Written in the Stars (28 page)

Hudson, Grey & Friedman.

I feel a flush of panic. That’s Adam’s agency, but how . . .? Did he . . .? I’m struggling to hide my shock. How can I work on this project when I’m married to the MD and am the daughter-in-law of one of the partners? Did Adam know about this? Do I tell James? Oh God . . .

‘Do you want to take some notes?’ James prompts.

‘Oh, er, yes, of course . . .’ I blush as I pick up my pen and notepad. I’m scribbling down as James speaks, all the time wondering how to tell him. Will it compromise my new job, or Adam’s job, or JF Design’s pitch?

‘With any project, I always imagine I’m designing it for the core client,’ James explains, ‘which is often very hard with corporate projects when there is no single vision and no chance to get to know them well.’ I blink and smile weakly, unable to tell him just how well I know them. ‘In this case,’ he continues, ‘Hudson & Grey is very much the vision of the two men – George Hudson and Robert Grey – who started it, but we won’t be dealing directly with them. They’ve recently bought out a small but successful New York agency and there are plans for Europe and Hong Kong next. This design could well become a blueprint for their international offices. That means designing a space not just for the company’s group identity, their culture, but for their clients too. Their MD has made it clear in my initial briefing that this will be both a work and entertaining space so it has to be functional but inspirational.’

The MD? So Adam and James have met. There is no such thing as coincidence. I start thinking about all his pushing for me to go for this job. Has he been pulling strings? Did I even get this job on my own merit?

‘Right, I think that’s enough to take in for one day!’ James smiles, his hands clasped over his knee, gold ring glinting in the sunlight streaming through the loft windows. ‘This project is very important, Bea. I’m going to need your one hundred per cent effort and energy, OK?’

‘I – I guess so, ‘I reply uncertainly. ‘I mean, yes, of course.’ I know I should tell him but I’m scared I’ll lose this opportunity . . . I don’t know what to do.

Make the right choice.

‘Is there a problem, Bea?’ he asks gently. I take a deep breath and then imagine myself closing my eyes and jumping in at the deep end. I have no idea if I’ll sink or swim.

‘Not exactly, it’s just . . .’

Chapter 42

Adam’s mobile rings once and then goes to voicemail. I throw it down in frustration and run my hands over my head. It’s 6.47 p.m. and I’m still at the office. Even though it’s only my first day I’m staying late as a) I want to make a good impression and b) I have no one to get home for as my husband has gone AWOL. I’ve left him so many messages to call me but haven’t heard back. I’ve wanted to talk to him about this project so much but I also wanted to stay late at the office to start jotting down my ideas and sketches for the brainstorm. James had been amazing when I told him about my connection to Hudson & Grey.

‘I didn’t know, James, I promise. I’m so sorry. I’ll understand if you want to terminate my contract immedi—’

‘What? No, don’t be silly, this whole city is nepotism incarnate!’ He’d winked and I’d exhaled. ‘Why don’t you talk to your husband and see if he can ensure everyone else at the agency knows and is fine with it. We’ll just have to go all out to impress them even more and prove we don’t have any unfair favour. Are you up for that?’

I’d nodded, thrilled and relieved that he’d been so understanding.

I’ve spent the last couple of hours making sure I’m ahead on my more menial tasks, organising James’s diary, filing invoices and bills from suppliers before putting my mind to creative ideas for the project that will bring green to the grey landscape, fun to a functional working space. Now I know it’s an ad agency – and not just any agency, Hudson, Grey & Friedman – I feel like I instinctively know what will work for it. I’m thinking shelter and surprise, strong lines and symmetry, perennial plants and physical features . . .

I pause with my pencil hovering over my pad, tapping it against my mouth. James made it clear he just wants creative input. I don’t have to worry about building regs, planning permission, fire escapes, other safety issues – or even cost. He’ll be covering all the technical aspects. It feels like a test, and one that I’m determined to pass.

