Jack was staring at the carpet, focusing on a very specific spot between his shoes.
‘I … erm. Yes. Sorry. I think maybe my lunch hasn’t agreed with me. I’ll be fine, though. Carry on.’
‘Cantina van?’ Isaac asked, grimacing in sympathy. ‘I’m sure I had a bad beef taco from there once.’
Rachel nodded, despite the fact that she’d been nowhere near the mobile Mexican takeaway since her experience with an enchilada several months ago.
She took a breath that she hoped no one noticed was shaky, then passed a hand over her forehead to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her fingertips came away clammy.
‘I was just saying this pitch is for Olivia Mason, the CEO. She’s very clever but also incredibly controlling. I know you had to dig deep to come up with ideas that would deliver what Sir Humphrey wanted, given how little he was prepared to compromise on the day-to-day running of things. With Olivia, it’s going to be the opposite: a matter of taking her ideas and presenting them back to her … Embellished, probably, but intact. She feels she knows what Lighthouse’s new digital platform should look like,’ he continued, ‘and she won’t take kindly to her ideas being second-guessed.’
Jack was nodding as though this were no problem, but Rachel’s head snapped up in surprise. Annoyance briefly cut through the swell of alarm inside her. ‘But this is a whole new website build, right? I’m sure Olivia’s as smart as you say, but what qualifies her to come up with a complex plan that includes the site map, writing content, linking up their online and offline comms …?’
Isaac tipped his head to one side and frowned. Rachel couldn’t tell whether he was irritated with her for being difficult or if the notion that this might be a problem hadn’t previously occurred to him.
He sighed. ‘What I’m saying is, unless she’s asking for something undeliverable or which will actually create problems for Lighthouse, I’d strongly advise avoiding any sort of confrontation. Give her what she wants and I’m confident we’ll get this.Thenwe’ll be in a whole new league when it comes to the clients we can approach.’ Isaac’s spherical face was suddenly sharper, hungrier. ‘Big medical research charities, government-backed initiatives, organisations with influence overseas … We need this. Iwantthis. So we have to get it right – by Olivia’s standards, if not our own.’
Rachel tried to relax her forehead, knowing she needed to smooth away the line that had almost certainly appeared between her eyebrows. There was no point in arguing; she’d never known him so serious or resolute. This was obviously the side of Isaac that had seen him sail through Cambridge, co-found an agency before the age of forty and then engineer a deal to sell it for several million pounds just twelve years later.
‘I know this isn’t normally how we do things,’ he went on, calmer now. ‘But I think that with a bit of finessing, the plans Lighthouse have in mind will work just fine. Your creative muscles can rest a little, Rachel, and we’ll make sure they’re put to better use on whatever we give you next.’
‘We understand completely, Isaac,’ Jack said, ‘and I’m sure it’s going to be a great project to work on.’ He looked to Rachel for agreement, but she found herself unable to speak. Even if the client weren’t some micromanaging megalomaniac, this was one of the last accounts she’d ever want to work on. She felt sick – as though she could pull an Oscar Evans-style spectacular at any second.
‘Bless you, Rachel, you really do look ill,’ Isaac said. ‘Maybe get yourself home, get to bed. And don’t come in tomorrow if you’re still rough.’
When Jack’s eyes met Rachel’s, they were anxious. She wondered whether he was worried for her or simply concerned she’d muck up a massive work opportunity. Then an ugly thought seized her and wouldn’t let go. She stared at him until he looked away.
‘I have another meeting,’ Isaac said, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air. He got to his feet and patted Rachel on the shoulder as he ambled out of the room. ‘Feel better.’
She stood up too, faster than she’d meant to – as if she were going to fly at Jack and punch him.
‘There are people waiting to come in,’ he warned, pointing behind Rachel to the cluster of designers standing on the other side of the glass wall.
‘Somewhere else, then,’ she hissed. ‘I need to talk to you. Now.’
Jack followed Rachel into the open-plan office, past the team who’d been waiting for their meeting to begin. He leaned against the glass wall with a searching look on his face, as if he wasn’t quite sure where this was going. She wondered whether the expression was genuine, and the fire in her belly burned brighter.
She grabbed his forearm and yanked him upright, then pushed him forward by the small of his back, propelling him towards the doors on the opposite side of the room. He let her direct him, and beneath her rage she recognised the way her stomach flipped at the warmth in her palms – the kick of excitement that came with feeling body heat radiating from his torso and through his clothes.Pathetic.
Rachel bundled Jack through the building foyer. She shoved him past Frank the security guard, who stared as they went by – looking for a moment as though he was tempted to intervene on Jack’s behalf, then obviously thinking better of it.
Once they were outside, Rachel dragged Jack round a corner and into the alley where an assortment of waste bins and recycling containers lived. It wasn’t picturesque but it was fairly private, and it would have to do.
‘Did you know about this? Did youdothis?’ she demanded, and he shrank back against a dumpster, shocked by the force of her fury.
‘Do what?’
‘Wheedle your way onto this account for the sake of the kudos, knowing you’d have to take me with you – knowing that I’d find it painful, and simply not caring?’
Jack’s mouth dropped open, forming a perfectOin his annoyingly perfect face.
‘Or was getting me involved part of the plan?’ Rachel went on, her voice bitter and near breaking. ‘Bring someone with personal experience on board – a sad little sister who’s still secretly messed up. Get her to relive the worst days of her life, just to make sure every word on the new website for bereaved familiesringswith authenticity.’
Jack buried his face in his hands, then shoved them through his hair as he brought his head back up to look at her.
‘Are you serious?’ he asked.
‘Serious as cancer,’ she said, her face twisting and her eyes beginning to fill.