Mistakes We Make

by Jenny Harper

  Barnaby’s brand of sunshine was invigorating.

  ‘Oh, just running around organising everyone.’

  ‘Nothing’s changed then.’

  ‘Are you in Edinburgh?’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Let me guess. Cloud Nine?’ She named a computer game firm they’d worked for at Petronius. She’d heard he’d nicked the contract when he’d gone freelance.

  ‘You haven’t lost your nose, Moll, hiding away in that rotting pile, I’ll say that for you.’

  ‘Hardly a rotting pile. We’ve turned everything round.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ve worked miracles. I have every faith in you – which brings me to why I’m calling.’

  ‘Oh yes? So why are you calling? Not that I’m not pleased to hear from you,’ she added. Just hearing Barnaby’s voice had already made her morning feel brighter.

  ‘You’ve been at Fleming House for – remind me – how long?’

  ‘Almost two years.’

  ‘We all thought it was an odd move.’

  Molly said nothing.

  ‘Your choice, of course. But knowing you, I can’t imagine it’s part of your career plan to stay there for ever.’

  ‘Probably not,’ she conceded.

  ‘I’ve got a proposition for you.’

  ‘And you a married man too!’

  ‘I’ve been doing exceptionally well. This year especially, despite the difficult market conditions. I’m so busy, in fact, that I can’t cope on my own, there’s far too much work. I need a partner. And I’d like it to be you.’

  Molly’s mouth dropped open. She twisted her glasses round and round between her fingers.

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘We have complementary skills. I’m a strategist and a high-level planner. You deliver. You’re an ideas person and a first-class events manager – and you’ve got a magic touch with people. We’re a great team, Molly. I always thought so. I’ve been thinking long and hard about whom I should ask, and I keep coming back to one name – Molly Keir. It feels right. You feel right. I’m just hoping that you’re ready to come out of the hole you’ve been hiding in and take on the world with me. What do you say?’

  ‘I’m stunned.’

  It was true. Her head had begun to spin. She was dazed. Her heart had started to beat faster.

  London?

  As a partner?

  The prospect was almost unimaginably exciting. She’d compete with the big guys, get a pop at the juicy accounts. It would bring out all her skills, demand peak performance, draw out the creativity that had been buried recently.

  ‘It would mean a move to London,’ Barnaby was saying, ‘but you always used to talk about how much you’d love that if it weren’t for Adam being a lawyer in Scotland. And now that you’re divorced—’

  ‘We’re not divorced, actually.’

  ‘No? I thought—’

  ‘Nothing on paper.’

  The latest envelope from Blair King was lying in front of her, still unopened. She dropped her glasses on the desk and picked it up. The first year apart from Adam had been desperately difficult. No-one would have blamed him for filing for divorce immediately once he’d found out about Jamie, yet he’d done nothing more than quibble about things that were quite unimportant. Custody of the cheese grater, the OS map collection, the West Wing box set.

  ‘Never mind that,’ she said, ‘tell me more.’

  ‘I said partnership, but it’s probably time to go limited liability. You’d be a director. There’s more than enough work, so we’ll need to hire staff right away.’

  ‘Wow. Golly.’ She gulped, trying to take it in. ‘Does it have to be London?’

  ‘Follow the money, Moll, you know that. Yes, we have to be in London, but there’s plenty of work in Scotland, ripe for the picking. You could be in charge of anything that comes up there, if you want. It’ll give you some reasonable chunks of time to be at home with your father; I know that would be a concern.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Molly admitted reluctantly, but her duty to her father wasn’t something she could walk away from – nor, despite the excitement of Barnaby’s proposal, did she want to. ‘Dad’s getting on a bit, and he’s beginning to lose his sight. Being so far away would be a worry.’

  ‘You’ve got a brother, right? And it’s only an hour by plane.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Listen, I know I’ve given you a lot to think about, but I’ll need to know soon. You’re first on my list, but there are other options. Can you make it into Edinburgh tonight? We could discuss it over dinner.’

  Molly pulled her diary towards her. At a push, she could make herself free. ‘I can be there.’

