‘Hmm,’ Carolyn said thoughtfully. ‘Not that I’m aware of. More about a culture of entitled idiocy. But let’s face it, these things are on a spectrum– albeit at different ends.’
Amy nodded, recognising how right she was.
‘In any case,’ Carolyn went on, ‘H-K doesn’t want a commercial imprint like Torch as part of its stable– Hugh has made that quite clear. It’s neater all round if they sign over the project to me, and if we all say farewell in a civilised fashion that doesn’t involve spending lots of money on lawyers. We’ll be a small start-up to begin with, and if you choose to be part of this new venture, very little will change for you compared with how you’ve been working since the spring.’
‘And if I don’t come with you?’ Amy asked, though really the question was academic.
‘Then it’s back to the Howard-Knight offices for you, I should think,’ Carolyn said. ‘Hugh’s announcing his new regime on Monday, I believe. Given the chance, my guess is he’ll have you back at your old desk in a flash– or in the office next door to his if he can wangle it.’
Amy made a face and shuddered again.
‘In that case, my choice is clear,’ she said. ‘Except … What are your plans, location wise?’
‘I’d like to keep Torch based in this region,’ Carolyn said. ‘Philippa’s here too, so it makes sense. Were you keen on heading back to London?’
‘No, actually,’ Amy said, realising this was true. ‘Staying here or hereabouts sounds perfect.’
‘Well then,’ Carolyn announced, ‘I’ll have my lawyer draw up the necessary paperwork for your new role and send it to you ASAP. I suggest you submit your resignation directly to Julian, since I’m no longer in post. He should accept it without argument and will probably allow you to leave with immediate effect, so I can rehire you the following day. I’ve given him fair warning that if his nephew bothers you again there’ll be severe consequences for both Hugh and the firm.’ She grinned almost evilly at this.To the victor the spoils,Amy thought.
Smiling, she shook her head in disbelief. ‘This is … perfect.Wonderful. I’m … overwhelmed. Thank you both so much.’
‘Notears,’ Carolyn said sharply, recognising the quiver in Amy’s voice. She stood up, and Amy and Philippa mirrored the movement.
‘Now. I think it’s time for me to head off,’ Carolyn said. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
Without further ado, she sloped off to the car park before she could be asked to pitch in with any of the RomFest jobs that staff and volunteers had now begun: litter picking, the reloading of unsold goods into vans and the deconstruction of alotof flat-pack and foldable furniture.
‘I’m off, too,’ Philippa said, waving her preternaturally long nails in Amy’s face. Amy reasoned they weren’t well suited to manual labour.
‘I’ll speak to you next week,’ Philippa went on. ‘And by the way, bab– put that lovely man out of his misery. He’s obviously mad about you. Write yourselves a happy ending, OK?’
‘I’m afraid it might be too late for that, Philippa,’ Amy said, determinedly holding back tears, even though Carolyn was no longer there to disapprove of them.
After changing out of her dance costume, Amy got stuck into packing pallets of unsold soft drinks into the back of a minivan. Generally, though, it seemed the vast majority of the day’s food and drink had been bought by festivalgoers.
With a glow, she thought of what a good cause the RomFest profits would serve: keeping people like Barbara and Dave in the homes they loved. Her misjudgement of Sam had been sweeping, almost total, she realised again. His determination to make this event work, his insistence on obliging Carolyn and his tolerance of Hugh’s rudeness had all been about achieving his desired outcome for others, not himself.
She felt someone standing behind her and breathed in a waft of fruity perfume. ‘Amy? Can I have a quick word?’ She turned to see Tilly smiling sweetly, apparently unaware that the mere sight of her made Amy feel as though her heart had been put through a shredder.
‘What about?’ Amy asked testily.
‘I’d love it if you could sign this consent form for me,’ Tilly said.
Amy felt like she must have blacked out– as if she’d missed a chunk of conversation that would have made the phrase ‘consent form’ comprehensible. What was Tilly on about?
‘I don’t understand,’ Amy said eventually.
Tilly frowned and tipped her head prettily to one side. ‘Did Sam not mention it to you?’
‘Obviously not,’ Amy retorted. This was torture.Take him if you must,Amy thought,but spare me the bullshit.
‘Ugh, I did ask him to bring it up,’ Tilly said. ‘I need you to sign the form if we’re going to include your dance in the documentary, and I really want to– it was just stunning!’
‘Documentary …?’
‘Yes,’ Tilly said. ‘You know I do a bit of producing, as well as presenting? I’ve been working on a programme about the resurgence of romance: a celebration of the genre. I asked Sam if I could do some filming here today, and I’ve been up a couple of times already to interview him and get shots of the grounds and the festival prep. He was supposed to tell you all about it.’
She sounded annoyed.
