Remember Me?

Chapter 19

Think bitch. Think boss. Think Cobra.

I survey myself in the mirror and put on some more lipstick. It’s a pale gray-pink shade that could practically be called “Bitch-boss-from-hell.” My hair’s scraped back and I’m wearing the most severe outfit I could find in my wardrobe: the slimmest pencil skirt; the pointiest pumps; a white shirt striped with gray. There’s no mistaking the message this outfit conveys: I mean business.

I spent two hours with Jeremy Northpool yesterday, at his office in Reading, and every time I think of it, I experience a tiny thrill. Everything’s in place. We both want this deal to work out. Now it’s up to me.

“You don’t look mean enough.” Fi, standing by my side in a navy trouser suit, surveys me critically. “Try scowling more.”

I screw my nose up-but now I just look like I want to sneeze.

“Nope.” Fi shakes her head. “That’s still not right. You used to have this really chilling stare. Like, ‘You are an insignificant minion, get out of my way instantly.’” She narrows her eyes and puts on a hard, dismissive voice. “I’m the boss and I’ll have things done my way.”

“That’s really good!” I turn in admiration. “You should do this. We’ll swap.”

“Yeah, right.” She pushes my shoulder. “Go on, do it again. Scowl.”

“Get out of my way, you minion,” I snarl in a Wicked Witch of the West voice. “I’m the boss and I’ll have things done my way.”

“Yes!” She applauds. “That’s better. And kind of flick your eyes past people, like you can’t even waste time acknowledging they’re there.”

I sigh and flop down on the bed. All this bitchy behavior is exhausting. “I was a real cow, wasn’t I?”

“You weren’t as bad as that all the time.” Fi relents. “But we can’t run any risks of people guessing. The meaner the better.”

Fi has been coaching me for the last twenty-four hours. She took a sick day yesterday and came over, bringing breakfast with her. In the end we were so engrossed, she stayed all day, and the night. And she’s done the most brilliant job. I know everything. I know what happened at last year’s Christmas party. I know that at a meeting last year, Byron stormed out and called me an arrogant nobody. I know that vinyl sales went up two percent last March, due to an order from a school in Wokingham, which then complained that the color was wrong and tried to sue us.

My head is so crammed full of facts it’s ready to burst. And that’s not even the most important bit.

“When you go into your office, always slam the door.” Fi is still instructing me. “Then come out and demand a coffee. In that order.”

The most important bit is that I come across like the old bitch-boss Lexi and fool everyone. I put away my lipstick and pick up my briefcase.

“Get me a coffee,” I bark at myself. “At once!”

“Narrow your eyes even more.” Fi surveys me, then nods. “You’re set.”

“Fi…thanks.” I turn and give her a hug. “You’re a star.”

“If you pull this off you’ll be a star.” She hesitates, then adds, a little gruffly, “Even if you don’t pull it off. You didn’t have to make all this effort, Lexi. I know they’re offering you a big job, even if they close the department.”

“Yeah, well.” I rub my nose awkwardly. “That’s not the point. Come on, let’s go.”

As we travel to the office in a cab, my stomach is clenched up with nerves and I can’t make small talk. I’m crazy, doing this. I know I’m crazy. But it’s the only way I can think of.

“Jesus, I’ve got stage fright,” Fi murmurs as we draw up. “And it’s not even me doing it. I don’t know how I’m going to keep a straight face in front of Debs and Carolyn.”

We haven’t told the others what I’m up to. We reckon the fewer people that know, the safer.

“Well, Fi, you’ll just have to make an effort, okay?” I snap in my new-Lexi voice, and nearly giggle as her face jerks in shock.

“God, that’s scary. You’re good.”

We get out of the cab, and I hand the driver the fare, practicing my mean-eyed glare as I collect my change.

“Lexi?” A voice comes from behind me. I look around, all ready to launch my scary-Lexi face on some unsuspecting person-but instead feel it drop in astonishment.

“Amy? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’ve been waiting for you.” She smooths a strand of hair back a little defiantly. “I’m here to be your intern.”

“You…what?”

