I've Got Your Number

Horror is rising up in me like chill water. Sam’s dad’s going to pitch up at the Chiddingford Hotel, expecting some lovely reunion. Today. He’s probably on his way already. He’ll be all excited. And Sam won’t even be there. He’s not going to the conference until tomorrow.

Shiiiiit. I’ve really messed up. I’d forgotten all about it, what with all the other emergencies going on.

What do I do? How do I solve this? I can’t tell Sam. He’ll go absolutely mad. And he’s so stressed anyway. Do I cancel the dad? Send a quick rain-check apology email? Or will that make everything even worse between them?

There’s only one tiny ray of hope. Sam’s dad never sent any reply, which is why I forgot about it. So maybe he never even got the email. Maybe it’s all OK—

I suddenly realize I’m nodding emphatically, as though to persuade myself. One of the girls with Willow looks up and eyes me curiously. Oops.

“Right!” I say out loud. “So … I’ll just … Good. Yes.” I hastily turn on my heel. If there’s one thing I don’t want, it’s being busted by Willow. I scurry to the safety of Sam’s office and am about to grab the phone to email Sam’s dad, when I see Sam and Vicks marching back toward the office, apparently in the middle of a blazing argument. They look a bit terrifying, and I find myself backing hastily into the bathroom.

As they stride in, neither of them even notices me.

“We cannot release this statement,” Sam is saying furiously. He crumples the piece of paper he’s holding and throws it in the bin. “It’s a travesty. You’re completely shafting Nick, you realize that?”

“That’s not fair, Sam.” Vicks looks prickly. “I’d say it’s a reasonable and balanced official response. Nothing in our statement says he did or didn’t write the memo—”

“But it should! You should be telling the world that he would never say these things in a million years! You know he wouldn’t!”

“That’s for him to say in his own personal statement. What we cannot do is look as though we condone these kinds of practices—”

“Hanging John Gregson out to dry was bad enough,” says Sam, his voice low, as though he’s trying to keep control of himself. “That never should have happened. He never should have lost his job. But Nick! Nick is everything to this company.”

“Sam, we’re not hanging him out to dry. He’s going to release his own statement. He can say what he likes in that.”

“Great,” says Sam sarcastically. “But meanwhile his own board won’t stand by him. What kind of vote of confidence is that? Remind me not to hire you to represent me if I’m ever in a spot.”

Vicks flinches but says nothing. Her phone buzzes, but she presses ignore.

“Sam—” She stops, then takes a deep breath and starts again. “You’re being idealistic. I know you admire Nick. We all do. But he’s not everything to this company. Not anymore.” She winces at Sam’s glare but carries on. “He’s one man. One brilliant, flawed, high-profile man. In his sixties.”

“He’s our leader.” Sam sounds livid.

“Bruce is our chairman.”

“Nick founded this fucking company, if you remember”

“A long time ago, Sam. A very long time ago.”

Sam exhales sharply and walks a few paces off, as though trying to calm himself. I’m watching, agog, not daring even to breathe.

“So you side with them,” he says at last.

“It’s not a question of siding. You know my affection for Nick.” She’s looking more and more uncomfortable. “But this is a modern business. Not some quirky family firm. We owe it to our backers, our clients, our staff—”

“Jesus Christ, Vicks. Listen to yourself.”

There’s a sharp silence. Neither of them is looking at the other. Vicks’s face is creased and troubled-looking. Sam’s hair is more rumpled than ever, and he looks absolutely furious.

I feel a bit stunned by the intensity in the room. I always thought being in PR sounded like a fun job. I had no idea it was like this.

“Vicks.” The unmistakable drawl of Justin Cole hits the air, and a moment later he’s in the room, wafting Fahrenheit and satisfaction. “Got this under control, have you?”

“The lawyers are on it. We’re just drafting a press statement.” She gives him a tight smile.

“Because, for the sake of the company, we need to be careful that none of the other directors are tainted with these unfortunate … views. You know what I’m saying?”

“It’s all in hand, Justin.”

From Vicks’s sharp tone, I’m guessing she doesn’t like Justin any more than Sam does.77

“Great. Of course, very unfortunate for Sir Nicholas. Great shame.” Justin looks delighted. “Still, he is getting on now—

“He is not getting on.” Sam scowls at Justin. “You really are an arrogant little shit.”

“Temper, temper!” Justin says pleasantly. “Oh, tell you what, Sam. Let’s send him an e-card.”

“Fuck you.”