BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-One
  25. Chapter Twenty-Two
  26. Chapter Twenty-Three
  27. Chapter Twenty-Four
  28. Chapter Twenty-Five
  29. Chapter Twenty-Six
  30. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-One
  35. Chapter Thirty-Two
  36. Chapter Thirty-Three
  37. Chapter Thirty-Four
  38. Chapter Thirty-Five
  39. Chapter Thirty-Six
  40. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-One
  45. Chapter Forty-Two
  46. Chapter Forty-Three
  47. Chapter Forty-Four
  48. Chapter Forty-Five
  49. Chapter Forty-Six
  50. Chapter Forty-Seven
  51. Chapter Forty-Eight
  52. Chapter Forty-Nine
  53. Chapter Fifty
  54. Chapter Fifty-One
  55. Chapter Fifty-Two
  56. Chapter Fifty-Three
  57. Chapter Fifty-Four
  58. Chapter Fifty-Five
  59. Chapter Fifty-Six
  60. Chapter Fifty-Seven
  61. Chapter Fifty-Eight
  62. Chapter Fifty-Nine
  63. Epilogue
  64. Acknowledgements

Harri pushes her palms against her eyelids. She’s not cried at work for years, she’s not going to start now. Mackenzie is a bitch—no, she’s a robot. In her time, Harri has been close to screaming with frustration over the Spinning Rainbow Wheel Of Death while elderly laptops have seized up on her, and she knows it’s a waste of effort. Mackenzie is another.

She takes a breath, and sees Imogen coming out of the toilets. She’s trying to regain her composure, she straightens her notes again, tries to imply bustle, but she hasn’t organised her face fast enough. It’s too late. Imogen is coming over, and she looks concerned.

‘Hey, Harri, are you OK? Is everything all right?’

‘What? Oh, fine, fine. Just been to see our big boss, Mackenzie. She’s…’ Harri reaches for a word she doesn’t know, a code word, something that sounds ultra professional while making it very clear that Mackenzie ought to die in a fire. (It wouldn’t be a human death, she’d melt, like the Wicked Witch of the West.) ‘…very, um, different from anyone I’ve worked with before. Very American.’

Imogen laughs. ‘I’ve seen her from afar, and she’s so glossy! I mean, Panache was glossy, I used to peer out of the cupboard marvelling at how shiny everyone was, but she looks like she should be carefully arranged on a red velvet cushion, at all times.’

Harri nods. ‘Yeah, I’m not sure how she’s coping with London. Maybe she feels like Mary Poppins, surrounded by dancing chimney sweeps.’

Imogen is pulling something out of her pocket. ‘Do you want a CBD lozenge? They just came in. They taste pretty vile, but they’re supposed to be relaxing.’ Imogen is not wrong. The proffered lozenge immediately evokes a strong sense memory that is initially hard to place. Harri sucks the revolting sweet until her brain cries ‘Eureka! This is the inside of your mouth on the last day of Glastonbury, 1995.’

Sucking is strangely restorative, and even a bad taste is enough to shock Harri back to her body, back to the present. She’s the boss. She’s the captain of the ship. She’s got to regain some composure, some control.