Abi: How was it with Leo in the end? Awks or OK?
Me: OK, then good, then amazing and finished v weird. We kinda had a thing…
Abi: Another one of your things? I bumped into your LA fling-thing in Target last week.
Me: I thought this might be more than a fling-thing – like something real. But it turned out he was keeping it real with the client as well.
Abi: Putting his little thing about.
Sara: WTF??? Isn’t that against the rules?
Probably, but who was I going to complain to? I wasn’t really in a position when I’d done the exact same thing. I could try and seduce Greg and play fire with fire, but that was a sixty-something bridge too far. I had to accept Leo wasn’t the man I thought he was and move on, and the best way to do that was to stay busy and focus on the work. I unzipped my suitcase and tipped everything onto the floor to force myself to sort it all out. Putting a load of washing on while I could still be bothered. The quicker I did it, thequicker it would get done and no one else was going to do it. My passport went back in my ‘shoebox of important things,’ which was hidden under a loose floorboard, and I fished around in the front pocket for the cruise paperwork to chuck it away. My fingers caught on something smooth and hard instead, and I pulled out a small envelope with my name scrawled on the front. My birthday was coming up, but who would know that to pop a card in my case? Surely not Heidi being a thoughtful sweetheart out of the blue…
‘Angels’ started playing on the radio and Robbie Williams’ chocolatey voice took me straight back to Leo being straddled by Barb on stage. He certainly got full marks for participation and was so much more relaxed than I’d remembered. He’d almost had me fooled. I opened the envelope carefully, so I could keep it, and pulled out a postcard with a breaching whale on the front.
Hi Kat,
I haven’t seen you for hours and I’m starting to worry that I won’t for some reason before we leave. Has something happened? Please talk to me. Let’s not have another decade-long misunderstanding. I’ve tried to call but you aren’t answering, and it feels like the end of our internship all over again. In case of any miscommunication here – I don’t want this to be the end of our story. These past two weeks with you have been so much fun. I’ve loved getting to know you again and remembering why I had that crush on you all those years ago. Please can I take you out for dinner when we getback to London? I want to explore what this might be, and I hope you feel the same.
I know we’ve got the pitch to consider, and we’re both professionals, but can we keep business and pleasure separate and give this a try? I can if you can.
We can wait until after the pitch if you’d rather – so we don’t have that hanging over us. Whatever you want to do – I’m in.
I’ll pop this in the post to you at work if I don’t see you before you go.
Please call me and let me know you’re OK.
Leo xx
Twenty-nine
Tuesday 13th July
A week later and I still felt gutted. All I could think about was Leo. His eyes, his smile, his stupid jokes. And how he’d somehow managed to stitch me up again,in plain sight. I was furious and humiliated, but also incredibly sad. I’d let him get in my head and maybe my heart, just a tiny bit, and he’d broken it and left. My one saving grace was that he didn’t know I knew. Player’s gonna play. I wanted to block him on everything and lock him away in my WhatsApp prison but I didn’t want him to know I cared that much. No, it was better to ghost and ignore. I wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me, but it was impossible when it was all so one-sided. The only way to kick him in the metaphorical goolies was to win the pitch and wipe that overconfident smirk off his face. He was so sure they had it in the bag. Offering me a job?! The cheeky bastard.
‘Talk me through where you’re up to,’ Heidi said, mascara smudges under both eyes. We’d been working round the clock and were all exhausted.
Scott, Natalya and Andy stood behind the boardroom table ready to present the ideas.
‘I’ve got the pitch deck,’ I said, pulling it up on the big screen. ‘I’ve kept it clean and simple and we’ve only got an hour, so let’s get onto the creative as quickly as possible.’
‘Agreed,’ Heidi said.
Natalya cleared her throat. She had been creative director at Northstar PR for nearly ten years and knew the Excalibur account inside out. If there’d been space for more than two on the cruise, she’d have come with us.
‘Who knows if past knowledge is a blessing or a curse, but that’s what we have on our side so let’s use it to our advantage,’ she said. ‘We’ve mapped out the key audiences using age, income and attitude to holidays, and then visualised the potential cruiser personas.’
She pulled up a photo of me, retouched to look ten years younger, wearing pantaloons and a crop top and we all cracked up.
‘Love it, guys. Where do I sign?’
‘This is Kat as a young Gen Z,’ Natalya said. ‘Obviously.’
Heidi nodded. ‘I like that as a way in. Keeps it light and fun, but personal. Good thinking.’
‘Then we ask – what does Kat want from her holiday?’
Thinking about myself in the third person was strangely confronting. What did I want from my holiday? A highlights reel of the cruise flashed through my mind: playing water volleyball with enthusiastic strangers (before I got hit in the face), whale watching at sunset and tobogganing through the streets of Madeira. Beautifully cooked food and every type of cuisine. The fake anniversary dinner with Leo under the stars… I don’t know about twenty-something Kat but thetwo weeks I’d had onEsmeraldahad been close to perfect for the real me – accommodation aside. I felt my breath catch in my throat as all those magical moments crashed together. Younger Kat couldn’t have asked for more.
