angle?’ Antonia said breezily. ‘You’d better think up another way to pitch it then.’
To top off the humiliation, Lizzy was being made to wear a Halo in the office at all times. According to Antonia, it was to really ‘live the experience’. So far all Lizzy was experiencing was a constant feeling of motion sickness.
At least there had been no comeback from Elliot Anderson. Lizzy had done some more Google stalking and had felt mildly sick to find out he really was quite important. His family had started the prestigious Beestons private bank, which had its HQ in a huge white building just off the Strand, and was second only to the world-famous Coutts. Elliot had studied economics at Oxford, where he’d got a First and had turned down an expected career in banking to go into journalism. He’d won various plaudits for his reporting and in 2011 had been named as one of the ten most powerful people under thirty in the UK. Not the kind of person you wanted to cross swords with. All Lizzy could do was console herself with the thought he was probably far too busy and important to bother with lowly PRs like her. Hopefully by now he would have forgotten all about her email.
On Thursday night she went to meet her friends at a new cocktail club in Soho. Nic and Poppet were already sitting at a table, surrounded by a sea of Mojitos.
Poppet was moaning about the son of a family friend, who’d ‘conveniently’ turned up at her niece’s birthday party.
‘What was he like?’ Nic asked, handing Lizzy a drink.
‘He had the hands of a small child and kept quoting science facts from Professor Brian Cox.’ Poppet shuddered. ‘And he had a handkerchief.’
Lizzy tucked her iPod headphones away in her handbag. ‘What’s wrong with having a handkerchief?’
‘It’s totally gross,’ Nic said. ‘If you want to have any chance of being intimately sexual with someone, why would you empty the contents of your nose in front of them, and then keep it in your pocket? People don’t want to be reminded of other people’s orifices! I wouldn’t pick my knickers out of my arse in front of someone I fancied. It would be like holding a ringing bell over my head and saying: “Look! Look at my ginormous hungry bottom! Now imagine me taking a dump!”’
‘Eww,’ Lizzy said. ‘I see what you mean.’
‘All my parents want me to do is marry a nice Indian boy,’ Poppet sighed. ‘And all I want to do is marry Matt Damon.’
Nic pulled a face. ‘Even after
Behind the Candelabra
?’
Poppet’s obsession with Matt Damon made even One Direction fans look a bit fair-weather. She had every DVD he’d ever starred in and was probably the only person in the universe aside from Matt Damon’s mum who thought
We Bought a Zoo
would be an enduring classic. Then there was the famous time she’d booked herself on a mini break to Edinburgh after reading somewhere it was the actor’s favourite city in the UK. Unsurprisingly she hadn’t had a random romantic encounter with Matt Damon in the street, and had spent the rest of the trip in her hotel room consoling herself with the complimentary shortbread.
Lizzy looked down at the plethora of cocktails in front of her. ‘Why have we got so many drinks?’
‘Happy Hour ends soon.’ Nic did a huge yawn. ‘And I can’t be arsed with going back to the bar.’
While Poppet reapplied her lip-gloss Lizzy told them all about the barbecue of shame at her parents’ and her run-in with Hayley. ‘Twat,’ was all Nic said afterwards.
Poppet zipped her make-up bag back up. ‘How are Robbie and Hayley these days?’
‘Fine, unfortunately,’ Lizzy sighed. ‘I think I can safely say she’s got Robbie firmly by the balls.’ She paused. ‘Not that I want to think about my brother’s testicles.’
‘Pops and I were having a discussion before you got here,’ Nic announced. ‘We think it’s time for you to get back in the game.’
‘Not
on
the game,’ Poppet snickered.
‘I think
To top off the humiliation, Lizzy was being made to wear a Halo in the office at all times. According to Antonia, it was to really ‘live the experience’. So far all Lizzy was experiencing was a constant feeling of motion sickness.
At least there had been no comeback from Elliot Anderson. Lizzy had done some more Google stalking and had felt mildly sick to find out he really was quite important. His family had started the prestigious Beestons private bank, which had its HQ in a huge white building just off the Strand, and was second only to the world-famous Coutts. Elliot had studied economics at Oxford, where he’d got a First and had turned down an expected career in banking to go into journalism. He’d won various plaudits for his reporting and in 2011 had been named as one of the ten most powerful people under thirty in the UK. Not the kind of person you wanted to cross swords with. All Lizzy could do was console herself with the thought he was probably far too busy and important to bother with lowly PRs like her. Hopefully by now he would have forgotten all about her email.
On Thursday night she went to meet her friends at a new cocktail club in Soho. Nic and Poppet were already sitting at a table, surrounded by a sea of Mojitos.
Poppet was moaning about the son of a family friend, who’d ‘conveniently’ turned up at her niece’s birthday party.
‘What was he like?’ Nic asked, handing Lizzy a drink.
‘He had the hands of a small child and kept quoting science facts from Professor Brian Cox.’ Poppet shuddered. ‘And he had a handkerchief.’
Lizzy tucked her iPod headphones away in her handbag. ‘What’s wrong with having a handkerchief?’
‘It’s totally gross,’ Nic said. ‘If you want to have any chance of being intimately sexual with someone, why would you empty the contents of your nose in front of them, and then keep it in your pocket? People don’t want to be reminded of other people’s orifices! I wouldn’t pick my knickers out of my arse in front of someone I fancied. It would be like holding a ringing bell over my head and saying: “Look! Look at my ginormous hungry bottom! Now imagine me taking a dump!”’
‘Eww,’ Lizzy said. ‘I see what you mean.’
‘All my parents want me to do is marry a nice Indian boy,’ Poppet sighed. ‘And all I want to do is marry Matt Damon.’
Nic pulled a face. ‘Even after
Behind the Candelabra
?’
Poppet’s obsession with Matt Damon made even One Direction fans look a bit fair-weather. She had every DVD he’d ever starred in and was probably the only person in the universe aside from Matt Damon’s mum who thought
We Bought a Zoo
would be an enduring classic. Then there was the famous time she’d booked herself on a mini break to Edinburgh after reading somewhere it was the actor’s favourite city in the UK. Unsurprisingly she hadn’t had a random romantic encounter with Matt Damon in the street, and had spent the rest of the trip in her hotel room consoling herself with the complimentary shortbread.
Lizzy looked down at the plethora of cocktails in front of her. ‘Why have we got so many drinks?’
‘Happy Hour ends soon.’ Nic did a huge yawn. ‘And I can’t be arsed with going back to the bar.’
While Poppet reapplied her lip-gloss Lizzy told them all about the barbecue of shame at her parents’ and her run-in with Hayley. ‘Twat,’ was all Nic said afterwards.
Poppet zipped her make-up bag back up. ‘How are Robbie and Hayley these days?’
‘Fine, unfortunately,’ Lizzy sighed. ‘I think I can safely say she’s got Robbie firmly by the balls.’ She paused. ‘Not that I want to think about my brother’s testicles.’
‘Pops and I were having a discussion before you got here,’ Nic announced. ‘We think it’s time for you to get back in the game.’
‘Not
on
the game,’ Poppet snickered.
‘I think
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