Page 30 of Love or Your Money Back

CHAPTER

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.’

‘Thank you. But seriously. How can we possibly afford a space like this? And in central London?’

‘Economy of scale,’ says Freddy. ‘You share the building with five other businesses. You have your own office, a shared reception, kitchen, breakout area, boardroom, bike stands and all the rest of it. But the bill gets split five ways. Win-win, right?’

‘This place has bike stands?’

‘Dozens of them. First thing I checked.’ Freddy hesitates. ‘Actually, the second thing. The first was disability access. For the times when the stairs give you trouble.’

‘It’s not stairs that give me trouble. It’s my legs.’

Freddy laughs.

‘I’m still not sure about this.’ I look over the beautiful building. ‘Can you see the Little Voice team fitting in here?’

‘It will become you and your team,’ says Freddy. ‘Just like the clothes are becoming you. Look, give it a chance. Let’s go inside. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Don’t answer that.’

Freddy ushers me into a spacious, lemon-fragranced reception, where a smiling receptionist steps forward with a tray of green juices.

‘They’re cold pressed,’ he’s eager to tell me.

I turn to Freddy. ‘This so isn’t Little Voice. The team are going to feel totally out of their depth –’

‘Hey Kat.’ Duncan strolls towards us wearing a flat cap and eating a bagel wrapped in wax paper. ‘Isn’t this place great?’

‘Duncan, you’re early.’ I stare at him. ‘You’re never early.’

‘I’ve been here since 7 am.’ Duncan takes a juice from the tray. ‘I was so excited about the new Mac computers I couldn’t sleep.’

‘What’s with the flat cap?’

‘I bought it from a street seller on the way in.’ Duncan tips his cap at me. ‘It’s the cool, Covent Garden vibe. Right? Top of the morning, g’vner.’

‘I … wait. Gabriela

?’

Gabriela bounds through the break-out space on clean, white Converse, her curves stuffed into a pinstripe suit, orangey blonde hair combed into a classy, high ponytail.

‘Good god

.’ I stare at her. ‘What happened to you? You’re not drowning in woollens.’

‘We are storytellers, Katerina,’ says Gabriela, in a weighty, poetic voice.

‘And here, in Covent Garden, I am no longer Gabriela, the mad Spanish hippy in her dunga jeans and band t-shirts. I am Gabriela, the mad Spanish publishing editor with awards and bestselling titles. Mwah!’ She kisses me on both cheeks.

‘You like the suit? Hugo Boss from Oxfam. Twenty pounds. Fantastico, right?’

‘And you’re

early too.’

Gabriela stiffens. ‘Yes. I am often early.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re either late or absent. Which means it must be Alan’s turn to be absent today.’

‘He’s in the office already,’ Duncan drawls. ‘Cleaning the new computers. And get this. He’s not wearing his leather jacket. He says it’s not professional enough for Covent Garden.’

‘But he always wears that leather jacket.’ I take a green juice from the tray. ‘He hasn’t taken it off since the eighties. He may even shower in it –’

‘Not today,’ says Duncan.

‘Wow. Well, I suppose I’d better go and see our new workspace.’

‘We’ll show you the way,’ says Duncan.

Gabriela and Duncan lead me through an open-plan lounge space with call booths, plug-in desks, spongey sofas, healthy plants and beautiful floor lamps.

‘This is the shared area,’ says Gabriela. ‘Our space is at the back. And Kat, your private office looks out over everyone. We’ll show you.’

‘My own

office?’ I gasp. ‘But I couldn’t … I mean, we’re all about equality.’

‘Every CEO needs focus space,’ says Freddy. ‘And it’s a glass-walled office, so you’ll still be part of everything. But you’ll have your own quiet place to make calls, plot against Book Haven … whatever you want.’

‘I do like to plot.’

‘Hey, guess what?’ Gabriela gives a delighted clap. ‘The toilets all have eco flushes and refillable soap holders.’

‘Yeah,’ says Freddy. ‘And they’re cleaned five times a day. So you needn’t fear your silk jumpsuits on the bathroom floor.’

We reach a light, bright space of ergonomic chairs, more lush green plants and gleaming wood desks.

‘This is our space.’ Gabriela sits on a pink, office chair and spins around, then pushes herself across the smooth, herringbone floor. ‘Wheee! Great, right?’

Duncan takes a seat at one of the desks, sipping on green juice and grinning at his new computer.

Alan, instead of booking holidays, is working on a spreadsheet. He’s ditched his leather cap as well as his jacket and looks younger and more cheerful.

‘Little Voice will be a big voice by the end of this year,’ says Freddy.

‘The clothes maketh the man, Katerina. And the office maketh the business. Success is rarely, if ever, defined as fag-smelling, pigeon-hole-sized offices by a rumbling tube line. Righty-o. Shall we grab a freshly-ground coffee and talk over branding at Royal Ascot? You’re meeting Ahmet and Marcus there. Right?’

‘Correct.’

‘That’s … good.’ Freddy hesitates. ‘But listen, Kat. Keep your eyes open for other dates too, alright? Ascot is a great place to meet eligible men.’

‘Oh, I don’t see the need for that,’ I say. ‘Marcus or Ahmet will do me just fine. Unless there’s something you know that I don’t?’

Freddy looks like he wants to say something. Something important. But then he frowns and says, ‘I’m guessing you take oat milk in your coffee? Right?’

‘Yes. I do.’