an ambulance-chasing solicitor. Har har.’
‘My parents are both solicitors,’ he said. ‘Personal injury.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean it! I’m sure they’re very nice people and they probably didn’t do anything horrible in a previous life to deserve to be solicitors. I mean, it was just—’
‘Katie, relax, I was only joking. My parents are doctors. Shall we get on with this?’
I left the meeting in a muddle. He didn’t mention anything about the Christmas party. Still no hints that he might remember more than he was letting on. No lovely innuendos. I’d carried a torch for this man for six years, which hadn’t dimmed one iota. I must have used extra-long life batteries. It couldn’t go on like this.
Our overdrafts wouldn’t survive sixty-quid theatre tickets for very long, so our girls’ nights were interspersed with thriftier options.
‘I’ve never seen so many skinny jeans in one place,’ Jane said, shifting in her chair to tuck her legs further beneath the table in the cinema’s foyer. ‘Have we walked into a Topshop advert?’
‘They’re hipsters,’ Ellie whispered, as if observing them on safari. Maybe she was afraid they’d stampede if spooked. ‘They all dress like this in the East End. It looks good on teenagers but I could never wear jeans like that.’
‘Oh, but Ellie,’ Jane said, ‘of course you can, you’re only twenty-five! I’m the one who’s probably too old to be trendy.’
‘You make yourself sound like a granny, Jane,’ I said. ‘You’re only thirty-five. And a young-looking thirty-five at that.’
‘She’s right,’ Pixie said, smoothing her hands over her thighs. ‘I’m thirty-five and I’m wearing them. I am! You don’t have to be a size zero you know. Skinny just means they fit your body … whatever body you’ve got. I can’t stand those baggy ones they always stock in big sizes. They make me look like a postie. My calves aren’t too bad. I may as well show them off.’
She did have pretty calves, and slender ankles. She often said her parents had some spinning top mixed in with their Yorkshire heritage. I loved that she could see the good in herself, even when sometimes others didn’t.
‘I don’t know how you do it, Pixie,’ Jane said. ‘I admire you so much. I can’t even let Andy see my wobbly bits, let alone the wider world. I make him turn all the lights out when we’re in bed.’
How I wished some of Pixie’s confidence would rub off on Jane. ‘Doesn’t he get cross about that?’
She smiled. ‘If he does, he doesn’t let on. He’s too good a husband.’
Ellie was keen to find our seats, even though we’d already reserved them. I hadn’t seen her so excited since the Selfridges shoe sale last year. But then it wasn’t every day that her favourite film director offered to do a talk after his film.
There was a collective intake of breath when we saw the huge cushy green velvet armchairs. Pixie made a face. ‘They’re not big enough …’
‘Very funny,’ I said. It was nap-worthy seating. ‘This could be the perfect cinema experience, thank you, Hackney Picturehouse!’ I imagined all the cold, rainy weekend afternoons we could spend lounging in cinematic splendour. In seats like that I’d even watch Vin Diesel without too much of a grump.
Within minutes of the opening credits though, I was yearning for Vin. Instead we sat through two hours of bleak inner angst. As if I needed any more of that, after the day I’d had. My mind replayed the afternoon’s meeting while the actors wept on-screen. Stupid arthouse film.
Every month the entire Nutritious sales team met in the big conference room to divvy up new client prospects and report on progress with existing clients. Everybody lied, of course (occupational hazard), but it was important to go through the motions to give our bosses the illusion of control.
As usual, Clive (he of the vision boards) chaired the meeting and, as usual, we played Buzzword Bingo. Trading the cards around each month made sure that everyone got an equal chance over time.
Nobody could sling vacuous office speak like Clive, and he never disappointed. Ellie jumped when he said ‘Let’s focus on the bottom line, team’ and I knew she had my card from last month. Focus and bottom line in one go. Well played, Ellie.
‘All right, last order of business,’ he said as I ticked off one of my boxes. Just touch base and game plan left to win. ‘New account visits. We’ve got sixteen this month. Who can take Camelot in Northampton?’
I raised my hand with lots of others.
‘Steve, thanks. Cohens in Leeds?’
Again my hand went up. ‘Susan, great. Faith Fitness, also in Leeds? Susan, do you want to take that too? Thanks. Havens Chemist? Matt.’
Each time my hand went up. Each time Clive chose a colleague to take the meeting. By the end of the list, my arm was tired. So was I.
‘Right,’ said Clive. ‘Thank you, ladies and gents. Same time next month. Any questions, just touch base with me.’
‘Erm, Clive? Isn’t there a client I could take?’ I asked, subtly ticking off my touch base box.
He smiled his grandfatherly smile. ‘I’m sorry, Katie, that’s the end of the list. Next time you should volunteer earlier.’ Ellie grimaced her support as she took the minutes. She was lucky. As the company secretary and all-round indispensable person, she didn’t have to fight for client meetings with the rest of us.
I didn’t bother pointing out that my hand was in the air the whole time. I could have danced on the desk and he’d have passed me over. It was a long-standing fact. I was one of their top salespeople on the phone. I never got client meetings.
Once Ellie’s moany film ended we had to stay for another twenty minutes while sycophantic fans stroked the director’s ego. Even she looked ready for a drink by the time we finally made for the pub down the road.
‘You know what I really want?’ Ellie asked as we carried our wine to an empty table. ‘Cake. I could murder a slice of gooey chocolate gateau.’ She licked her lips thinking about it.
‘I could eat two slices,’ I said. Lately my appetite had been colossal. ‘With ice cream.’
‘God, don’t!’ moaned Jane. ‘I haven’t had anything sweet all week.’
‘You’re not still on your stinking wee cereal diet?’ Pixie said. ‘Love, give it up. There’s no reason to put yourself through something that clearly doesn’t work.’ When Ellie protested this rather blunt statement, she said, ‘What? Jane has said as much. It’s been over a month and she hasn’t lost any weight.’
‘I gained a pound,’ Jane confirmed. ‘But I’m going to try something new. Katie, you might know about this too, from work. It’s called Alli. Have you heard of it?’
‘We don’t sell any diet aids.’
