“I wasn’t,” Sam says wryly.
“Great. Great!” The thin guy is twitching with nervous energy. “Well, I brought these along on the off chance.” He thrusts the portfolio at Sam, who takes it, looking bemused. “If you have a moment tonight, I’ll be staying up till two or three, always happy to Skype from home… . A bit radical, some of it, but … Anyway! I think it’s a great thing you’re doing. And if there is a job opportunity behind all this … count me in. Right. Well … I won’t keep you any longer. Thanks, Sam!” He darts away again into the crowd.
For a moment neither of us speaks, Sam because he looks too baffled and me because I’m trying to work out what to say.
“What was all that about?” says Sam at last. “Do you have any idea? Is there something I’ve missed?”
I lick my dry lips nervously. “There was something I meant to tell you about.” I give a high-pitched laugh. “It’s quite funny, actually, if you see it that way—”
“Sam!” A large woman with a booming voice interrupts me. “ So delighted we’ve got you signed up for the Fun Run!” Oh my God. This must be Rachel.
“Fun Run?” Sam echoes the words as though they’re complete anathema to him. “No. Sorry, Rachel. I don’t do Fun Runs. I’m happy to donate, let other people do the running, good for them—”
“But your email!” She stares at him. “We were so thrilled you wanted to take part! No one could believe it! This year we’re all running in superhero costumes,” she adds enthusiastically. “I’ve earmarked a Superman one for you.”
“Email?” Sam looks bewildered. “What email?”
“That lovely email you sent! Friday, was it? Oh, and bless you for the e-card you sent young Chloe.” Rachel lowers her voice and pats Sam on the hand. “She was so touched. Most directors wouldn’t even care if an assistant’s dog had died, so for you to send such a lovely e-card of condolence, with a poem and everything … ” She opens her eyes wide. “Well. We were all amazed, to be honest!”
My face is getting hotter. I’d forgotten about the e-card.
“An e-card of condolence for a dog,” says Sam at last, in a strange voice. “Yes, I’m pretty amazed at myself.”
He’s staring straight at me. It’s not the most friendly of expressions. I fact, I feel like backing away, only there’s nowhere to go.
“Oh, Loulou!” Rachel suddenly waves a hand across the room. “Do excuse me, Sam.” She heads off, pushing her way through the throng, leaving us alone.
There’s silence. Sam regards me evenly, without a flicker. He’s waiting for me to start, I realize.
“I thought … ” I swallow hard.
“Yes?” His voice is curt and unforgiving.
“I thought you might like to do a Fun Run.”
“You did.”
“Yes. I did.” My voice is a little husky with nerves. “I mean … they’re fun! So I thought I’d reply. Just to save you time.”
“You wrote an email and signed it as me ?” He sounds thunderous.
“I was trying to help!” I say hurriedly. “I knew you didn’t have time, and they kept asking you, and I thought—”
“The e-card was you too, I take it?” He shuts his eyes briefly. “Jesus. Is there anything else you’ve been meddling in?”
I want to bury my head like an ostrich. But I can’t. I have to tell him, quickly, before anyone else accosts him.
“OK, I had this … this other idea,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Only everyone got a bit carried away, and now everyone’s emailing about it, and they think there’s a job involved—”
“A job?” He stares at me. “What are you talking about?”
“Sam.” A guy claps him on the back as he passes. “Glad you’re interested in coming to Iceland. I’ll be in touch.”
“Iceland?” Sam’s face jerks in shock.
I’d forgotten about accepting the Iceland trip too.68 But I only have time to make another apologetic smile before someone else is accosting Sam.
“Sam, OK, I don’t know what’s going on.” It’s a girl with glasses and a very intense way of speaking. “I don’t know if you’re playing us for fools or what … ” She seems a bit stressed out and keeps pushing her hair back off her brow. “Anyway. Here’s my CV. You know how many ideas I’ve had for this company, but if we all have to keeping jumping through even more bloody hoops, then … whatever, Sam. Your call.”
“Elena—” Sam breaks off in bafflement.
“Just read my personal statement. It’s all in there.” She stalks off.
There’s a silent beat, then Sam wheels round, his face so ominous I feel a quailing inside.
“Start from the beginning. What did you do?”
“I sent an email.” I scuff my foot, feeling like a naughty child. “From you.”
“To whom?”
“Everyone in the company.” I cringe as I say the words. “I just wanted everyone to feel … encouraged and positive. So I said everyone should send their ideas in. To you.”
“You wrote that? Under my name ?”
He looks so livid I actually back away, feeling a bit petrified.
“I’m sorry,” I say breathlessly. “I thought it was a good idea. But some people thought you were trying to sack them, and other people think you’re secretly interviewing for a job, and everyone’s got into a tizz about it … I’m sorry,” I end lamely.