Lord and Master (7 page)

‘It's impossible to put a value on the contribution this establishment makes to general brand awareness around Arborage. We have literally thousands of people walking past this shop every day on their way to Harrods, Selfridges…' Isabelle was saying.

‘I do appreciate that, Isabelle,' Stefan said. ‘But I'm not talking to you about marketing. This is a much more basic conversation about the revenue and profits generated by Lionsbridge. Or not, as the case may be.'

Isabelle waved her hand dismissively – she really could be like her mother sometimes, Luna thought to herself wryly. ‘You're right, we clearly aren't talking the same language.'

At this point a friend of hers glided into the tea room, the third to have appeared during their meeting. Isabelle rose to exchange kisses and exclamations of mutual admiration, and Stefan looked over to Luna, who kept her gaze innocently fixed on the brim of her teacup.

‘I think our work is finished here,' he said quietly.

Luna met his eyes and he purposefully adopted a hapless expression. She choked back a laugh, and they both stood, Stefan retrieving her satchel and arranging the strap for her, his hand briefly resting on her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Isabelle watching them. There were no more sweet smiles for Luna as she walked them to the door.

‘So, I will definitely see you tonight,' she instructed Stefan as he kissed her cheeks.

‘I look forward to it,' Stefan replied.

They took the Tube to Jem and Rod's studio in the East End, both opting to stand holding the same rail as the train clattered through the tunnel. Luna's posterior still bore the imprint of the wrought iron chair at Isabelle's shop, and besides, there was something airless about that place that made standing on the Tube feel good, jaunty.

‘So,' she said eventually. ‘What did you think?'

‘I think I will be telling Augusta that Lionsbridge should be wound down as quickly as possible,' Stefan replied immediately. Luna raised her eyebrows, genuinely surprised by the bluntness of his response. In all their other meetings with managers he'd been very careful not to give too much away to her, to seem to be open without actually telling her his full views. Even now she could only guess which areas he might give a negative report about to the Marchioness. The account books for Lionsbridge must be even worse than she thought.

‘She doesn't seem to like you very much, my cousin,' he added, and again Luna was surprised. That he had noticed and that, to his eyes, Isabelle's attitude towards her was something more tangible than a mere lack of interest.

‘She…we don't really know each other,' Luna said, somewhat lamely.

‘Hunh,' Stefan grunted, and looked out the darkened windows of the train. And Luna imagined that he stood a little closer to her. That his hand moved a shade down the pole, and his shoulder inclined ever so slightly towards her. She felt his usual heat radiating into her and noticed for the first time how perfect his height was for her. How, if she had rested her head on his shoulder, her nose would have met the pulse beating in his neck.

Jem and Rod's company, the eponymously named Rod Studios, was located in a former printworks in Shoreditch, one of the few historic buildings in the immediate vicinity that had survived the Blitz, now transformed into an uber cool office space. Their offices were on the second floor and Rod's domain started immediately outside the old industrial lift, where the walls and ceilings were covered with old style graffiti, most of it featuring characters and settings from video games Rod and his team had designed.

‘Wow,' Stefan said, surveying the industrial, almost brutalist light fittings and Rod's slogan, ‘Welcome to your new world,' emblazoned in blood-red spray paint on a black background opposite the lift. ‘What is it exactly that your friend's company designs?'

‘It's video games mostly, although they also do some instructional apps.'

‘Would I have heard of any of the games they've designed?'

Luna pointed down the hallway towards a florid painting of a British WWII destroyer sailing through icy seas, a Nazi fighter plane diving overhead and merchant marine vessel sinking in the background. ‘Well…' she began.

‘
Archangel!
' Stefan exclaimed. ‘Your friend designed
Archangel
? I
love
that game.'

Archangel
was a game based on the true story of arctic convoys run by the British navy from Iceland to the Soviet ports of Archangel and Murmansk during the war, to provide vital supplies to the Soviets. Eighty-five merchant ships and sixteen British warships were lost to German attacks from air and sea from 1941 to 1945. Rod's video game, to date his most successful creation, charted the journey of a convoy led by the HMS Duke of York in 1943. From what Luna could tell, the goal of the game was to protect as many English merchant marine ships as possible whilst sinking as many U-boats as possible.

She was not, admittedly, completely sure of this, not being a fan of video games herself. However, she'd spent enough time around Jem, Rod and their friends to recognise the boyish excitement in Stefan's face as they approached the doorway to Rod's offices, where Jem stood waiting for them.

At five foot even, with short-cut shocking red hair, porcelain skin and full lips painted so purple they were almost black, Jem looked like a character out of a video game herself. She immediately launched herself toward Luna, hugging her around the waist before turning to Stefan.

