Learning curves (21 page)

“Robert didn’t even want to hear about it.”

“So have lunch with me and we’ll make it too convincing for him to reject it.”

Daniel sighed. “Fine,” he said. Maybe a lunch wasn’t such a bad idea. If he stayed here, he might end up kicking the door in.

“Wonderful. Wolseley at one?”

“Fine.”

Daniel put the phone down before Anita could even say good-bye, and went back to the delete button.

Jen wandered out of Bill’s office and mooched down the corridor, bumping into Lara and Alan, who were coming the other way.

“You okay?” Lara asked concernedly.

Jen shrugged. “Fine. Just fine.”

“You want to grab a hot chocolate? I usually find a sugar rush cheers me up on a Monday morning.”

Jen shook her head. “No . . . I think I’m going to go for a little walk, actually.”

Lara nodded understandingly. “Oh well, I suppose I should go to the library and do some work anyway.”

Suddenly Alan cleared his throat. “I’d like to have a hot chocolate.”

Lara and Jen turned to look at him and he reddened.

“What?” Lara asked.

“Hot chocolate. I’d like to grab one, seeing how Jen’s too busy.”

“Right,” Lara said, looking slightly bemused. “Well, okay then. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Alan said, smiling now. “So, you like hot chocolate, do you? Are there any particular brands that you prefer?”

Lara raised her eyebrows. “Freak” she said affectionately.

She turned to Jen. “See what happens when you desert me?” she whispered. “If I end up having to talk about business process reengineering all morning, I’ll blame you!”

24

Jen walked out of Bell Towers and headed through St. James’ Park, toward Daniel’s offices. She would surprise him with a coffee, she’d decided, telling herself that it was to cheer him up, but knowing that really she just needed someone to talk to. Perhaps she should buy him a cake, too.

She popped into Pret á Manger and bought two lattes and some lemon drizzle cake. No one could turn down lemon drizzle cake, she reasoned.

She looked at her watch. Twelve P.M. What if he was at lunch? Or in a meeting? He probably spent his life locked in boring meetings and if she just turned up, he might think she was a total loon.

Perhaps she should call, she thought, but rejected the idea immediately. The point was that she wanted to see him, even if only for a few minutes. She needed to see Daniel’s face, to reassure herself that some things in her life were still okay. She’d just pop in for a quick chat, and if he was busy, then she’d just come back later.

She found Wyman’s easily enough—it was a large, squat building sandwiched between two gray government buildings with a large aluminum sign outside—but somehow it wasn’t quite what she’d been expecting. Even though she knew that Daniel was the managing director, she always thought of him as working above a book shop—or at least working in an old eighteenth-century building with battered wooden floors and shelves crammed with books everywhere. Which just proved how little she knew about anything, she thought to herself despondently as she signed in, and was directed to the fourth floor.

As she stood waiting for the lift to arrive, she looked around the lobby and felt a little thrill. This was virtually Daniel’s company. He could do what he wanted with it, she thought to herself. There was a large vase of lilies just next to the lift, and Jen inhaled the lovely sweet smell. Maybe she’d work somewhere like this when she was done with Bell Consulting, she decided. A good, old-fashioned company that just sold books and didn’t get involved in backhanders or dodgy dealings.

She arrived on the fourth floor and followed the corridor into a small open-plan area, behind which was an office. Her heart leaped slightly when she saw Daniel, sitting at his desk, staring at his computer screen, and she smiled quickly at the woman sitting outside, figuring it was probably his secretary.

“I’m here to see Daniel,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve brought him coffee.”

The woman looked at her, unimpressed. “It isn’t in the diary,” she said flatly.

“The coffee?” Jen asked, confused.

“A meeting,” the woman replied. “Your name?”

“Jen?” Daniel appeared at his door, and the woman shrugged. “What are you doing here?”

“Coffee,” Jen said immediately. He didn’t exactly look pleased to see her, she noticed, and tried to ignore the anxiety that suddenly appeared in her stomach. “I brought you coffee and cake.”

Daniel held his door open for her and she walked into his office.

“I was hoping you might give me a one-to-one tutorial on my dissertation,” she said with a little smile. “And I’m prepared to pay you with coffee and lemon drizzle cake.”

Daniel looked at her, bemused. “Now?” he said. “You want a tutorial now?”

