What She Wants (81 page)

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ Nicole said quickly, terrified that her plan had backfired hideously and that, in her haste to do something lovely for her grandmother, she’d done the one thing guaranteed to devastate her. ‘Let me take it back,’ she said, trying to grab the folder out of Reenie’s hands.

But her grandmother held on tightly. ‘Oh Nicole,’ she said weakly, ‘did you see into my heart or something? Your great great grandmother could see things, you know. She had the Sight, although she had to keep it quiet because the parish priest would have had something to say about that. Do you have it too because I’ve thought about this for years.’

‘No, I’ve no special sight: I’m blind as a bat, Gran,’ joked Nicole, shaking with relief. ‘I just thought that if it was me, I’d want to go back, to lay the ghosts to rest.’

Both Nicole and Sandra watched Reenie carefully. ‘These tickets are for me, your mum and Pammy,’ Reenie said, reading carefully. ‘What about you, Nicole?’

‘I can’t go,’ Nicole explained. ‘My single’s being released in the next two weeks and I’ll be like a blue-tailed fly rushing round promoting it.’ She’d blanched when she’d first set eyes on the promotion schedule. It involved a ten-day tour and there were so many flights on it that Nicole was determined to sign up for air miles. The promotion tour was in preparation for the release of ‘Honey, (Don’t You Know) I Need You?’ a rhythm and blues ballad which Nicole adored. Time would tell if the rest of the country adored it too.

‘But you should come too,’ her mother said. ‘We can’t do it without you.’

‘I’ll come next time,’ Nicole promised. ‘I can’t this time. But you’ll be okay without me. Sam Smith from Titus is going there for a wedding and she’s going to be travelling with you. She helped me organize it all, actually.’

‘Would you really like to go back, Mum?’ asked Sandra.

At that moment, Reenie’s face was miraculously softened by memories, with the lines of a tough life miraculously erased. ‘I’d love to go home,’ she said.

Sam didn’t need anybody to tell her that the numbers for Density’s album were bad. As she sat at her desk one gloriously sunny morning, still plucking up the courage to resign, she knew the band were in trouble without even looking at her computer. When she dropped into record stores to keep an eye on the LGBK label displays, she saw piles of Density albums on the carousels, with the band’s angst-ridden faces staring gloomily at her from the cover. Their current single had been dropped from all but the most rock-driven radio station playlists and the video, shot at great expense, was probably mouldering away in some dark cupboard in the MTV headquarters, never to be seen again except in a ‘where are they now?’ slot. The initial shipment of albums were

steadily returning to the Titus warehouse while the album itself sat like a millstone in the number eighty-seven position in the album chart. Eighty-seven was a fine position for an album that had stormed into the charts, spent ages in the top twenty, and then slid slowly and triumphantly out, after months of success and lots of hit singles. Density’s album had been in the chart for eight weeks and had never risen higher than seventy-one. Their two singles had made as much impact as two flea bites on an elephant. With a practised eye, Sam ran through the sales analysis on her computer. Even though the Titus sales team had told their customers that the band were hotter than hell, they’d still had to offer sale or return on the album. If unsold, the shops could send the copies back and now the thousands of unsold albums were returning like homing pigeons. It wasn’t as if the band had performed reasonably and could, therefore, hope for better luck next time. The album simply hadn’t sold at all. Despite Titus pulling out all the stops marketing and publicity wise, Density were still dead as dodos. The combination of costs looked horrifying when compared to the dismal bottom line. Sam looked at the figures which detailed the cost of signing the band, recording their album, making the video and finally, the costs of the huge marketing campaign. There wasn’t a hope in hell of making back any of that money. ‘If only they weren’t such stupid, arrogant fools, they could have a hope,’ Karen Storin had raged to Sam the previous week when the band refused to appear on a TV chat show because they weren’t the top act on the show. ‘They told me no way they were going to play warm-up for some country and western singer from Abilene. That woman has sold ten million records! They’ve barely sold ten records.’ ‘They’ve got a big star complex without actually being big stars,’ remarked Sam bleakly. ‘You said it. Most of the press hate them. I practically hate them myself,’ Karen admitted, ‘although you’re the only

person I’d say that to. They’re so rude to everyone and that manager of theirs is a giant pain in the rear end.’

‘He may change his tune soon,’ Sam pointed out. ‘At this rate, we won’t be able to risk making a second album with his precious boys. Let’s see how sweet he’ll become when he realizes there’s a good chance the band could be dropped.’

