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‘In what way, sir?’

‘Kat and I have a deal. I’m helping her find a husband. She’s letting me make changes to Little Voice.’

‘So, what’s the problem?’ Tim asks. ‘According to your calendar notes, Ms Freidman went on dates with two desperate men at the weekend.’

‘Yeah.’ Freddy nods. ‘They’re desperate. She’s desperate. From a marketing point of view, it’s a perfect match.’

‘This doesn’t sound like a problem at all.’

‘She’s not valuing herself, Tim. I’m promoting her as an exclusive product, but it’s only true on paper. Inside, she doesn’t feel exclusive. She’d get married tomorrow if she could, to someone she hardly knows. It’s not right. Kat is an amazing person. She founded a company when she was 19, her mum had just died and she was in the early stages of an MS diagnosis. She should hold out for the very best. But she just wants to marry any guy who’ll have her. It’s all so …flat.’

‘But if it’s what she wants –’

‘It shouldn’t be what she wants,’ says Freddy. ‘She should have the best.’

‘Are you talking about love, sir?’ Tim has a twinkle in his eye.

‘Love isn’t a real thing, Tim,’ Freddy snaps. ‘It’s just familiarity combined with the uplifting effects of caffeine.’

‘Loveisa real thing, sir.’ Tim’s eyes take on a soft, faraway quality that is quite at odds with the shrapnel scars on his face. ‘I’ve been in love with my wife for thirty years. Colleen is my fairy tale. I am a better man every day for her. I would die for her.’

‘You’d die for all sorts of people, Tim,’ says Freddy. ‘You were in the military. I just want Kat to value herself more. That’s all.’

Tim looks like he wants to say something else, but doesn’t. Freddy admires his restraint. He assumes that, as an ex-SAS soldier, Tim has shown restraint in tougher situations than this. But he admires it nonetheless.

‘I’d better get going.’ Freddy checks his Rolex. ‘Shit. It’s already gone 8 am. I want to be there when Kat sees her new offices. Everything’s all set up and ready to go, right?’

‘Yes, sir,’ says Tim. ‘There wasn’t much to move from East London. Just a lot of awards and books, the coffee machine you bought Ms Friedman, a catering-sized tub of Nescafe and some Dungeons and Dragons dice. We left the old computers.’

‘Throw out that tub of Nescafe,’ says Freddy. ‘Onwards and upwards, Tim. Right, I’m off. Don’t forget to order fresh flowers for Kat’s new office this morning, will you?’

‘Already done, sir.’

CHAPTER29

Covent Garden is lively at 8 am. A lot livelier than our old office location in East London, where all the drunks and heroin addicts slept in doorways until at least 10 am.

Flower sellers fill buckets with roses, coffee shops grind beans and bakeries lay fresh croissants and cinnamon buns on window trays. It’s a warm, spring day which is metaphorically perfect for new beginnings.

I check maps on my phone.

Queen’s House should be … here.

I turn to see a beautiful 1930s building. Then I stand, mouth open, staring through gleaming windows at a wood-panelled reception area, sparkling lights and lots of hanging plants.

These can’t be our new offices. There must be a mistake –

‘Hello, darling.’ Freddy strides towards me, holding a silicone coffee cup. ‘You found the place okay, then? What do you think?’

‘I think there must be a mistake.’ It occurs to me that I’m so used to Freddy calling me ‘darling’ now that I haven’t objected for far too long. Oh well. I have other things to worry about. I gawp at the reception area of plush velvet sofas, hanging wicker ceiling lights and acoustic walnut wood. ‘Freddy, we can’t afford this –’

‘I’m going to stop you there,’ says Freddy.

There’s a momentary silence.

‘And?’ I ask.

‘Nothing,’ says Freddy. ‘I just wanted to stop you talking. No business person should ever say they can’t afford something. And you’re a business person, Kat. Much as you pretend you’re not. Look, you’re even dressing the part today. Nice pantsuit.’