Jen shook her head. This wasn’t quite going to plan. She thought he’d have been pleased to see her—he’d been working all weekend and she thought he might have missed her. She’d certainly been missing him.

“No,” she said immediately. “Of course not. I was joking. So how’s the work going?”

Daniel shrugged. “I’ve been working on a presentation. I’m presenting to the board next Monday. . . .” He looked up at his wall calendar, on which the presentation was clearly marked. 4:30 P.M.: D-DAY.

“D-Day?” Jen said with a little smile. “So we’re talking about an invasion, are we?”

“Something like that.”

He seemed distracted, like he was barely listening to her, and Jen suddenly wished she hadn’t come. She’d pictured this very differently—Daniel wrapping her up in his arms, listening while she told him everything that had happened, telling her with incredible insight exactly what she should do . . .

She frowned. Maybe she was just being selfish, expecting him to be focused on her when he obviously had important things on his mind.

“Don’t worry about your presentation,” she said as reassuringly as she could manage bearing in mind that her own confidence was sinking fast. “You’ve got all those ideas you were telling me about, most of which, I have to tell you, have found their way into my assignment. . . .”

She looked at Daniel, hoping for a smile, but his face was still like thunder. “So which bits are you going to start with?” she continued, setting out the coffee and cake on his table. “The co-branding? I think that’s great. Or are you going to talk about reader clubs? I tell you, they’ll love all that stakeholder analysis stuff . . .” Jen trailed off as she realized that Daniel wasn’t even looking at her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked tentatively. “Have you decided against the clubs or something?” She hoped he hadn’t because that particular idea had been hers.

“They’re all crap ideas,” Daniel said dismissively. “This company is here to serve its shareholders, not a bunch of people who might or might not be encouraged to read more by setting up a bloody club.”

Jen frowned. “You don’t mean that,” she said quickly. “Come on, talk me through that branding idea again. I was thinking that you’d maybe have to limit it to one or two big publishers, because otherwise—”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Daniel interrupted. “I said they’re crap ideas. They’re not going to happen. What I need to do is get those bloody publishers to give me a better deal. Undercut the competition. Find some way to improve our profit margins. Maybe we shouldn’t even sell books anymore—I think DVDs have a better markup now. . . .”

Jen stared at him indignantly. He was sounding just like her father. Or, rather, what she’d thought her father was like before she got to know him again. Or . . . she shook herself. Who was she kidding—she had no idea what her father was really like. That was the problem. But she did know that Daniel was talking like an idiot.

“I don’t know what’s up with you,” she said calmly, “but the only crap around here is that stuff you’re spouting.”

She picked up her coffee and took a long sip. She could feel herself getting upset, and she didn’t want to have an argument, not now. She’d come to Daniel for reassurance, not to have a fight.

But reassurance was not on offer. Instead, Daniel glowered at her. “You think I’m spouting crap? Oh, grow up, Jen. I thought you were the one doing an MBA.”

“Grow up?” Jen was angry now. What right did he have to talk to her like that?

“You heard me. Oh, what’s the use. Do your assignment, Jen. Write up all those lovely ideas—they’re perfect for an MBA. They’re just not going to work in the real world, okay?” He walked back to his desk and sat down at his computer.

“You’re not a managing director, you’re a bloody tyrant,” Jen said hotly. “I thought you were a nice person. I thought you were interesting and funny, and all the time you were just . . .”

“Just what?” Daniel asked, still staring at his computer. He was really angry now.

“Well, actually, you’re just a prick,” Jen said, standing up and pushing her coffee away. “You’re not the Daniel I know, and I don’t actually want to be here with you if that’s okay.”

“Fine, fuck off, then,” Daniel said angrily, his eyes flashing. “Go and lecture someone who actually gives a damn.”

“You know, Daniel, I thought you did. I actually thought you did,” Jen said, storming out of his office and trying to ignore the amused look on his secretary’s face.

She decided against the lift, running down the stairs instead, and tore out of the building as fast as she could.
What had happened in there?
she wondered, stomping down the street as she tried to make sense of Daniel’s reaction. Did he suddenly turn into an ogre when he was in the office or was he angry with her? Had she said something to annoy him?

She pulled out her mobile phone and stared at it for a few minutes, hoping that he’d call and apologize, but it remained steadfastly silent.
Maybe it is me,
she suddenly thought.
Maybe he’s bored of me, irritated by me. I didn’t see him all weekend and maybe that was a sign . . .

