Harri frowns. ‘They’ll definitely have jobs at Panache, if they want them, I’ll make sure of it. I’m going to see if Akila will take the reins and freelance for them for six months. She’s not editorial, of course, but she’s brilliant. And I’ll suggest she gets an eye-watering, ruinously expensive day rate, too!’

It’s as though Harri is acting. She doesn’t sound convinced of her own words. She isn’t convincing me.

‘What do you want. Really?’ I ask Harri.

Her reply is simply ‘I want to be my own boss.’

I nod and open my mouth but Harri interrupts me.

‘Still, this is a huge opportunity for you. It’s not fair for me to force my agenda on you. Sixty per cent of new businesses go bust in the first three years—there would be no one to bail us out. Don’t forget, I’m able to take bigger risks. I’m older and uglier and I’ve already got a mortgage.’ Her laugh is flat.

Cold, spidery dread creeps across my torso. Was this always Harri’s plan? ‘So…what? I go to Panache, you set this company up, you take my ideas, get all the glory and recognition? What if I want to be my own boss too?’

‘Imogen, please!’ Harri has the decency to look embarrassed. Good. ‘Of course that’s not what I want. That’s not what I meant. I’m giving you a more secure option. I’m trying, desperately, to be fair to you. I’m trying to be a good friend.’

Giving me a more secure option? Who does that remind me of? I thought Harri believed in me and wanted to work with me. I feel tender, raw. This hurts. I lift my chin. ‘You’re not my friend, Harri. Friends don’t constantly remind you about what’s going to go wrong. Friends don’t make you play it safe. They give you room to dream of impossible things. Friends are supposed to make you bolder and braver.’ My tears become thicker, viscous, almost opaque, and I run, stumbling, following the faint impression of light until I’m outside on the pavement. I have to get back to the office. I don’t have anywhere else to go.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Only a job

Imogen