“Demeter?” I say, with a careless shrug. “Sorry, no idea. But I’m sure she’s around somewhere. If I see her, I’ll point her in your direction.”
“If you do see her…” He squints at me against the sunlight. “You won’t say anything to her, will you? Stable-yard rules.”
“Say anything to her?” I echo, as though the idea’s ludicrous. “Of course I won’t. Not a word.”
—
“You’re being fired!” I blurt out as soon as I reach the woodshed. “It’s all true! Adrian’s given up on you, and it’s because of Allersons and that Forest Food email and the thing with Sensiquo and your manner with your staff and…you know. Everything.”
“Everything?” Demeter peers at me from the depths of the woodshed, looking like some hostage emerging from a monthlong ordeal. Unlike me, she has not visited a shower, because she was too paranoid about bumping into Alex. She has dried mud on her face, dust all over her hair, and wood shavings on her shoulders, looking like monster dandruff. Her expression is stricken, and I realize I was perhaps a bit blunt.
“Well, you know,” I amend, trying to sound more diplomatic. “All your mistakes. And…well. The stuff with the staff.”
“What stuff with the staff?” She gazes at me through the murk, with that myopic, confused, incredibly frustrating expression she gets.
“Well.” I shrug awkwardly. I’m hardly going to spell it out, am I?
There’s silence. Demeter’s foot is tapping on the floor in a nervous, repetitive pattern. Her eyes are darting around like a cornered animal’s.
“Tell me about the stuff with the staff,” she says abruptly. “You were one of them. Tell me.”
Oh God. This is excruciating.
“Really,” I say at once. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing!”
“It is! I mean, there were just a few tiny things….” I trail off uncomfortably.
“Clearly there were more than a few tiny things,” says Demeter evenly. “Katie, I’m asking you as a fellow professional. Give me a review. A full, honest review. No holds barred.”
Arrgh. Is she serious?
“I can’t!” I twist my legs together. “It would be…awkward.”
“Awkward?” Demeter erupts. “How awkward do you think I feel right now, hiding in a woodshed from a man who used to be my junior? Looking at my whole career disappearing down the drain? Feeling I must be going mad?” She clutches her head, and I can see tears suddenly glittering in her eyes. “You don’t know what it’s like for me. I don’t understand. I don’t understand.” She bangs her head against her hands, and I gape in shocked dismay. “Nothing makes sense. I really think I may be getting dementia. But I can’t admit that to anyone. Anyone. Not even James.”
“You haven’t got dementia,” I say, appalled. “That’s ridiculous!”
But Demeter is shaking her head almost savagely, as though she can’t hear me.
“Things change. Things…they don’t make sense. Emails. Messages.” Her brow wrinkles as though with the memory. “Every day I get through in a state of, basically…panic. Yes. Panic. Trying to keep on top of everything and failing. Quite clearly failing, as my imminent dismissal goes to prove.” She wipes roughly at her eyes. “I do apologize. This is unlike me.”
“Look.” I gulp, feeling more and more uneasy. “You’re brilliant at what you do. You really inspired me, and you’ve got amazing ideas—”
“Tell me about the staff.” She cuts me off dead. “Where have I messed up? Why do they hate me?”
I’m about to give the pat answer: They don’t hate you. But something about Demeter’s expression stops me fobbing her off. I respect this woman. She deserves better than that.
“Well, take Rosa.” I pick a name at random. “She feels…” I hesitate, trying to decide how to put it.
She feels you stamp on her fingers with your Miu Miu shoes.
“She feels you don’t always encourage her to develop her career,” I say carefully. “Like, you wouldn’t let her do the mayor’s athletics project.”
“She’s holding that against me?” Demeter looks incredulous.
“Well, it would have showcased her talents….”
“Jesus.” Demeter closes her eyes. “I don’t believe this. Do you want to know the truth? They didn’t want her at the mayor’s project.”
“What?” It’s my turn to stare.
“I wrote an email recommending her, and we sent off a portfolio, but she didn’t make the grade.”
“But why didn’t you tell her?” I exclaim.
“Rosa always seems very sensitive. Oversensitive, even.” Demeter shrugs. “I thought I’d protect her feelings and say that I needed her. Keep her confidence levels up.”
“Oh.” I think about this. “Well, maybe you kept her confidence levels up, but…”
“Now she hates me,” finishes Demeter. “Yes. I can see how that might have happened. Unintended consequences and all that.” There’s a strange quiver to her face, and I think she’s quite upset but trying to mask it. “I won’t make that mistake again. Who else?”
“OK,” I say, feeling worse than ever. “So…Mark. He hates you because you stole his thunder with that Drench moisturizer rebrand.”