Page 89 of Wife After Wife

“It’s freezing out there,” said Ana to the stylist. “We’ll need Randi on standby to sort out red noses.”

“It’s not Randi, it’s Liv.” The stylist nodded at the makeup girl across the room.

A flash of irritation. Why had no one told her of any changes?

“Why? I booked Randi before Christmas. I specifically wanted Randi.”

The room fell quiet as her voice rose.

“Why the hell don’t people do as I ask?”

Mark coughed. “Terri needed Randi for Kate Moss. She said she agreed it with you ages ago.”

Ana was breathing fast. This room with its grim stone walls was giving her claustrophobia. She sat down suddenly on a chair, taking deep breaths.

Now she remembered the conversation with Terri. “Sorry, all. I’m not feeling great today. Go ahead, I’ll catch you up.”

As they left, she wondered what had got into her. No doubt they all thought she was getting up herself. It was common knowledge she was Harry’s girlfriend, though her demeanor didn’t invite that particular topic of conversation, even with Terri and Nate, who now treated her with a degree of wariness that made her rather sad.

She was obviously more stressed than she realized, losing her head over inconsequential things. Living with Harry was wonderful, and she was never happier than when she was on his arm, out and about. London society now knew about his split with Katie and that Ana was his new partner. But there was a degree of sniffiness; Katie had been popular, back in the day.

She stood to leave, glancing out the window, smiling as she saw Blur larking around on Tower Green below.

Harry

August 1994

Rosenews.co.uk was going to be a trailblazer. In a matter of weeks, Harry’s growing empire would be the first in the UK to put news online.

His team predicted that advertising uptake would be slow at first but would quickly build. The internet was growing across the world like a creeping plant, branching and dividing exponentially, its shoots tickling new hosts, sending down suckers. Already, every department at Rose rang to the shriek of computers logging on via their new modems.

This evening, Harry would be giving a presentation to advertisers, at the Southbank Centre. Janette was looking stressed, her cheeks pink as she worked through her to-do list, interrupted regularly by Harry wanting changes to his PowerPoint slides.

“Sorry, just a couple more,” he said, perching on her desk.

“That’s fine, Harry. Sorry I’m so slow. I’m still learning this software.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re a treasure for putting up with my technological incompetence. I’d be utterly lost without you, dearest Moneypenny.”

As Janette gave a delightful giggle, Ana walked in. She frowned as her eyes flicked between them, and asked, “Harry, what time should I be there tonight?”

“It’s a sales thing, for advertisers. You probably wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“I’ll come,” said Ana. “I want to hear all about the website. You know—like I said?”

Harry remembered she’d expressed interest in the new venture, but he hadn’t seen it as something she’d be suited for.

“OK, come if you want. Starts at six. I’ll be going early with Janette.”

She glanced up and gave Ana a proprietorial smile.

“Right,” Ana said. “I have things to finish, but I’ll do my best.”

•••

The presentation was well received, and as advertisers got stuck into the wine and finger food afterward, the buzz was all about the internet.

As Harry listened idly to the conversation of two ad execs who were probably ten years younger than him, he experienced a twinge of regret. Truth be told, he was sure that personally, he’d always prefer his news in print. He couldn’t ever see himself logging on to a computer for his fix. But those around him were gung ho about the changes, so he wouldn’t be sharing his personal preferences. God forbid he should be seen as a dinosaur.