Friend of the Family

by Tasmina Perry

  ‘You’ve been happy to let Janice go in the past.’

  ‘Janice goes for the full week, but I’ve always shown my face and that’s never more important than now.’

  ‘Because of the Mode application.’

  ‘That’s right. Why don’t you just admit it?’ she challenged him.

  ‘Admit what?’

  ‘That you don’t really want me to get the biggest job in my industry.’

  ‘What are you suggesting? That I’m somehow emasculated by your success?’

  ‘You said it.’

  ‘Amy, I’ve supported you every step of the way. No one is more proud of what you’ve achieved than me. But look at where we are. Shipping our daughter off to my parents, reliant on nannies—’

  ‘Don’t bring nannies into this.’

  ‘Something has to give, Amy.’

  ‘And you think it’s my job.’

  ‘Unless you want to move house, downsize, take Tilly out of private school . . .’

  She knew what he was saying. Her job was glamorous but not hugely well paid. Yes, there were perks aplenty, but perks didn’t pay the bills, or the mortgage on a smart house in Notting Hill.

  ‘This isn’t the time to talk about it,’ she muttered.

  ‘When is?’

  ‘I don’t know, but right now it feels like you’re shifting the blame, and conveniently avoiding what happened in Provence.’

  ‘Nothing happened, Amy.’

  ‘Just leave it.’

  Silence vibrated between them. Amy could see the car keys in a copper pot on the mantelpiece and was tempted to leave the house and go for a drive.

  ‘If I’m away on Tuesday and you’re away the following week, we’re going to need childcare help,’ he said coolly. ‘Should I ask my mum?’

  Amy didn’t look at him, but she was glad he was at least thinking of practical solutions for the situation they found themselves in.

  ‘It’s not ideal, but at least Tilly’s off school for another week so she can go to their house if it’s easier.’

  ‘They were talking about taking her to Disneyland Paris. Maybe we can sort that out. Pay for it.’

  ‘She’d like that,’ said Amy, knowing how much her daughter would love to go to the famous theme park but still feeling like a bad mother. Without childcare, their world just didn’t function.

  But childcare has almost destroyed your marriage, a voice in her head reminded her.

  It was beginning to get dark outside. Amy didn’t need to look at the clock to know it was after eight o’clock. They had been travelling since lunchtime, avoiding the early-morning start that Juliet, Peter and Josie had made, but still coming back to London as quickly as possible.

  Claire had pleaded with Amy to reconsider; Max had tried to persuade them to stay until the Sunday, when they had been originally planning to come home. But Amy had been too embarrassed to remain in Lourmarin, too aware what everyone was thinking and whispering behind her back. And when she’d managed to change her flight and Tilly’s, David had agreed to come home too.

  She curled her fingers around the mug and went to sit in the living room. Going upstairs was too confrontational; besides, part of her wanted to hear what David had to say. She willed herself to remain calm, in case Tilly was still awake. So far, they’d managed to avoid arguing in front of her; Amy wanted to keep it that way.

  ‘We should talk . . .’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Provence.’

  ‘David, there’s nothing to talk about.’

  ‘I want to know why you don’t believe me.’

  ‘Why I don’t believe you? Josie is a beautiful young woman. I found her bra in our bed. Thousands of people have affairs and flings every day. What am I supposed to think?’

  ‘I was hoping you might trust me. That you’d believe that I love you and wouldn’t do anything to hurt our relationship or what we have as a family.’

  Amy pressed her lips together to stop herself from crying. ‘Do you think she’s attractive?’ she said.

  ‘Objectively, yes,’ he said simply.

  Amy snorted.

  ‘What do you want me to say?’ said David, his voice rising a tone. ‘Lie to you and say she’s not good-looking, or be honest and admit that she is?’

  She paused.

  ‘Is it because we don’t have as much sex any more?’ She could feel her heart beating faster. ‘This is how it happens, isn’t it? We both work hard, we don’t make time for one another, someone comes along . . . someone beautiful, who’s good at flattery . . .’

