Getting Even

  After five years of planting, pricking out, and pruning, the garden was to some extent looking after itself, and a mix of perennials had grown to fill gaps that had once needed weeding constantly. This was fortunate, as now that Dan was on the scene she’d slacked off, preferring to spend time in bed with him than on her beds and borders.

  Nevertheless, by the end of May she was reaping the rewards of a morning spent sowing seeds two months previously, and all that was required this afternoon was to fill a few small remaining spaces. This Orianna was doing with her favorite scarlet geraniums, while Dan emptied ash from the barbecue. For Orianna had made clear—in as diplomatic a fashion as possible—that this was her room of her own, and Dan was only permitted a walk-on part.

  She pressed the bottom of a plastic container to dislodge a plant. “Have you heard any more about a replacement for Neil?”

  “No, have you?”

  “Apparently they’ve problems finding someone.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “We do such a mixture of stuff. It’s been hard to find a candidate with a broad enough background.”

  Dan finished shoveling the ash into a bucket, stood up, and dusted himself down. Then he said, “You should apply.”

  Orianna was stunned. “Me?”

  “There’s no one else in the garden, is there?” Dan lifted a pot and peeked under it with mock seriousness.

  “I hadn’t thought of it…” She assimilated. “Do you think I’d be any good?”

  “I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise. I reckon you’d be brilliant.”

  She put down the tray of plants, focusing on him. “Really?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, you’ve shed-loads of experience, for starters. How long have you been in this industry?”

  “Eleven years.”

  “And at Green?”

  “Four.”

  “You’re a group head, right, so you and Ivy are responsible for overseeing several juniors?”

  Orianna nodded.

  “It goes without saying you’ve knowledge of the whole marketing mix.”

  “Mm.”

  “You’ve won lots of creative awards.”

  “About ten.” Orianna smiled. She was beginning to see what he meant.

  “Plus you work extremely hard and everyone likes you. You’re one of the most popular people in the agency.”

  “Am I?” Orianna hadn’t seen herself that way at all.

  “Of course you are.” He came over, took her hands in his, and squeezed them.

  “You’re biased.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Yup. Still, you know I’d never say these things if I didn’t believe they were true.”

  Orianna frowned. Surely Dan wouldn’t raise my expectations needlessly, she thought. He’s been managing juniors a while, and is aware of the troubles it can cause. Moreover, thanks to his role, he’s a hub of the agency, so often gets to know how people feel about each other … Suppose he’s right?

  But he had forgotten one thing. She pulled away. “What about Ivy?”

  “What about her?”

  “I couldn’t put myself forward without her. We’ll apply as a team.”

  “I’m not sure the company would go for it,” said Dan, taking a seat on a low wall edging a flower bed.

  “Why not?”

  Dan paused, as if thinking how he should put it. “You’d be quite expensive as a duo, wouldn’t you? Be too costly for them.”

  “Bet it would be cheaper than getting someone new. They’re paying us already so could get away with giving us a raise rather than shelling out an additional six-figure salary for some high-flyer.”

  “I suppose … But you know how sacrosanct they consider the board to be. They won’t put me on it, and it could upset the balance to have two creatives join them at the top.”

  “Not as much as having a brand new CD wanting to stamp their mark. Imagine what upheaval that might cause.”

  “True.” He paused again. “I don’t think Ivy would be as good a creative director as you, though.”

  Orianna was taken aback. “Really?”

  “No.” He held her gaze, and said gently, “Ivy isn’t as dedicated as you.”

  “She works bloody hard!” Orianna protested. “And lots of copywriters don’t work such long hours as art directors—the writing often gets finished first.”

  “Agreed.” Again Dan hesitated. He seemed unsure whether to be frank. “I just don’t think she’d be quite as popular as you, that’s all.”

  “Lots of people love Ivy!”

  “Mm … they do, and I agree, she’s very good—”

  “She’s won almost as many awards as me!”

