OK, I’m completely fogged now. Either I’m all wrong about Sam or she’s all wrong about him, because in my opinion he’s the last person in the world you could imagine ripping somebody else off.
“I just don’t know why he has to compete with me,” Willow’s saying. “What is that with men? What’s wrong with facing the world together? Side by side? What’s wrong with being a partnership? Or is that too … generous for him to get his stupid male head round?”
“He wants control,” says of one the other girls, cracking a chocolate biscuit in half. “They all do. He’s never going to give you the credit you deserve in a million years.”
“But can’t he see how perfect it would be if we could get it fucking right ? If we could get beyond this crappy bad patch?” Willow sounds impassioned. “Working together, being together … the whole package … it could be sublime.” She breaks off and takes a gulp of tea. “The question is, how long do I give him? Because I can’t go on like this much longer.”
“Have you talked it through?” says the third girl.
“Please! You know Sam and ‘talking.’ ” She makes quote marks with her fingers.
Well. I’m with her there.
“It makes me sad.” She shakes her head. “Not for me, for him. He can’t see what’s in front of his face and he doesn’t know how to value what he has, and, you know what? He’s going to lose it. And then he’s going to want it, but it’ll be too late. Too late.” She bangs her teacup down. “Gone.”
I’m suddenly gripped. I’m seeing this conversation in a new light. I’m realizing that Willow has more insight than I gave her credit for. Because, if truth be told, this is just what I feel about Sam and his father. Sam can’t see what he’s losing, and when he does it may be too late. OK, I know I don’t know the whole story between them. But I’ve seen the emails, I’ve got the idea—
My thoughts stop abruptly in their tracks. Alarm bells have started to ring in my head. First distant, but now getting loud and clangy. Oh no, oh no, oh God.
Sam’s father. April 24. That’s today. I’d completely forgotten. How could I be so stupid ?
Horror is rising up in me like chill water. Sam’s dad’s going to pitch up at the Chiddingford Hotel, expecting some lovely reunion. Today. He’s probably on his way already. He’ll be all excited. And Sam won’t even be there. He’s not going to the conference until tomorrow.
Shiiiiit. I’ve really messed up. I’d forgotten all about it, what with all the other emergencies going on.
What do I do? How do I solve this? I can’t tell Sam. He’ll go absolutely mad. And he’s so stressed anyway. Do I cancel the dad? Send a quick rain-check apology email? Or will that make everything even worse between them?
There’s only one tiny ray of hope. Sam’s dad never sent any reply, which is why I forgot about it. So maybe he never even got the email. Maybe it’s all OK—
I suddenly realize I’m nodding emphatically, as though to persuade myself. One of the girls with Willow looks up and eyes me curiously. Oops.
“Right!” I say out loud. “So … I’ll just … Good. Yes.” I hastily turn on my heel. If there’s one thing I don’t want, it’s being busted by Willow. I scurry to the safety of Sam’s office and am about to grab the phone to email Sam’s dad, when I see Sam and Vicks marching back toward the office, apparently in the middle of a blazing argument. They look a bit terrifying, and I find myself backing hastily into the bathroom.
As they stride in, neither of them even notices me.
“We cannot release this statement,” Sam is saying furiously. He crumples the piece of paper he’s holding and throws it in the bin. “It’s a travesty. You’re completely shafting Nick, you realize that?”
“That’s not fair, Sam.” Vicks looks prickly. “I’d say it’s a reasonable and balanced official response. Nothing in our statement says he did or didn’t write the memo—”
“But it should! You should be telling the world that he would never say these things in a million years! You know he wouldn’t!”
“That’s for him to say in his own personal statement. What we cannot do is look as though we condone these kinds of practices—”
“Hanging John Gregson out to dry was bad enough,” says Sam, his voice low, as though he’s trying to keep control of himself. “That never should have happened. He never should have lost his job. But Nick! Nick is everything to this company.”
“Sam, we’re not hanging him out to dry. He’s going to release his own statement. He can say what he likes in that.”
“Great,” says Sam sarcastically. “But meanwhile his own board won’t stand by him. What kind of vote of confidence is that? Remind me not to hire you to represent me if I’m ever in a spot.”
Vicks flinches but says nothing. Her phone buzzes, but she presses ignore.
“Sam—” She stops, then takes a deep breath and starts again. “You’re being idealistic. I know you admire Nick. We all do. But he’s not everything to this company. Not anymore.” She winces at Sam’s glare but carries on. “He’s one man. One brilliant, flawed, high-profile man. In his sixties.”
“He’s our leader. ” Sam sounds livid.
“Bruce is our chairman.”
“Nick founded this fucking company, if you remember”