Jen shook herself. No, it was impossible, she wouldn’t believe it. Daniel wasn’t like that. Although she hadn’t thought he was an argumentative prick either, and she’d been wrong about that.

Gradually calming down, Jen decided to go for another coffee. She hadn’t had a single bite of her lemon drizzle cake, and when Daniel came to his senses and called to apologize, she wanted to be nearby.

25

An hour later, Anita walked into the Wolseley and raised her eyebrows when she found Daniel staring despondently out of the window.

“Daniel, there you are. You know, I’m so pleased you were free today. I had such an interesting conversation the other day . . .” She trailed off as she realized that Daniel wasn’t even smiling. “Things really that bad, then?” she asked seriously, putting her hand on his.

“Worse.”

“You want to tell me about it?”

“I told Jen to fuck off.”

“Okay, that’s pretty bad. What did she do to deserve that?”

“Told me that bookselling isn’t all about huge profit margins.”

Anita frowned. “Huh? I thought you’d have agreed with her.”

Daniel put his head in his hands. “Of course I agree with her. I’d just said the same thing to my chairman, who told me that unless I changed my story when I presented my five-year strategy to the board next week I could forget my job.”

“He said that?”

“No. But I know that’s what he meant.”

Anita called the waiter over and ordered some wine and olives. “And you took it out on your girlfriend? Clever.”

“I was miserable, she got all indignant on me, made me feel even worse, and I . . . I just lost it slightly. Jesus, Anita, everything is suddenly so hard.”

Anita shook her head. “It isn’t suddenly so hard; you’ve just found a hill that it isn’t so easy to climb. Daniel, you’ve had an amazing career, you’ve been very successful, but maybe it’s made you think that it’s too easy. If you want something, you have to fight for it.”

“Are you talking about Wyman’s or Jen?”

“Both, probably, but I think I’m probably on safer territory on the Wyman’s front. . . .”

“I feel so helpless.” Daniel shrugged. “I feel . . . impotent.”

Anita raised one eyebrow. “Okay, definitely straying into new territory here. Daniel, you really want my advice?”

He nodded.

“Stop the self-indulgence,” Anita said firmly. “Tell it like it is, and be prepared to walk away if they won’t listen. But first you should probably apologize to your girlfriend.” There was a long silence, then Daniel reached over the table and kissed Anita on the lips.

“Suicide watch over,” he said seriously. “As always, you’ve cut to the chase and told me exactly where I’m going wrong. And as always, I am in your debt for it.”

Anita smiled. “And as always, you can buy me a nice lunch to repay your debt, and let me tell you about a new book we’ve got coming out next fall that I just know you’ll want to buy several thousand copies of. . . .”

Jen stared at her empty coffee cup. An hour and twenty minutes had passed, and still no phone call. This wasn’t just confusing—it was totally weird.

Was he angry at her? She shook her head. How could he be angry at her? All she’d done was tell him the truth—that he was behaving like an idiot.

Jen cringed slightly. Maybe she had been a little over the top—but then again, so had he. She’d been so humiliated when he shouted at her like that. It was like he’d turned into someone completely different.

Maybe he
was
someone different, she mused. Maybe she just didn’t know him that well after all.

No, impossible. She was going to call him and have it out with him. There had to be some explanation. Had to be a really good reason for his outburst.

Jen sighed. She couldn’t call him. He was the one who should be calling her. If she picked up the phone, it would be like she was apologizing. And she had absolutely no intention of doing that, particularly when he couldn’t even be bothered to call her.

Glumly, Jen checked her phone again to see if the signal was working. It was.
Fine,
she thought to herself irritably.
Absolutely fine. If that’s how he wants to play it, I’ll just go back to Bell. Do something useful with my time.

She started stomping down Piccadilly toward Bell Towers, muttering under her breath as she walked.
Bloody men,
she fumed crossly.
They’re all the same. You think they’re nice, and then they turn out to be like the rest. Selfish, that’s what they are. Totally and completely sel . . .

Suddenly Jen stopped. She was right outside the Wolseley, one of her favorite restaurants, and someone who looked just like Daniel was sitting at a table with an amazing-looking blonde.

She frowned. It couldn’t be him. Could it?