  She was thinking out loud, trying to make sense of it in her own head. Part of her did believe that David still loved her; she had to believe that, because the alternative was too painful to even consider. But she also knew that she had taken her eye off the ball, neglected him in the name of work, and now she was paying the price.

  ‘Amy, stop it. How many times do I have to tell you, nothing happened between us.’ David stepped towards her.

  She wondered what Josie was doing now, where she was. Juliet had already texted David and said they’d put her on a train to Bristol after their flight had landed at Heathrow, and Amy pictured her arriving at Temple Meads and telling Karen everything. Nearly everything. Everything except her intimacy with David. She would tell Karen the story she wanted her to hear, and her old friend would hate her for ever.

  ‘Don’t come near me,’ she whispered.

  ‘I didn’t have sex with her,’ David repeated.

  It occurred to her that it didn’t even matter. The damage was done because she no longer trusted him.

  ‘I’m tired,’ she said, feeling totally drained. ‘I think it’s best if you sleep in the guest bedroom tonight.’

  ‘Amy, don’t—’

  ‘Please. I want to be on my own.’

  Neither of them said anything for a few seconds.

  ‘Tomorrow . . . do you want me to go to my parents’? Settle Tilly in?’

  Amy imagined what he would say to them. Stuart and Rosemary Parker were good people; decent, respectful. Both retired, they helped out as much as they could with Tilly; if they had ever noticed that she was being brought up by a nanny, they had never said so, and had always treated Amy like a daughter, stepping up their role when her own parents had passed away in quick succession. But Stuart and Rosemary weren’t just kind; they were smart too. Amy knew that they would wonder why David wanted to stay over at their house with Tilly. She knew how upset they would be if they suspected their son’s marriage was in trouble. But right now, it felt as if there was no alternative.

  ‘I’ll call them now,’ said David. ‘I think they’ve been in Dorset, but they should be back.’

  A Greek chorus in her head told her to stop being so stubborn, but it was as if a thread had been picked and she was helpless to stop it unravelling.

  ‘Fine,’ she said quickly, blinking back tears. She wanted him to say something that would finally convince her that nothing had happened between him and Josie, do something to turn back the clock and make everything okay again. But it was as if the space between them was getting bigger and bigger, as if they were in space. She couldn’t even breathe, could barely see him through the cloud of emotion in front of her eyes.

  Chapter 22

  ‘Daddy says we’re going to Disneyland,’ said Tilly, flying down the stairs, almost bumping down the bottom two steps in her haste.

  ‘You’re going to Grandma and Grandad’s, and maybe, if you’re very lucky, you can go to Disneyland at the end of the week.’

  ‘I really want to go,’ she said, her eyes wide. ‘Sophie Jones has been and she said you can dress up as a princess and have breakfast with Elsa.’

  ‘It’s sorted,’ said David, putting on his jacket. ‘They’re going Wednesday, coming back Friday night.’
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  ‘Really?’ squealed Tilly, jumping in the air and skidding on her socks as she landed.

  ‘Only if you’re really good for Grandma, okay?’

  Tilly looked up at Amy with a puzzled expression, her brows knitting together in a frown. ‘Why aren’t you coming, Mummy?’

  ‘I’m going to be at work.’

  ‘As usual,’ said Tilly, rolling her eyes.

  ‘Tilly . . .’

  ‘Are you coming to Grandma’s later?’

  ‘Maybe, but I think Daddy wants to hang out with you there for a bit.’

  ‘Just us?’

  ‘Grandma and Grandad are his mummy and daddy, remember. Sometimes it’s nice to just hang out together and have fun.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Tilly, as if she was thinking it through. ‘But what about when Daddy goes to Hong Kong?’

  ‘Then I’ll pick you up from Grandma’s after work and maybe we can go to Biscuiteers and decorate some cookies, or perhaps Pizza Express for dough balls.’

