The morning was taken up with a three-hour creative meeting with me, Alice and Josh, eventually pulling in two others from the design team and allocating a person in charge for each new account we had taken on in the past seven days. My suggestion for Vanalish was shot to the ground by both Josh and Alice.
"Van Marketing," Alice said. "It's simple and it should just be you. A van moves you forward, carrying what you need."
I shook my head. "It's too simple."
"That's the point," Josh said. "Why does it need to be complicated. It also tells a bit of the history of the company as well. Think about it, we have a couple of weeks yet before we need to decide." Josh had gotten along surprisingly well with Sophie, discussing spa treatments specifically for men and why he'd never set foot in a spa. She had him booked in for a series of treatments on Sunday, when there were no customers about and she was dusting off her skills to do the facial and whatever else herself, as Josh was worried about having girls 'work on him'. I was pretty sure he should be more concerned with Sophie 'working on him' as I was sure she'd be bringing out the wax, but I decided not to mention it.
Sally entered the meeting room and passed me an envelope. "This has just been delivered by courier," she said. "Can I open the next box of chocolates?"
"Sure," I said, opening the envelope.
"Have you been served?" Josh said, laughing and trying to peer over my shoulder. "What does it say?"
"I have reservations at Simone's restaurant at eight tonight," I pushed the paper back in the envelope. It was typed and not handwritten, but I knew exactly who had sent it.
"Who with? Or is that a stupid question?" Alice said, doodling 'Van Marketing' on a scrap of paper. She was already planning the rebrand party.
"It doesn't say."
Sally re-entered, this time with a box. "This has just arrived too. Courier again."
I left the box on the table and went back to my agenda for the meeting. "I'm seeing Roger Davies this afternoon for coffee. He's asked me to bring the agreement for him to sign. This is going to be a biggie. Who wants to run the account?"
"Aren't you going to open it?" Josh asked.
"Shall I phone Simone and find out who managed to sneak in a reservation. It has to be someone who can pull strings – it's got to be Jackson. Shall I call her?" Alice said, her fingers playing with the plastic that surrounded the parcel.
"Don't phone Simone and I'll open the box later."
They both stared at me.
"I take it I'm opening the box now."
They both nodded.
I peeled off the plastic and found what I'd suspected; a shoe box. Alexander McQueen. Inside it was a pair of black suede platform heels that caused a small groan to be elicited from my throat.
"I'm going to suggest that they are way more expensive than I'd ever understood," Josh said, standing up and stretching, his new and nicely pressed shirt coming slightly untucked. "Van, you're lead on the Davies account until it's up and running. Alice and I can oversee the other three. I'll leave you girls to your shoe porn."
He re-entered two minutes later, with another package. "If this continues, we'll need to hire someone just to sign for your love tokens."
It was another box, this time larger and flatter and probably containing clothes. I unwrapped it with just Alice watching and pulled out a dress I'd lusted after when we'd been shopping one evening.
"It matches the shoes," Alice said. "It's the perfect length."
"I can't wear it," I said, putting on the table like it was burning my hands. "I can't wear a dress that someone else has picked. I dress for me, no one else."
Alice picked the dress up and checked the size. "It fits me. And I'm more than happy to wear it for you."
"Would you wear something a man's picked for you?"
She frowned at me, her tiny nose turning up. "Vanessa, you told him you liked the dress. He's not picked it out, he's brought you something he knew you'd like. He's hardly telling you what to wear, although if someone decided to spend this much on me, I'd be more than happy to wear it regardless whether I'd chosen it or not."
"Why's he doing this? It was me who ended it."
"I don't know. Maybe you'll find out tonight. But first, you need to hop around the corner to meet Mr. Davies," she said, her fingers caressing the heels of the shoes. "Shame these won't fit me."
I glared at her and walked quickly to the coffee shop where Roger Davies had suggested a meeting, grabbing the agreement on my way out. It was slightly after twelve, so I was late which bothered me. I detest not being the first person there, preferring to have some time to gather my thoughts and get into the right frame of mind before meeting with a client rather than rushing and feeling as if I was trying to catch up.