As the taxi drives away, I goggle at her. She’s dressed in teetering high heels, fishnets, a tiny pin-striped miniskirt with a matching waistcoat, and her blue-streaked hair in a ponytail. On her lapel is a badge reading You don’t have to be crazy to work here but it helps if you’re a hot lesbian.

“Amy…” I put my hand to my head. “Today really isn’t a good day-”

“You said!” Her voice quivers. “You said you’d sort it out. I’ve made a real effort to get here. I got up early and everything. Mum was really pleased. She said you’d be pleased too.”

“I am pleased! But of all the days…”

“That’s what you said last time. You’re not really interested.” She turns away and yanks her ponytail free. “Fine. I don’t want your stupid crappy job anyway.”

“She might be a distraction,” Fi says beside me in a low voice. “It might actually be a good idea. Can we trust her?”

“Trust me?” Amy’s voice sharpens with interest. “With what?” She comes over, her eyes shining. “Have you guys got a secret?”

“Okay.” I make a snap decision. “Listen, Amy.” I lower my voice. “You can come in, but here’s the thing. I’m telling everyone I’ve recovered my memory and I’m my old self, to get a deal done. Even though I haven’t. Got it?”

Amy doesn’t bat an eyelid. I can see her mind working furiously, taking all this in. There are some advantages to having a scam artist as a little sister.

“So you’re trying to make out you’re the old Lexi,” she says.

“Yes.”

“Then you should look meaner.”

“That’s what I said,” agrees Fi.

“Like you think everyone is just a…worm.”

“Exactly.”

They both sound so sure, I feel a pang of hurt. “Was I ever nice?” I say, a bit plaintively.

“Er…yes!” Fi says unconvincingly. “Plenty of times. Come on.”

As I push open the glass doors to the building, I adopt my meanest scowl. Flanked by Fi and Amy, I stride over the marble, toward the reception desk. Here we go. Showtime.

“Hi,” I snarl at Jenny. “This is my temporary intern, Amy. Please make her out a pass. For your information, I’m fully recovered and if you’ve got any mail for me I want to know why it isn’t upstairs already.”

“Excellent!” whispers Fi by my side.

“There’s nothing for you, Lexi.” Jenny seems taken aback as she fills out a pass for Amy. “So…you remember everything now, do you?”

“Everything. Come on, Fi. We’re late enough already. I need to talk to the team. They’ve been slacking.”

I stride away, toward the lifts. A moment later I can hear Jenny behind me, saying in an excited undertone, “Guess what? Lexi’s got her memory back!” I turn back-and sure enough, she’s already on the phone to someone.

The lift pings. Fi, Amy, and I walk in-and as soon as the doors close, dissolve into giggles.

“High five!” Fi lifts her hand. “That was great!”

We all get out at the eighth floor, and I head straight to Natasha’s desk outside Simon Johnson’s office, my head high and imperious.

“Hi, Natasha,” I say curtly. “I assume you got my message about my memory returning? Obviously I’ll need to see Simon as soon as possible.”

“Yes, I got your message.” Natasha nods. “But I’m afraid Simon’s quite booked up this morning-”

“Then juggle things around! Cancel someone else! It’s essential I see him.”

“Okay!” Natasha types hastily at her keyboard. “I could do you a slot at…ten-thirty?”

“Fantast-” I stop as Fi nudges me. “That’ll be fine,” I amend, shooting Natasha my meanest scowl for good measure. “Come on, Fi.”

God, this barking and snapping is a strain. It’s getting me down and I’ve only been doing it for ten minutes.

“Ten-thirty,” Amy says as we get back in the lift. “That’s cool. Where do we go now?”

“To the Flooring department.” I feel a stab of nerves. “I’ll have to keep this act up till ten-thirty.”

“Good luck.” Fi squeezes my shoulder briefly, and the lift doors open.

As we head along the corridor to the main office I feel slightly sick. I can do this, I tell myself, over and over. I can be a bitch boss. I arrive at the door and stand there for a few moments, surveying the scene before me. Then I draw a breath.

“So.” I summon a harsh, sarcastic voice. “Reading Hello! magazine is work, is it?”

