My Not So Perfect Life(90)

Alex flashes me another incandescent look, then turns to Dad with his charming smile. “So, Mick,” he says. “What’s the damage?”

“This is what I paid.” Dad holds out a scribbled figure. “Shall we say half?”

“Let me think about that.” Alex pockets the paper. “I need to get on. Katie, maybe you could show me some more of the farm? I feel we’re not quite done with the subject.”

There’s an ominous tone to his voice, which makes my stomach flip over, but then I remind myself: He’s not my boss anymore, is he?

“Sure,” I say warily. “What do you want to know?”

“Oh, quite a lot, I’d say,” says Alex, flashing me an unsmiling look. He strides purposefully out of the barn, and Dad hurries after him.

“You a man of business then, Alex?” he inquires.

“In a way.” Alex smiles at Dad again. “Thanks for your time, Mick, but now I’m very keen for Katie to show me…” He turns to me. “The stables, was it?”

“We can look at the stables,” I say with a shrug.

“Our Katie will show you whatever you want,” puts in Dad eagerly. “Anything you need to know, just ask her.”

“Oh, I will,” says Alex, in the same ominous tone. “I will.”

In silence I swivel and we head toward the stables. Neither of us speaks until we’re out of Dad’s earshot. Then Alex stops dead. He pulls out his flashing phone and reads the latest messages on it while I wait warily.

“OK, this is a bloody fiasco,” he erupts at last. “I drive all this way to spare Demeter’s feelings. I’ve got Adrian here asking, ‘Have you dealt with her yet?’?” He jabs at his phone. “And you tell me she was here but she’s scarpered?”



“She hasn’t scarpered,” I retort. “She will face the music, but she just wants to have a chance to make her case. There’s some email from Allersons that she thinks might be in her office at home.”

“So she’s gone home?” His eyes light up with this new information. “To Shepherd’s Bush?”

At once I curse myself. I didn’t need to give that detail away.

“Look…does it matter where she is?” I counter. “You’re not exactly going to drive all the way to Shepherd’s Bush on the off chance, are you? You’re bound to miss her. You should just sit it out here. She’ll arrive back here later, and then you can…”

I hesitate. I’m not going to say, Then you can fire her.

“Then you can work things out,” I conclude. “Tell Adrian she’s gone off on a hike and you can’t get through to her. He’ll never know the difference.”

Alex shoots another glower at me, but I can tell he realizes I have a point. He’s not going to go haring off to Shepherd’s Bush on a wild-goose chase. He still doesn’t look happy, though. In fact, he looks furious.

“You had no right to interfere,” he says. “No right. No right. You don’t work for Cooper Clemmow anymore; you have no idea what the issues are—”

“I know that Demeter deserves a chance!” Somewhere I find an inner robustness. “She isn’t nearly as bad as everyone thinks! And taking her off guard like this—it’s not fair. She deserves time to gather all the evidence she needs. She deserves a fair trial. Everyone deserves a fair trial.”



I stop, breathing hard. I think I’m getting through to Alex. I can see it in his flickering, moody eyes.

“And what’s more…” I hesitate. Am I going to risk saying this?

“What’s more what?” he snaps.

“What’s more…I think you agree with me, if you’ll only admit it. There’s a risk of a big injustice happening here. You don’t want to be part of that. Do you?”

Alex is still silent and glowering. Which I can understand. I’ve made his life a lot more complicated. People hate that.

“Fine,” he says at last, and jabs irritably at his phone. “Demeter can have her fair trial. She can have her time. What do I do meanwhile?”

“Whatever you like.” I spread my arms wide. “You’re the guest.”

Alex looks around the stable yard, still scowling, as though nothing he sees can possibly clear his mood.

“Do you have Wi-Fi?”

“Of course we have Wi-Fi. And I can find you a place to work. Bit of a waste,” I add quietly.

“What?” He turns sharply.

“Well, you’re here now. You’ve made it to the countryside. You could enjoy yourself.” I pause. “Or maybe firing people is how you enjoy yourself?”

I couldn’t resist that one, and I can tell it’s hit Alex on a sensitive spot. He winces and glares at me.

“Nice. Thanks. I’m clearly a power-crazy despot.”

“Well, you said you volunteered for the task. How do I know this isn’t your hobby? Kite-flying, home-brewing, firing people.”



I know I’m close to the wire here, but I don’t care. I spent so long in London feeling like little Katie. Keeping quiet; in too much awe of everyone to speak out. But now, on home territory, I’m swinging the other way. Which might be reckless or even foolhardy—but I don’t care. I want to push Alex’s buttons. I want to get a reaction out of him. And it’s a risky game, but my instinct is: I know just how hard to push.