  ‘Good. Make one of your famous lists. Ask me anything you need to know.’

  ‘You bet.’

  ‘One last thing before I go. Equity.’

  ‘Equity?’

  ‘I wouldn’t want it to be a shock when we meet, so I’m putting it on the table now. If you’re to be a director, you’ll need to buy into the business. That’s only reasonable. I’ve done all the hard graft so far, and I need recognition of that and proof of your commitment. Plus, the bank will demand working capital if we’re going to move into offices and start hiring staff. My money’s all tied up in cash flow and equipment.’

  ‘How much are you looking for?’

  The sum he named seemed unimaginably large. Molly swallowed.

  ‘I’m prepared to open the company accounts to you so that you can take financial advice, but honestly, Molly, you’d never regret it. You’d get it all back, and a shedload more. I’ve got faith in myself and I’ve got faith in you. We can conquer the world! Or at least,’ his deep chuckle made her smile, ‘hit top spot in the world of marketing. I’m giving that target five years.’

  It was impossible not to be swept away by Barnaby’s enthusiasm. ‘You’re a silver-tongued charmer.’

  ‘You’ll join me?’

  ‘Whoa there!’ Molly fought to put the brakes on her own enthusiasm. ‘It’s a big decision. Let’s just say I’m excited.’

  ‘Good. I appreciate that. We’ll talk tonight. Hadrian’s, seven thirty.’

  ‘See you then.’

  She sat in the abrupt silence staring out to the park, where a family of deer had ventured almost up to the house and were grazing peacefully in the sunshine.

  She’d been ambitious once; it was one thing Adam had loved about her.

  She could remember his exact words. She’d been working as an intern in a marketing agency in Edinburgh one long not-so-lazy summer. Adam’s grin had still been boyish, his face unlined. They had been sitting in the Meadows, snatching precious time on a mellow evening, enjoying an illegal barbecue in a foil container. It had left, she remembered, a scorch mark on the grass, which Adam had dabbed at guiltily and fruitlessly.

  ‘You’ve got a spark. Sparkle. A sprinkle of sparkles.’

  His admiration had spurred her on. Maybe now was her chance to reconnect with that sense of ambition.

  She pulled out a pad of paper and checked the action list she’d made last night.

  WORK

  Calm Ellen Prosser’s pre-wedding nerves (and deal with her mother!)

  Negotiate delegate day rates for the insurance company conference

  Source peonies for Sophia di Constanza’s collection launch.

  Personal

  Book venue for Dad’s celebration

  Issue the invitations

  Find a gift.

  How different might her lists be if she took up Barnaby’s offer?

  Chapter Eight

  ‘I can be in the Abbotsford,’ Logan said down the phone, ‘by six forty-five. Any chance of you joining me?’

  He caught Molly as she was closing down her computer. She clamped her phone between her shoulder and the side of her head, tucked her reading glasses into their case and dropped them into her bag.

  ‘Tonight?’ she said, picking up her handbag and grabbing her jacket from the
hook on the back of the door.

  ‘Of course tonight.’

  ‘You’re impossible, Logan!’

  ‘Me? Why?’

  ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you for weeks and you expect me to drop everything and run at a moment’s notice when you finally deign to call.’

  ‘It’s been busy here. Can you?’

  Molly swallowed her irritation. ‘I am heading into Edinburgh this evening, as it happens,’ she admitted with great reluctance, ‘but I was planning on showering and changing first. I’ve got an important meeting.’

  ‘I’m sure you look presentable. You always do. If you leave now you should make it.’

  ‘Logan!’

  ‘I’ve got a great idea for Dad’s present—’ he went on, ignoring her.

  ‘You have? What?’

  ‘—and I’ll tell you all about it when I see you. Bye.’

  ‘No! Logan, tell me now—’

  But he had cut the call.

  She stared at her phone, fuming. He hadn’t even asked her about her meeting.

  Molly had taken the train from Hailesbank into Edinburgh many times since she’d moved out of the terraced house in Trinity where Adam still lived.

  ‘Why don’t you sell?’ Lexie asked her on a regular basis.