Melanie, who had been flicking through Hello! with a telephone receiver under her chin, jumps as though she’s been scalded and flames red.

“I was just…waiting to be put through to Accounts.” She hastily closes Hello!

“I’ll be speaking to you all about attitude later.” I glare around the room. “And that reminds me. Didn’t I ask everyone to provide full written travel-expense breakdowns two months ago? I want to see them.”

“We thought you’d forgotten,” Carolyn says, looking dumbstruck.

“Well, I’ve remembered.” I give her a sweet, scathing smile. “I’ve remembered everything. And you might all remember that you’re relying on me for references.”

I sweep out, almost straight into Byron.

“Lexi!” He nearly drops his cup of coffee. “What the fuck-”

“Byron. I need to talk to you about Tony Dukes,” I say crisply. “How did you handle the discrepancy in his calculations? Because we all know his reputation for pulling a fast one. Remember the trouble we had in October 2006?”

Byron’s mouth is hanging open stupidly.

“And I want to talk to you about our annual strategy conference. Last year’s was a shambles.” I head to my office, then turn around. “Speaking of which, where are the minutes of our last product meeting? You were doing them, as I remember.”

“I’ll…get those to you.” He looks utterly gobsmacked.

Everything I’m saying is hitting right home. Fi is a total genius!

“So, are you recovered?” Byron says as I open my office door. “Are you back?”

“Oh yes. I’m back.” I usher Amy in and slam the door. I count to three, then I look out again. “Clare, a coffee. And one for my temp, Amy. Fi, can you come in here?”

As Fi closes the door behind her, I collapse on the sofa, breathless.

“You should be on the stage!” Fi exclaims. “That was so great! That’s just the way you used to be!”

I’m still cringing inside. I can’t believe I said those things.

“So now we just have to sit it out till ten-thirty.” Fi glances at her watch as she perches on my desk. “It’s past ten now.”

“You were a real bitch out there,” says Amy admiringly. She’s taken out mascara and is applying yet another coat. “That’s what I’ll be like when I go into business.”

“Then you won’t make any friends.”

“I don’t want to make friends.” She tosses her head. “I want to make money. You know what Dad always said? He said-”

Suddenly I really don’t want to hear what Dad always said.

“Amy, we’ll talk later.” I cut her off. “About Dad.” There’s a knock on the door and we all freeze.

“Quick!” says Fi. “Get behind the desk. Sound cross and impatient.”

I scuttle to the office chair, and she quickly pulls up a chair opposite.

“Come in,” I call, trying to muster the most impatient tone I can. The door opens and Clare appears, holding a tray of coffee. Irritably I jerk my head at the desk. “So, Fi…I’ve had just enough of your attitude!” I improvise as Clare unloads the coffee cups. “It’s unacceptable. What have you got to say for yourself?”

“Sorry, Lexi,” Fi mumbles, her head bowed. Suddenly I realize she’s in fits of giggles.

“Yes, well.” I’m trying desperately to keep a straight face. “I’m the boss. And I won’t have you…” Oh God, my brain is blank. What’s she done? “I won’t have you…sitting on the desk!”

A kind of spluttery snort comes from Fi.

“Sorry,” she gasps, and clutches a hanky to her eyes.

Clare looks absolutely petrified. “Um…Lexi,” she says, backing toward the door. “I don’t want to interrupt, but Lucinda is here? With her baby?”

Lucinda.

That means nothing to me.

Fi sits up, her giggles vanished. “Lucinda who worked for us last year, do you mean?” she says quickly, glancing at me. “I didn’t know she was coming in today.”

“We’re giving her a baby gift and we wondered if Lexi could present it to her?” Clare gestures out the door and I see a small cluster around a blond woman holding a baby carrier. She looks up and waves.

“Lexi! Come and see the baby!”

Shit. There’s no way out of this one. I can’t refuse to look at a baby-it’ll seem too weird.

“Well…all right,” I say at last. “Just for a moment.”

