‘No, thanks,’ she mumbled, secretly wishing she could offload the thing.
Greg frowned at her. ‘Jack, this is Rachel Ryan – pretty much the best copywriter we have, though she seems determined to hide her light under a bushel. I’m sure you’ll get on famously.’
Before she could feel too flattered – or annoyed – by Greg’s introduction, Jack was smiling again and opening his mouth to reply.
Rachel looked right at him, eyes widened in alarm. She shook her head slightly, trying to warn him:Don’t say it.
Too late.
‘Rachel and I actually know each other already, from years back,’ Jack said. ‘We were at university together. I remember her being very clever, though God knows we probably killed a few brain cells with all the cider we used to drink. I’m not at all surprised she’s one of your top people.’
Damn himto hell.
Greg’s light-brown eyes looked rounder than usual. Rachel could almost hear the cogs and wheels of his brain clunking and whirring, processing this new information.
Jack, as Rachel’s dad might say, had dropped a massive bollock here. Telling Greg that he and Rachel had had a prior relationship meant Greg would start reading all sorts of (probably true) things into the tension that was beginning to simmer between them. This was why Rachel hadn’t mentioned it earlier – but now her decision to say nothing looked weird and suspicious. Greg would assumeshehad something shameful to hide, which was simultaneously inaccurate, unfair and infuriating.
Rachel’s eyes met Jack’s, square on. She gave him a look that she hoped he knew meant:Well played, you smug idiot.
‘Well,’ Greg said after what felt like an ice age, ‘it’ll be great for you two to get reacquainted, I suppose!’
‘It certainly will,’ Jack agreed, treating them to another winning smile.
Rachel was silent, her mouth clamped shut so it wouldn’t hang open in horror.
‘Shall we?’ Jack said, and gestured towards the exit.
They walked the short distance to Angel Tube station. Rachel was grateful that Greg had decided to give Jack a full and detailed explanation of where they were going, who they were about to meet and the work they’d been doing. She plodded along saying nothing, privately praying for a sinkhole to appear in the pavement and swallow Jack whole.
A busy Tube carriage saved Rachel the indignity of small talk on the way to London Bridge, and she decided to give her copy a final read-through after they changed for the train to Blackheath, feigning diligence as she stared down at the A4 sheets she’d brought with her. She felt Greg’s curious eyes on her as words swam, meaningless, across each page.
It’s All Good’s head office was within a large, elegant Victorian terrace round the corner from the station. It had a small outdoor porch stacked with shabby-chic wooden crates, all of them full of (presumably organic, locally grown) produce. Inside, shelves lined the walls of the entrance hall, proudly displaying a variety of vegetarian and vegan recipe books – plus what Rachel assumed must be every celebrity ‘wellness’ guide published in the past ten years. There were framed supposedly motivational quotations in every room, including the toilet.
While Rachel had been to It’s All Good HQ several times before, she couldn’t help feeling newly accused every time she stepped across the threshold.TREASURE YOUR BODY – IT’S THE ONLY PLACE YOU HAVE TO LIVE, admonished a cream-and-rose-gold poster at reception. Standing next to it, Rachel self-consciously sucked in her marshmallowy stomach.
As she, Greg and Jack waited to be shown into a meeting room, she saw Jack cast his eyes over a cutesy print that readYou gotta nourish if you wanna flourish!He flashed Rachel a surreptitious smile and raised his eyebrows, inviting her to laugh with him.
She felt the corners of her mouth twitching upwards, then forced them back into neutral. As she rearranged her face, Angus, Josh and Heidi – the joint owners of It’s All Good – appeared.
They showed their visitors into a meeting room with a large round table, upon which sat a tray of suspicious-looking drinks. It turned out these were turmeric lattes, made with almond milk. While Rachel decided hers was quite palatable after a few diffident slurps, she was pleased to see Jack practically gagging as he took polite little sips out of his.
‘Heidi, Josh, Angus,’ Greg said, perhaps aware that the more he spoke, the less he’d be expected to drink, ‘this is Jack Harper, a new addition to the client services team at R/C. He’s shadowing Rachel and me this afternoon just to get a sense of how we do things.’
Jack stood to shake hands with them all and Rachel noticed that, on her turn, Heidi seemed to grip his fingers for just a moment longer than necessary. He smiled widely at her as he sat down again, and two pink spots appeared on her cheeks.
With some effort, Rachel resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Jack was shameless, and she pitied the women who fawned over him.
‘Well, guys,’ Heidi said after taking a few seconds to collect herself, ‘this is a brilliant realisation of the brief – thank you. The tone is spot on. There are a few minor changes we’d suggest, just in terms of making sure we’re a hundred per cent accurate in what we say about particular products … But overall, I’d say we’re pretty much good to go live!’
Greg beamed at Rachel from across the table, as if to concede that she’d been right about the beetroot. She’d always appreciated that Greg’s priority was getting the right result for clients, regardless of who came up with the ideas that made them happy.
Forty minutes later, and with several copy amendments agreed, the meeting was over. Jack shook hands with the It’s All Good team for the second time.
‘Thank you for letting me gatecrash this afternoon.’ He smiled. ‘Though Greg and Rachel clearly didn’t need the extra help. It was a pleasure to meet you all, and no doubt I’ll be back sometime.’
Heidi stared at him through lowered lashes, her face alight again.Oh, he’s good, Rachel thought.No wonder he’s in client services: he could sell a cape to Supergirl.
As the three of them made their way towards the It’s All Good front door, they passed another gilt-framed feel-good poster – this time of a depressed-looking salad, limp and lifeless next to a jolly dancing avocado. The caption read:FEELING BAD? JUST ADD A LITTLE AVO!