Hoping that the doorman wouldn’t think her too strange, she edged closer to take a proper look. It was him. She opened her mouth in shock—for more than an hour, she’d been nursing a coffee, waiting for him to call, and all the time he was out having lunch? It was unbelievable. Unbearable.

She edged backward so that he couldn’t see her at the door, and watched in horror as the two of them talked. The woman had her hand on his, and they looked . . . intimate. Suddenly Jen felt sick. She wanted to walk away, but couldn’t. Instead, she was forced to watch the woman smiling indulgently at Daniel, and then watch Daniel reach over and kiss her right on the mouth.

Shocked, Jen reeled back. So that was why he’d been so agitated, why he’d been so keen to get rid of her. He was seeing someone else. For how long, she wondered bitterly. And just when had he been planning to tell her?

As Daniel sat back on his chair, his face one big smile, Jen turned abruptly and started to run. She needed to get away, as far away as she could.

When will I learn,
she asked herself, big fat tears wending their way down her cheeks as she ran.
When will I realize that life is not about happy endings? It’s horrible and cruel and people are bastards and everyone lies about everything, even the people you love . . .

After a few minutes, she slowed down a bit, her breathing heavy and her throat sore from crying. She was close to Bell Consulting now, but somehow she didn’t want to go in. She looked dreadful for one thing, but more important, she didn’t feel like it. She wanted to climb into a big bed and pull the duvet over her head until the pain went away. You couldn’t depend on anyone, she thought miserably. As soon as you trust someone, they let you down and trod on your heart. Well, she wouldn’t trust anyone again. That was the only way to go.

So what if I’ve got lectures,
she thought to herself.
Doesn’t mean I’ve got to go. Why should I? I hate Bell Consulting. I hate them all.

Sticking her hand up, she flagged down a cab, got into the back, and just managed to give the driver her address before crumpling into a heap on the backseat.

When she got home, Jen made herself a coffee and decided to drink it in the garden. She stepped outside, shivered slightly, and wrapped her cardigan around herself tightly.

Her little garden was icy cold, and yet in spite of the cold weather, it was defiantly acting as though it were spring—little buds appearing, everything becoming greener after the bleak, bare winter months. Jen looked around wistfully. It looked so full of expectation, so optimistic, and whereas usually this would be enough to cheer her up, right now it just reinforced her own gloom. The fact of the matter was that she didn’t want to be optimistic. That was what had got her into trouble in the first place.

As she sat down, she heard her doorbell ring, and her heart leaped. Was it Daniel? Was he going to be here with some really good explanation for that kiss? Was he going to apologize and make things okay again?

Quickly, she ran to the door and opened it. But she was soon filled with a mixture of despair and relief when she saw that it wasn’t him.

“Gavin,” she said with a sigh. “What are you doing here?”

“All right, gorgeous,” Gavin said affably, giving her a quick kiss. “I got some crazy voicemail messages from someone who sounded just like you. Ring any bells?”

Jen frowned. “You’d better come in.”

She made them both tea and they sat down at the kitchen table.

“Thanks, Jen. So look, do you mind telling me what the hell those messages were all about?”

Jen rolled her eyes. Her anger at Gavin seemed a lifetime ago and she could barely muster the energy to explain now.

“It was about the letter,” she said miserably, stirring a spoonful of sugar into her tea.

“What letter?”

“You told the
Times
about the letter I showed you, that’s what my problem is. Not that it matters anymore.” Her voice was deadpan, unenthusiastic.

Gavin looked at her, confusion on his face. “What?”

“The letter, Gavin,” Jen said impatiently. “It was in the
Times
over Christmas. Look, it’s fine, I’m over it, I just . . . well, I thought I could trust you and evidently I was wrong. . . .”

He put down his tea. “Jen, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve been in Scotland. Haven’t talked to a single journalist.”

Jen sighed. “Look, I don’t know why you’re lying, because it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does matter because I’m not fucking lying!” His voice had gone up several octaves and Jen frowned.

“Really? It really wasn’t you? But who else could it have been?”

“I’ve got no idea. Jesus, I’m not coming to stay with you again if this is what I get. How many times do I have to tell you it wasn’t me? Must have been one of your other boyfriends. . . .” He looked at her as he spoke, watching for a reaction.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, actually,” she said sadly, testing out the words and realizing too late that she wasn’t over the whole crying thing.

Gavin jumped up and put his arms round her. “Come on, sweetheart, come on, it’s okay. I’m here now. . . .”