‘I'm Jem, Rod's managing director.' Then Rod Okuyo himself emerged from the office. Not much taller than Jem, he had the build of a mini wrestler. His hair was braided in tiny, neat cornrows and a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses made his brown eyes look twice their normal size. Rod and Jem had met at a party at the University of Manchester, where Jem, having always been attracted to what she referred to disparagingly as ‘super geeks', had gone out of her way to target the most exotic-looking man in the room, only to discover that Rod was the biggest super geek of them all, a programming and games design fanatic who, Kayla had joked, ‘came with joysticks attached.' Of course, by the time Jem realised he wasn't the rebel of her dreams, she'd fallen in love with him.

As, apparently, had Stefan, who was shaking Rod's hand enthusiastically and saying, ‘I'm a big, big fan of your work.'

‘Really, man?' Rod said, barely a trace of his Kenyan accent still audible in his Mancunian drawl. ‘That's flattering to hear.' Rod led Stefan into their offices – if they really could be called offices, for there were almost no desks set out around the large, somewhat industrial-looking space interspersed with rows of steel columns. Staff seemed to do most of their work on sofas or in a series of darkened studios along an interior wall. At any given time when Luna had visited in the past, a substantial portion of the staff were usually playing video games in the large games area at the far end of the office, where four hirsute men were currently glued to Xbox.

As Rod led Stefan to the conference room, Jem reached out to grip Luna's hand excitedly. ‘He's so cool! Can you believe he's played
Archangel
? What are the chances?!'

Luna smiled and nodded enthusiastically, pleased to have been the catalyst for this meeting. It had been worth their trial by potpourri with Isabelle that morning after all.

In the conference room, kitted out with no less than four mammoth video screens, they were streaming a variety of clips from their forthcoming release,
Remainers
. One featured what Luna recognised as a main character in the game, known only as the Marquess, and the other three were of scenes in and around Arborage. Rod, Jem and their team had spent six whole months on the estate the previous year, using a combination of architectural surveying equipment and other electronic gizmos to create a series of 3D images of the house and grounds that formed the heart of the ‘world' of
Remainers
.

Luna briefly explained to Stefan that Arborage's involvement in the project began shortly after a deal Rod had been negotiating with the National Trust to use one of their properties fell through.

‘And I thought, well, Arborage is at least as impressive a property as that, so…' Luna smiled.

‘Luna saved us,' Rod cut in. ‘I had such a clear vision of what this game could be, and Arborage has made it better, if anything.'

Luna had to agree, based on some of the images she saw flitting across the screens in the room. She was amazed to see the level of detail in them, down to cracks in the sandstone bricks of the house's façade and pits in the marble pillars in the main gallery. More than that, though, there was a dreamy quality to these images, a hyper reality that was gripping, unlike any other video game images she'd seen.

Not that she knew much about these things. And, truth be told, her mind started to wander a little when Rod talked Stefan through the premise for the game, an alternative universe where the Nazis had won the war and invaded England, and only small pockets of resistance fighters continued to fight the good fight, including the fictional Marquess, a sexy female spy, and a little boy from a fictional village near the estate.

‘And if that all sounds a bit dry,' Rod concluded, ‘let me assure you these three – you get your pick of who you want to play as – get up to a lot of Nazi killing. It's good fun. In fact…we have a short demo version you can play, if you're interested.'

‘Absolute,'
Stefan said, and if he'd jumped up and down like a boy waiting to board a roller coaster Luna wouldn't have been surprised, from the expression of delight on his face. She and Jem exchanged indulgent glances and Jem said to her, ‘Fancy a coffee?'

Two minutes later they were out on the street, laughing at the sheer implausibility of Rod meeting his biggest fan.

‘And he is so completely
lovely,
' Jem said, taking Luna's arm just as she had done that first week at uni in Manchester, when the two of them had walked from their student digs in Fallowfield along Oxford Road to the main campus together. Luna could still remember her surprise, shock almost, at the physical contact. But Jem had thought nothing of it, a girl whose mum had hugged her every day of her life until she left to go to uni, and who Jem still phoned religiously up to five times per day. Thought nothing of the simple act of taking another girl's arm…

‘…and I can tell he fancies you,' Jem was saying, dragging Luna back into the present.

‘Oh, come on,' Luna laughed. ‘You saw that programme he was on, he's a ladies' man. He fancies anything in a skirt.'

‘No,' Jem said solemnly. ‘It's different with you, you can tell. He was watching you, when you were looking at the screen in the conference room. You were smiling at something.'

‘Those images you've created, Jem, they're incredible. I couldn't take my eyes off them.'

Jem refused to be distracted, continuing, ‘You were smiling and he was just…looking at you.'

‘Well.' Luna cleared her throat. And then they reached the coffee shop.

Sat at a table shortly thereafter with two cappuccinos and cake, Jem rattled on about preparations for the launch of
Remainers
while Luna happily sat and listened. It had been a real source of pleasure for her, all the time Jem and Rod had spent at Arborage the previous year. A couple of times they'd spent the night, the three of them staying up late into the night drinking red wine and talking, Luna basking in her friends' collective brainpower as they argued and planned.