“Lucinda was with us about eight months,” Fi murmurs frantically as we head out of the office. “Took care of European accounts, mainly. Sat by the window, likes peppermint tea…”

“Here we are.” Clare hands me a huge gift-wrapped parcel crowned with a satin bow. “It’s a baby gym.”

As I draw near, the others back away. To be honest, I don’t blame them.

“Hi, Lexi.” Lucinda looks up, glowing at all the attention.

“Hi there.” I nod curtly at the baby, which is dressed in a white onesie. “Congratulations, Lucinda. And this is…a girl? A boy?”

“He’s called Marcus!” Lucinda appears offended. “You’ve met him before!”

Somehow I force myself to shrug disparagingly. “I’m afraid I’m not into babies.”

“She eats them!” I hear someone whisper.

“Anyway, on behalf of the department, I’d like to give you this.” I hand the parcel over.

“Speech!” says Clare.

“That’s not necessary,” I say with a forbidding glare. “Everyone back to-”

“Yes it is!” Debs objects defiantly. “This is like Lucinda’s leaving-do too. She can’t not have a speech.”

“Speech!” calls someone at the back. “Speech!” A couple of others start banging the desks.

Oh God. I can’t refuse. Bosses give speeches about their employees. This is what they do.

“Of course,” I say at last, and clear my throat. “We’re all very pleased for Lucinda on the birth of Marcus. But sad to say good-bye to such a valued member of our team.”

I notice Byron joining the cluster of people, surveying me closely over his Lost mug.

“Lucinda was always…” I take a sip of coffee, playing for time. “She was always…by the window. Sipping her peppermint tea. Managing her European accounts.”

I glance up and see Fi at the back, frantically miming some kind of activity.

“We all remember Lucinda for her love of…biking,” I say uncertainly.

“Biking?” Lucinda looks puzzled. “Do you mean riding?”

“Yes. Exactly. Riding,” I amend hastily. “And we all appreciated your efforts with those…French clients.”

“I didn’t deal with France.” Lucinda is gazing at me in outrage. “Did you ever even notice what I did?”

“Tell the story about Lucinda and the snooker table!” calls out someone at the back, and there’s a chorus of laughter.

“No,” I snap, rattled. “So…here’s to Lucinda.” I raise my coffee cup.

“Don’t you remember the story, Lexi?” Byron’s bland voice comes from the side. I glance at him-and feel a sudden hollowness inside. He’s guessed.

“Of course I remember it.” I summon my most cutting tones. “But it’s not the time for silly, irrelevant stories. We should all be at work. Get back to your desks, everyone.”

“God, she’s a hard bitch,” I can hear Lucinda muttering. “She’s even worse than before!”

“Wait!” Byron’s voice rises smoothly over the disgruntled muttering. “We forgot Lucinda’s other present! The mother and baby spa voucher.” He brings a slip of paper up to me with an overdeferential air. “It just needs Lucinda’s name filled in, Lexi. You should do that, being head of the department.”

“Right.” I take the pen.

“You need to put the surname too,” he adds casually as I take off the cap. I look up and his eyes are gleaming.

Fuck. He’s got me.

“Of course,” I say briskly. “Lucinda…remind me what name you’re using these days.”

“The same as before,” she says resentfully, cradling her baby. “My maiden name.”

“Right.”

As slowly as I can, I write Lucinda on the dotted line.

“And the surname?” Byron says, like a torturer turning the screw. I look up desperately at Fi, to see her mouthing something at me. Dobson? Dodgson?

Holding my breath, I carefully write a D. Then I pause and stretch out my arm as though limbering it up. “I’ve had problems with my wrist,” I say to no one in particular. “The muscles sometimes get a bit…stiff.”

“Lexi, face it,” says Byron, shaking his head. “The pantomime’s over.”

“Nothing’s over,” I say cuttingly. “I’ll just take this back to my office-”

“Give me a break!” He sounds incredulous. “I mean, for God’s sake! Do you really think you’re kidding-”

“Hey!” Amy’s high-pitched voice shoots across the office, drawing everyone’s attention. “Look! That’s Jude Law! With no shirt on!”

“Jude Law?”

“Where is he?”

