“So, are we going for the burgundy and gold for the drawing room at Belmont House?” I ask the team around me, as they contemplate the mood boards in front of them.
“I’ve tried working up a royal blue, with white accents,” says Lottie, our junior designer, as she absently chews on the end of a pencil. “But it doesn’t look nearly as decadent as the burgundy.”
“Great,” I say, gathering up the loose papers that I’d strewn over the table during the meeting. “So, let’s present them with that and see what they think. Is there anything else?”
“I’ve just got a few accounting queries,” pipes up Matt, “but they can wait until Nathan’s back from Japan.”
I look at my watch and my breath quickens. “He’s due to land in the next hour or so, all being well. If he makes good time, he might pop in. Are you sure it can wait until tomorrow if he doesn’t?”
“Yeah, course,” says Matt. “It’s nothing urgent.”
“Okay, so if that’s all?” I ask, looking around at the nodding heads.
“Can I have a quick word?” says Lottie, hanging back as the rest of the team file out.
“Sure.” I smile. “What’s up?”
“I just wondered if I’d be able to come to the meeting at Belmont House with you tomorrow?”
I consider it for a moment.
“It’s just that I’ve got loads of ideas, and I really feel I could bring something to the table.” She looks at me, her mouth agape at the faux pas she thinks she’s made. “Not that there’s anything wrong with what’s already on the table,” she rushes on. “It’s all on there, and then some, and then you’ve wrapped it up in a big gold bow and put the Alice Davies signature on it…” She’s rambling, and I wait with raised eyebrows.
“I can’t see why not,” I say, when she stops to take a breath. “In fact, you can lead it, if you like.”
An involuntary squeal escapes from her mouth that I pretend not to hear, even though it makes me smile.
I can’t help but marvel at how far she’s come in the short time she’s worked here. She was as quiet as a mouse when she first joined AT Designs, barely able to look anyone in the eye. I remember asking at her interview where she saw herself in ten years’ time, and she’d meekly whispered, “Sitting in your chair.” The juxtaposition of her manner and her words had almost made me spit my coffee out. She had got the job on that alone.
She’d been almost mute for a week, just nodding and shaking her head at pertinent times, but I knew she was in there somewhere. I’d seen it, though Nathan refused to believe me.
“I’m telling you, you picked the wrong candidate,” he’d said over dinner after her second day. “We need someone with something about them—she’s not even going to be able to interact with clients.”
I’d smiled and shaken my head. “She’s young and shy, but she’s quietly ambitious and has a real flair for interior design. She reminds me of someone I used to know.”
He’d smiled ruefully. “I give her two weeks.”
Six months later and she’s truly come out of her shell. She’s not only able to interact with clients, but is working on one or two small projects by herself.
“I won’t say, ‘I told you so,’” I’d whispered to Nathan under my breath when she presented her ideas on a new restaurant concept we were pitching for last week.
“Smartarse.” He’d smiled, his blue eyes not leaving Lottie.
There was no denying that I felt a tiny sense of satisfaction at getting one over on Nathan. Our friendly competitiveness was part of who we were, whether it be in work, a game of tennis, or playing charades with the girls. But the overriding emotion was one of relief; that in Lottie I might have found a protégé who could take the pressure off me. Nathan was, is, brilliant at keeping the business side of the company ticking over. It’s in better shape now than it’s ever been. But, until Lottie joined, I was the only creative, and to have someone to fall back on, to take the heat off, has meant that I’ve slept a little easier at night.
Although he’s not one to admit defeat, Nathan obviously concedes that having Lottie around is making a difference, as just before he left for Japan he’d championed her for a pay rise.
“She’s worth her weight in gold,” he’d said, as he stood in the hall with his holdall in his hand. “You should have seen her in the meeting with Langley Kitchens. She had them eating out the palm of her hand.”
“Er, you don’t have to tell me,” I had said, laughing. “I’m the one who told you, remember.”
