It’s A Man’s World. Polly Courtney
work at Hers and you understand digital . . . wireless . . . solutions.’
Alexa managed to refrain from laughing. Terry Peterson was not known for his technological know-how. Having worked in the magazine industry since the late eighties, he was very much a man of paper and ink. If the rumours were to be believed, his morning ritual involved his PA printing out the contents of his inbox, then Peterson replying to each email on pieces of paper for the PA to type up and send. Perhaps, thought Alexa, the chief executive’s aversion to new technology might be a factor in the decline in so many Senate brands.
‘That’s where the money is, these days,’ Peterson went on, his confidence sounding a little shaky. ‘You understand that. You did it for Hers. You can do it for Banter.’
Alexa nodded warily. There were so many reasons for not taking on the project. It involved undisclosed targets that even the CEO was describing as ‘hefty’, the timeframe seemed ludicrously short and what with this Derek character and Peterson’s managing director proposal, it sounded like a political minefield. But most of all, thought Alexa, seeing the image of her mother flash through her mind again, there was the fact that Banter was a porn magazine.
She held Peterson’s gaze, trying again to come up with a firm but polite rejection. As she opened her mouth to speak, she saw that Peterson’s expression had changed. He was smiling more intensely than ever, like a hypnotist defying his charge to disobey.
‘We’ll add twenty percent to your day rate.’
Alexa closed her mouth. After several more seconds of thought, she finally formulated her reply.
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said.
Chapter 2
Alexa sipped her drink, glancing periodically towards the door. She swilled the bitter cocktail around her mouth, challenging her taste buds to ascertain how exactly a Japanese margarita differed from an ordinary one and to establish which ingredient was responsible for the fifteen-pound price tag.
Only Kate would choose a place like this, thought Alexa, giving up on the challenge and accepting that tonight was going to be an expensive night. These days, hanging out in the expensive part of Mayfair was just about the only way to ensnare her high-flying friend, who seemed to spend a disproportionate amount of time in her Berkeley Square offices.
Alexa tipped back her final mouthful and asked the barman for a glass of water. As she did so, the door swung open to reveal a windswept, mousy-looking blonde who seemed perplexed by the waiter’s desire to take her coat. Alexa waved Leonie over.
‘Bit posh, isn’t it?’ Leonie screwed up her nose and nodded in the direction of the cloakroom, where men in green jackets swished soundlessly about their business. ‘Don’t they have pubs around here?’
Alexa smiled. ‘You know Kate.’
Leonie rolled her eyes. She squinted at Alexa’s glass and a look of relief crossed her face. ‘Is that tap water?’
‘Purest spring water from the Japanese Alps,’ replied Alexa, smiling. ‘Of course it’s tap water.’
Leonie motioned to the barman for another and gulped down her glassful in one, pulling a face as an ice cube toppled onto her nose.
Alexa laughed. She and Leonie had been friends since high school, their surnames – Harris and Hatton – dictating that they should sit next to one another in class. Establishing themselves as lab partners for science lessons, they both went on to study biology in their degrees, albeit at different universities. After uni, their paths diverged again, Leonie opting to teach Biology in a south London comprehensive and Alexa following the more lucrative path into the world of management consulting. It was while working at TDS Consulting that Alexa had met Kate – who, coincidentally, had been at uni with Leonie in Edinburgh.
‘How’s school?’
Leonie’s eyes flitted up to the ceiling. ‘Exhausting. Most of my kids have exams, so I’m looking after the younger ones. It’s all videos and field trips and lessons outside. Yesterday, I had two lads climbing out of the second-floor window and abseiling down a drainpipe, trying to distract the girls in the classroom below.’
‘Sounds like the end of term.’ Alexa smiled.
‘Piers broke up weeks ago, lucky bastard. He hangs around the flat like a little lost puppy, waiting for me to get home every night. Although I shouldn’t complain; he cooks dinner.’
Alexa laughed, in awe, as ever, of her friend’s perfect relationship. Piers and Leonie had met at a kids’ camp in Camberwell, just after leaving school. Predictions that the holiday romance would fizzle once they went off to universities at opposite ends of the country had been proved wrong; nearly twelve years later, they were back with the kids in south London – although in Piers’ case, it was a very different bunch of kids. He had landed on his feet at King Charles’ Boys’ School in Dulwich, recently being promoted to Head of Science and enjoying a significant pay rise with apparently very little extra work. Leonie, meanwhile, was dealing with over-crowded classrooms, drug-addicted kids, bullies and pupils who spat in her face at Langdale Comprehensive. Still, she seemed to enjoy the challenge.
Alexa nodded at the empty glass. ‘D’you want a proper drink?’
‘I think I need one.’ Leonie drew the menu towards her. She studied it for a couple of seconds, then slowly pushed it away. ‘Um . . . actually, no. I might just . . . leave it for a bit.’
Alexa looked at her friend. She knew what the problem was.
‘I’ll pay.’
‘We could . . . share?’
Alexa laughed. She could just imagine the barman’s face when they asked for a cocktail with two straws. Then she realised that Leonie was being serious.
‘My round,’ she said firmly. ‘What’re you having?’
Reluctantly, Leonie pointed at one of the martinis on the list.
‘Thanks,’ she said quietly.
Alexa ordered the drinks, grateful that Kate wasn’t here to witness the moment. Public sector teaching salaries were an embarrassment, particularly compared to the rates that could be commanded in their field of work.
Leonie grasped the slender stem and gently tapped her glass against Alexa’s.
‘So,’ she said. ‘What’s the summit in aid of?’
‘Well, I—’
‘Hi!’ screamed a voice from the doorway. A swoosh of short, raven-black hair could be seen from inside a cloud of suit jackets, laptop bags and rucksacks, all of which were shed in rapid succession and dumped on the bewildered-looking doorman. Kate had arrived.
‘Hey, guys!’ Kate leaned forward and threw her arms around the two of them. Alexa smiled as her shoulders were squeezed, aware of the dirty looks they were attracting from other customers. That was the thing about Kate. She had no shame.
‘Sorry I’m so late. Bastard project. All the partners have buggered off, leaving me to “just quickly update the pack”. I think tonight might be another all-nighter.’
Alexa pulled a face. ‘You’re going back to the office after this?’
Kate nodded, waving to catch the barman’s eye.
All-nighter. Alexa thought back to her early years at TDS, when, as a fresh-faced graduate, working through the night had been a regular occurrence. She shuddered, remembering how it felt to be trapped in that stale, airless office at three o’clock in the morning, feeling your brain grinding to a halt, filling your bloodstream with caffeine and taurine in an effort to ward off the inevitable exhaustion. Never again. Alexa had done her time. However tempting the salary, she would not be going back to work at a ‘big five’ firm like TDS.
Kate drew the sugar-coated cocktail towards her. ‘One can’t hurt, can it? Might