Byron’s voice is drowned out under an instant stampede to the window. Debs is pushing Carolyn out of the way, and even Lucinda is craning to see.

I love my little sister.

“Right,” I say in a businesslike way. “Well, I must get on. Clare, could you finish this up, please?” I thrust the voucher at her.

“It is Jude Law!” I can hear Amy insisting. “I just saw him kissing Sienna! We should call OK! magazine!”

“She hasn’t remembered a bloody thing!” Byron is saying furiously, trying to make his voice heard. “This is all a bloody act!”

“I need to go to my meeting with Simon. Get back to work.” I swivel on my heel in my best scary-Lexi manner and walk rapidly out of the office before he can reply.

The door of Simon Johnson’s office is closed as I arrive upstairs, and Natasha gestures to me to take a seat. I sink down onto the sofa, still a bit shaky from Byron’s near-confrontation. “Are you both seeing Simon Johnson?” she says in surprise, looking at Fi.

“No. Fi’s just here…”

I can’t say, “As moral support.”

“Lexi needed to consult me on a sales document,” Fi says smoothly, and raises her eyebrows at Natasha. “She really is back to her old self.”

“Understood.” Natasha raises her own eyebrows back.

A moment later the phone rings and Natasha listens for a moment. “All right, Simon,” she says at length. “I’ll tell her.” She puts down the receiver and looks at me. “Lexi, Simon’s in with Sir David and a few other directors.”

“Sir David Allbright?” I echo apprehensively.

Sir David Allbright is chairman of the board. He’s the total bigwig, even bigger and wiggier than Simon. And he’s really fierce, everyone says so.

“That’s right.” Natasha nods. “Simon says you should just go in, join the meeting and see all of them. In about five minutes, okay?”

Panic is sending little shooters through my chest. I wasn’t counting on Sir David and the directors.

“Of course! Fine. Um…Fi, I need to powder my nose. Let’s just continue our discussion in the Ladies’.”

“Fine.” Fi looks surprised. “Whatever.”

I push my way into the empty Ladies’ and sit down on a stool, breathing hard. “I can’t do this.”

“What?”

“I can’t do it.” I hug my folder helplessly. “This is a stupid plan. How am I going to impress Sir David Allbright? I’ve never given a presentation to important people like that. I’m no good at giving speeches-”

“Yes, you are!” retorts Fi. “Lexi, you’ve given speeches to the whole company. You were excellent.”

“Really?” I stare at her blankly.

“I wouldn’t lie,” she says firmly. “At the last sales conference you were brilliant. You can do this standing on your head. You just have to believe it.”

I’m silent for a few seconds, trying to picture it, wanting to believe it. But it doesn’t chime in my brain. It’s not registered anywhere. She could be telling me I’m fabulous at the circus trapeze, or have a great triple axel.

“I don’t know.” I rub my face hopelessly, my energy dissipating. “Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a boss. Maybe I should just give up-”

“No! You’re totally meant to be a boss!”

“How can you say that?” My voice trembles. “When I was promoted to director, I couldn’t cope! I alienated all of you, I didn’t manage the department well…I fucked it up. And they realize that.” I jerk my head toward the door. “That’s why they demoted me. I don’t know why I’m even bothering.” I sink my head into my hands.

“Lexi, you didn’t fuck it up.” Fi speaks in a rush, almost brusque with embarrassment. “You were a good boss.”

“Yeah.” I look up briefly and roll my eyes. “Right.”

“You were.” Her cheeks have reddened. “We…weren’t fair. Look, we were all pissed off at you, so we gave you a hard time.” She hesitates, twisting a paper towel into a plait. “Yes, you were too impatient some of the time. But you did some really great things. You are good at motivating people. Everyone felt alive and kicking. People wanted to impress you. They admired you.”

As I take in her words I can feel an underlying tension slowly slipping off me, like a blanket onto the floor. Except I can’t quite trust what I’m hearing.

“But you made me sound like such a bitch. All of you.”

Fi nods. “You were a bitch some of the time. But sometimes you needed to be.” She hesitates, weaving the towel through her fingers. “Carolyn was taking the piss with her expenses. She deserved a bit of a rocket. I didn’t say that,” she adds quickly, with a grin, and I can’t help smiling back.