‘So, have you told him yet?' Jem said, interrupting her thoughts.

‘Told him what?' Luna asked, then realised what Jem meant. ‘Ah, no.'

‘I don't understand. Why don't you want him to know that you've met? I mean, it was only one weekend and it was
years
ago.'

Luna studied her coffee. ‘I don't know. I guess…I guess I look back at that time and think I wasn't really myself. I'm not particularly proud of the way I behaved back then.'

Jem stared at her in a funny way, then shook her head.

‘What?'

‘You'll think I'm taking the piss.'

‘No, seriously, what?' Luna reached out and poked a finger in Jem's ribs, intoning, ‘Jemima Evangeline, what are you thinking?' A name she rarely used, from their own shared past. Luna had sworn Jem to silence regarding Stefan, because she'd been there that weekend, long before she and Luna had rediscovered each other at uni and become friends. Jem, the one girl who had laughed when Luna told the Swedish boy where to go.

‘I'm thinking that you're too hard on yourself,' Jem said. ‘I remember when you made that crack about him, on that awful hike. You saying he should fuck off back to Sweden and me thinking to myself, thank God,
someone's
finally said it. Like, finally said that Empress Isabelle has no clothes. You were just so…fierce. I remember thinking, I want to be like her. And I remember being ashamed that I didn't back you up, when all the other girls turned on you and gave you the silent treatment the rest of the weekend.'

Luna blinked, truly taken back by Jem's revelation.

‘Oh, Jem,' she said sadly. ‘I was a total bitch back then. You didn't really want to be like me.'

‘I did. And it stayed with me. Then I saw you that first week at university and I thought, here's my chance to be that girl's friend.' Jem took Luna's hand and squeezed it earnestly. ‘And I thought, doesn't she look better with hair.'

Two hours later, Luna and Stefan exited Rod Studios, Stefan clearly full of the joys.

‘You've got my email,' he said to Rod, gripping his hand firmly, ‘so keep me abreast of plans for the launch.'

‘Will do, man,' Rod grinned. ‘And thanks for the advice. It's really got me thinking about the future of the business in a different way.'

Jem laughed and pointed at Stefan, jiggling up and down a little. ‘Oh, oh, was it, “Your people understand this business better than you do. Why
is
that?”'

Luna glanced from Stefan to Jem and back in confusion, but Stefan just looked slightly abashed. As the lift doors closed, Jem fired off one last line, stabbing her finger at them: ‘“That's bullshit and you
know
it!”' Luna could hear Jem laughing to Rod even after the doors closed and the lift started its descent.

She looked at Stefan enquiringly and he rolled his eyes.

‘Those were catchphrases of mine on—'

‘
The Triad!
' Luna interrupted exultantly. ‘That's it! I never watched it, but—'

‘That's probably just as well,' Stefan said, abruptly ending the conversation.

Later, when they'd boarded the train back to Newbury and were sitting opposite each other at a table seat, Luna summoned up her courage and asked, ‘Do you not like being asked about the programme?'

Stefan ran a hand through his hair and sighed. ‘No, no…though I admit I'm a little surprised I still get recognised. I was only on it for one series, and that was four years ago.'

‘Well, all I can tell you is you certainly made an impression on my friends. I was living in Miami at the time and they used to send me long, detailed emails about you. Of course, I found it a little hard to believe that someone could be as hot
and
smart as they said you were.'

‘But now that you've met me…'

‘Well, yes,
now
I believe.' Luna grinned and started to say more, but then thought better of it.

Seeing the question in her eyes, Stefan said, ‘Go on, Miss Gregory. Believe me, you won't ask me anything some drunk City boy hasn't already asked at 3am in a pub gents.'

‘Is it true what the papers said, that you had to leave after the…'

‘Scandal?' Stefan suggested. ‘The ill-advised dalliance with one of my protégés?' He cocked an eyebrow at Luna. ‘Well, what do you think? One of the experts on a factual entertainment programme has a liaison with someone he's offered business advice to –
after
, I would hasten to add, filming at her business was completed. And then the protégé goes to the tabloids with her version of events, complete with topless photos. Do you think the producers said to themselves, “Oh, this is just too scandalous. People will be watching this programme for all the wrong reasons!”'

Stefan adopted a slightly outraged Oxford lisp for this last bit that was surprisingly hilarious, and Luna exploded with laughter. She was still gasping and wiping a tear from her eye a few moments later, when he continued, ‘They
begged
me to stay. But it was only ever a one-series deal for me.'

‘Why?'

Stefan hesitated, then said, ‘My business was new, and it was struggling. Exposure on the programme helped to raise its profile. My profile. But after one series it had served its purpose. If I'd stayed on the show, I'd have become…something else.'