  But Molly was content with the arrangement. It might seem odd to outsiders, but it suited her. Her investment was still an investment and Adam was looking after it and paying the bills. She paid a nominal rent on the flat within Fleming House and she didn’t have to worry about where to move or what to do with the money.

  And how Adam would be looking after it! Molly was organised, but Adam was almost compulsively tidy. He would never drop his trousers on the floor at night; they’d always be folded and hung up, the pockets emptied. His toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving kit, deodorant and dental floss would be neatly lined up in the bathroom in just the right place. Molly would take a bet for any amount that she could walk into the kitchen right now and know exactly where the potato peeler was, the corkscrew, the paper block for making notes or writing shopping lists, the electric whisk, the ramekins that he’d probably not used since she left, or the egg poacher that he probably used every day.

  She used to tease Adam about his tidiness, but the familiarity of the household arrangements was oddly comforting. In a world where everything had been shifting – was still shifting – at least one thing would always be reliably the same.

  The train ambled into Musselburgh, and shortly afterwards, green fields turned into suburbs: new estates of detached houses for the upwardly mobile, then acres of 1930s bungalows, each sitting in a pretty plot. Bungalows mutated into city streets – Victorian houses and rows of tenement buildings where families co-existed in flats sharing a common stair.

  She should think about Barnaby.

  She was thinking about Barnaby.

  Still, she couldn’t help her thoughts drifting back to the weekend. It had been a shock, seeing Adam there with another woman – not that he wasn’t entitled after what she’d done to him. But Molly didn’t believe he was in love with Sunita. Not even close. He didn’t have that look in his eyes, the intensity that she knew and remembered so well.

  ‘We’re now approaching Waverley Station—’

  Molly jolted upright. They were in Edinburgh already, and despite her intentions, she’d given no thought to Barnaby’s proposal at all. She had been thinking instead about the picture of Adam in his parents’ house, the boy in grubby shorts leading the cows on his uncle’s farm in for milking, a look on his face of beaming pride.

  What had happened to that radiance? Exactly where, over the years, had the happy little boy on the farm slithered into adulthood and life in a lawyerly cell?

  She pulled out her mobile.

  ‘Logan? I’ll be there in five minutes.’

  ‘I’m here already. What’s your poison?’

  ‘Just some sparkling water, thanks.’

  ‘I’ll have it set up.’

  She walked up the ramp out of the station to one of the best panoramas in Europe. For some reason, the pretty jumble of the Arts and Crafts flats in Ramsay Gardens drew Molly’s eye tonight, standing in such stark contrast to their brooding neighbour, the Castle. Could she bear to leave this for London?

  A piper, busking on the corner of Princes Street, struck up a dirge and she smiled to herself. Sooner or later the dour side of Scottishness always surfaced.

  She began to weave her way through the narrow cobbled lanes to where the Abbotsford Bar stood, almost unchanged for half a century. Logan was leaning on the burnished wood of the broad bar, drinking a pint of something dark. She hovered for a moment, studying him. He was tall, just as she was, but dark-haired. They had the same even features and clear skin, and they both had hazel eyes. They both had a long, straight nose and generous lips. There, perhaps, the resemblance ended. Molly’s features were finer and more feminine; Logan was more chiselled and his cheekbones were better defined. He wore his hair short, but with some length on top, and it was thicker than Molly’s and wavier.

  It was obvious he’d come straight from work. Sharp suit, crisp shirt with double cuffs and gold cuff links she knew for a fact had come from Tiffany’s, Church’s lace-ups you could see your face in. Adam never spent money on himself, but Blair King must be doing well judging by Logan’s extravagance. His two sons were at private school, Adrienne didn’t work and they lived in a five-bedroomed house in smart-set suburbia. She wasn’t resentful of his success, only annoyed that she’d created the mess that had caused her own career to stall.

  ‘You’re looking different,’ she said. ‘What’s with the beard?’

  Logan stroked his chin and laughed. It never seemed to matter how stressed Logan was, he always had an easy laugh. ‘It’s quicker than shaving. Anyway, Adrienne likes it.’

