Not Quite Perfect

‘No, it’s not that, it’s just that I really need to talk to Steve and haven’t had the chance.’

‘Hmm, sounds serious.’

‘Well, not as serious as Third World poverty, but important in our lives.’

‘Sorry, Rachel, I didn’t mean to pry.’ Tom looks slightly embarrassed and Rachel feels guilty.

‘It’s OK, really it is. Oh shit I’m making this into more than it is. Right, well Steve can’t be bothered to come home and talk to me properly, so you are officially my designated male for the evening.’ Rachel thinks Tom might be blushing, but she’s had too much wine to stop now. ‘Steve wants us to move to Edinburgh.’

‘Right,’ says Tom as if he’s waiting for the punchline.

‘That’s it.’

‘Right,’ repeats Tom, ‘and that’s bad because –’

‘Because it’s so far away from everything we have here; from my family, my friends. I mean, surely you’d miss me!’

‘Of course, of course,’ says Tom nodding with enthusiasm.

‘And he knew about it over a month ago and didn’t tell me about it.’

‘Ah.’

‘So I’m frankly furious and would like to discuss it with him rationally.’

‘I see.’

‘Well?’

‘What?’

‘You need to tell me why I should go and how great it could be and how unreasonable I’m being.’

‘Do you think you’re being unreasonable?’

Rachel considers this question. She knows the answer. ‘I just wish he could have talked to me about it earlier, discussed it properly, from the beginning. Not waited until it was a done deal.’

‘Well, on behalf of Steve and men everywhere, I would like to apologise for our general crapness. We are weak and feeble beings and essentially simpletons at heart.’

Rachel laughs. ‘OK, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be ranting at you.’

‘It’s OK. I have very broad shoulders.’

Rachel’s mobile starts to ring. ‘It’s Steve.’

‘Look, you go ahead. I’ve got to go on snail patrol anyway. And remember, don’t be too hard on him, he’s just a weak and feeble simpleton.’ Tom squeezes her shoulder and Rachel feels a little jump in the pit of her stomach.

‘Hell-o,’ she says uncertainly into the phone.

‘Rach, look I’m sorry. I should have spoken to you about the move earlier. I know. It’s just that we’re so exhausted and it’s difficult to find the right time with the kids and everything.’

Rachel listens to his voice and watches Tom leave, giving her a little backward glance and mock salute as he leaves.

‘Rach?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Can we start again? Please?’

‘‘kay’

‘I’ve asked your mum and dad to have the kids on Saturday. We can go for lunch and talk it all through properly? OK?’

‘OK,’ she agrees knowing she’s been unreasonable too. ‘Sorry for snooping. I sort of wish I hadn’t but I guess it’s better to have everything out in the open.’

‘I guess. OK, no more secrets and no more snooping. We’re a good team and we need to stick together. Listen, I’ve got about another hour to do here and then I’m coming home. Don’t wait up sweetheart. I love you.’

Rachel can hear him waiting for her reply. ‘I love you too,’ she says and she means it.

Chapter 5

It’s not until Emma has switched on her computer and made herself a coffee, that she notices the bottle of champagne on her desk. ‘We got it!’ shouts the note attached to its front. She races round to Miranda’s office. Digby is there.

‘Ah Emma.’ Emma is almost touched that he’s remembered her name. ‘Congratulations – wonderful news. We must have lunch to celebrate. I’ll get my secretary, er –’

‘Fiona?’

‘Ah yes, Fiona, to arrange. Quite so. Well I must –’

Lose some weight? Find a proper job? Finish my sentences properly? thinks Emma.

‘ – go to a meeting. Yes. Quite so. Well done – again.’ He shambles off.

Miranda sweeps over and folds Emma in a mother-hen embrace. ‘Well done, Emma. Passion never fails eh? At least not with authors.’ She holds Emma at arm’s length, studying her face as if considering a particularly tricky cryptic crossword clue. ‘Richard seems to have taken a shine to you.’

Emma tries to hold her gaze, but fails and pretends to study the photograph on the wall of Miranda as a young editor with Evelyn Waugh.

‘Just be careful, Emma. Creatives can be complex creatures, you know.’

‘I know. I’m just his editor. Strictly professional at all times. How much did we pay in the end?’ asks Emma, changing the subject.

‘Enough, but not as much as Joanna wanted so at least that’s some blessing. Richard is coming in to sign the contract this afternoon. I called The Bookseller and they’re sending a photographer to mark the happy occasion.’

‘Great’

‘See you later then and well done, my dear.’

Emma practically skips back to her desk and is delighted when she bumps into Jacqui, head of publicity and Joel’s sidekick. Emma observes that her scarlet nails are looking particularly talon-like and her pouting lips shine with matching lipstick and gloss.