Playing Her Cards Right. Rosa Temple
Mother,’ I said. ‘No seriously, I think I could come up with some designs. I’m going to sit with it. Thank you.’
‘Like I said, you would have thought of it sooner or later.’ Mother kissed my cheek and she, Father, and Indigo boarded the first taxi. ‘All you need is the confidence and you’ve got that in spades.’
I was almost tempted to tell Mother that I’d pass on all the great advice she ever gave me to my own children but Anthony and I had decided to wait before telling everyone the good news. Besides, it would be better if my brush with a life of crime died down a bit first. I had visions of becoming a person of interest for intelligence agencies across the globe and they’d stop and search my Babybjörn baby carrier whenever I was out walking in the park with Anthony junior.
Riley, Anthony, and I jumped into the second of the taxis and dropped Riley off so she could continue by tube back to the office. On the way home, I thought about the possibilities of sharpening my design skills as well as hiring a real-life Frank Farmer from The Bodyguard to protect me and the baby. But Mother was right: it was likely I’d want to get into the nitty-gritty of designing one day. That day had arrived.
I sat in the bath for ages when I got home. I’d been trying to eliminate the stench of my former jail cell from my pores and the water was going cold. I’d also been in planning mode, thinking about the rebranding idea and then about becoming a designer in my own right, whether that be for clothes or accessories. Or both.
As far as a rebranding went I had to make a big splash and I wanted to do it soon. I wondered if I could gather enough publicity to make everything happen before my parents’ wedding the following May. I was sure I could. I’d even create a unisex range – I often used our Shearman man bags myself.
Ideas began to flow. It had been a while since I organized a show and I was longing for a chance to do it again. It would be a year of celebrations. I looked at my tummy and smoothed my hand over it.
‘A rebranding, a wedding, and you’ll be celebration number three,’ I thought and did a quick calculation of when the birth might be. I’d get a doctor’s appointment and confirm my due date. I couldn’t wait.
The bubbles were melting away fast and the water had become too cool to sit in any more so I got out and got dry. Anthony was back at the gallery and I was too tired to go back into the office for the afternoon.
Still in my dressing gown, I went downstairs to find a pad of paper and a pencil. I began designing a new name for the company. I felt that Shearman was synonymous with man bags and that something ought to change in the name when the women’s line launched.
In a similar style to the Shearman logo I scrawled an ampersand beside the company name. Shearman and what? I asked myself. I wrote Shearman again but without adding an ampersand. Beside it I wrote Bright. Our two names together made perfect sense. A marriage of two brands just as one day Anthony and I might be married.
I giggled at the thought. In the same way we’d never spoken about children, neither had we discussed marriage. Maybe it was time.
By the evening I’d given in to my tired and soggy brain. I’d been in planning mode all day and before I knew it, it was dark outside and Anthony was back from Slater’s. He’d brought wine and a takeaway and I was happy to veg out on the sofa and tell him all about my plans. I showed him how I’d married our names together and he thought it was great.
That night I dreamt that he’d proposed to me. I would have said yes, easily if he’d proposed right after we’d taken the pregnancy test. He had been engaged once before so I knew he wasn’t averse to the idea of marriage. At least I hoped his ex hadn’t put him off.
Of course the city of love had been tainted in my book and I no longer wanted to return to Paris for a romantic getaway with Anthony in the spring. But had Anthony proposed to me straight after we’d seen the results of the test, Paris wouldn’t have seemed so bad.
The Rebrand
Come Monday morning I was feeling ready for battle after the Paris fiasco. As Father had said when we parted at the airport, that kind of experience could either make you or break you.
Riley was standing in the hallway as I entered the Mayfair office. She was holding a cup of caffè macchiato.
‘I asked Jimmy about a delivery service,’ she said. ‘I said we could do with a constant supply throughout the day and that the station was a bit too far for us to go for the second fix of the day.’
‘Or we could just buy a Nespresso machine.’
Riley’s face dropped.
‘And what did he say about deliveries?’ I said smiling to myself.
Riley helped me off with my coat, fussing over me as if it were a state visit.
‘He said he would deliver them personally.’ Riley beamed.
‘I bet he did,’ I said heading for the stairs. Riley followed close behind carrying not only my coat but the leather handbag samples that Clara had given to me as well. I needed to get in touch with Clara to get the ball rolling. I had Shearman Bright – “The ReBrand” – on my mind and I was raring to go.
Along with everything she was carrying Riley was still able to push past me and open my office door.
Since becoming the owner of Shearman I had taken over the larger office that once belonged to my former boss, Anthony. He’d started out as a rather hopeless CEO. I never understood why his father had retired and left the running of his business to a son who was far more suited to painting Italian sunsets than he was to running a boardroom meeting.
It made me smile to think back to those days, glad that Anthony’s father did trust him with the business, otherwise we would never have met and I wouldn’t be walking around with the amazing secret that only Anthony and I knew about.
My new, improved office had undergone a complete makeover. The office was huge and only ever consisted of a large desk, a couple of office chairs, and a cabinet. Within a month of taking over Shearman I’d filled one corner with a two-seater sofa and matching armchair in a sexy shade of red. There was a low, mahogany coffee table between them with a vase on top. Riley replenished it with fresh flowers each week.
I’d replaced the old desk with a mahogany one from the same trendy furniture designer shop the coffee table came from. It was wide and deep and, as I mentioned before, covered with every project I was working on. Behind it was my big purple chair, so comfortable I could tuck my feet up and fall asleep in it.
One look at the desk and I knew I had to completely clear it and make space for my newest projects: wedding dress designing, handbag designing, planning the rebranding of the company, and my parents’ wedding. I had this; I knew it.
‘I need to sort this mess out, Riley. I need space for all these ideas I’ve been having.’
I filled Riley in on my plans and she helped me go through the piles on my desk and completely return it to the time I first redecorated. It looked like it belonged to the CEO of a thriving company.
When we’d finished I stood back and inspected the office.
‘If you’re going to be drawing and designing now I should order you a proper table,’ said Riley. ‘The office you used when you were the PA is just sitting there doing nothing.’
‘So I should use it as my design room,’ I enthused. ‘Riley, that’s perfect. Come on, let’s go and look at it.’
In just two weeks my former PA office had become an amazing design studio. My old desk and chair had been pushed aside to accommodate my drawing desk and chair. A new standing lamp and shade looked down over me as I drew into the night.
The weeks went by, the chilly autumn became an even chillier winter, and I had dedicated more hours than there were in each day to consulting