"I've been to Chatsworth several times. They have lovely displays at Christmas and a rather splendid market then too. Much less packed than the one in Manchester," Linda said. "Although that is spectacular too."
"My wife loves the north," Roger said, smiling fondly at her. "She'd much rather live there than London. At some point, I'll retire and we'll find a place in Cheshire. I believe your team has been arranging Edward Callaghans retirement ball. We received our invitations a couple of weeks ago. How've you found dealing with the old devil?"
I reminded myself to breathe. There had been no obvious connection between the two men, other than Roger's firm would have, at some point, have used a solicitor. Given both companies were old and established it would be surprising had they not have known each other. "He's been in Canada for most of the time we've been planning it, and it's mainly been Mrs. Callaghan who's been involved with the details. He's been a real gentleman though, when I have spoken with him."
"I imagine he'll be very useful, going forward. With him being retired and your connection to his son, he'll be on hand to offer any business or legal advice you'll need, although I dare say Jackson will be more actively involved," Roger said. "He's become very well respected in a short space of time for what he's done with Callaghan Greene. His father was lauded, but I suspect Jackson will surpass him sooner rather than later."
"I didn't realize you knew them so well," I said, wishing I hadn't had the prosecco at the spa or the wine now. A clearer head would be good to try and navigate the minefield of company relations.
Linda nodded, finishing her starter. "We've known the Callaghans for years. Marie and Ed are lovely and they've done such a good job with the children. You must see that for yourself, being Jackson's girlfriend."
"They're great," I said, making sure I was smiling. I didn't want this. I didn't want my connection with Jackson Callaghan to be the reason why my company received business. Although it would be useful in some aspects, it left us open to criticism and insinuations that we weren't good enough without that support. Yes, I knew this was how business sometimes worked, but I'd had enough of living in Richard's shadow and always being that girl from the north, whose family could barely read or write – which was an exaggeration but one that Richard once made – so let's feel sorry for her. However, I wasn't going to sabotage this dinner. "Really genuine people. Are you familiar with other campaigns we're done?"
Roger laughed. "Of course. I've noticed what you've done for our rivals, and there was the tube campaign your company did for Little Red Balloons, which my wife loved." He looked at Linda. "The credit card not so much."
"It was a great advert that was around London. It really made the shops look interesting and different and real – not just a chain store. We're thrilled you're going to be working with us," she beamed at me.
"Thank you. Little Red Balloon was amazing to work with. They're a franchise – I know you probably know this already – but the managers of each store like to work closely together so it does feel like you're working for a family business. We wanted to show that in the adverts and I think it worked," I said, feeling more in control now I was talking about our portfolio rather than Jackson's family.
The sommelier came over and topped up my wine. I sipped it slowly, wishing I could somehow get rid of it, despite it being a full-bodied Chianti which was usually my favorite. "Jackson showed me some of the adverts you've finalized for Callaghan Greene. I was already intrigued by your firm, having seen the other campaigns but that sold it for me. Using the boys and Claire and Payton in the adverts was a genius idea. Some of the adverts are almost like artwork and the slogans are excellent."
"When did you speak to Jackson?" I asked, trying to stop my hands from shaking. "We have gone through a couple of edits on the adverts recently."
"This wine's amazing, isn't it, Linda?" Linda nodded, clearly agreeing given the amount she had drank. "I met him for a coffee on Tuesday. He got in touch to chase up some work we'd given him months ago – it wasn't necessary but he is very thorough – and mentioned you. He raved about what you'd done for him and of course when he said you were courting his enthusiasm made a lot of sense. It was lovely to hear from him. He's a good boy – you could do a lot worse."
"As could he," Linda said. "He's got a lovely, intelligent young woman there, who's independent and has a work ethic. I definitely think he's taken the top prize."
When I was younger and in a situation, I wanted to run away from, behind my ears would thud like a drum on parade day. That drum was now on full volume, reverberating through my head and down my spine. How dare Jackson interfere. We would've gotten the contact on our own merit, I was pretty sure of that, so why did he have to sell us and use his connection. This was what I had been afraid of, him pulling a stunt that Richard would have done. How long would it take for him to credit himself with us having this account? How would he hold it over my head? I felt sick and wished I could leave.
The rest of the meal dragged, although to Roger and Linda I looked as if I was having a lovely time, happy to talk about photography and Derbyshire and managing not to be called a 'top prize.' Usually being defined by my ability to be a trophy wife or girlfriend was something I let go, especially when such comments were made by someone older, but today it grated like sandpaper on an infected wound.
We said our goodbyes and added a meeting next week into my calendar that Josh would also attend and then I flew back to Sophie's, throwing myself onto my bed and growling into my pillow.
"Fucking stupid men. Why are they all the goddamn same?"
My phone vibrated: it had been on silent since I'd met Sophie earlier and I hadn't had time to check it other than using it to access my diary. I pulled it out of my bag and looked at the messages.
Jackson: My hotel room has a huge freestanding bath. You'd love it. Wish you were in it with me.
Jackson: I know you're meeting clients this evening. Give me a call when you're done.
Jackson: Do you want to remodel the bathroom on the top floor? One of these baths would be great and we have the room.
Jackson: I'm stalking you with messages now. Wish you'd been able to come with me. We could've gone to Derbyshire Friday evening and seen your dad and gran. Have you told them yet?
I threw my phone on the floor. He knew who I was meeting with tonight and he hadn't said anything about his conversation with Roger Davies although he would know full well Roger would've mentioned it. His step-mum had preached honesty but clearly, he'd only been paying lip service when he'd agreed with her.
Forcing water down, I contemplated what to do. I was mad and communicating when I was mad was not a good idea. I also didn't want to speak to him, potentially ever again. Yes, what he'd done by recommending me and ensuring we got the contract by utilizing his family connections would have been done with the best of intentions, I had no doubts about that, but he'd been thoughtless and clearly didn't know me. This was all too soon. Moving in with him was being chivvied along because of the sex but there was no substance.
There was no way I could continue to have a relationship with him.
***
"What the fuck's happened?"
I woke up on the sofa, Sophie's face peering down at me.
"Have you been watching Jon Snow die again? Because that's the only reason why your eyes ever get that red."
