Chapters (64)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Chapter Forty
- Chapter Forty-One
- Chapter Forty-Two
- Chapter Forty-Three
- Chapter Forty-Four
- Chapter Forty-Five
- Chapter Forty-Six
- Chapter Forty-Seven
- Chapter Forty-Eight
- Chapter Forty-Nine
- Chapter Fifty
- Chapter Fifty-One
- Chapter Fifty-Two
- Chapter Fifty-Three
- Chapter Fifty-Four
- Chapter Fifty-Five
- Chapter Fifty-Six
- Chapter Fifty-Seven
- Chapter Fifty-Eight
- Chapter Fifty-Nine
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgements
‘Thanks, Mum. I’m going to go now. Love you.’
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Like family
Harri
Linda Morris is becoming increasingly impatient to get Harri back inside the Hudson boardroom. It’s not quite 8 a.m., and she has just sent an email asking if Harri got the three voicemails she has left over the last twenty-four hours. The longer Harri waits, the bigger the Panache offer becomes. She’s scared to listen and hear what she’s thinking of turning down now. Linda has probably offered her the lease of the building, and a quick go on any Hemsworth brother profiled by the magazine. She’s in limbo, really. There have been days—well, weeks and months—when she’s stared at the walls that surround her, or felt the life force drain from her as she’s passed between floors in the lift. She’s got stuck in the automatic doors, she’s breathed through her mouth while she opened the tiny kitchen microwave, she’s stared at the post and packages and piles of press releases and thought oh, to be anywhere but here. It has been her crucible, placing her under improbable pressure—but it has protected her too.
She thinks of what Giles said. For Harri, the glamour and status has been incidental. She loves an upgrade, a canapé, a free handbag, as much as the next person, but that isn’t what Hudson means to her. It’s been her safe space. Every day, she’s had somewhere to go. She belongs. ‘We’re like a family!’ Will had said once, years ago, and Harri gave him a sharp look, and worried and wondered about his actual family. But he was not wrong. Families are dysfunctional, or rather, they function awkwardly, unfairly and chaotically—but they do somehow function. There’s love there too—if love really means never having to say you’re sorry. But no matter how broken, cold, manipulative or overbearing your workplace family can be, they keep a roof over your head. They give you somewhere to go at Christmas—even if you work for a magazine and Christmas takes place in July. They can define you, even if you never stop feeling like a rebellious teenager, determined to be the opposite of who they say you are. If she walks away from all of this, who will she be?