Jen allowed herself to relax into his embrace for a few seconds. All she’d wanted earlier was a hug, a kind word, and instead, Daniel had shouted at her. Gavin wasn’t exactly who she wanted comforting her, but he’d do.

“It’s not okay,” she said balefully. “Nothing’s okay. I fought with Daniel, and Dad . . . well, I thought I could trust him, and,
ohheeuugghh.
”

She sobbed on Gavin’s shoulder and he stroked her hair gently. “Don’t worry about them,” he said soothingly. “That Daniel bloke was never right for you anyway.”

“I was falling in love with him.” Jen sobbed, suddenly unable to hold in anything anymore. It felt good letting her tears flow.

“No, you weren’t. You just thought you were. Everything will be fine, you just wait and see.”

Jen allowed herself a few more sobs, then pulled herself away. “You seriously didn’t tell anyone about the letter?” she asked, sniffing loudly.

“I swear.”

“Then who did?” Her question was rhetorical, but Gavin didn’t seem to notice.

“That idiot you were going out with? Or what about your mum?”

Jen shook her head. “I didn’t tell either of them about it.”

Gavin looked pleased when he heard that. “Good thinking. Just tell people you can trust.”

Jen raised her eyebrow at him.

“Look, Jen,” he said seriously, taking her hand. “Let’s forget all the bullshit, shall we? We’re good together, you and me. If that other jerk’s off the scene and you’ve finished playing private detective, we can go back to how we were, right?”

Jen looked at him slightly less warmly than before. “Playing private detective?”

“Oh, you know, this whole corporate thing, playing around, spying on Daddy. I didn’t want to say anything, but it was a bit sad, wasn’t it?”

“Spying on Daddy? Is that what you think I was doing?”

Gavin looked confused. “That was what you were doing, wasn’t it?”

Jen shook her head. “You know, for a moment there, you almost had me,” she said with a sad smile.

“Almost?” Gavin said hopefully.

“Bye-bye, Gavin. Time to go now, I think.”

Gavin took her hand. “Look, I didn’t mean it about the private detective,” he said seriously. “Come on, Jen. You and me—we made a good team, didn’t we? We had a good time. I miss it.”

Jen looked at his hand and shrugged. “We did make a good team,” she agreed. “But not anymore.”

“You’re just saying that because of that bloke, aren’t you?” Gavin persisted. “Look, he’s out of the picture now. You were in love with me too, remember?”

Jen frowned. She supposed he had a point. But somehow she couldn’t remember being in love with Gavin. Couldn’t remember feeling this desperate at the thought of losing him.

“Gavin, don’t,” she said softly.

He looked at her intently, then took his hand away and smiled lightly at her. “No chance of a good-bye shag, then?” he asked jovially.

Jen raised her eyebrows at him.

“Well, call me if you change your mind.”

He gave her a good-natured wave as he left her building, and she watched as he disappeared around the corner. If he was telling the truth about the letter, then who had leaked it, she wondered. And more to the point, who on earth could she trust now?

A few minutes later, Jen was stripping off for a bath. She filled the tub, lit candles, and put on a Groove Armada CD, then slipped into the welcoming water and felt her body relax.

She shut her eyes and tried out a relaxation technique Angel had taught her—you imagine yourself in your favorite place, letting all your senses explore it, and you convince your mind that you’re actually really there. Angel called it the thirty-minute holiday.

Jen imagined herself on a beach somewhere, feeling soft, warm sand between her toes. Walking into the bluest sea and feeling the sun warm her bones. Then she was building sandcastles, putting the sand in her bucket meticulously and turning it upright, carefully removing it so as not to disturb her masterpiece. She would have a moat, four turrets, some servants’ quarters. As she built, the sea began to come in, so she started to up her pace— but it was coming in too quickly, ravaging her castle and tearing down one side of it. Frantically she tried to build more, but the sand had become waterlogged and wouldn’t hold its shape. Her parents were both shouting advice to her, but she couldn’t hear them properly because they were both talking at once, and when they saw that it was ruined, they both walked away.

Jerkily Jen sat upright. A loud ringing noise had woken her up. Quickly she jumped out of the tub and pulled a warm terry-cloth robe over her. Slipping her feet into sheepskin slippers, she made her way to the kitchen where her mobile phone was vibrating furiously and the name MUM was flashing on the screen.