  “I know, I know.” Dan held up a hand to slow her. “Though people like her in a different way; she’s ever so clever, but she’s not as good a people-manager.”

  “Oh.” Orianna could sense her face fall on behalf of her friend.

  “You know what it’s like, I get to see a lot, and some account handlers—Ivy rubs them the wrong way. She can be a bit uncompromising, compared to you, and they find her abrasive sometimes, sharp. And as for the juniors … She can be rather intimidating.”

  “But that’s not such a bad thing, surely?”

  “By and large it doesn’t matter, and I think the two of you work well together. She benefits from the way you handle things, I suppose.”

  Orianna had always seen their partnership as mutually beneficial. It hadn’t crossed her mind Ivy might be profiting from her own more softly-softly approach. She mulled it over for a while, silent. It was true Ivy hadn’t been as friendly of late—she hadn’t asked Orianna much about Dan, a sign she was miffed. But Orianna hoped it would pass once Ivy got used to their relationship.

  Just think of all the years we’ve worked together, she reminded herself. What fun we’ve had, building our reputations, developing our roles and earning extra responsibilities as a team. Surely nothing could seriously come between us? She remembered their joint success at winning new business as well as awards. No, she decided, I really value the part Ivy has played in my career, and I’m not going to jeopardize it.

  “Wherever I go, Ivy goes with me,” she said, turning to resume her planting. “I’m not applying on my own. So the board will have to take us as a team. Or not at all.”

  * * *

  The following morning Orianna and Ivy were bouncing around ideas for a new hair-care product, when Ivy said, “There goes the power lunch,” as a catering trolley was wheeled by.

  Orianna swiveled her chair. From where she was sitting, she could see that it was laden with high-class canapés—crackers and caviar, salmon vol-au-vents, prawns in batter, chicken satay, even quails’ eggs. All that food made her hungry.

  “I can’t believe it’s a month since the last board meeting.”

  “Notice they don’t get the boring sandwiches we have to suffer at our lowly meetings,” said Ivy. “No wonder they’re all so bloody fat.”

  Suddenly Orianna felt rather plump. “They’re not that bad. Russell’s quite slim.”

  “Well, aside from Russell.”

  “And Neil’s not that overweight either.”

  “Evidently he doesn’t have the fat cat mentality, does he? Going to live up north.”

  “There are fat cats up north too,” said Orianna. She knew Ivy in this mood; there would be no shifting her cynicism.

  “Anyway.” Ivy checked the clock. “That’s persuaded me. I’m off to the gym.”

  “What, again?”

  “I haven’t been since Friday. If I go now I’ll catch a class.” She nodded toward the boardroom. “Last thing I want is to end up like that lot.” And with that she picked up her sports bag and was gone.

  Orianna was growing accustomed to spending this time alone. Ivy seemed to be spending more lunches away from her and Dan only ever had time to dash out for a sandwich. Besides, she was still cautious about being seen overt
ly socializing with him, not wanting to expose their relationship to the agency as a whole. Shopping alone wasn’t the same, so she decided to explore the ideas she and Ivy had been discussing further on the Internet.

  Twenty minutes later there was a cough behind her. She turned around.

  It was Russell. He glanced about. “Er … Is Ivy around?”

  Unless she was mistaken, he looked a little uncomfortable. “She’s gone to the gym. Did you want her?” Orianna had noticed that on certain projects Russell worked with Ivy quite closely, in private. She said it was so he could give her insight into their financial clients.

  “No, no.” Russell seemed in a hurry. “It’s you we want to see. Got a second?”

  “Mm.” Orianna was mystified.

  “Could you come and join us in the board meeting, then?”

  “Yes, of course.” Damn, she thought. I’d have worn something smarter had I known I was meeting them all.

  Russell led the way. The room was the largest in the agency, with a ceiling so high it echoed. Its windows looked out across the rooftops of W1, and a sheet of the palest green smoked glass ran the length of the wall facing into the creative department. It was hung with Venetian blinds, which could be pulled down for increased privacy—all but one were lowered now.

