Page 10 of Love or Your Money Back

CHAPTER

Freddy stands at the punch bowl, watching Kat circulate among the male guests.

This has to be the worst wedding he’s ever attended.

It’s certainly the cheapest. A good tagline would be, ‘If Discount Stores Made Weddings’.

The food consists of tortilla chips, plain crisps and vegan sausage rolls.

Yellow carbs on paper plates. There is a ‘make your own’ sandwich section with sliced white bread and some disgusting, bright-pink vegan ham.

As Freddy listens to fairies complain about the low-quality faux meats, Kat works the leaf-strewn dance floor. It’s like seeing a bad telemarketer at work. She is going up to men and handing out her business card.

There’s a marketing term for this: spray and pray.

Not surprisingly, Kat’s technique is working well with:

Men looking for one-night stands

Immature, broke men looking for mother figures

Serial womanisers

That guy right there? The one in the crumpled shirt, showing Kat his Batman cards?

He is looking for someone to pay his bills and wash his clothes.

And the man in the sharp suit? Major womaniser looking for a bit of extra sex on the side.

He’ll string Kat along for a few months, but the moment she mentions marriage he’ll be off like a shot.

Probably back to the woman he’s already living with.

Of course, Kat isn’t helping herself by dressing like a depressed secretary.

She’s a vibrant, successful woman, but nothing about her clothing communicates these things.

How she possibly thought that lumpy, woolly dress was a good idea, God only knows.

And those shoes should be saved for foot complaints in later life. She’s in her thirties, not her sixties.

Freddy ladles brown punch into a plastic cup. The punch looks and smells like orange squash and cheap sherry, but he is liberal with the ladle because he needs to take the edge off. Watching the Kat car crash is not a pretty sight.

As the gentle strains of ‘Shiny Happy People’ play across the clearing, the womaniser guy puts his hand on Kat’s backside. He has a ring-shaped tan mark on his wedding finger.

Okay. Enough is enough. There’s only so much of a car crash you can watch before feeling compelled to pull victims from the wreckage. Freddy downs his punch and strides across the clearing.

‘Excuse me.’ He pushes his way between Kat and the womaniser. ‘Kat, you know this gentleman is married, right?’

‘We’re separated!’ The womaniser guy looks frightened.

‘Sure you are. Where’s your wedding ring? In your pocket? What’s your wife’s name?’

‘Linda,’ says the guy. Then he throws a mortified hand to his mouth. ‘I mean … we only live with each other for financial reasons. We don’t sleep together –’

‘Get lost.’

The man scurries away, while Freddy watches his retreating form in disgust.

‘What are you playing at?’ Kat puts hands on her hips.

‘Are your standards so low that you’re chasing around after married men?’

‘Absolutely not!’ Kat’s countenance turns dark. ‘How dare you? I would never go against the sisterhood. I didn’t know he was married.’

‘And what about general self-respect?’ Freddy asks. ‘He didn’t even get you a drink.’

‘It’s not the 1950s,’ says Kat. ‘I can get my own drink.’

‘This isn’t about women’s rights,’ says Freddy. ‘It’s about standards and exclusivity and … wait.’ He slaps his forehead. ‘Of course. You were with Chris for … how long were you together?’

‘Over fifteen years, off and on. But I have dated other people in that time.’

‘That explains it. You have no standards at all. I’ll give you some advice for free.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘Because I respect you as a person. You started a semi-successful publishing company with terrible staff, no resources and a … well, this illness thing.’

‘Multiple sclerosis.’

‘Yeah. That. Anyway. Look, you’ll never find a husband this way. Your sales technique is terrible.’

‘What sales technique?’

‘Exactly,’ says Freddy. ‘You’re just walking up to any Tom, Dick and Harry, handing out your business card. No screening at all. Anyone will do. What kind of brand message do you think that sends out?’

‘I don’t have a brand.’

