Page 14 of Love or Your Money Back

CHAPTER

Freddy spent most of the weekend putting together Kat’s presentation. It is both brutal and compelling: the perfect combination. As Freddy clicks a presentation pointer, unpleasant words appear on the TV screen:

Spongers

Men still living at home and looking for a mother figure

Drunks

Men who don’t work.

Divorced men who are still in love with their ex-wives.

Freddy notes Kat’s horrified face and offers an explanation: ‘These are your current consumers. As you can see, you are not attracting good marriage prospects.’

‘Oh god.’ Kat’s eyes race over the words. ‘These are the men I’m attracting?’

‘Can you think of anyone you’ve dated who doesn’t fit these descriptions?’

Kat’s left eye begins to twitch. ‘No.’

‘So that needs to change.’ Freddy removes a Salt Marketing notepad from his man bag. ‘You need to attract mature, professional men who are in the market for marriage. Men who are loyal and responsible. Capable of supporting you and a family.’

‘I don’t need support –’

‘Of course you do. Everyone does. You will support your husband, and he will support you. And to achieve this, we need a total rebrand. You, Katerina Friedman, are an intelligent, successful career woman. The trouble is, the world doesn’t know it.

Tell me something. How long has it been since you bought new clothes? ’

Kat looks down at her strange, mismatched ensemble of baggy Smiths t-shirt and ethnic-print pantaloons. ‘Um … look, it’s important to know we do casual Mondays and

Fridays at my office. And sometimes Wednesdays and Thursdays too, if we’ve had a difficult week. I have smarter clothes –’

‘Yes, I’ve seen your smarter clothes. At Chris’s wedding, right?’

‘Yes! I’m glad you noticed.’

‘How could I not? You looked like you’d dressed from a charity shop bargain bin.’

Kat’s lips pull together. ‘What’s wrong with charity shops?’

‘Nothing if you style it right. But you didn’t style it right. You looked like you’d dressed with the lights off and the curtains drawn.’

Kat gives a shocked gasp. ‘How did you know I did that?’

‘You still haven’t answered my question. When was the last time you bought new clothes?’

‘Well.’ Kat frowns. ‘I suppose … when we first got an office in East London, I did a big supermarket shop for work clothes. So … ten years?’

‘Ten years

? What about shoes?’

‘Look, I’ve been busy. And vegan DMs last a lifetime.’

‘Don’t you think you’re worth new clothes every so often?’

‘I hadn’t thought about it like that. I just don’t have time to worry about what I look like.’

‘Do you know what I see when I look at your clothes?’ Freddy asks.

Kat shakes her head.

‘Someone who’ll settle for crumbs at the banquet of life.’

‘Well, people can think what they like –’

‘Exactly,’ Freddy snaps. ‘That’s exactly right. People can and will think exactly what they like. And in a competitive market, people make snap judgements. Rightly or wrongly. You might not like it, but it’s true. You need to show who you really

are. With fresh, up-to-date packaging. You’re up against women who look like this.’

Freddy clicks the presentation screen again. Pictures of well-dressed, stylish businesswomen wearing tall boots, designer sunglasses and fitted suits and dresses appear on the screen.

‘Isn’t this all a little shallow?’ Kat asks. ‘I want someone who loves me for me.’

‘Yes,’ says Freddy. ‘So show them who you are. Tell the world you’re a successful career woman. The sooner we repackage you, the better. Today, ideally.’

‘Freddy, I don’t have time. Gabriela is threatening to proofread –’

‘Is Gabriela the orangey-haired one, wired on caffeine with cat fur all over her jumper?’

‘Yes, that’s her.’

‘What does the fat, bald guy do?’

‘Duncan? He handles everything digital. Uploading manuscripts, anything techy. Social media.’

‘Social media isn’t tech. It’s marketing.’

‘It’s computer-based.’

‘That doesn’t make it tech. You need to organise your workforce better. Get clearly defined job roles. I’ll get my team on it.’

‘Look, you’re probably right, but one disaster at a time. I do need to get back –’

‘No!’ Freddy barks. ‘Work will still be a disaster tomorrow. Project Marriage comes first.’ He reaches into his inside jacket pocket and hands Kat a wedge of crisp, fifty-pound notes. ‘Take this. Go shopping. Right now.’

‘Haven’t you heard of debit cards?’

‘Yes. I have five of them. And various platinum credit cards. But there’s nothing quite like a big pile of cash in your inside pocket. Take it. Go on.’ Freddy proffers the money.

‘How many clothes are you expecting me to buy, exactly?’ Kat takes the notes in both hands like a rodent that might bite.

‘An outfit.’

‘One outfit? For …’ She counts the notes. ‘Five thousand pounds? How on earth am I supposed to spend five thousand pounds on one outfit?’

‘Shop in expensive places,’ says Freddy.

‘So you’re saying expensive is better?’

‘Not at all,’ says Freddy. ‘It’s about the story you tell, not the money you spend. But expensive places are a lot more ethical about fabric, production and staffing policies. Which I thought would sit well with you.’

Kat makes a grudging sniff. ‘What should I buy?’

‘Clothes that match your brand,’ says Freddy. ‘You are now Katerina, CEO of an award-winning London publishing company. Got it?’

‘My mum used to call me Katerina.’

‘Okay, darling. Off you go.’

‘Aren’t you going to ask if I mind using the name my dead mother used to call me?’

‘No.’

‘And where

should I go?’

‘Start with Faith and Doyles on New Bond Street,’ says Freddy.

‘I can’t take the tube with my leg flying out all over the place –’

‘I’ll order you a cab.’

‘But they’re an environmental menace.’

‘So you’ll be pleased to know we use an electric cab firm because I love the planet as much as you do. And by the way, worn shoe leather is bad for the environment too.’

‘I don’t wear leather shoes.’

‘Of course you don’t.’