“A bit high-maintenance? She sounds like the boss fromThe Devil Wears Prada.What’s her name? You know, Meryl Streep’s character.”
“Miranda Priestly,” I inform her.
“That’s the one. She’s like a real-life Miranda Priestly, except she’s getting married, not running a high-fashion magazine empire. Why are you putting up with her?”
“Because she’s an important client.”
“Well, in my opinion, she can shove her truffle oil up her—”
“All right, calm down.” I chuckle, looking out of the window at the fields sweeping by. “How’s everything with you?”
“Fine. Work’s stressful. Mike’s obsessed with a new video game, so that’s annoying.” She sighs heavily. “Do you think he’ll ever grow out of video games?”
“If he hasn’t grown out of them at the age of thirty-five, I don’t think it’s likely.”
“I’m going to break it accidentally on purpose. Don’t tell him.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“What are you up to this weekend?”
“Working, I imagine.”
“You don’t have a wedding?”
“No, but I have a lot of wedding stuff to do.”
“Any chance of meeting for a drink?”
“Yeah! I’d love to see you and catch up.”
“Ah,” she says, “not with me. With someone else. Mike’s friend Scott is really nice and he’s super keen to meet you.”
“Cara,” I sigh, “no. I’m not going on a date.”
“Why not? You said you could meet for a drink!”
“Yes, withyou.Not with someone I don’t know. It’s hard enough making time for my friends and family, let alone some random guy.”
“He’s not a random guy, he’s Mike’s friend. It would be fun! You might enjoy it.”
“Sorry, I’ve got too much work to do.”
“Come on, Sophie, live a little. In thatDevil Wears Pradamovie, she realizes running errands for that bitch isn’t worth giving up her social life.”
“This is completely different from that film,” I argue.
“I don’t know, Sophie. It’s early Thursday morning and, instead of doing anything you really care about, you’re currently on a train all the way to Hertfordshire to get a bottle of truffle oil. It sounds very similar to me.”
There’s a beeping in my ear as a call comes through. I check the ID. “Cara, I’ve got to go. I have another call.”
“Is it Miranda?”
“I’ll speak to you later.”
She hangs up reluctantly and I pick up Lady Meade’s call, catching her just before she rings off.
“Emily, good morning.”
