held out a single white sheet of paper. I did a double take. Where was the document we usually received with pages and pages of stats and fancy fonts, headings and sub headings about ethos, values, market background and the MD’s inside leg measurement?
Hjem
Bringing the heart of Hygge
to the UK on Marylebone High Street
‘That’s it?’ I stared disbelieving at the simple typeface tracking across the pure white paper like footprints in snow. This was my great opportunity. She had to be kidding. It was like being given a pair of nail scissors and asked to make the pitch at Wembley match ready for the FA Cup final. My career and the chance to show Josh Delaney that I was back in business came down to this?
‘Connie,’ I called racing into the flat, shedding my bag and shoes as I darted into the kitchen. ‘I need your help. And we might as well have this.’
She jumped up from the table and her spot behind the ever-present pile of exercise books, eyeing up the bottle of Prosecco I had in my hand.
Our flat had been a lucky find, purely on the basis that it was affordable. The open plan lounge had one of those thin industrial textured carpets that you can feel every nail in the floorboards through and a few sparsely dotted items of furniture which stopped the place looking completely barren but it was a close-run thing. The key feature of the room was the flat screen TV hooked up to a DVD player which provided our main source of entertainment as we were permanently broke and spent plenty of nights in with a bottle of wine in front of a rom-com, wrapped up in a duvet to keep warm because it was always freezing.
The heating was dependent on a boiler with a decidedly work-shy temperament. Our landlord didn’t seem terribly worried about getting it fixed, and we’d hit complaint fatigue.
‘Oooh Prosecco. Good vintage too. Co-op six ninety-five I believe.’ Connie’s eyes lit up as they did whenever alcohol was involved.
‘No, Marks and Sparks, Victoria Station. Nine ninety-nine. I bought it yesterday when I thought I was going to get promoted.’
‘Oh shit. You didn’t then? What happened?’
‘Bastard Josh Delaney happened.’
‘What did he do?’ Connie hadn’t actually met Josh, as he preferred me to go to his place.
‘What didn’t he do? Stole my promotion. And do you know what else he did?’ my voice reached a pitch boy choristers would envy, ‘stole my idea and made out it was his.’
‘Couldn’t you tell anyone?’
‘Not really. Bit hard to explain to the MD about that post-coital chat in which I shared a brand strategy and an idea for a new app.’
Connie held up her hand. ‘Babe you’re blinding me with science and seriously, if that’s your pillow talk, you do need to get out more.’
‘You had to be there.’
‘I’m glad I wasn’t.’ She put her glass to her cheek. ‘What did he say?’
I closed my eyes and shook my head.
His persistent texts had only ended when I’d agreed to meet him in the stairwell. No one in our company ever took the stairs.
He did at least have the grace to apologise.
‘Look, Kate. I get that you’re disappointed. But I have to put it into context. I mentioned the app idea in passing. I didn’t lay claim to it at all and never at any time said it was mine. I was going to say it was yours but they’d already picked the idea up and run with it.’
‘But you could have said you were going for the promotion. Why keep it quiet?’
‘I wasn’t that fussed at first. But then … well you turn thirty and you start thinking about the future. It’s alright for you. I’m going to be a breadwinner one day. I need the promotions.’
‘Pardon.’ I repeated his words in as scathing a tone as I could muster against utter incredulity. ‘You’re going to be a breadwinner one day?’
I put both hands up to my cheeks in disbelief. He couldn’t be for real.
‘Kate, one day you’re going to get married, have kids. You don’t need the income.’
‘I-I …’ Spluttering was about the only activity I could manage.
‘Come on, Daddy’s going to bail you out when you’ve finished playing career girl.’
‘Seriously!’ I stared at his handsome face, suddenly seeing the weak chin, with the faint beginnings of a jowl, floppy public schoolboy hair that hid a receding hairline and the well-cut suit concealing a slightly soft belly. ‘Whoever said Neanderthal man died out forty-thousand years ago, lucked out big time.’
Finishing my story, I bitterly took a slug of Prosecco and raised my glass towards Connie in a toast.
She snorted Prosecco out of both nostrils, sniggering and sniffing which set me off.
‘You are kidding me.’
Connie was virtually family having lived two doors down from me all my life. Our mums met in ante-natal and when we both moved to London, there was no one else either of us even considered living with. We’d been through a lot together. Her mum ran off with the milkman, no lie, and mine had a run in with an aneurysm that wiped her life out in an instant. One minute she was there, the next gone, leaving a huge hole in our family, that to be honest had never really been patched.
I shook my head, biting my lips and sniggering along.
‘You’d better tell your dad to start polishing his Rolls.’
I shook my head and our laughter quieted.
‘Sorry Kate, what an arse.’ Connie knew that I helped Dad out with the mortgage payments.
‘Top me up,’ she held out her glass. ‘So, did you dump his sorry ass?’
‘Too right I did.’
‘Excellent girl. And then did you chop off his gonads?’
‘Damn, I knew there was something I’d forgotten.’
We chinked our glasses together again. Connie propped her chin on her hand and we lapsed into thoughtful silence. I’d made light of Josh’s betrayal but it hurt. We’d not been going out that long but I’d enjoyed being one of two for a change. London could be a lonely place for one. It was nice having someone to do things with. We both worked hard, which is why it had worked well. We had so much in common.
‘Katie, is it worth it?’ Her voice had softened.
I swallowed. Connie and I didn’t do serious.
‘Is