“If I’d thought of it sooner, I’d have asked her to accompany me to Japan.”
“Really?” I was taken aback, even though I couldn’t quite work out why. It had been my choice not to go.
“It’s not too late if you want to come with me,” he’d said gently, taking me in his arms.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I had pulled away, my heart hammering through my chest. “Of course I can’t, I’ve got the children to think about.”
“Your mum would have them at a drop of a hat, you know she would.”
My mind had frantically run through what I’d have to go through to get on that plane with him. My breath caught in my throat as panic crept through every nerve fiber, tingling the tips of my fingers.
“We’ve discussed this,” I’d snapped.
“I’m just saying that there’s still time,” he’d said as he pulled away from me. “That’s all.”
“I’ll see you on Wednesday,” I replied. “Enjoy yourself.”
“How can I if you’re not with me?” he’d said forlornly.
“It’s Japan, how can you not?”
“Be good,” he’d said with a wink as he walked toward his car on the drive.
“Call me as soon as you land, won’t you?”
When I didn’t hear from him, I frantically rang his mobile every few minutes as the horror stories played out in my mind. The plane had crashed, Japan had had an earthquake, there was a tsunami. By the time I’d eventually reached him, I’d convinced myself that there wasn’t even a remote possibility that he was still alive.
“Oh my God,” I’d cried, when he eventually picked up. “Are you okay?”
“I’m so sorry, darling,” he’d said in a gruff voice, as if I’d just woken him from a deep slumber. “I took a call as soon as I got off the plane and when I got to the hotel I crashed out for a few hours.”
“I thought something had happened to you,” I said, still with a slight hysterical lilt to my voice, though my chest had stopped hurting.
“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said patiently. “I’m absolutely fine.”
I could hear ice cubes clinking in a glass.
“Are you all set for the big meeting tomorrow?” I’d asked. “Got everything you need?”
“Yep, Lottie’s sent it across and I’ve got all your mock-ups here. I’ll chat through the scheme with them and make sure we’re all singing from the same hymn sheet.”
“Even if we’re not, I’m prepared to compromise,” I said, laughing nervously. “I really want this, Nathan. This deal will put us up there with the big boys.”
“Where you deserve to be.”
“Where we deserve to be.”
“AT Designs is your baby,” he’d said. “It was your and Tom’s vision that started this whole thing.”
“That may be so, but having you beside me these past few years has made it the success it is today. I just know we can go even further.”
“It’s a massive ask, Alice. Are you absolutely sure you can take it on?”
I’d known what he was implying, and allowed the enormity of the task to wash over me. I sat with that feeling for a little while, like I had a hundred times before, waiting to see how it would present itself.
“It’s twenty-eight apartments,” he’d continued, as if reading my thoughts. “Our biggest job by a long way. Do you honestly think you can handle it?”
“Absolutely,” I’d said, my commanding voice belying the panic in the pit of my stomach. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”
And I’d meant it then, when I’d had a glass or two of wine inside me. But now, three days on, I don’t feel quite so confident in my abilities or my emotions. Nothing’s changed in that time, at least not in a tangible sense. But today it just feels different, as if the roller coaster I’m forever riding has shot straight past the station platform, where it’s calm and orderly, and stopped at the top of the loop-the-loop, with me, hanging there upside down, waiting to be rescued.
“Have you got everything you need for your meeting with Temple Homes?” asks Lottie now, interrupting my thoughts.
“I think so,” I say, walking across to my desk. “Is it definitely David Phillips that I’m seeing?”
“Yes, he specifically asked for you. He said he was a big fan of your work.”
My stomach turns over as I gather up a file and lined pad, avoiding Lottie’s gaze.
“In fact, he referred to you as Al,” she goes on, as I concentrate on not blushing. Though the harder I try, the redder I go. “I had to bring him down a peg or two and tell him that your name was Alice. I can’t stand it when people pretend to know you better than they do.”
I roll my eyes and smile tightly, while silently saying, He knows me better than most.