The door to the Ladies’ opens and a cleaner starts coming in with a mop.

“Could you give us two minutes?” I say at once in my best crisp, don’t-argue-with-me voice. “Thanks.” The door closes again.

“Thing is, Lex…” Fi abandons her mangled paper towel. “We were jealous.” She looks at me frankly.

“Jealous?”

“One minute you were Snaggletooth. Next thing, you’ve got this amazing hair and teeth and your own office, and you’re in charge and telling us what to do.”

“I know.” I sigh. “It’s…mad.”

“It’s not mad.” To my surprise. Fi comes over to where I’m sitting. She crouches down and takes both my shoulders in her hands. “They made a good decision, promoting you. You can be boss, Lexi. You can do this. A million times better than fucking Byron.” She swivels her eyes derisively.

I’m so touched by her belief in me, I can’t quite speak for a moment.

“I just want to be…one of you,” I say at last. “With everybody.”

“You will be. You are. But someone has to be out there.” Fi sits back on her heels. “Lexi, remember when we were at primary school? Remember the sack race on sports day?”

“Don’t remind me.” I roll my eyes. “I fucked that up too. Fell flat on my face.”

“That’s not the point.” Fi shakes her head vigorously. “The point is, you were winning. You were way out in front. And if you’d kept going, if you hadn’t waited for the rest of us…you would have won.” She gazes almost fiercely at me, with the same green eyes I’ve known since I was six years old. “Just keep going. Don’t think about it, don’t look back.”

The door opens again and we both start.

“Lexi?” It’s Natasha, her pale brow wrinkling as she sees me and Fi. “I wondered where you’d got to! Are you ready?” I give one final glance at Fi, then get to my feet and lift my chin high. “Yes. Ready.”

I can do this. I can. As I walk into Simon Johnson’s room, my back is ramrod stiff and my smile rigid.

“Lexi.” Simon beams. “Good to see you. Come and take a seat.”

Everyone else looks totally at ease. Four directors are clustered around a small table, in comfortable leather chairs. Cups of coffee are on the go. A thin, graying man whom I recognize as David Allbright is talking to the man on his left about a villa in Provence.

“So, your memory is recovered!” Simon hands me a cup of coffee. “Tremendous news, Lexi.”

“Yes. It’s great!”

“We’re just going through the implications of June ’07.” He nods at the papers spread over the table. “This is very good timing, because I know you had some strong views about the amalgamation of departments. You know everyone here?” He pulls out a chair, but I don’t sit down.

“Actually…” My hands are damp and I curl them around the folder. “Actually, I wanted to speak to you. All of you. About…something else.”

David Allbright looks up with a frown. “What?”

“Flooring.”

Simon winces. Someone else mutters, “For God’s sake.”

“Lexi.” Simon’s voice is tight. “We’ve discussed this before. We’ve moved on. We’re no longer dealing in Flooring.”

“But I’ve done a deal! That’s what I want to talk about!” I take a deep breath. “I’ve always felt the archive prints that Deller owns are one of its biggest assets. For several months I’ve been trying to find a way to harness these assets. Now I have a deal in place with a company that would like to use one of our old designs. It’ll raise Deller’s profile. It’ll turn the department around!” I can’t help sounding exhilarated. “I know I can motivate my department. This can be the beginning to something big and exciting! All we need is another chance. Just one more chance!”

I stop breathlessly and survey the faces.

I can see it at once. I have made precisely no impact whatsoever. Sir David has the same impatient frown on his face. Simon looks murderous. One guy is checking his BlackBerry.

“I thought the decision on Flooring had been made,” Sir David Allbright says testily to Simon. “Why are we raising it again?”

“It has been decided, Sir David,” he says hurriedly. “Lexi, I don’t know what you’re doing-”

“I’m doing business!” I retort with a clench of frustration.

“Young lady,” Sir David says. “Business is forward-looking. Deller is a new-millennium, high-tech company. We have to move with the times, not cling to the old.”

