The Wrong Girl Read online

  ‘But well done, is my headline. Let’s keep it going.’ She smiled at the team and walked out, her assistant scrambling after her.

  Nikkii assumed the role of Most Powerful Person in the Room the second Sasha was gone, leaning forward and placing her palms on the table, before asking Siobhan earnestly if she needed any help with media contacts, because she was on amazing terms with a lot of people in the media, and more than happy to assist. As Nikkii commenced one of the most feverish name-drop storms Lily had ever witnessed, Eliza nodded and mmm-ed even more furiously, and Lily doodled absently on her notebook. Alice appeared to be falling asleep. Poor darling: she always peaked around ten a.m., then crashed after lunch, a five-year-old in the depths of fatigue after a dizzying sugar high.

  Lily closed her notebook and gently interrupted. ‘Sorry, guys, uh, do you need us any more?’ She used the most inoffensive, sweet tone she could. They could have this boring, self-aggrandising chat alone; she had recipes to type out and a new apron to source for Jack. ‘White is far too drab,’ Sasha had said. ‘He should be in something dashing. Something to highlight those eyes.’

  Nikkii looked at Lily with her usual mix of condescension and pretend affection. ‘Lil, we’re just sorting these contacts out. It’s actually quite important?’

  So much passive aggression, so few words to convey it. And always that unnecessary upwards inflection at the end.

  Lily smiled, shooting rolled eyes at Alice the second Nikkii went back to her bullshit rave to Siobhan, who, as a publicist, already knew everyone worth knowing anyway.

  ‘Alrighty then!’ Eliza said, finally, still thinking it was a funny thing to say almost twenty years after Ace Ventura. ‘That will probably do us til next week.’

  As everyone stood up, she said, ‘Lily, can I have a quick word?’ Alice shot Lily a look of surprise. The hairs on the back of Lily’s neck stood up. She felt like she was back at school. Or busted shoplifting, which had happened only once, because she had only ever shoplifted once, and was clearly horrible at it. All ridiculous thoughts, since Eliza was probably just going to ask her what she thought about adding some magnets to the on-set fridge.

  Once the room was cleared, Eliza closed the door in an over-the-top manner and then perched on the table, a move she’d probably seen on TV and wanted to try for herself.

  ‘Lily, I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but there are some changes happening across the station and also here at The Daily.’

  Oh, sweet Jesus, Lily thought. She was being fired. Or somethinged.

  ‘No?’ Lily said honestly, her heart racing.

  ‘Just a few small changes, movement, promotions and new positions and whatnot, you know, normal restructuring stuff . . .’

  Lily swallowed.

  ‘Anyway, there’s a series producer role coming up . . . within the station, and I thought you’d like to know. I know you’re probably wanting to move up by now, and I don’t blame you.’ She smiled as though she had just presented Lily with a brand new Aston Martin.

  Lily’s heart instantly flicked gears, from terrified to excited.

  ‘Wow, really? Do you know which show?’

  Cue a smile that definitely did know, from a person who was almost definitely benefitting from this news on some level.

  ‘Mmm, I really can’t say any more, sorry, Lil. But I did want to give you a bit of a heads-up, because it’s all so exciting and I think you should consider finding out more when that information becomes available. Don’t you agree?’

  Oh well, thought Lily. It was pretty useless info for now, but at least Eliza was alerting her to the possibility of a promotion. This could be a game-changer. She felt exhilaration flow through her veins. All she wanted this year was a promotion and now one was possible. Destiny, you cheeky old fox . . .

  ‘Thanks so much for letting me know, Eliza.’

  ‘Oh, you know I love helping out!’ she said, full-stopping with a giggle. She was far too excited about all this, which meant she was almost certainly being promoted – although to what Lily had no idea; in the big scheme of things Eliza was about as useful as the fake on-set sink.

  Lily headed to the kitchen with her head in a swirl of possibilities. Maybe this was finally her time. Maybe this was the year she became a grown-up, which she’d been positive was a myth created by health insurance companies. She would have a proper, impressive job, and she could maybe even move out on her own. She flinched a bit when she realised that the missing element to this glorious new life was love, which seemed to be further away than it ever had been. And with this man-detox making Lily a complete workaholic – and a pent-up one at that – things weren’t exactly shimmering with hope in that area. Was it too much to ask for a guy to present himself who wasn’t a nob or an alcoholic or a loser?

  Simone was cruising through this detox, Lily conceded. She was cheerful and had found no reason to stop being her usual gregarious, good-time self, if her partying was anything to go by. Maybe she got a thrill from having all the boys throw themselves at her, and then telling them that she was awfully sorry, but she was not-allowedsies at the moment, and they should stop sending so many long-stemmed roses and diamond earrings. That, or she was secretly seeing Michael again, which she’d done before, to her immense emotional detriment and Lily’s chagrin. As far as Lily knew, the last time Simone and Michael had seen each other was just before Christmas at a wedding. Simone had looked heavenly and refrained from drinking so she didn’t make any stupid mistakes, and this strength clearly acted as powerful aphrodisiac, with Michael basically proposing to her outside the women’s toilets after following her there. To Lily’s delight (and surprise) Simone knocked him back and left the wedding.

