Changing Perspectives Read online

  Dani sent Penny home telling her it would be all right; she wasn’t going anywhere. Penny made her promise to call if she needed anything. After a shower and change into a loose-fitting tracksuit, Dani knew she could cope on her own. She would need to make it up to Penny and Astrid, having dragged them out in the middle of the night.

  Most of the rest of the weekend passed in a blur of lying in bed, dozing, and drinking gallons of water, as per Astrid’s instructions. She tried walking about occasionally to keep from stiffening up, but she could only take the pain in short bursts. She could handle pain usually; she even enjoyed it. But this wasn’t a good-feeling pain. Several hours passed as she stared at the river. It was the quietest weekend she could remember spending in a long time. Since Trish left. Somehow, alone with only her thoughts for company—and she didn’t want to keep company with most of these, as a lot of them centred around Trish. Thinking about the relationship they’d had, or tried to have, it had been doomed from the start she realised now—although for a time she did think they could get past their differences.

  Watching the muddy water flow past the end of her garden, she wondered why it was people never appreciated what they had until it was gone. Irretrievable. Like the flowing river, there was no turning back.

  Trish had wanted her, in the beginning. They’d made love everywhere that year. And not often in bed. Dani had finally suspected Trish of being an exhibitionist; she enjoyed the danger of “doing it” in public places. She would take Dani’s hand and ask her to kiss her; on the street, in the shops, on the Tube. And it didn’t stop with a kiss.

  Dani had loved every minute of it; she wanted the world to know this was her woman. She wanted the world to know she fucked her and made her happier than any man could, or any other dyke. And through all this, Dani knew it couldn’t last. There wasn’t going to be a fairytale ending. Trish was never going to take Dani the way she wanted, fulfilling her deepest cravings. At thirty-six years old, Dani thought it unlikely she would meet anyone who could, other than on a part-time, pay-for-the-pleasure, basis.

  The phone rang. Dani thought the caller would give up in the time it took her to reach it.

  “Dani?” Gordon’s voice brought her sharply into the present moment. “Glad I caught you in. You’re not sitting at home reading a book, are you?”

  “No, just a little yoga and meditation.” At least her voice sounded normal.

  He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “As I didn’t see you before I left on Friday, I thought I’d better check that you remembered the client meeting tomorrow.”

  “Would I forget?”

  “I see you haven’t lost your sense of humour, unfortunately. Look, pea-brain, do me a favour. Ten o’clock at Redmond’s sharp. Oh, and best behaviour. I’ve been warned they’re bringing in their finance director, Callaghan.”

  “Why?”

  “To make sure we don’t overextend ourselves on the budget.”

  “I thought you and Robert had that sorted.”

  “They’ve got a new brand manager and the top brass are probably a bit nervous about it. This is a big project, so I guess they’re just being careful. Oh, and no jeans, please!”

  “Wearing jeans to a client meeting, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Gordon didn’t rise to the mock outrage in her tone. “I’m serious.”

  “So am I. Hope they don’t mind the panda look, though.”

  “Fine. Come dressed as a bear if you think it will help with the account.” He rang off before she could explain. Dani started laughing and couldn’t stop, even though her ribs hurt like hell.

  †

  She was in the office at seven. Gordon’s call had not only reminded her of the client meeting she’d totally forgotten, but more importantly of the artwork left unfinished on Friday evening. Dani shut herself in her office with a large cup of black coffee. Declan and Gary arrived at nine but knew better than to walk in on the boss on a Monday morning until she emerged and greeted them.

  At nine thirty she packed the storyboards into her portfolio and walked out to meet Gordon. The boys looked up at her and stared, open-mouthed. She willed them to silence with her eyes and continued through to Reception. Gordon had, she discovered, already left. She took a taxi to Redmond’s offices. It wasn’t far, but she didn’t feel up to walking.

  The receptionist repeated her name several times, as if the incantation could make her disappear. It was a shame, she thought, she had made an effort with her attire. She liked wearing leather, liked the smell, the sexy feel of it between her legs, the jangle of chains against her thighs. She was even wearing a clean T-shirt under her black leather jacket; no holes and a reasonably polite, if faded, message.

  The girl stood finally and said, “I will take you up to the boardroom.”

  “Thanks.” Dani picked up her portfolio case and followed her. Nice tight bottom in a short black skirt—the London secretary’s uniform.

  “Uh, this is it. I will leave you to it, then.”

  Dani attempted a smile, but it hurt too much, so she settled for a friendly lip curl. The girl fled back to the safety of her reception desk.

  Gordon was standing by the coffee urn and talking to another suit when she entered the room. Dani put her case flat on the table and went over to join them. “I’ll have a coffee, thanks, Gordon.”

  He turned round. “Jesus Christ!”

  Dani turned to look back at the doorway. “Oh, is he coming too. I thought it was just the FD.”

  “Not even remotely funny.” He handed her a cup of black coffee and hissed in her ear. “I’ll kill you later.”