“I’m not clinging!” I try not to yell. “The old Deller prints are fabulous. It’s a crime not to use them.”

“Is this to do with your husband?” Simon says, as though he suddenly understands. “Lexi’s husband is a property developer,” he explains to the others, then turns back to me. “Lexi, with all due respect, you’re not going to save your department by carpeting a couple of show flats.”

One of the men laughs and I feel a knife of fury. Carpeting a couple of show flats? Is that all they think I’m capable of? Once they hear what this deal is, they’ll…they’ll…

I’m drawing myself up, ready to tell them; ready to blow them away. I can feel the bubbling of triumph, mixed with a bit of venom. Maybe Jon’s right, maybe I am a bit of a cobra.

“If you really want to know…” I begin, eyes blazing.

And then all of a sudden I change my mind. I halt, mid-sentence, thinking furiously. I can feel myself retreating, fangs going back in.

Biding my time.

“So…you’ve really made your decision?” I say in a different, more resigned voice.

“We made our decision a long time ago,” says Simon. “As you well know.”

“Right.” I sink as though in massive disappointment and chew at one of my nails. Then I perk up as though an idea’s just hit me. “Well, if you’re not interested, maybe I could buy the copyright of the designs? So I can license them as a private venture.”

“Jesus Christ,” mutters Sir David.

“Lexi, please don’t waste your time and money,” says Simon. “You have a position here. You have prospects. There’s no need for this kind of gesture.”

“I want to,” I say stubbornly. “I really believe in Deller Carpets. But I need it soon, for my deal.”

I can see the directors exchanging glances.

“She had a bump to the head in a car crash,” Simon murmurs to the guy I don’t recognize. “She hasn’t been right since. You have to feel sorry for her, really.”

“Let’s just sort it out.” Sir David Allbright waves an impatient hand.

“I agree.” Simon heads to his desk, lifts his phone, and punches in a number. “Ken? Simon Johnson here. One of our employees will be coming to see you about the copyright of some old Deller Carpets design. We’re closing down the department, as you know, but she’s got some idea of licensing it.” He listens for a moment. “Yes, I know. No, she’s not a company, just a single operator. Work out a nominal fee and the paperwork, could you? Thanks, Ken.”

He puts the phone down, then scribbles a name and number on a piece of paper.

“Ken Allison. Our company lawyer. Call him to make an appointment.”

“Thanks.” I nod and pocket the paper.

“And Lexi.” Simon pauses. “I know we talked about a three-month leave. But I think that by mutual agreement your employment here should be terminated.”

“Fine.” I nod. “I…understand. Good-bye. And thanks.”

I turn on my heel and walk out. As I open the door I can hear Simon saying, “It’s a terrific shame. That girl had such potential…”

Somehow I get out of the room without skipping.

Fi is waiting for me as I step out of the lift at the third floor, and raises her eyebrows. “Well?”

“Didn’t work,” I murmur as we head to the main Flooring office. “But it’s not all over.”

“There she is.” Byron heads out of his office as I pass by. “The miracle recovery girl.”

“Shut up,” I say over my shoulder.

“So, are we really supposed to believe that you’ve recovered your memory?” His sarcastic drawl follows me. “You’re really going to snap back into it?”

I turn and regard him with a blank, perplexed gaze.

“Who’s he?” I say at last to Fi, who snorts with laughter.

“Very funny,” snaps Byron, whose cheeks have colored. “But if you think-”

“Oh, leave it out, Byron!” I say wearily. “You can have my fucking job.” I’ve arrived at the door to the main office, and clap my hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Hi,” I say, as everyone looks up. “I just wanted to let you know, I’m not cured. I haven’t got my memory back, that was a lie. I tried to pull off a massive bluff, to try to save this department. But…I failed. I’m really sorry.”

As everyone watches, agog, I take a few steps into the office, looking around at the desks, the wall charts, the computers. They’ll all be pulled down and disposed of. Sold, or chucked into skips. This whole little world will be over.