‘Yes, you do,’ says Freddy. ‘We all do. And right now, your brand is having a fire sale. You look desperate. And that’s not going to work in a saturated market. Do you know how many single women in their thirties live in London?’

‘Of course,’ says Kat. ‘We sell books to most of them. They’re very much our target market.’

‘Then you’ll know that single women outnumber men at nearly two to one.’

‘Two to one?’ Kat looks a little sick. ‘That’s … wow. More than I expected.’

‘The worst thing you can do in a crowded market is present yourself as a low-demand product. You have

to be high demand.’

‘But I’m not high demand.’ Kat’s lip begins to wobble. Then, to Freddy’s horror, she starts crying. Hot, noisy sobs coupled with shoulder hunching and hyena noises.

‘Hey, hey,’ Freddy pats Kat’s hair like a little doggie. ‘Please don’t cry, darling. You’re making me feel … things I don’t want to feel.’

‘I have no chance against those odds,’ Kat sobs. ‘I’m going to die an old maid and be statistically unhappy.’

‘No you won’t.’ Freddy pats Kat’s head more rapidly, wishing she would stop crying. ‘Okay, so you’re an abysmally packaged product right now, sending out all the wrong messages to the wrong people, and –’

Kat lets out a howl, and Freddy rapidly backpedals.

‘But I can help you. I’ve turned products no one has ever heard of into household names. Once upon a time, Amazon was just some guy selling books from his bedroom. And don’t get me started on air fryers. Trust me, Kat. I can make you the most marriageable woman in London.’

Kat lifts her tear-stained face. ‘But what’s in it for you?’

‘Money, usually.’ Freddy gives a proud smile. ‘The King of Saudi Arabia asked my day rate, once. He couldn’t afford it. But if you let me make changes to Little Voice …’

‘No.’

‘Hear me out. We’ll keep your green printers, your unnecessary 10% profit donations to the British Library and your bike-to-work vouchers. Alright?’

‘What about my staff?’

‘Look, your staff –’

‘No deal.’

‘Okay, fine.’ Freddy knows a brick wall when he hits one.

‘We’ll keep all of your useless, overpaid have-no-idea-how-to-make-money staff.

And I’ll focus on efficient structures to make them work better.

The big changes I want to make are all about distribution, anyway.

We need to start stretching our legs. Going global. ’

‘But we’re only barely managing in the UK,’ says Kat.

‘Exactly,’ says Freddy. ‘Because you’re not focused on growth. If you’re not growing, you’re dying.’

‘I wouldn’t say we’re dying –’

‘You don’t have to say

anything,’ Freddy counters. ‘I’ve seen your see-saw profit figures. Look, just let me make changes without obstructions or arguments. Okay? It’s for everyone’s benefit.’ He smiles down at her. She does look very

cute when she’s upset.

‘And if I do that, you’ll help me get married?’

‘Yes.’ Freddy offers his hand, knowing verbal contracts never hold up in court.

If he needs to put Kat’s overpaid staff out to pasture while making other changes …

well, Kat will thank him eventually. Her gang of misfits won’t want to be at Little Voice once it functions well, anyway.

They’ll have to do real work and he’s pretty sure they won’t be up for it.

Kat eyes Freddy’s hand. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘What is there to think about?’ Freddy explodes. ‘It’s a brilliant offer. Marriage and a more profitable business! A total win, win.’

‘Only if you deliver,’ says Kat. ‘What proof do I have that you’ll succeed at this getting-me-married malarkey?’

‘I’ll do you a marketing appraisal,’ says Freddy. ‘A try before you buy. Come to the Salt Marketing offices on Monday morning and I’ll explain how my processes always

work.’

Freddy gives Kat a winning smile, his hand still dangling in mid-air.

As Kat gives Freddy’s hand wary eyes, Chris and Minola sway past, looking deeply into each other’s eyes, dancing palm to palm. Kat’s gaze drifts after them. ‘Okay, fine.’ She still doesn’t take Freddy’s hand. ‘I’ll see you on Monday.’