I think of my and Adam’s roof terrace at home, the things we love, the mistakes I made with it and what I learned through the design and planting processes, and I scribble down a few ideas for texture and lighting. I think of all the gardens I’ve endlessly studied from the past few Chelsea Flower Shows – especially James’s one from this year – and I jot a few more ideas down. I think of all the posh private London bars I’ve been to with Adam. Shoreditch House, Century, Boundary, Sushisamba at the Heron Tower, Vista at the Trafalgar Hotel – all with rooftop bars. And then a less polished, much more urban space – Frank’s Café in Peckham, the cool cocktail bar where the Eagle’s gang went for drinks last summer at Tim’s suggestion. They all have unique styles, vistas and clientele – and have incorporated clever tricks to make the space work for big groups of people.

I write ‘What do they want?’ at the top of a page and scribble everything down James told me about using it as a public – and a private – space. I think about seating areas, work areas and entertaining areas. I think about some practical elements – electricity, lighting, storage, water, shelter – as well as ease of movement between inside and outside. I think it should feel like an extension of their new offices, but for it to feel separate too. I close my eyes then, I start forming the ideas in my head, lost in a whole new world that feels so incredibly comfortable.

I finally get home at 9 p.m. to find Adam there, sitting working on his laptop on the sofa. He barely looks up. ‘You’re back! How was your first day?’

‘Great, really interesting,’ I reply evenly. ‘Did you get any of my calls?’ I put my bag down, flick on the kettle, go to the fridge and pull out the milk to make a cup of tea.

‘There’s a bottle of champagne open – I thought we could celebrate,’ Adam says, not answering my question and beckoning me over to the sofa. I put the milk back, get out the champagne, pour myself a glass and go and join him. He leans over and kisses me quickly on the lips before looking back at his laptop.

‘So tell me what you’ve been doing. General admin and photocopying, researching and making tea?’ He glances up and chinks my glass.

‘No actually, I’m helping James with a really big project he’s pitching for . . .’

‘Oh?’ Adam says. ‘That’s great! So, er, do you know what it is?’

‘It’s a corporate project, a company that has recently grown and is moving offices from Dean Street in Soho to Canary Wharf and its new building has a 4,000 square foot roof terrace.’

I watch Adam carefully as he swallows back his champagne, hoping that he’ll admit he knows. He doesn’t. I push back a wave of anxiety. Why isn’t he being truthful with me? He must think I’m a complete idiot.

‘It’s your agency, Adam, don’t tell me you didn’t know,’ I say wearily, getting up and walking over to the window. The blinds are open and the city is sparkling below, an intermittent blue glow from Canary Wharf flashing in the distance like it is measuring the countdown to our confrontation.

‘Huh! What a coincidence, hey?’ he says quickly. I turn around, suddenly furious at him.

‘Come on, Ad, stop treating me like an idiot,’ I say in exasperation. ‘I know you’ve known all along. You set this whole thing up, didn’t you?’

He doesn’t reply. He’s staring purposefully down at his trousers. I take it as an admittance of guilt.

‘Oh Adam . . .’ I rub my forehead. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I might have been better prepared then to deal with it when James said who the project was for.’

‘I just didn’t want you to think—’

‘What? That I couldn’t get a job without your help?’ I interrupt. ‘Too late for that.’

‘No! Of course not!’ he protests. ‘You got this job entirely on your own merits. Yes, I met James to brief him on the contract, but I didn’t ask him to give my wife a job! All I did was mention Eagle’s when he said he was looking to take on a temp to help with the project.’ I stare at Adam, feeling like a puppet whose strings are constantly being pulled because I can’t cope with doing anything on my own. I’m a thirty-year-old woman and I need to start taking control of my life.

Adam gets up and walks over to me. I stiffen when he slips his arms around me. ‘I know how talented you are, Bea, and I knew you wouldn’t go after a job like this yourself because you’re too scared of failing,’ he murmurs. ‘I just saw an opportunity for you to do a job you might love and made sure it was put in your path. I think you deserve that, I just wish you did too.’ He pauses and shakes his head. ‘I just want you to be happy, Bea, that’s all. And I’m not sure I’ve been managing to make you feel that way recently.’

I stare at Adam, a lump forming in my throat because he’s right. ‘I miss you, Ad,’ I say thickly. ‘I feel like we’ve drifted apart since we got married. You’re barely here, and when you are your head is still at work . . .’

