If Andy hasn’t found them, we’re going to have to make a decision. Although chances are, if they really are in trouble, anything we do will already be too late.
8
January 2018, London
Hugo
I’d always thought that someone like Ria would be totally out of my league.
I’m not exactly ugly or anything, I’m more what you’d call nondescript. No one remembers me. Even my mum struggles to pick me out in old school photos.
So I absolutely couldn’t believe it when Ria approached me at the party. It was a work party, and I hadn’t wanted to go, even though it was a party thrown by my company so, by extension, a party hosted by me – not that I had any hand in organizing it beyond signing the cheques. I’m not very good at events, but my brilliant PA Olivia says that, as the owner of the company, I have to go to these things. I don’t really see why – I think if anything, my social ineptitude is likely to put people off using my company rather than encourage them to do so. Olivia is beautiful and clever and always knows what to say, so personally I think it would be better if she did all the socializing for me, but no. That’s not how it works. Not according to Olivia, anyway.
‘Clients like the fact that we’re a small company with a real face – your face,’ she says. ‘When they book a holiday through you, they feel they’re getting personal service.’
‘But I don’t have anything to do with the clients. I certainly don’t book their holidays for them. Most of them do it online now, anyway.’
She tuts and rolls her eyes. ‘Stop being so literal. You know what I mean.’
I don’t, but experience has taught me there’s no point arguing with Olivia.
My driver takes us to the party – this one is at the Natural History Museum. At least if I get stuck for something to talk about with the clients, I can comment on the exhibits. Everyone likes the big blue whale, but many liked the dinosaur better. I wonder if Olivia had that in mind when she booked the place – a ready-made conversation piece. She knows I am useless socially and makes allowances for me. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
The party starts at eight and we arrive at half past. I’m grateful that Olivia no longer makes me be present at our parties from the outset to greet everyone as they arrive, like she used to when she first started working for me. Luckily, she soon saw how awkward that was for all concerned. In some ways, walking into a huge room full of people is harder, but in other ways it’s much easier. If I arrive later, everyone has a drink in their hand and has usually found an old colleague or friend to talk to, so most of them are less bothered about talking to me. Some come along to try to do business with me in a very direct way, which always appals me as I never know how to react. But it seems to me that for most of the people who come, these events are really about the free champagne. It costs the company a fortune but, according to Olivia, the PR people, and the accountants who know more about these things than me, these twice-yearly events are worth it for the ‘goodwill’, whatever that means. So I take them at their word and grin and bear it. Or bear it, anyway.
The car draws up outside the museum and the driver gets out and opens the door for us.
‘Ready?’ Olivia says.
I groan. ‘As I’ll ever be.’
‘It’s two hours of your life. Maximum three. Try and enjoy it.’
‘You know I won’t. I never do.’ I arrange my face into a fixed smile. ‘Better?’ I ask.
She sighs. ‘Kind of. Come on, let’s get inside.’
As soon as we’re through the door, a wall of noise hits me. How can anyone enjoy this? A couple of sweaty-looking men in cheap suits and name badges approach me straight away and shake my hand. One of them starts talking at me about some hotel his group has acquired and how it would be a brilliant fit for us. I am looking at him, smiling and nodding occasionally but I’m not listening. I hate all this and I’m no good at it. I’m much happier doing business by email – even a phone call somewhat fills me with dread. I want to go home.
‘Do you think it could be of interest?’ he pushes.
‘Possibly,’ I say vaguely, having absolutely no idea because I have no clue what he said. I stopped listening before the end of his first sentence, and I can’t stand being put on the spot like this anyway. I pass him my card. ‘Can you email my secretary and we’ll have a look? As I’m sure you understand, these decisions aren’t made in an instant. Or, in all honesty, by me usually. I just sign them off.’ I have rehearsed this line. Olivia came up with it for me.
Olivia looks at me in the way that a proud mother might look at a four-year-old performing in his first nativity play – in that ‘see, I know you can do it!’ way. I should probably feel patronized by her, but I don’t – I couldn’t manage without her. My palms are sweating. I don’t want to talk to these people.
‘It was lovely to meet you, but I’d better circulate. I’ll look out for your email,’ I add, which is a total lie. I’ve already forgotten the guy’s name and who he works for.
‘Of course, of course!’ he says, whipping out his card and pressing it into my hand. I immediately give it to Olivia, who pulls a face and it’s only then I remember that she’s told me before that that looks rude. ‘I’m giving it to Olivia for safekeeping,’ I bluster, no doubt making an already awkward situation worse.
‘I’ll email your secretary tomorrow,’ says the hotel man as he backs away.
Olivia gives me an exasperated look.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘You know what,’ she mutters, rolling her eyes. ‘Come on, let’s get you a drink.’
I wonder about reminding her that she should be more polite to me as I’m paying her salary, but I remember that last time I did that she threatened to resign. And I don’t want that. It would be a disaster.
Olivia lifts two glasses from a tray carried by a skinny girl in a black dress which is so tight you can see her nipples. I remind myself that you are not allowed to notice things like that these days and keep my eyes firmly on her face. Olivia hands a glass to me and says: ‘Right. Half an hour of mingling, then a short speech. Another half an hour of mingling, and then you can go and get back to your computer games or whatever it is you do in your spare time. OK?’
‘Yup.’
A woman in a suit bustles up to Olivia and starts babbling about some issue with the canapés. I am wondering if it’s OK to wait for the canapés woman to finish so that Olivia can continue to circulate with me, but then the canapés woman strides off with Olivia teetering after her, so I’m left on my own.
A panicky feeling rises in me as I glance around the huge room full of what looks like tight-knit groups laughing and joking together – how can I possibly march up to one of them and start talking? I might be paying for the party but that doesn’t make it any easier to join a group of people I don’t know and think of something to say. Now that everyone has had a glass or two and become reacquainted with their industry mates, they’ve probably forgotten that their whole reason for being here is meant to be to suck up to me.