‘That bad?’

Sam nodded. ‘That bad.’

Now Sam scrolled through the figures on her computer and knew that a big decision was going to have to be made soon. LGBK couldn’t afford Density but if she dropped them, it would look as if she’d made a huge mistake that had cost the company millions. She’d been running the company for nearly nine months. Nobody, least of all the bosses on Madison Avenue, would remember that it was actually her predecessor and Steve Parris who’d signed the deal with Density. She wondered whether it was worth discussing it all with her champion, Julian Ruben, the European president who’d hired her in the first place.

‘You look like you could do with a cup of coffee,’ remarked Lydia, arriving into the office with a pile of opened mail.

‘Do you have any coffee flavoured with Valium?’ asked Sam.

Lydia grinned. ‘No, just ordinary. If you’re feeling down, a gang of us are going out to dinner tonight if you fancy coming along. It’s me and a few others from the fifth floor.’

‘Thanks,’ said Sam, deeply touched. ‘But tonight’s off, I’m afraid.’

‘Some other time, huh?’ said Lydia.

‘Yes,’ Sam said slowly, hating herself because she was lying. She had nothing on that night, except for a date with her television remote control. But managing directors didn’t go out for dinner with the staff. Why not? thought Sam savagely. Because it might erode their precious status if they were seen to be enjoying themselves with lesser mortals.

And all of a sudden, Sam was sick of it. She was sick of

being the boss, sick of running a company where she sat at the top in an ivory tower, so far removed from everyone else that she had no colleagues any more, just people who worked for her, and probably hated her. In the time she’d spent at Titus, only Karen Storin had become a friend. Despite her so-called new life where she planned to concentrate on enjoying life and making new friends, nothing much had actually changed. Karen was still her only true work friend. Sam was never going to change her life if she stayed in this job. She had to get out and now. She phoned Lydia. ‘Lydia, can you get me Julian Ruben’s office on the phone? I’d like a meeting with him if possible. And by the way, if that offer of dinner is still on, I think I’ll change my other plans and come along, if that’s all right?’ ‘Cool,’ said Lydia, pleased.

Hope was miserably packing a suitcase for Millie and Toby’s trip to Bath when Sam phoned late that night. ‘I hope I didn’t wake you,’ Sam said, sounding giggly after a couple of glasses of wine at dinner. ‘No,’ said Hope, ‘the baby is having one of his or her footballing nights. I don’t remember being kicked so much with the others. How are you?’ ‘Fantastic,’ announced Sam. ‘I’ve done it.’ ‘Done what?’ ‘Resigned. I did it today. I spoke to Julian Ruben and told him I couldn’t do it any more.’ ‘Wow,’ was all Hope could say. ‘He was lovely, actually, begged me to reconsider, which was flattering, but I told him it wasn’t the company’s fault but that I needed a change.’ ‘Sam, we’ve big plans for you, you’ve got to believe that,’ Julian had actually said. ‘I want you to reconsider this, for all our sakes. I know you’re having a rough time with Parris, but that won’t last, believe me,’ Julian had added ominously. ‘I just said that it didn’t matter what the plans were,’ Sam

recalled. ‘I need a change, Hope. I need to downshift. And I’ve got just the idea. I’m going to run a management consultancy firm. Just a small operation. I got the idea from these people I know who’ve got a fabulous restaurant but are finding it tough to break even. I had an idea about how to change that, and I just thought, hey, I’d be good at that, telling people where their company is going wrong. I think there’s a big market for it.’ ‘Problem solving,’ said Hope, ‘that’s what you’re brilliant at.’ ‘Yes, problem solving.’ Sam sounded so happy and excited. ‘I know there’s a risk in any business venture but hey, I’m used to risk. It’s like this big burden has been lifted,’ she said joyously. ‘You know, Hope, I don’t think I knew how much I wanted to change my life until I actually did it.’ ‘What about money?’ asked Hope, ever practical. ‘It’s not as if I haven’t got savings and investments. I may sell the Holland Park apartment and buy something smaller if I need to realize some cash. But I don’t care, Hope,’ she said. ‘That’s the point. It’s not about money or being able to eat out seven nights a week with an expense account, putting money into Terence Conran’s coffers. I just wasn’t happy.’ ‘What about Morgan?’ asked Hope suddenly. ‘I thought he was part of your long-term plan for happiness?’ Sam felt her bubble burst. Hope had hit the nail on the head. Without Morgan, she didn’t know if she could be truly happy, but then, she’d just have to get over him. She’d heard nothing from him since that awful day after the Lemon Awards when they’d fought so horribly. He’d made his decision and there was nothing she could do to change that. ‘Morgan’s in the past,’ Sam said. ‘Are you OK with that?’ ‘No, but I have no choice in the matter. He’s made the decision, not me. And look who’s talking. You could have made the first move with Matt and you haven’t.’