  Chapter Two

  Camila Callaghan finally felt she had achieved success in her career. It was still a struggle to make sure she maintained her standing, but she felt it always would be, regardless of her gender. Five foot four inches in her stockings, she added a few inches in her best heels and managed to make her presence felt in the company with an always-immaculate and stern demeanour.

  Making the move to the Redmond conglomerate five years ago had been a big step up, but she had met all the challenges head-on. The family business being carried forward effectively by the two brothers, Eric and Carl, continued its expansion into new markets, not only domestically but globally.

  Eric asked her to attend the advertising meeting to make sure the marketing department didn’t get carried away on budget. The agency, having got the contract, would now be pushing for juicy extras— posters, direct mail, brochures, T-shirts, mugs, pens. The million-pound budget on the TV, radio, and newspaper adverts alone wasn’t adequate to cover these essentials, so they would have their client believe. Josh Soper, the brand manager on this particular project, was barely out of nappies, and the brothers felt he needed babysitting.

  Camila was the last to arrive in the boardroom. They were all seated with cups of coffee and notepads in front of them; all rose like a flock of seagulls from the rubbish tip when she walked in.

  “This is Ms Callaghan, our director of finance.” Robert’s introduction was unnecessary. They all knew who she was and why she was there. Robert’s young assistant, James, quickly got her a cup of coffee and placed it delicately in front of her as she sat and took time to arrange her own paperwork. She gave the boy a smile of encouragement. It couldn’t be easy working for that creep, Robert. She looked around at the rest of the assembly.

  Gordon McKenzie she had met before at some PR event; maybe it had been Ascot. It was, she recalled, his agency. He was very successful—typifying the yuppie of the late ’80s and early ’90s; his desk-size Filofax lay open in front of him, and the face of an imitation Cartier watch glinted from the edge of his spotless white cuffs adorned with gold cufflinks, initialled no doubt.

  The leather-clad creature beside him had to be the creative one. At least they hadn’t come mob-handed; a sign they weren’t planning to push for too much too soon. McKenzie was no fool. Camila was probably going to find she was surplus to requirements at this meeti
ng. Robert wasn’t going to want her opinion on the artwork.

  Gordon cleared his throat. “As I was saying before you arrived, Ms Callaghan, we are just going to have a look at the storyboards that have been worked up from the promotion statement Josh provided us with. Our art director, Dani Barker, will present them to you.” They all turned towards Dani, who was looking down at the table, and waited expectantly.

  It continued to amaze Camila that, just by virtue of being able to draw, these people could wear what they liked, be rude to everyone, clients included—some would say, especially clients—and the more outrageous their behaviour, the more talented they were perceived to be. At least this one didn’t have a ponytail and earrings in one ear. Dani looked up and caught Camila staring.

  Camila was shocked, and she was sure it showed. Two black eyes and some other purplish-yellow bruises around the mouth; not a pretty sight. But she couldn’t keep her eyes off Dani’s face. She continued to watch, fascinated, not hearing a word of the presentation. Only when Dani sat down and Robert and James passed the boards over for closer inspection did Camila realise, with another jolt, that Dani was a woman. She suppressed a shudder of revulsion. How could a woman get herself into that state? Camila gave the storyboards a quick glance and passed them to Josh. They made no impression on her; she didn’t make artistic decisions.

  Robert jumped in with the question that must have been hovering in the air above her head. “How much is this going to cost?”

  Gordon smiled. Thankfully, with Robert’s prewarning that the high-powered bitch was attending the meeting, he was prepared. “Production costs will be much lower than we predicted initially because of the use of animated graphics.” He looked at Dani for agreement but she was slumped in her chair with her eyes closed. He kicked her ankle viciously under the table and carried on smoothly. “And our media buyer got a good deal on airtime for prime-time radio and TV slots.”

  “When can we see the schedules?” asked Robert.

  “As soon as we get them, we will pass them on to you.”

  “How much of a saving are we talking about?” Camila’s question cut through the cosy camaraderie between him and Robert. He sensed she was aware they’d cooked this little act up between them. From the look on Josh Soper’s face, he didn’t have a clue what was going on.

  Gordon shot his cuffs, straightened his already much-straightened tie, looked her in the eye and said, “About two fifty.”

  “About?” She looked through him.

  “Definitely no less than two fifty.”

  “And what were you planning to do with this money?”

  “Robert and I haven’t discussed details yet, but we thought a poster campaign in carefully targeted areas in the South East would—”

  “So you’re saying you can do this advertising campaign, production, airtime and print media, all in for £750K?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No hidden extras—like charging for dupes or changes to artwork?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Good. That settles that nicely. Well done, Josh, Robert.” She gathered up her papers and stood. They all rose with her, except Dani.

  Gordon attempted another gambit. “But the campaign will be more effective with a few posters—”

  “And some brochures, point of sale, yes, I agree. But you didn’t pitch for that. If we want you to do anything other than the ads we have agreed on, we will let you know, but quite frankly I think you will be too expensive.” She left the room.

  †

  No one said anything for several minutes. Dani collected the boards and put them back in her case. She was aching all over and thought a drink would go down well, but it didn’t look like anyone was going to offer.

