‘If you ask him, he will come because he might want to sleep with you again.’
‘I can’t,’ she replied.
‘Yeah, look, I’ve heard gonorrhoea is rough. But please find a way to get him here.’
‘Aren’t you the one that’s supposed to have all the contacts here?’ she asked.
‘Don’t be a smartarse.’
‘Fine. I’ll email Joss again.’
‘No. You need to message him.’
‘I don’t have his number.’
Oliver scoffed.
‘I don’t!’
‘Okay, doll. Slide into his DMs then. Send a fucking owl. Whatever it is you do.’
‘Oliver, can I ask you something?’
‘If you ask me in less than twenty seconds, sure.’
‘Why do you hate me so much?’
Oliver laughed. ‘Hate you? Come on. Don’t be such a main character.’
Rose paused, unsure whether there was any point proceeding.
‘Okay, you don’t hate me. Look, I don’t mind – do whatever you need to do to feel important but—’
‘To feel important? One report from me to Minnie and I can get you under HR supervision, Rose.’
Even though she knew Minnie would never do that, Rose said nothing.
‘That’s what I thought,’ Oliver added. ‘Now can you please just text your boyfriend? Thanks.’
Rose sat down at her desk and reluctantly opened her Instagram conversation with Milo, who had seen and ignored her Can we talk? message by the time she’d got back to London from the hen do. The only thing to do now was her job.
My boss would love you to come to the StandFirst launch on Thursday, she typed. Have emailed Joss about it. Hopefully see you there.
Casual. Professional. Fine. This was fine.
The office was quiet that afternoon. Oliver had gone out. The meeting wasn’t for another two hours – Minnie was probably stress-walking in Regent’s Park, which she often did before big meetings. And Annabelle was probably talking to one of her family friends at MODE, asking to borrow something from the fashion cupboard. Rose scrolled through Instagram, noticing the hens had shared photos from the weekend.
Pippa had shared a group picture of them all in their ‘Drunk Pippa’ outfits: Best weekend ever. Love my hens xxxxx. Grace had posted a photo of her and Pippa doing shots in the kitchen: The most beautiful hen xx, and Tessa had posted a few of the more drunken photos, including one of her and Lizzie grabbing each other’s breasts while Rose was sitting on the sofa in the background, smiling awkwardly next to Pippa and Grace.
Fran had posted a photo of Jamie and Johnny posing with her, Lizzie and Pippa. In the photo, all of them were facing away from the camera, with both men standing next to each other, hands on hips, bums on full display. Lizzie’s hand was hovering over Johnny’s bum, Pippa’s was just hovering in the air. Fran was the only one facing the camera, staring down the lens, smirking. LOVED hanging out with these two at our gorgeous Pip’s hen do this weekend, read the caption. We sure had a great time ;).
Rose quickly drafted one final follow-up email for Joss. When she was done, her hands stayed firmly on the keyboard. Her breath was quickening, so she closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was somewhere else. The beach thing had stopped working a while ago. She tried a lake, which turned into a river. A calm, beautiful river. She was starting to pant. In and then out. In and then out.
‘Are you okay, darling?’ came Minnie’s voice. Rose opened her eyes immediately, embarrassed.
‘I’m fine. Sorry, I’m just finding it hard to breathe.’
Minnie rushed to her side and knelt down beside her, placing her hand on her arm. ‘Okay, don’t worry. Just take a deep breath, slowly. Inhale. Exhale. There you go.’
As Rose began to breathe normally, she turned to face her computer screen.
‘No, no,’ Minnie said. ‘We’re going for a walk. Come on.’
Rose had never really spent any time walking near the office. Why would she have, frankly, when all the nearby restaurants were £120 a head and the average diner was sixty-five? For a while, Rose and Minnie walked side by side in total silence. It all looked so inviting in the morning light. There were red-brick buildings with four storeys and bay windows, some had blue roofs. Elsewhere, there were plush cream townhouses, with steps leading up to the front door, plants lining either side and ivy covering the facade.
‘How are you?’ Minnie finally asked as they walked past an elderly couple carrying Liberty shopping bags.
‘I’m okay,’ sighed Rose. ‘Sorry about that. It keeps happening lately. A sort of fainting thing. I think I must be anaemic or something.’
‘Ah yes, anaemia,’ she tutted. ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Rose. You’re the best publicity assistant I’ve had in years. Diligent. Conscientious. And you didn’t get here because your uncle went to Harrow with Jasper, or your mother once had an affair with the duke of wherever. That’s rare.’
Rose laughed.
‘Maybe if she had I’d be living in one of those houses,’ she replied, pointing to an enormous townhouse that was all cast iron and sash windows.