“I did everything I could, but…” I exhale sharply. “Anyway. The other news is, I’ve been fired. So Byron, over to you.” I register the jolt of shock on Byron’s face and can’t help a half-smile. “And to all of you who hated me or thought I was a total hard-as-nails bitch…” I swivel around, taking in all the silent faces. “I’m sorry. I know I didn’t get it right. But I did my best. Cheers, and good luck, everyone.” I lift a hand.

“Thanks, Lexi,” says Melanie awkwardly. “Thanks for trying, anyway.”

“Yeah…thanks,” chimes in Clare, whose eyes have been like saucers through my speech.

To my astonishment someone starts clapping. And suddenly the whole room is applauding.

“Stop it.” My eyes start stinging and I blink hard. “You idiots. I didn’t do anything. I failed.”

I glance at Fi and she’s clapping hardest of all.

“Anyway.” I try to keep my composure. “As I say, I’ve been fired, so I’ll be going to the pub immediately to get pissed.” There’s a laugh around the room. “I know it’s only eleven o’clock…but anyone care to join me?”

By three o’clock, my bar bill is over three hundred quid. Most of the Flooring employees have drifted back to the office, including a fractious Byron, who has been in and out of the pub, demanding that everyone return, for the last four hours.

It was one of the best parties I’ve ever been to. When I produced my platinum AmEx, the pub people whacked up the music for us and provided hot nibbles, and Fi gave a speech. Amy did a karaoke version of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire,” then got chucked out by the bar staff, who suddenly realized she was underage. (I told her to go back to the office and I’d see her there, but I think she’s gone to TopShop.) And then two girls I barely know did a fantastic sketch of Simon Johnson and Sir David Allbright meeting on a blind date. Which apparently they did at Christmas, only of course I don’t remember it.

Everyone had a great time; in fact, the only one who didn’t get totally pissed was me. I couldn’t, because I have a meeting with Ken Allison at four-thirty.

“So.” Fi lifts her drink. “To us.” She clinks glasses with me, Debs, and Carolyn. It’s just the four of us sitting around a table now. Like the old days.

“To being unemployed,” Debs says morosely, picking a bit of party popper out of her hair. “Not that we blame you, Lexi,” she adds hastily.

I take a swig of wine, then lean forward. “Okay, you guys. I have something to tell you. But you can’t let on to anyone.”

“What?” Carolyn is bright-eyed. “Are you pregnant?”

“No, you dope!” I lower my voice. “I’ve done a deal. That’s what I was trying to tell Simon Johnson about. This company wants to use one of our old retro carpet designs. Like a special, high-profile limited edition. They’ll use the Deller name, we’ll get huge PR…it’ll be amazing! The details are all sorted out, I just need to finalize the contract.”

“That’s great, Lexi,” says Debs, looking uncertain. “But how can you do it now you’re fired?”

“The directors are letting me license the old designs as an independent operator. For a song! They’re so shortsighted.” I pick up a samosa-then put it down again, too excited to eat. “I mean, this could be just the start! There’s so much archive material. If it grows, we could expand, employ some more of the old team…turn ourselves into a company…”

“I can’t believe they weren’t interested.” Fi shakes her head incredulously.

“They’ve totally written off carpet and flooring. All they care about is bloody home entertainment systems. But that’s good! It means they’re going to let me license all the designs for practically nothing. Then all the profits will come to me. And…whoever works with me.”

I look from face to face, waiting for the message to hit home.

“Us?” says Debs, her face suddenly glowing. “You want us to work with you?”

“If you’re interested,” I say a little awkwardly. “I mean, think about it first, it’s just an idea.”

“I’m in,” Fi says firmly. She opens a packet of chips and crunches a handful into her mouth. “But, Lexi, I still don’t understand what happened up there. Didn’t they get excited when you told them who the deal was with? Are they crazy?”

“They didn’t even ask who it was with.” I shrug. “They assumed it was one of Eric’s projects. ‘You’re not going to save your department by carpeting a couple of show flats!’” I imitate Simon Johnson’s patronizing voice.

“So, who is it?” asks Debs. “Who’s the company?”

I glance at Fi-and can’t help a tiny smile as I say, “Porsche.”