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‘No. But it’s a lot more fun if I do.’

CHAPTER20

As a marketer, Freddy knows the difference between real fine dining (small plates, expensive ingredients, obscure combinations) and faux fine dining (over-priced brioche-bun burgers with sugary caramelised onion relish and a mini-metal mesh frier of French fries on the side).

Freddy prefers the latter. He likes fries. But only real fine dining will do for this particular dinner, because Kat needs to meet the right consumers in the right environment. So the Oxo Tower restaurant is perfect: a London institution with teeny tiny portions and a hell of a lot of cutlery.

Freddy arrives at the rooftop bar half an hour early because, contrary to what Kat might think of him, he respects women and hates to think of them sitting alone. He also wants to get a whiskey down his neck before the dinner. He’s not sure why, but meeting Kat in a social setting feels mildly awkward. Not bad exactly. But a little too intimate. Especially considering he’s supposed to be marrying her off.

As Freddy takes his seat at the bar, he notices a stunningly beautiful woman in a blue velvet cocktail dress, dark hair falling around her pale shoulders like waves of dark water. She has a beer in front of her and is frowning. At him.

Did he sleep with her and not call?

No. He would have remembered. What then?

The woman’s slightly angry expression issofamiliar. And those eyes …

‘KAT? Good god!’ Freddy nearly falls off the stool. ‘I didn’t recognise you. Wow. Yourhair. What did you do, darling? You look astonishing.’

Kat touches her long, gleaming black waves. ‘Indira arranged a haircut and this special keratin straightening, conditioning treatment. I smelt like rotten eggs for hours, but I think it turned out okay.’

‘It’s better than okay. That’s your natural hair?’

‘It’s not a wig, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘You’re stunning,’ Freddy gabbles. ‘This is terrific. Right on brand. Intelligent, professional and successful. Except for the beer. It’s not expensive enough.’

‘You’re kidding, aren’t you?’ Kat snorts. ‘Have you seen the prices in here?’

‘Let me order you champagne.’ Freddy feels something sparkling in his chest as he waves the barman over. He’s happy, he supposes, because the rebranding plan is working so well. Which means he can carry on making major changes to Little Voice without Kat giving unwelcome opinions. ‘We need to have a quick debrief before going to dinner. To go over our promotional strategy –’

‘Promotional strategy. Right. Yes.’ Kat looks down at herself. ‘I’m all dressed up and ready to sell. Tell me, oh marketing guru. How do I promote myself to these two men?’

‘You donotpromote yourself.’ Freddy nods his handsome head at the barman: ‘One Charles Hendrich Champagne, one Tequila Sunrise.’

‘But what about the three Ps?’ Kat asks. ‘We’ve done packaging and placement. Now we do promotion, right?’

‘Yes, but in your case, promotion doesn’t require anydoing,’ says Freddy. ‘In fact, it requires the opposite of doing. Your promotional strategy is exclusivity. Repeat after me. EXCLUSIVITY.’

Kat does not repeat.

Freddy continues, unphased: ‘You, Katerina, are the VIP section at an exclusive nightclub. A fine-dining restaurant with a year-long waiting list. You do not advertise. You wait for consumers to come to you. You are discreet and discerning. Not available to everyone. Got it?’

‘I get the logic,’ says Kat. ‘But I’m not discerning at all. I’ll marry anyone who will have me. Well, within the non-racist, sexist, homophobic criteria previously mentioned. Oh, and they have to have a good job. Right? Acareer.’ She pauses to consider this. ‘Although we might be pushing things with that last one. What do you think?’

‘Good grief.’ Freddy reaches for his drink. ‘I think we need to work on your self-talk.’

‘I just don’t want to aim too high and be disappointed.’

Freddy takes a sip of his cocktail. ‘Because you have MS?’

‘No,’ says Kat. ‘Because good men are hard to come by.’

‘Says who?’

Kat shrugs. ‘I suppose … my mother. She was a single parent after my dad left us. So that was her experience.’

‘Well, it doesn’t have to be your experience,’ says Freddy. ‘There are thousands of good men out there. They just have to know you exist.’