“I didn’t go home last night.”
I laugh, roll my eyes. Not a surprise. I wonder who it was this time. Honestly the man has no shame. “Shock.”
He pauses then turns around, tilting his head with a frown. “What does that mean?”
I shrug, marching past him. “I’ve heard the rumours.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, you have?”
“Everyone has,” I say, listening to his steps behind me.
“Go on then, if you’ve heard them, where do you think I was last night?”
I’m just about to answer with something that, I’m sure, is very witty when we hear a rumbling sound in the form of an engine. We both step forwards to get a better look. After another moment, an ancient blue tractor rolls around the trees in the direction of the van.
We give each other a relieved look then start waving like crazy. It takes longer than I thought it would to reach us, so there’s a lull in our waving, but the man driving has seen us and slows to a stop, opening the cabin door.
“Madainn mhath,” the man says.
James runs his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Do you speak English?”
“Aye,” he replies.
“Oh, thank god. We’ve blown a tyre in the minivan down the road.” James points back the way we’ve just walked. “It’s parked up on the side by the lake. Can you help us?”
The man grunts. He’s got muddy, green, full-body overalls on. I know he’s a farmer but there’s a small part of my brain that thinks maybe this man might murder us. As long as he goes for James first then I have a chance to get away.
“Go on up to the town.”
“How far is that?” James asks, a bit less friendly now, disgruntled this man is not a sucker to his charms. We immune folk do know how to wind him up.
“’bout another ten minutes’ walk. Must be on me way,” the man says, slamming the door shut.
“Well, he wasn’t very friendly,” James says.
“Do you expect everyone to be charmed by your perfect hair, Gloatman?”
He takes a deep breath. “No, Felicity. If you must know, I expect people to be generally kind. I distrust petty people,” he says, before adding, “Like you.”
“I’m not petty!”
“Next time you’re near a dictionary, search for the word, because you’ll be amazed to find your picture in there.”
“That’s so not true,” I say. “You’re the one always making my life difficult with your stupid ideas and schemes.”
“The ideas and schemes that promise to make the company more money?”
“But threaten to ruin the image—”
“The image?” James scoffs. “God, you and the fucking image. What does that even mean?” He does that thing he does where he places his hands on his hips and juts one long leg out like some kind of Austen hero. Obviously, he’s far less refined. And comes without the absurd sideburns.
I’m aghast at his question. “I knew you weren’t paying attention in any of my presentations! We have a brand, James! A brand my team and I have worked bloody hard to create. It doesn’t just boil down to the corporate hospitality sales. You know they only make up thirty-five per cent of our overall revenue, right? And even less in profit when you take off the topline.
“We’re trying to create a long-term brand that people rely upon. You know, like Nike or Burberry or freaking McDonalds! We want people to know what to expect. But if you keep on ruining our consumers’ nights by trying to downgrade them a few weeks before, because you want to make more money in hospitality, then it’s going to damage our brand. Do you understand that?”
James ponders this for a moment. “I hadn’t actually thought about it that way, but hospitality is growing, and fast. Thanks to the hard work ofmyteam, we now have a thriving client base who regularly and consistently buy tables off us. They have an image in their minds too. I think it could get so much bigger on my side.”
He looks away as if he’s suddenly transferred to his dream world where everyone and their dog can afford the packages he sells. Well, they can’t. “You still don’t get how important this is to me… I mean to the business.”