  “She was free.” Russell smiled at his colleagues, and shut the door.

  Orianna noticed he appeared relieved to have gotten her out of public earshot. Oh dear, she thought, have I done something wrong?

  “Sit down,” invited Neil.

  She looked at him. He grinned at her; he didn’t appear cross at all.

  Orianna took at seat opposite Neil, Clare, and Russell and between the other board directors—Gavin, the head of client services, and Stephen, the managing director.

  “Have you any idea why we wanted to talk to you?” asked Neil. As her immediate boss, he knew her best. They’d always gotten along rather well.

  “No.” Orianna’s concern mounted.

  Neil coughed. “We wondered if you’d be interested in becoming the creative director.”

  “Oh!” Despite the conversation over the weekend, this was a total bombshell. Her mind clicked and whirred. “Did Dan say something to you?”

  “Dan?” Russell shook his head. “I did hear you two were seeing each other…” Orianna flushed. “… but no, he’s not said anything to us at all. Not to me, at any rate.” He turned to the rest of the board. “He said anything to you guys?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Oh,” said Orianna again. Now their relationship was public whether she liked it or not. Weird, she thought, I wonder how he found out? Dan had asked Ivy to keep it quiet. But she didn’t have time to contemplate. “It’s just he suggested it, yesterday, and I assumed—”

  “He’d put us up to it? No.” Neil laughed. “We came up with it all by ourselves.”

  Orianna was aware the spotlight was on her, but was too astounded to speak.

  “It’s not such a bizarre idea, you know,” said Neil.

  “You’ve been with us for years,” said Gavin.

  “And brought in lots of new business,” said Clare. “Your performance at Bellings Scott was a triumph.”

  “You work on some of the agency’s most profitable accounts,” said Stephen.

  “Plus you’ve won even more awards than I have,” said Neil, a touch sardonically.

  “And to be perfectly frank, we can’t find anyone better,” said Russell.

  “Right…” Orianna was trying to keep pace.

  “So you would seem the obvious choice,” concluded Neil.

  “Thank you.” She paused. So many compliments; a life-changing offer—it was a lot to take in. She was only beginning to digest it all when she remembered Russell had wanted to catch her on her own, without Ivy. “And Ivy? She would be joint CD with me? The Bellings Scott win was as much her work as mine, if not more.”

  The board members looked at one another. There was no mistaking it; they were awkward.

  Eventually, Neil spoke up for the rest of them. “We think it would be better if there was only one creative director. The agency is used to things being run that way, and we’re not sure that it would be appropriate to have a team.”

  “Gosh.” Orianna didn’t know whether to be flattered or dismayed. Perhaps they couldn’t afford them both?

  Then Clare said, “Frankly, we think you’d do a better job,” which put paid to that.

  “As a matter of fact I saw a great art director for lunch last week whom you might like to bring in to team up with Ivy,” suggested Neil.

  “Oh. Right.” Yet again a response failed her. Her world was being turned upside down.

  Neil prompted, “I leave in six weeks. It would mean a new title, obviously, and a position on the board, maybe not immediately, but within, say, three months. We can discuss money later, if you’d prefer.”

  Then Russell, clearly impatient, interposed. “Though we need to establish right now—otherwise we’ll carry on looking. Are you interested in the role or not?”

  7. I grace my cause in speaking for myself

  “Yes,” said Orianna.

  It came out before she could stop it. She might be modest compared to most of her peers, she might be more concerned for Ivy (altruism was hardly the hallmark of agency employees), but one trait overrode them all.

  Ambition.

  Without ambition, Orianna would never have flourished in an industry where ruthlessness and drive counted as much as talent, often more.

