My Not So Perfect Life(118)

“Everything’s changed,” says Demeter after a slight pause. “So not exactly.”

I feel a sudden plunge in spirits, which I try to conceal. She’s not going to offer me some crappy unpaid internship, is she? She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t.

“It’s pretty much the same level, though?” Somehow I manage to sound light and nonchalant.

But Demeter is searching for something in her bag and doesn’t seem to hear the question. “Come on,” she says, raising her head. “Time’s ticking. Let’s go.”

—



We don’t talk about the job at all, throughout lunch, farewells to Dad and Biddy, and the journey up to London. Alex tells outrageous stories about his childhood, and Demeter takes several work calls on the car speakerphone, and then both of them want to know how the glamping business is going.

By four o’clock, we’re in W6. By half past four I’m sitting outside Adrian’s office, trying to remember all the branding jargon I ever knew. By five o’clock, I’m sitting in Adrian’s office, my nerves shredded, as he and Demeter leaf through my portfolio. Adrian has this calm, unhurried demeanor about him, and he’s examining everything carefully.

“I like this,” he says occasionally, pointing to a page, and Demeter nods, and I open my mouth, then close it again. I’m actually quite glad of the respite.

My last interview wasn’t anything like this. It wasn’t nearly so intense. Adrian’s already grilled me on a million different topics, some really technical, and I feel a bit battered. I keep rerunning my answers, thinking: Did I tackle the logo question right? Should I have voiced more views on the Fresh ’n Breezy rebrand? Am I using the phrase “design DNA” too much? (Is that possible?)

And now there’s this ominous silence as they both pass judgment on my work. I feel as though I might be sick from nerves, from anticipation, from hope….

“So.” Adrian suddenly looks up, making me jump. “Demeter tells me that in the time since you left us, you’ve set up a business from scratch.” He pulls out the brochure from where it’s got hidden underneath my portfolio. “I’ve seen this. It’s good.” He nods. “And you can pitch?”



“Katie can bullshit like no one else,” says Demeter. “I was convinced you’d been to every top restaurant in London.” She winks at me. “And I’ve seen her think on her feet. She’s like lightning.”

“As you know, we’re rebuilding our staff levels right now,” continues Adrian. “But we’re not there yet. It’s going to be hard work meanwhile. You up for that?”

“Absolutely,” I say, trying not to gabble. “Of course.”

“And you can manage a team?” He regards me intently, as though this is the most important question of all.

Through my head flashes: Why is he asking that? But I don’t let it distract me; I just answer as professionally as I can.

“Yes.” I nod. “I’ve managed and trained the staff at the farm. I’ve managed vacationers. I’m good with people.”

“Believe me,” says Demeter, with feeling, “she can make people do things they don’t want to do. This girl can manage a team.”

“Well, then.” Adrian surveys my portfolio again, then looks up at me, his craggy face easing into a smile. “It’s a yes. Welcome back, Katie. We’ll sort out a package that I think you’ll like.”

Package. That means…An almighty relief crashes over me. It’s paid. It’s a paid job! This entire interview, I haven’t liked to ask—but it’s paid! Thank God, thank God—

“It’s a yes.” Demeter looks at him alertly. “But is it a yes yes?”

Clearly she’s using some code that only Adrian will understand.



“It’s a yes yes.” Adrian nods at her. “No doubt about that.”

Demeter looks ecstatic. “Good decision,” she says. Then she leans over to hug me, so tightly that I gasp. “Well done, Katie.” Her voice is strangely constricted, as if some emotion is spilling out. “I’m so proud.”

“Thanks!” As she releases me, I rub my nose, still feeling puzzled. “But I don’t get…Why did you ask about managing a team? A research associate doesn’t manage a team.”

“No,” says Demeter, and she looks at me fondly. “But a creative director does.”

—

I’m in shock. Creative director. Creative director.

I’m sitting in Demeter’s office, holding a cup of tea but not daring to drink from it in case I drop it.

Creative director. Me. Katie Brenner.

“You have no idea how hard I’ve been pushing for this,” says Demeter, who’s striding around her office and seems almost more pumped than I am. “I knew you had the potential, but I had to work on Adrian.” She shakes her head dismissively. “Men. So narrow-minded. I told him, ‘This is the girl we should have kept! We should have fired all the others!’ Well, we did fire all the others,” she adds, as though in an afterthought.

“I still can’t believe it,” I say. “Are you sure…I mean, can I do this?”

“Of course you can,” says Demeter airily. “You’ll report straight to me and I’ll teach you everything. You’re quick. And you have the right instincts—that’s the main thing. That’s what can’t be taught. It’ll go perfectly, the pair of us working in tandem. I know it will. You’ll be a second me.”