Remember Me?

“Don't remind me.” I roll my eyes. “I fucked that up too. Fell flat on my face.” “That's not the point.” Fi shakes her head vigorously. “The point is, you were winning. You were way out in front. And if you'd kept going, if you hadn't waited for the rest of us... you would have won.” She gazes almost fiercely at me, with the same green eyes I've known since I was six years old. “Just keep going. Don't think about it, don't look back.”

The door opens again and we both start. “Lexi?” It's Natasha, her pale brow wrinkling as she sees me and Fi. “I wondered where you'd got to! Are you ready?” I give one final glance at Fi, then get to my feet and lift my chin high. “Yes. Ready.” I can do this. I can. As I walk into Simon Johnson's room, my back is ramrod stiff and my smile rigid. “Lexi.” Simon beams. “Good to see you. Come and take a seat.” Everyone else looks totally at ease. Four directors are clustered around a small table, in comfortable leather chairs. Cups of coffee are on the go. A thin, graying man whom I recognize as David Allbright is talking to the man on his left about a villa in Provence. “So, your memory is recovered!” Simon hands me a cup of coffee. “Tremendous news, Lexi.” “Yes. It's great!” “We're just going through the implications of June '07.” He nods at the papers spread over the table. “This is very good timing, because I know you had some strong views about the amalgamation of departments. You know everyone here?“ He pulls out a chair, but I don't sit down. ”Actually...“ My hands are damp and I curl them around the folder. ”Actually, I wanted to speak to you. All of you. About... something else.“ David AUbright looks up with a frown. ”What?“ ”Flooring.“ Simon winces. Someone else mutters, ”For God's sake.“ ”Lexi.“ Simon's voice is tight. ”We've discussed this before. We've moved on. We're no longer dealing in Flooring.”

“But I've done a deal! That's what I want to talk about!” I take a deep breath. “I've always felt the archive prints that Deller owns are one of its biggest assets. For several months I've been trying to find a way to harness these assets. Now I have a deal in place with a company that would like to use one of our old designs. It'll raise Deller's profile. It'll turn the department around!” I can't help sounding exhilarated. “I know I can motivate my department. This can be the beginning to something big and exciting! All we need is another chance. Just one more chance!” I stop breathlessly and survey the faces. I can see it at once. I have made precisely no impact whatsoever. Sir David has the same impatient frown on his face.

Simon looks murderous. One guy is checking his BlackBerry. “I thought the decision on Flooring had been made,” Sir David AUbright says testily to Simon. “Why are we raising it again?”

“It has been decided, Sir David,” he says hurriedly. “Lexi, I don't know what you're doing” “I'm doing business!” I retort with a clench of frustration. “Young lady,” Sir David says. “Business is forwardlooking. Deller is a new-?millennium, high-?tech company. We have to move with the times, not cling to the old.” 360 “I'm not clinging!” I try not to yell. “The old Deller prints are fabulous. It's a crime not to use them.” “Is this to do with your husband?” Simon says, as though he suddenly understands. “Lexi's husband is a property developer,” he explains to the others, then turns back to me. “Lexi, with all due respect, you're not going to save your department by carpeting a couple of show flats.” One of the men laughs and I feel a knife of fury. Carpeting a couple of show flats? Is that all they think I'm capable of? Once they hear what this deal is, they'll... they'll... I'm drawing myself up, ready to tell them; ready to blow them away. I can feel the bubbling of triumph, mixed with a bit of venom. Maybe Jon's right, maybe I am a bit of a cobra. “If you really want to know...” I begin, eyes blazing.

And then all of a sudden I change my mind. I halt, midsentence, thinking furiously. I can feel myself retreating, fangs going back in. Biding my time.

“So... you've really made your decision?” I say in a different, more resigned voice. “We made our decision a long time ago,” says Simon. “As you well know.”

“Right.” I sink as though in massive disappointment and chew at one of my nails. Then I perk up as though an idea's just hit me. “Well, if you're not interested, maybe I could buy the copyright of the designs? So I can license them as a private venture.” “Jesus Christ,” mutters Sir David. “Lexi, please don't waste your time and money,” says Simon. “You have a position here. You have prospects. There's no need for this kind of gesture.”