‘That’s different,’ Hope retorted. ‘Why?’ ‘It just is.’ ‘You mean that you still haven’t told him about the baby? Why, Hope? He’s going to find out eventually. Are you going to hide behind the sofa when he comes to pick up the children on Saturday so he doesn’t see the bump?’ ‘No,’ said Hope. ‘I’m not going to see him at all. I’m asking Delphine to deliver them to the airport. I don’t want to have to face Matt, not yet.’ ‘Because you’re visibly pregnant and you don’t know how to tell him or because you genuinely don’t want him back?’ Sam asked gently. ‘I know you’re going to become this mega problem solver,’ Hope said a touch irritably, ‘but don’t start on me. Oh all right, of course I want him back but I don’t feel very forgiving or apologetic right now,’ she said. She was pregnant and hormonal, dammit, she needed someone looking after her, never mind worrying herself about Matt thinking the wrong thing about her and Christy. ‘Sorry, Hope, I didn’t mean to hassle you,’ Sam said. ‘I’m just hormonal,’ Hope said. ‘You weren’t with Millie and Toby.’ ‘Yes I was, I just didn’t let it all out,’ said Hope. ‘But this is the new, improved me, the one who lets everyone know when she’s grumpy!’ ‘Do you want me to talk to Matt…’ began Sam. Hope’s yell startled her. ‘No! Don’t you dare. This is my life and I’ll sort it out.’ ‘I was only trying to help,’ Sam said, helplessly. ‘Phone Morgan then. That’ll help.’ ‘I can’t.’ ‘Yes you can,’ Hope said firmly. ‘Stop worrying about me and go and sort out your own life, right?’

Virginia was very pleased with herself when she came out of the soft furnishing shop in Killarney. Those buttery yellow

tie backs would look perfect on the dining room curtains and would finish the entire room off beautifully. It had been a frantic few weeks but Kilnagoshell was finally getting there and would look beautiful for Delphine’s wedding reception. The six spare bedrooms had been restored to their former glory, thanks to PJ’s careful decoration and also to Shona’s skill as an interior designer. She’d been fantastic at sourcing beautiful fabrics and wallpaper at good prices, which was vital as Virginia couldn’t afford to plough all her money into the redecorating. All that remained to be done was a bit of work in the garden and although Virginia had been promising herself that she’d tackle it, Mary-Kate had pointed out that she’d done enough. ‘The rose garden looks wonderful and the lawn is in perfect condition. What else would anyone want?’ she demanded. She was such a dear friend, Virginia thought fondly, as she walked leisurely along, enjoying the sunshine and the hustle and bustle of the main street. If she’d been paying attention instead of just strolling along happily, she might have seen Glenys and Richard Smart storming up the street, arguing volubly. As it was, she almost collided with them outside the book shop. ‘I’m sorry, oh, hello Glenys and Richard,’ Virginia said. ‘Well, well,’ said Glenys, her eyes glittering with malice. ‘If it isn’t Kevin’s little friend.’ As she towered over Glenys, Virginia thought this was amusing. ‘Charmed as ever to see you,’ she said, managing to stop the corners of her mouth lifting. ‘I’ll just drop into the book shop …’ began Richard. ‘Don’t be long,’ snapped Glenys. ‘Seen Kevin lately?’ inquired Glenys, eyes travelling over Virginia’s tall, slim figure, elegant in an ivory linen suit that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the Out Of Africa film set.

Glenys, on the other hand, was sweating in a serviceable red blazer, the buttons of which were under severe strain.

‘Kevin and I played a lovely round of golf at the club last week, actually,’ Virginia said. She was almost enjoying this. It was clear that Glenys wanted to rage at her about Kevin and, because she no longer viewed Kevin as anything other than a friend, Virginia was no longer sensitive about him. Let Glenys rage all she wanted to.

‘How can you stand there and smile at me like that?’ demanded Glenys. ‘ Virginia’s kept smiling. She’d bet herself that it would take at least one minute before Glenys went in for the kill: instead, it had taken only thirty seconds.

She said nothing and waited.