Miranda Dickinson - Welcome to My World

‘I didn’t realise we were banqueting tonight,’ Harri grinned as she entered the kitchen.

Viv dismissed the comment with a nonchalant sweep of her hand. ‘Oh, this ? It’s nothing. Besides, you know me – I don’t do low-key.’

‘Couldn’t have put it better myself.’

‘I do hope you’re not mocking me, Harriet Langton.’ Harri held her hands up. ‘I wouldn’t dare, Viv.’

Viv surveyed her with suspiciousness. ‘Mmm. Anyway, it’s not important. What is important is something that happened to pop onto my doormat this morning.’ She opened a drawer in the vast central island of her kitchen and produced a magazine, then proceeded to perform a frighteningly energetic victory dance around the terracotta-tiled kitchen floor.

Harri saw the title Juste Moi and took a deep breath. ‘Right then. Let’s have a look.’

Viv could hardly catch her breath as she finished her dance with an elegant landing on a chair next to Harri at the kitchen table. ‘Oh, it is so much better than that!’

Harri surveyed her carefully. ‘How do you mean?’

Viv thrust the magazine at Harri. ‘Our darling boy only made the front cover!’

‘What? How? I mean, it’s just a column inside . . .’

‘Not any more!’ Viv was in serious danger of exploding in an effervescent shower of stars. ‘They’ve made him into a feature !’

Hands slightly shaking, Harri released the magazine from Viv’s maniacal clutches and read the main headline: ‘FREE TO A GOOD HOME SPECIAL: Our hottest candidate yet!’

‘That’s . . . that’s not possible . . .’ she stuttered. ‘When I spoke to Chloë she said the column wasn’t doing well at all . . . I – I don’t believe it . . .’

‘Believe it, sister,’ Viv replied, sounding like a gruff supporting cast member from Cagney and Lacey . All that was missing was a gun sling and a bad seventies suit . . . She whipped the offensive publication from Harri’s hands and flipped through it until she found the page. ‘Look at that!’

The formerly innocuous ‘Free to a Good Home’ column was now a double-spread, glossy feature, a picture of Alex gracing most of the right-hand page. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, the worst thing – the very worst thing – was a quote from Harri herself, glowing accusingly at her in vivid red letters:

Alex is gorgeous, talented and caring.

Any girl would be lucky to call him hers.

Harri Langton, Alex’s best friend

‘That’s such a sweet thing to say, darling,’ Viv gushed, clamping a hand on Harri’s arm. ‘Al will be so flattered.’

Panic was threatening to remove Harri’s capability of rational thought or physical movement. ‘But I didn’t say that,’ she protested, doubt gnawing at the edge of her assertion. ‘At least, I don’t think I said that . . .’

‘Well, you must have said it, darling, or else why would they print it?’

Viv’s blind acceptance of journalistic integrity was touching, if completely unfounded, especially in the light of Harri’s conversation with Chloë regarding the feature. The feature is dying on its sweet arse here . . . your friend Alex is the first decent candidate we’ve had in two years . . . Judging by the article’s considerable promotion in Juste Moi it appeared that Chloë was at least safe from demotion to ‘Celeb Gossip’ for the time being.

‘He’s going to kill me,’ Harri moaned, imagining the look on Alex’s face when he saw the article and the damning evidence of her involvement in garish red letters.

Viv tutted. ‘Stop being so melodramatic, Harriet! He is not going to kill you. He is going to thank you when all those lovely ladies start to reply. Trust me, I’m his mother. Nobody understands Alex like I do.’

Harri mentally activated everything crossable and hoped that, for once, Viv was right.

The week passed by in a blur as Harri tried to comprehend the new upgraded status of Alex’s ‘Free to a Good Home’ article. After the initial shock of seeing the feature so prominent in the magazine, her confidence began to bounce back. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Even if Alex did find out and was annoyed at first, surely if Harri had managed to find him the woman of his dreams as a result then that would be enough to make him forgive her. Besides, by the end of the week Harri had something else to occupy her thoughts – namely, an unexpected argument with Rob on Friday evening.

Knowing he was unlikely to be home until after seven that night, Harri decided to surprise her boyfriend by making dinner for him. He seemed to be working so much lately that she thought he deserved a treat. She spent a good hour cleaning the kitchen and preparing the meal, creating a selection of Spanish tapas for a starter, with a main course of lemon, thyme and garlic roast chicken with butternut squash wedges and Mediterranean roasted vegetables – a little more adventurous than Rob would normally choose (being a firmly English eater, suspicious of anything ‘foreign’) but still safely recognisable for him to take the risk.

At seven-thirty, just as Harri was beginning to wonder what could be keeping Rob, her mobile rang.

‘Hey, Red.’ Rob’s voice sounded weary.

‘Hey you. What time will you be home?’

There was a long pause. ‘I won’t. Not until Monday night.’ Harri’s eyes drifted over the dining table with its two perfectly prepared place settings, candles and open wine bottle. ‘Oh.’

‘That’s what I was ringing to tell you. Kingston Corp found a glitch in our proposal and we had to travel up straight away to try to save the deal. I know I should’ve called you earlier, but it’s been manic here since I arrived.’

Harri felt her heart plummeting. ‘I wish you’d called me, Rob. I made dinner.’

There was a long sigh at the other end of the line. ‘No, Red! Oh baby, I’m sorry. I had no idea.’

‘It’s fine, I understand.’

‘No, you’ve every right to be upset. But I honestly had no choice but to come here.’

Moving to the table, Harri began to clear away the cutlery. She could feel angry tears building but she was determined not to let them fall. ‘I know you didn’t. I’ll just be glad when you can finally tie up this Preston thing and get your life back. It seems a bit unfair that you’re always the one who has to go dashing up the M6 every time your company hits a problem.’

The weariness increased in his voice but his answer was gentle. ‘We’ve had this discussion before and it leads us nowhere, does it? I’m really sorry I didn’t ring you and I feel bad that you went to all that trouble for me, but I’m here now and there’s not much more I can do about it, is there?’

Harri hated it when things between her and Rob were tense. They had never been the kind of couple to bicker much in the past, but since the Preston job appeared in their lives it was as if a brooding tension was never far away from their conversations. Of course, she didn’t blame Rob – he was just doing what his bosses asked him to. But Harri could feel considerable resentment growing within her at the company which demanded his absence from her so often.

‘Well, maybe if you had a different job . . .’ she began, instantly kicking herself for saying it.

Too late. Rob’s irritation buzzed against her ear. ‘Oh like that’s going to happen with the way the job market is at the moment! You know how important this job is, Red – not just for me but for both of us.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just think you deserve more than TGP give you. That’s all I’m saying.’