‘I know and I’m sorry,’ he says defensively, turning away from me. ‘God, don’t you think I miss you too? I feel terrible that I never see you. I wish we had time to just hang out together, but it’s not like I’m doing anything other than work really hard, is it? I mean, I don’t go out, unless it’s for work, I don’t have any hobbies, I don’t see my friends – I don’t
have
any friends outside the agency any more. I live and breathe it because I have to. It’s our future, Bea. Don’t you see? I’m doing all this for us. For our kids, to give them the kind of life that my parents have given me.’ He sighs deeply in frustration. I realise again how exhausted he looks. ‘I feel like Dad is testing me, pushing me to my limits right now because he wants to know that I share his vision.’

He looks up at me pleadingly, but his jaw is tensed, his mouth pulled into a hard line. ‘I owe it to my dad to do everything I can to prove to him that I’m the right person to take the agency forward. I need to make him proud, you know how important that’s always been to me.’

‘I know, Ad,’ I say softly, taking his hand and pulling him towards me. I don’t want to fight any more. ‘I understand, I do. I just don’t want you to lose sight of who you are and what you want because, well, we only get one life, don’t we?’

October

Dear Bea

Whilst October was once my favourite month, now when the world is adorned in a last explosion of colour, I will always see autumn as a symbol of my one chance of happiness going up in flames. From now on, October will be the ‘lost’ month; when leaves fall to the ground like tears, the amber sunlight loses its warmth and the garden becomes desolate and bare. In October I will think not of the beauty that I can still see, but of what I can’t.

But you, Bea, you have an endlessly bright season ahead of you. One filled with family, love and laughter. It is the month that you celebrate your birthday so it should be lucky for you, always. It is no coincidence that your birth flower is the cosmos, the Greek word for harmony or ordered universe. Follow the right path and the earth and stars are yours, Bea, always remember that.

Love, Dad x

Chapter 43

Bea Bishop is feeling adventurous.
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I stand and gaze out of Loni’s back door at the horseshoe-shaped garden which has exploded in a spectacular wave of bountiful autumnal colour. It’s glorious, and right now there is nowhere I’d rather be than here. I’ve decided to spend my two days off from the flower shop in Norfolk this week, partly to do what I’d promised Cal – to spend more time with Loni, but also, somewhat selfishly, for myself.

I’ve been here a lot lately and with Loni so often out (I have no idea where and she’s cagey when I ask) I’ve been finding myself tending the garden, nurturing it like I am my memories, pulling away at the weeds, cutting back the undergrowth, untangling the deeply embedded roots. But as much as I love it, it is particularly hard to be here at the moment, because no matter what beauty the season brings, October will always be the month my dad walked out.

My phone buzzes and brings me back into the present: Kieran. I smile as I open up his text.

Ready for the next stage of Operation Adventure? K x

I feel a rush of excitement and fear as I reply.

Ready as I’ll ever be. x

I think of our dates, no, our meetings, that Kieran has christened ‘Operation Adventure’.

The first time we met up after Blakeney, he drove us in his VW to Thetford Forest, a man-made pine forest that sits on the border of the south of Norfolk and the north of Suffolk.

It had soon become clear that Kieran hadn’t brought me to the forest to walk – at least not on the ground.

‘High wires?’ I’d gasped as he led me to the little wooden hut with the sign ‘Go Ape’ emblazoned on the front.

A girl wearing a green uniform smiled broadly at us. ‘Are you doing the Tree Top Adventure today?’ she said.

‘Yep,’ he grinned at her, and I noticed her swoon a little, then he glanced at me as he rubbed his hand over his head so his hair bristled like soft suede before he leaned in towards me. ‘See what I meant when I said we’d be taking a leap?’

‘I’m not sure I can do this . . .’ I said nervously, backing away. ‘I don’t do heights, or leaping, not any more.’

‘And look where it’s got you, Bea.’ He looked at me apologetically, realising he’d hit a raw nerve. Then he added pleadingly, ‘I promise you it’ll be fun. You’ll be all rigged up properly – and just think about the views across the canopies of all those pine trees. I thought it’d be right up your street.’

‘My street tends to be firmly fixed to the ground,’ I replied stubbornly.

‘And you’re happy with that, are you?’ He fixed his eyes on me intently. As I looked at him, I felt my knees go weak, and not just because of the prospect of walking a high wire.