  ‘How is Adrienne? And the boys? I haven’t seen them in ages.’

  ‘They’re fine.’

  She picked up her water. ‘What was your idea?’

  ‘Idea?’

  She shoved his arm. ‘Stop winding me up. I’ve only got twenty minutes.’

  He drained the last of his beer and waved the empty glass towards the barman. ‘What would you say to clubbing together to get Dad something special?’

  ‘Fine. Any ideas?’

  She was ready for the airy, ‘Oh, I’ll leave that to you, just tell me how much I need to chip in.’

  Logan said, ‘You know Aunt Jessica?’

  ‘Dad’s sister? In Melbourne?’

  ‘We’ve only got one Aunt Jessica, I believe.’

  ‘Don’t be sarky. I was surprised, that’s all.’

  ‘There’s only a year between them, so it’s her seventieth next year. I thought we could get him a plane ticket.’

  Molly gaped at her brother. He’d been spraying money around like champagne from a well-shaken bottle in the last couple of years so the generosity of it was no surprise, but it was unlike him to be so imaginative.

  ‘It’s a great idea.’

  ‘Thought you’d like it. Can you afford it? Don’t want to push you.’

  ‘Of course. I’d love to do something special for Dad and I’m hardly spending any money at the moment. Let’s go for it. Half and half.’

  ‘Attagirl! Thanks, mate.’ He lifted the freshly pulled pint and sipped at it appreciatively. ‘So what’s this meeting you’re off to then?’

  ‘Oh—’ Unexpectedly, Molly felt the need to keep Barnaby and his offer to herself. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You always did clam up when you were planning something,’ Logan said.

  She grinned. Logan was right. She was deeply superstitious about sharing her schemes until they came to fruition. ‘I’ll tell you if it comes to anything.’

  ‘Hmm.’ He put his beer down on the counter and kissed her cheek. ‘Same old Moll. Will you organise the ticket? Let me know how much I owe you.’

  ‘You are coming to Dad’s party, aren’t you? You and the fam
ily?’

  ‘Saturday evening?’

  ‘I changed it to Sunday lunch. Don’t you ever read your emails?’

  She punched his chest lightly with an exasperation that was not feigned at all. ‘Sun-day. Sun-day. Got it?’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’

  ‘Hah!’

  She gave him a quick hug and headed for the door, shaking her head. Managing Logan was Adrienne’s job now – for which relief, much thanks.

  The moment she spotted Barnaby Fletcher in a corner of the restaurant, she knew she had to accept his offer. It wasn’t just that he hadn’t changed one bit (except maybe put on a few pounds), it was the surge of adrenalin she experienced at the idea of working with him again.

  ‘You look—’ he held her at arm’s length and studied her face, ‘—exactly the same. That is to say, stunning. Here.’ He pulled out a chair for her. ‘Sit down. Are you all right there? This is wonderful. Terrific. It’s so good to see you.’

  He filled his expensive jacket and, where once there might have been a little more slack round the neck of his shirt, the flesh almost bulged above it. Almost, but not quite. He was still a fine-looking man – not classically handsome, but with pleasant, open features and a warmth in his gaze that was impossible not to like.

  ‘I won’t ask about Adam,’ he said when they had ordered, ‘but tell me about life at Fleming House. I want to know everything that’s been happening since I saw you.’

  ‘A few lows, inevitably,’ she confessed. ‘Never enough people on the ground, never enough budget. But the highs have been considerable. I’ve built it from virtually nothing into a highly profitable venture.’ She couldn’t keep the pride out of her voice.

  ‘Tell me more.’

  He ate while she talked, which suited her. Her stomach was so knotted that she had no appetite. ‘We honed in on the wedding trade. I persuaded Lady Fleming to make a few rooms in the house available for the bridal party and we upgraded the ballroom and its facilities. Business has been incredible. The grounds are lovely, of course, and we use top-notch caterers. But the highlight has been converting the barn into a restaurant and conference facility.’

  ‘That sounds like a challenge.’ Barnaby, finishing his steak, was watching her closely.