‘So, did you learn much about wine tonight?’ I ask, feeling the need to change the subject.
He slides his eyes towards me. ‘Mainly that I’m better at drinking than analysing it,’ he says.
‘You and me both. Hey, thanks for helping me clear up.’
‘Anytime, Darling.’ I shake my head at the mischievous glint in his eyes, in the full knowledge that he’s doing this to wind me up.
‘That’sitnow, isn’t it? You’renevergoing to stop calling me Darling.’
‘No way. It’s too good to waste.’
‘It is better than my married name, I suppose.’
‘Well, now I’m intrigued. Come on, spill.’
‘Smedley.’
He grimaces and a laugh gusts out of me.
‘I amveryoffended by that look, Russo – just so you know. I only used it on my bank account and things. I kept my maiden name for work.’
‘Good decision.Lisa Smedley,’ he says, trying out the sound of it, before shaking his head. ‘No. Doesn’t suit you at all. You’redefinitelya Darling. That why you divorced him?’
‘No!’ I laugh. ‘I didn’t feelthatstrongly about it.’
‘Could’ve been worse, you know. There was a kid in my class in middle school called Calvin Titball.’
‘Oh, the poor thing.’
We’re both laughing now. Everything tonight feels quite funny for some reason.
‘Yeah,’ he sighs. ‘Still, he runs a tech company and drives a Ferrari these days so it didn’t turn out all bad for him.’
Only now appreciating how exhausted I am, I slip off my shoes and wiggle my painted toes, stretching back my neck to let my spine decompress. The moment I become aware he’s watching me, heat rushes up my body.
‘You do realise that you’ve succeeded in preventing me from talking about the very thing I’ve been attempting to discuss with you for, like, four days?’
‘So I have. Maybe that’s because every time it comes up it results in more work for me.’
‘Well, what I wanted to say was very simple. I’m going to drop my objections.’
I sit up straight and blink, wondering if I’ve heard him right. ‘What?’
‘If you want to pursueOur Girl In Milan, then I won’t stop you. You can make it clear at the meeting with Krishna on Monday that you have the full support of Scheduling.’
‘I don’t understand. Why would you do that?’
He inhales, as if he’s about to confess something. ‘Because I may have allowed my personal feelings to cloud my judgement.’
He disliked methatmuch in our first meeting? As much as the sentiment was mutual, I’m a little bruised at the thought. I wonder when he decided I was less of a twat?
‘For the record, though,’ he continues, ‘I think you’ve got a better concept up your sleeve. If I was going to choose one of those shows to actively champion, it’d be the second one in your presentation.’
‘My Teenage Bombsite?’
He nods. ‘I loved that idea.’
In a nod toHow Clean is Your House?– the hit Channel 4 show that made stars out of two housekeepers, Kim and Aggie, back in the 2000s – each episode would focus on one young person’s filthy bedroom. A crack team of cleaners would initially assess levels of grime, test for E coli, salmonella and other gruesome bacteria usually found on dirty dishes lurking underneath beds. They’d fill skips full of the old shit found at the back of wardrobes and in sock drawers and do it all while accompanied by a dramatic score of horror movie music. Then, they’d undertake a transformative deep clean, leaving the place so sparkling you could safely conduct open-heart surgery.