  Swiftly, silently, she reasoned. Modesty aside, I’m talented. Deep down I’m sure I’m as good as—if not better than—the next man. I’ve worked under enough ineffectual bosses to know I can do the job, and do it well. Wasn’t it the combination of diplomacy and conceptual skill that set Neil apart? I’ve learned from him, but he’s grown weary of the commercial world, whereas I’ve fire in my belly regarding work. And people say my enthusiasm is infectious. All good reasons for taking the job …

  Hmm, Orianna pondered, that still leaves the problem of Ivy … Yet, if the situation were reversed, would she do the same for me? Give up promotion, more power, prestige, and money? I’m not sure she would. Ivy’s always looked after numero uno—until now that’s meant not jeopardizing our relationship. If Ivy were offered this opportunity, wouldn’t she take it too?

  “Yes,” Orianna repeated. “Naturally, I am interested.”

  “Good.” Neil sat back, openly relieved.

  He may well be the one who put me forward, she thought. Certainly, as my boss, he’ll have given my promotion his blessing. Without his recommendation I wouldn’t be here. She continued, her voice restored, “As you mentioned, I have been playing a key role in Green Integrated for the last few years.”

  “It’s hardly a similar level of responsibility,” said Russell.

  “Obviously a group head only oversees a few people, not a department. But in some ways it will be more of the same.”

  “How do you mean, more of the same?” Russell didn’t mask incredulity. “Surely it’s a different role entirely?”

  He wasn’t going to make this easy; he seemed keen to turn the conversation into more of an interview. Well, if need be, she’d argue her case. She said, “You’ve already said I’ve helped win new business; as a creative director I’m sure you’d want me to do more.” They all nodded, no one more vigorously than Clare. “You’ve also noted that I work on some of the agency’s most profitable accounts”—Gavin nodded—“and I’m sure you’d want me to make them even more profitable.” Now it was Stephen’s turn to give his silent approval. “Plus, you’ve observed my track record when it comes to awards.” Orianna looked directly at Neil, growing increasingly buoyant.

  “No need to rub it in.” Neil winced.

  “I’d like to aim for more golds next year. Though the main thing is—no disrespect to you, Neil, but you’ll understand me saying this—hopefully I’d have a free rein. So I’d be able to accompl
ish these in the way I see fit, rather than deferring to someone else.” She turned back to Russell, determined to win him over. “So that’s what I mean by delivering more of the same. All this you’d expect from a good CD. In addition, I’d like to make sure that I operate in as sympathetic a fashion as possible. I’d like to be a good manager of people. Something”—she recalled Dan’s pep talk—“I believe I’ve already shown I can do. I’ve not had to trample on anyone to get where I have today, and I’d rather not start now.”

  “Very noble.” Orianna didn’t miss Russell’s sarcastic tone. “I’ll eat my hat if you manage that.”

  “Yes—what about Ivy?” nudged Clare.

  “I’ll handle Ivy,” said Orianna. Instinct told her now was not the time to abdicate responsibility. Having been offered a senior position, she had to seem worthy, lest it be snatched away before she’d proven herself. Although she’d yet to acknowledge it, she was beginning to see her life differently—her attachments were shifting as a result of her involvement with Dan. “I’d rather none of you mentioned this until I’ve had the chance to talk to her.”

  “Fine,” they concurred, clearly delighted to be let off the hook.

  “And what about Dan?” asked Russell.

  “Sorry. What about Dan?”

  “Well, you’re having an affair, aren’t you?”

  “We’re in a relationship, if that’s what you mean,” Orianna corrected. She wondered again how he knew. Was it Rob? He could have let it slip to someone at the gym, perhaps word had spread from there … Oh well, she thought, I could have made the same mistake myself.

  “Don’t you think being involved with another senior employee might cause the odd problem?”

  This riled her. “Such as?”

  “Like conflicts of loyalty, giving each other preferential treatment, bringing personal issues and arguments into the workplace, perhaps showing yourself up as unprofessional to your junior colleagues? You know the sort of thing.”

  “It hasn’t caused difficulty so far,” said Orianna. What business was it of his?

  He forced a nod.

  “I truly don’t see it as a problem,” Clare interjected.