I’m in the office early, as I want to try to catch Emily before either Annabel or Lucy, the other main event organiser, come in. I’ve been thinking long and hard about how to play this. I could have just gone to Annabel, but I don’t really have anything concrete to prove that Emily has been sabotaging me. I’m hoping that confronting Emily directly will get a better result. The story I tell Annabel will depend entirely on what she says.
Thankfully, the event at Toby’s studio went off without a hitch once I returned from Lewisham with the Champagne. Matt’s van was exactly as he described; it may have looked like it was on its last legs, but it was actually much nicer to drive than the Land Rover. I replaced the fuel as asked and also gave him a couple of extra bottles of Champagne that I picked up, which delighted him. I’m going to have to find a way of squaring them through the expenses but, once she hears the story, I’m reasonably sure Annabel will sign them off.
While we were chatting before the event, Toby gave me some interesting advice about my property problem. He had remembered me from the wedding and asked, very delicately, after James. I didn’t go into the details, but explained that we were divorcing. I mentioned the problems I was having finding somewhere to rent in London and he suggested I might want to widen my search, particularly as I could be in central London within half an hour of getting on a train in Sevenoaks, and Orpington and Bromley were even closer. Coincidentally, one of the flats above his studio happens to be vacant, and he gave me the details of the agent. I rang them over the weekend and I’m viewing the flat on Saturday. I’m pretty sure I won’t take it; I don’t know anyone in Sevenoaks, and I don’t fancy being stuck on my own in the middle of nowhere every evening and weekend. However, it will at least give me an idea of what I might be able to afford outside London, so it’s worth a look just for that.
The door opens and Emily strides in, humming to herself.
‘Good morning, Emily. Nice weekend?’
She starts briefly, before regaining her composure. I’m pretty sure I saw something flicker across her face before the shutters came back down.
‘Oh, hello, Sophie. You’re in early!’
‘I am. I was hoping to have a chat with you before Annabel comes in. When you’re settled, shall we pop into the meeting room?’
I’ve rattled her, I can see that. There’s no more humming as she hangs up her coat and powers up her computer.
‘I’ll just get a cup of tea,’ she tells me. ‘Would you like one?’
‘No thank you. If it’s all right with you, I’d prefer it if we went straight in. Can your cup of tea wait?’
She’s definitely looking rattled now. ‘Okay.’
We make our way into the meeting room, which is a rather grand name for a table and chairs behind a glass partition wall, but at least it’s not called the boardroom or anything sillier. I bring a notepad, not because I have any notes or plan to take any, but simply out of habit. I notice Emily does the same.
‘What’s up?’ she asks, after we’ve taken our seats.
I decide to go straight for the jugular. ‘Tell me about the Champagne for the Toby Roberts event,’ I begin.
She tries to look baffled, but I can see disquiet in her eyes.
‘What do you mean?’ she replies.
‘I ordered twelve cases, but only twelve bottles turned up. I nearly had to buy some complete stranger’s van and drive to Lewisham to collect the rest, otherwise the event would have been a disaster. Do you have any idea how that could have happened?’
‘No. Should I?’ I think she knows I’m on to her; she’s looking increasingly shifty and starting to fidget.
‘I don’t know. You tell me.’ I’m not letting her off the hook by telling her what I know just yet. I want to see if she has the grace to come clean.
‘I’ve no idea. I guess the wine merchant must have written down bottles instead of cases. Didn’t you double-check?’
Okay, she’s had her chance.
‘The merchant is one I’ve dealt with for a long time, Emily, and they told me they did ring to confirm. According to them, they spoke to someone with the same name as you, who told them that the order was definitely twelve bottles and not twelve cases.’
‘Really? I don’t remember.’
She bloody does. She’s trying to sound nonchalant, but she’s fidgeting so much that she’s either guilty as hell or I need to call pest control.
‘Cut the act, Emily.’ I say, firmly. ‘You were trying to sabotage the event, and this isn’t the first time, is it? The thing that I don’t understand is why.’
There’s a long silence. I can see her wrestling with her thoughts, trying to decide whether to tell the truth or not, before she starts to speak.
‘Look,’ she says, ‘you and Lucy have always been Annabel’s golden girls. Nobody ever noticed me; I was just the office junior. Every day, I’d get you all coffee just how you liked it, and sandwiches and whatever, but it felt like I was invisible. Even after you left, it took years before Annabel really noticed me. She started letting me organise small events last year and I thought I was on the way at last. But then I cocked up and she was really pissed off with me.’
‘The Cucina Italia thing?’
‘The Cucina Italia thing. Anyway, it was fine and I was all set to sort it out, only you bloody popped up again, didn’t you? Waving your magic wand and being the golden girl, even though you didn’t even sodding work here any more. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?’