  ‘I love dough balls.’

  ‘I know. And now they do chocolate-filled ones that I bet are absolutely yummy,’ Amy said, tickling her daughter on the tummy.

  She looked at David’s neat silver case in the hall next to Tilly’s rabbit-shaped Trunki and felt a wave of emotion. She turned to him, trying to pull herself together.

  ‘I spoke to Claudia last night. She’s got a hospital appointment on Thursday. If everything’s healing well, she might be back by the time I go to New York.’

  ‘That’s something,’ he muttered under his breath.

  They’d managed to keep the tension turned down since they’d got back from Provence. It had only been one full day, and they had managed to avoid each other by taking it in turns to spend time with Tilly. Amy had gone to the Westfield Centre with her in the morning, losing hours in KidZania, whilst David had watched a film in the den with her when they had come home. But it was still there, the simmering discord that meant they couldn’t even look each other in the eye.

  ‘Tils, come and give me a big hug,’ Amy said.

  ‘I love you, Mummy.’ Tilly wrapped her arms around Amy’s waist.

  ‘I love you too,’ she said, stroking her daughter’s hair.

  David reached for Tilly’s hand and looked back at Amy.

  ‘Safe travels,’ she said finally.

  She didn’t follow them to the door. Instead she just listened to the sound of it closing and Tilly’s footsteps on the cold stone steps running away from the house. They were in the car with the engine running before she started to cry.

  ‘So how was your holiday?’ Tracey followed Amy as she walked through into her office sipping her bottle of breakfast smoothie.

  ‘Good, good,’ muttered Amy, clocking the teetering pile of post that had been deposited on her desk. She had never taken such a long break before, and she looked at her in-tray with dread.

  ‘Only good?’ laughed Tracey, watching Amy take off her coat.

  ‘It was great. And now I’m back.’ She didn’t even look at her deputy as she fired up her computer.

  ‘A little bird told me that Josie came with you,’ said Tracey, sitting down at the sofa.

  ‘Where did you hear that?’ asked Amy with more interest.

  ‘One of the PAs saw some pictures on Instagram and messaged her.’

  Amy smiled thinly and made a mental note to check out Josie’s social media accounts.

  ‘Our nanny broke her ankle. Josie stepped into the breach.’

  ‘You should have asked me. I’m not your trusty deputy for nothing.’

  ‘That might not have been such a bad idea,’ Amy muttered, picking up a padded envelope, which sent the entire pile tumbling to the floor. ‘Bugger,’ she said, crouching to pick it up.

  ‘Let me,’ said Tracey. If she had noticed Amy’s hands shaking, she didn’t say anything.

  Chrissie came through with a coffee and Amy asked her to close the door behind her.

  ‘So how’s everything been?’

  ‘The September issue sold like hot cakes. Did you get the sales figures I sent you?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. How’s everything going with the gala?’

  Tracey sat forward on the sofa. ‘The train was a very good idea. We got fifty replies within the hour.’

  ‘What about the E-Squared dinner?’

  ‘Get this, I’ve just got off the phone with their UK communications director, who was terribly sorry for the diary clash and is going to lay on cars to transport guests from their dinner to the gala. And when I suggested their event be moved forward an hour, she said she’d see what she could do. If you give her a ring to press the point home, I bet she makes it happen.’

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ said Amy, feeling sparkier.

  ‘There are a few other glitches,’ said Tracey, looking more serious. ‘The champagne sponsor has pulled out. Something to do with a change of management and a review of corporate partnerships.’

  ‘They can’t do that with two weeks to go.’

  ‘Well they have, although before you ask, we’ve started ringing around the other drinks companies.’

  Amy was sceptical. ‘Someone else might agree in principle to giving us fifty thousand pounds’ worth of alcohol, but it’s still not a lot of time to get things signed off, especially when the invites have been printed.’

  ‘We can do a contra deal another way . . . maybe give them a few pages of advertising.’

