style="font-size:15px;"> ‘Totally. Heart of gold!’ He giggles. ‘Actually, I might casually ask him to pop down. Right, I’ll text you later, when I am nicely pissed and the night feels full of possibility. And then again, when I’m eating my feelings in a kebab shop and considering a Reece’s Pieces Nutrageous chaser. Oh, and Jacobs, remember …’ He swings his jacket round his shoulders. ‘Cheer the fuck up, you SHREW!’
I go back to my desk. My screen saver of Kat Moss is partially covered by my email inbox. During the time I was with Fitz, I have received twenty-three new messages. Around half are tagged with a little red exclamation mark—a ‘screamer’, as we call it—signifying that the contents require reading urgently. But I can tell from the subject boxes most of these are not even verging on ‘pressing’, let alone anywhere in the ball park of urgent. Sample sales, product launches, label re-branding, model-agency parties, designer-high street collaborations, new clubs and bars, store openings, store revamps, store invite-only evenings, and bloggers asking for interviews … not exactly real newsworthy events. But honestly, all of that used to excite me. It’s what the industry is all about. Image. But right now, I can feel my own image slipping. I am slipping.
I stare at my computer screen. A new email pings through from [email protected]. How ironic that hers are always free from any exclamatory tags yet they are the ones which make me want to scream. I click on it.
Ashley,
I’ve received notification from your husband’s solicitor regarding the status of your mortgage and house accounts. Please call me to discuss. I shall be at the office until 8pm tonight.
Kind regards, Gillian
I check that Fitz has left and reach for my iPhone. I’ve got two missed calls. One from Sheila. Another from Zach. I dial 901. The disembodied voice kicks in.
You have one new message. To return the call, key five. To replay the message, key one. To s— … I key 2 and save the message. The next message is four … minutes … long.
Zach’s mobile has rung me by mistake. This happens a lot because he only uses code-less Nokias made between 2003 and 2008 and never puts the lock on. He thinks smartphones are naff. I listen to the message. I can hear music, mate-y joshing, fruit machines … the background hum of a pub. Then the noises become clearer. I assume the mobile has been removed from his pocket.
ZACH: Still can’t believe it. (Excited.) We hit that out of the park. Smashed it in the back of the net. Insert your own triumphant cliché here …
A WOMAN’S VOICE: I knew we would get it.
I don’t recognise her. She must be a colleague. Probably one of the fancy dress enthusiasts. Zach’s office is full of them.
A MAN’S VOICE: Just between us, I was shitting myself. I recognise him. It’s Keith With the Bad Teeth.
Properly shitting myself.
THE WOMAN: Charming.
KEITH: You were too, Zach. Admit it.
THE WOMAN: He didn’t come across like that during the pitch.
ZACH: Well, that’s good to know. Hey, where are the toilets in here?
KEITH: Told you!
ZACH: D’you always have to be so low rent, Keith? It’s amazing how you’ve become even more uncouth since you’ve stopped drinking. You used to be a one-man wave of tastelessness …
KEITH: … and now I am a tsunami! Even better, the next morning I get to remember all the chaos I’ve caused. Bogs are up the stairs to the left …
ZACH: Cool … watch those files for me, please.
THE WOMAN: That’s a lot of paperwork you’ve got in there.
ZACH: Yeah, it’s for the … (Stops.) We’re not exactly doing our bit for the conservation of the planet.
WOMAN: God, don t. Pete and I must have destroyed a good few acres of the rainforest before our decree nisi was issued.
KEITH: I would prefer not to be listening to this conversation. It’s depressing. As you both know, I am very recently engaged …
ZACH: How that happened, I have no idea.
KEITH: Me neither!
WOMAN: Well, if it does go horribly wrong, my advice is to be reasonable at all times. Pete and I started out being more than civil, but then he got nasty, so I did too. It was tough. At times I wondered if it was going to be worth it, but I just kept repeating to myself a joke my best friend told me.
ZACH: Go on …
WOMAN: What’s the difference between getting a divorce and getting circumcised?
KEITH: What’s the difference?
WOMAN: When you get a divorce, you get rid of the whole pri—
The message clicks off and the disembodied voice returns.
To return the call, key five. To replay the message, key one. To save, key two. To delete, key three. For message details key eight.
I key 8. The message was left six minutes ago. I imagine Zach washing his hands at the sink in the toilet, looking into the mirror. He is content with his reflection. Why wouldn’t he be? Zach never fucks up. That’s Zach. A justifiably shame-free zone. I think about the way she looked at me in the mirror at the hotel. After looking at me she looked at herself. She was staring at her face until I left the room. It was expressionless. There was no shame. I wonder how long she gazed at herself for like that. How could she? How dare she? After what she did …
… Tanya fucking Dinsdale.
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