixton border. As Nic couldn’t drive and Lizzy didn’t have a car, Poppet was the designated driver for the trip down to Dorset. Unfortunately she had no idea where she’d last parked.

‘
Think
,’ she muttered to herself. ‘I only used it to go to IKEA last week!’

Nic stared down the line of bumper-to-bumper cars. ‘I fought to get a half day off for this.’

Twenty minutes later they finally located Poppet’s Peugeot down a side street she swore she’d never even seen before. It took a further five minutes of back-and-forth Austin Powers-style nudging before they were finally on their way.

It was fair to say Poppet wasn’t the most confident of drivers. She always got passers-by to parallel-park for her, and then there was the time she’d infamously driven down Kensington High Street on the wrong side of the road. As Nic had pointed out, someone who shut their eyes when they were going around roundabouts was not best equipped to deal with London traffic. Especially London traffic at rush hour on a Friday. By the time they’d eventually pulled out on to the M3 towards Dorset, Lizzy and Nic had seen off a bottle of Banrock Station between them to calm their rising heart rates.

Nic had managed to get them into a boutique hotel that had been recommended to her by a colleague who’d stayed there. Sweetbriar House was located in a hamlet just outside the historic town of Shaftesbury. As long as there were no hold-ups they should be down there in two hours.

Lizzy was in the back seat with a bag of Pick ’n’ Mix and a can of Gordon’s gin and tonic. In the front Nic and Poppet were having a discussion about Zac Efron. ‘There must be some deep-rooted attraction there,’ Poppet was telling her. ‘Otherwise why would you be dreaming about him?’

‘He’s just so goddamn perky.’ Nic gazed out of her window. ‘I don’t even know who I am any more.’

A coach with King’s School Blandford written down the side started to overtake them. Spotting Lizzy and her friends, all the boys ran to the back and started pulling remedial faces.

‘They’re probably going to be running the country in twenty years’ time,’ Nic sighed. ‘How depressing is that?’

One of the boys gave her the V-sign. Nic gave him the V-sign back.

‘Don’t encourage him!’ Poppet scolded.

‘He started it.’

The boy gave Nic the bird. She gave him the bird back. The boy made an aggressive wanking gesture. Nic waggled her little finger back. The boy’s face faltered for a moment, before he stuck his fingers down his throat and pretended to be sick.

‘Oh you
amateur
.’ Undoing her seat belt, Nic pulled her top up and flashed him.

‘Nicola!’ Poppet screeched. ‘You can get done for that!’

The bus pulled past. The last thing Lizzy saw were fifty shocked, pimply faces as the bus sailed off into the middle lane.

The girls collapsed into hysterics. ‘Oh my God!’ Poppet squealed. ‘We’ve just passed a speed camera! What if we get reported?’

‘They’ll have to identify us by Nic’s baps then.’ Lizzy’s stomach muscles were aching from laughing.

Nic wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘I haven’t had such a good release for ages. Who needs Boxercise?’

Poppet did a very unladylike snort. ‘Did you see their
faces
?’

It sent them all off again. ‘Mercy,’ Nic groaned. ‘My stomach muscles can’t take any more.’

They drove on for a few moments in an exhausted, happy silence.

‘Isn’t this great?’ Poppet said.

Lizzy leant between the seats. ‘Do you mean Nic setting a bunch of twelve-year-old boys up for a lifetime of therapy?’

‘I mean
this
. The fact that we can just jump in the car and go off on this big adventure. We can do what we want, when we want. If I was going on a romantic weekend away with somebody I’d be worrying if I’d packed matching underwear, and eating too much at dinner so I’d be too full to go on top later.’ Poppet sighed happily. ‘I’m not wearing any make-up all weekend! Well, maybe a tiny bit of Touche Eclat.’

The engine shrieked horribly. ‘Pops,’ Lizzy said. ‘Do you think it’s time to move into third gear?’

It was nearing 7 p.m. by the time they approached the hamlet. ‘I am dying for a wee,’ Nic groaned. ‘I’ve got about two litres of white wine sloshing round inside me.’