  ‘That will have to be signed off by Douglas, and I’d rather not involve him at this stage.’

  ‘We can do this, you know,’ said Tracey reassuringly.

  Right now, Amy didn’t feel her deputy’s confidence. With the Mode job interview due any day, she had to push all her chips into the middle, go for the big win. Douglas had been suspicious of the Fashion 500 gala from the start. The company were sinking a lot of money into it, and it had to be a big success. It wasn’t just the magazine’s reputation riding on it; it was Amy’s too.

  ‘We start every month with empty pages and out of nothing we create three, four hundred pages of brilliance,’ said Tracey, as if she had sensed Amy’s stress. ‘We do that twelve times a year. So there’s no reason to think we can’t put together some crappy party.’

  ‘The world’s greatest ever party, you mean.’

  ‘Yes, that.’

  Amy smiled warmly. Her team were the best. Loyal, resourceful, happy to get their hands dirty. It wasn’t the norm in the media world, where back-stabbing and office politics were almost an art form. Given the car crash of her personal life right now, it was good to know that there was something she could rely upon.

  Chapter 23

  ‘Are you sure you’ve got everything?’ Chrissie looked at her as if she were a trainer about to give her prized athlete a pre-race pep talk. Amy was half expecting her to stretch over and Swedish-massage her shoulders.

  ‘What do I need? I’ve got my laptop for the PowerPoint, the mock-up covers, and my mood board. Tell me if I’ve forgotten anything or forever hold your peace.’

  ‘Just go and kick ass,’ grinned Chrissie.

  Amy was glad she had confided in her assistant that she was going for the job. She’d been a huge help pulling everything together, scanning photos and working Excel. It was just as well that Tilly was with her grandparents, because Amy hadn’t been home until nine every night, preparing for the interview that Douglas had sprung on her on her first day back in the office. She’d wanted to throw everything into it, because the Mode job traditionally only came up every ten or twenty years. But it wasn’t just that: work had kept her from focusing on the looming loneliness at home. Her dream house, which she had loved from the moment she had set foot in it, felt cold and hollow.

  She grabbed her tote bag and headed out towards the lifts. She had spent almost a mont
h absorbing every scrap of information she could find about Mode, its history and current performance. She knew who its advertisers were and how much they were paying – one of the advantages of sharing an in-house ad team. She had analysed which covers had done well and which had failed. She knew the strengths and weaknesses of the editorial team. Above all, she had thought about what she would do with the magazine if by some miracle they decided to give her the job. No, that wasn’t the attitude, was it? she told herself, checking her hair in the lift mirror. She deserved this job; she was more qualified than any other potential candidate and she would do it better than anyone else.

  She exhaled slowly. This was it. The thing she had been working towards for almost twenty years. She didn’t want to let herself down.

  The lift doors opened and she strode out, trying to centre that sense of purpose. Yet still she felt as if she hadn’t got sufficient armour; only Chrissie knew about the interview, and although her PA had wished her luck, it didn’t seem quite enough.

  It didn’t feel that long ago since she had gone for the Verve editor’s job, which at the time had been a big step up from the features director position she held. She was newly married at that point, and for the first time in a long time, not completely focused on her career. David had encouraged her to go for it, even though Amy knew she was woefully underqualified. He’d sent her a huge bouquet of peonies the morning of the interview, saying it didn’t matter whether she aced it or not, but his quiet belief that she was good enough had helped Amy to wow William Bentley and win the job.

  This time round, David didn’t even know she was having the interview. They’d barely communicated since he’d left with Tilly the previous Monday morning: just the odd text to say that he’d arrived in Hong Kong, and to check how Tilly was doing with her grandparents.

  Breathe, breathe, Amy told herself. You can do this.

  She gripped the handle of her tote bag tightly as she moved down the photograph-lined corridor towards Douglas’s office. She was momentarily thrown when she saw an unfamiliar blond woman sitting at the PA’s desk, before remembering that Douglas’s assistant Grace had been fired after William’s party.