  “I’ll send you the production schedule,” Gordon said listlessly, closing his Filofax. “What are you grinning at?” he said suddenly, catching sight of Dani’s face. Dani had merely grimaced in pain.

  “She’s got you lot by the balls, hasn’t she? Look, I’ll leave you these roughs I’ve mocked up for some poster ideas. You can run them by her some other time. Okay? Coming, Gordon? I’ve got other things to do today, even if you haven’t.”

  “Yeah, like running into doors.”

  Robert laughed. Dani turned her blank panda stare on him and he stopped. She stalked out of the room ahead of Gordon, knowing he would take a few minutes commiserating with Robert before saying goodbye.

  Dani put her case down, leaning it up against the reception desk. She perched on the edge to make a call to the office using the already scandalised receptionist’s phone. “Declan? Have you finished the Bentley job? Good. Get the copy from Penny and bike it over to them. You’ve got the contact name.” She paused to listen. “None of your fucking business!” Dani slammed the receiver down. The receptionist had moved her chair back and was staring at her, no doubt wondering if asking her to get off her desk would be safe. She was saved from finding out by Gordon’s arrival.

  †

  Camila reached the sanctity of her office and sat down shakily in her chair. She had managed to keep it together as she walked away from the meeting room. Those eyes. They had drawn her in despite the bruising. The woman handled herself with confidence, as if she didn’t care how others viewed her.

  Talking down the agency’s expectations had helped her regain her equilibrium. But try as she might to concentrate only on the numbers, she was aware of Dani’s presence throughout. It was ridiculous to think she was remotely attracted to such a woman. Camila took a deep breath. Her interest was merely fascination. The art director was a curiosity.

  She looked at her diary and noted the next meeting in Eric Redmond’s office was in half an hour. He would want to talk about the upcoming conference costs, and she thought she would likely be making a trip to Berlin soon. She turned to her computer screen, opened the relevant spreadsheet and slowly regained the composure she would need to get through the rest of the day.

  †

  “Do you think she could be bribed?” Gordon asked bitterly as he waited for the receipt from the taxi driver.

  “Nah. Too classy. How about coming across the road?” Their local, the Rising Sun, was just opening its doors.

  Gordon looked at his watch, then looked up at the sky as if it held the answer. “Okay. Just the one. As you’re buying.”

  “How do you figure that?” Dani asked as they walked to the pub.

  “You fell asleep!”

  “I was only resting my eyes. Thanks to you, I’ve now got another bruise to add to all the others.”

  “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “No.”

  “Why didn’t you say something when I rang yesterday?”

  “What difference would that have made? Were you going to come over and nurse me?”

  “Dani! I do care about you.”

  “Yeah, sure. Only when it affects your bank balance.” She handed him a fiver and went to sit down.

  Gordon got the drinks and brought them over to their regular corner seat near the fireplace. “So what did you think of the Callaghan woman?”

  “Not bad-looking, if you like that kind of thing. Does she have a first name?”

  “Robert always refers to her as ‘that fucking bitch’. But her name is Camila.”

  Dani mimicked his pronunciation. “Ca…meee…la. What kind of name is that?”

  “Spanish, I think.”

  “Hm. I suppose.” Dani pictured the dark-haired woman. “Maybe her mother’s Spanish.”

  “What do you reckon?” Gordon sipped his gin and tonic. “Flowers, theatre, racing? I’m sure I saw her at Ascot last year.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. Everyone gets tickets to Ascot.”

  “Except you.”

  “I’ve been…on Ladies Day too. Don’t you remember?”

  “Oh shit, I’d forgotten that.”

  “I thought I looked rather good in the morning suit, didn’t you?”

  “Too
good. How was I supposed to explain to Lord and Lady Whatsit that my partner is a transvestite?”

  “Too cruel, darling. Just a harmless bit of cross-dressing.”

  “I don’t care what you call it.”

  Dani could tell he was worried; his insults weren’t up to his usual standard. She touched his arm. “Look, it isn’t a problem. She was just throwing her weight around—what there was of it. You know we’re going to do an amazing ad and they will think the sun shines out of your arse. And then they will give you whatever you ask for.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.”

  “Confidence, bollocks. I know I’m brilliant. It hurts me that you don’t know it too.”

  “Oh, fuck off, Dani.”

  “That’s better. Are you having another?”

  “No. I’ve got a lunch appointment in Mayfair.”

  He went out to catch a taxi while Dani sank back into the comfortable seat and hoped no one would disturb her for a few hours. The pain in her ribs made itself known when she leaned back. Reminded of the Friday night beating, Dani thought the difference between her and Gordon could be summed up easily. While she was sucking up stale beer in a grotty bar looking for action, he was hosting a civilised soiree at home with his wife, whose ambitions had them on track for entertaining the rich and the famous. Melissa McKenzie was everything Dani wasn’t and could play the charming hostess to perfection.

  Sometimes Dani wondered how their partnership had lasted so long. But fifteen years ago he had been a hippie with the requisite long hair and guitar, happy to mingle with her art college crowd. He had changed after making his first million and marrying the socialite-wannabe. Dani hadn’t changed at all.