Akila talks about freelancing, about a friend of a friend, setting up a beauty brand in the States, about considering consultancy. ‘It’s sad, in a way. I always loved the idea of being part of a company, of belonging, of everyone coming together to meet the same goal. And I thought that was what we had. It’s taken me all of my working life to realise that you don’t get any points for loyalty. The more ‘you’ that you bring to work, the easier it is for the people in charge to exploit you. I’m going to be dealing with the same shit everywhere I go. If I’m going in as a consultant, or a project manager, at least I’m not emotionally investing in my work.’

Harri thinks of Giles, and every single hope and dream he’d been bringing to the office, over the last few years. Of everything he’d lost by believing in a company before he believed in himself. Of all the compromises he made, of all the opportunities he never took because he was scared of what he might lose, how he believed he was doing the safe thing, the sensible thing. And how Hudson took and took and took from him, then fucked him over.

Harri throws her hands out in front of her. ‘I kind of feel like you’re divorcing me. Which I know you’re not,’ she says, hurriedly. ‘I know you have to do what’s right for you. But all this time, I thought I was keeping myself, my personal life, and my emotions out of the office. Instead, work just took over the space where the rest of my life should have been. I think I’m only just starting to realise what you mean by emotional investment…’

‘Harri, you must know you’re a bloody workaholic. We both are. The reason I wanted to come and work with you was that I could see The Know soaring. It has soared. You’re obsessive, you love a challenge, you have vision and insight and flair. You inspire me,’ says Akila, dabbing at her right eye with a paper napkin. ‘And it’s maddening because The Know is doing so well, in spite of these circumstances.’

Harri looks at her beloved colleague, and sighs. ‘It’s just a shame we can’t just leave Hudson and do it by ourselves.’

Yet, as the words leave her mouth, Harri feels a prickle of hope, a shot of adrenaline, a restlessness, a giddiness that tingles in her calves, her abdomen, and the tips of her ears. Or can we?

Chapter Forty-Six

The Fulham flit

Imogen

I make it to the weekend without being found out. Or rather, I’m convinced that I’m living on borrowed time.