  Lily was beginning to wonder whether there was any point going out if you couldn’t pick up, or be chatted up, or hook up. It was the gilded excitement of the unknown, the lure of spontaneity, the thrill of not knowing where your night might end up, or with whom, that gave her the energy to go out . . . not the idea of drinking til she was unintelligible, and sucking down kebabs and hot chips at four a.m., delicious as they were.

  She leaned against one of the chairs and waited for her kettle to boil, so deep in thought she didn’t see Jack enter the kitchen. He leaned over to where the kettle was and looked at Lily, his hand hovering over the power point.

  ‘Can I take this?’ he said, brows raised.

  Lily snapped to attention when she realised what he was about to do. It had been weeks since he’d last done it but she was just as territorial of her kettle.

  ‘Hey! I’m using tha—’ And she stopped herself, realising how impolite she was being to her golden goose.

  ‘Just messing with you, Woodward,’ he said in a way that made her feel stupid. Lily pretended not to notice that he’d changed from this morning, and was now wearing a polo and shorts, and that he had excellent legs. Very casual for the office, she thought, throwing stones in her jeans, sandals and T-shirt.

  ‘Well, you know, you do have a tendency for nicking it, so it’s not crazy to think you might do it again,’ she grumbled, pouring the precious hot water into her mug and over her teabag. She quite liked that he’d called her Woodward. It felt familiar. Like he was the popular guy at school giving her some crude form of recognition

  ‘I reckon you need a biscuit for that,’ he said suddenly, eyes dipping to her tea. Before she could answer, he’d darted off. He was like a mad scientist in that test kitchen; once he had finished the show he’d go straight in there til late afternoon, when, after being briefed on the following day’s show, he left for the day.

  A few minutes later, just as Lily was weighing up whether it was rude to head back to her desk or not, he flew back into the kitchen, holding out two lumpy golden cookies on a paper towel.

  ‘What are these?’ Lily asked, her mouth gently coating itself in anticipatory saliva.

  ‘Peanut butter, salted caramel and white chocolate.’

  ‘No WAY,’ Lily exclaimed, in ecstatic disbe
lief at the flavours presented to her in biscuit form.

  ‘PB is my favourite thing in the universe; I put it on everything. I can’t think of one thing that isn’t improved by it. Have you tried it in porridge with banana and honey? It’s the best.’

  Jack smiled, his eyes sparkled and there was a gentle warmth in his gaze. It was a bit much to have all of that focused on you, Lily realised. How ever did his girlfriends cope? She asked that not knowing whether he had one – not that the entire female population of the station hadn’t done their best to find out. He was too understated, too much of a cookie-baking savant to talk about his personal life. It drove Siobhan crazy: she needed a hook for the gossip ravens. Lily was quietly impressed he’d held out. She took one of the cookies.

  ‘Take both, I ate half the cookie mix,’ he said sheepishly.

  Lily took the paper towel politely from Jack, their fingers touching ever so quickly as she did so.

  ‘Thanks, Jack, that’s very nice of you,’ she said, wondering what she was supposed to do now, because he was still standing in front of her, blocking the doorway, a goofy grin on his face.

  ‘Well, go on,’ he said, looking expectantly at her.

  Feeling awkward, Lily set her mug and notebook back on the counter so she didn’t drop them and the biscuits and mess up this whole heightened Movie Moment.

  She bit into one of the cookies. It was the perfect blend of crunchy and chewy, and as each of the flavours elegantly shouted for attention in her mouth, she closed her eyes and savoured it.

  ‘Sweet baby Jesus. That is SO good,’ she said, mouth still full of cookie, eyes wide with sugar and delight.

  ‘Not too peanutty?’ His eyes were clouded in genuine concern. He was like a Stepford wife trying to perfect his recipe for a stern, unappreciative husband.

  ‘Well,’ she said, wiping the crumbs from her mouth with the back of her free hand, realising how gross it was only after the act, ‘that’s a stupid question to ask a PB maniac, isn’t it.’ And she took another bite, all thoughts of being ladylike suddenly extinct.

  ‘True.’ He watched her enjoy the cookie, smiling, until Lily felt awkward and picked up her mug and notebook carefully, to head back to her desk.

  ‘Thanks again,’ she said. ‘I’m always open for business when it comes to cookie tasting.’

  ‘And friands?’ he said playfully.

  Lily blushed slightly. ‘Sorry, but they were gross. They were and you know it.’

  ‘Meh, it happens sometimes,’ he said cheerfully before leaving, presumably back to the test kitchen. As Lily strolled to her desk, she couldn’t help wondering if he’d offered Nikkii or Eliza or even Alice some of his cookies, or if she was The Special One. The realisation that he had specially brought her cookies, hand-delivered and with feedback eagerly anticipated, had her lolling around in the sunshine of her mind.

  13

  Yes, still on man-ban. No, not in love with Jack. Tho he did bring me some just-made cookies to eat with my tea the other day . . .

  Lily hit send on her text to Mimi, smiling at the memory, aware that she was giving her mother ammunition in her quest to make Lily pursue Jack, but not really caring. She’d told Mimi all about him – the good and the bad – over dinner on the weekend, and now Mimi was convinced she’d found her daughter’s future husband. It wasn’t the first time.

  Men don’t just bring women cookies willy-nilly ox.

  Mimi wrote.

  They do when you’re producing their cooking segment.

  Lily hit back without skipping a beat. But maybe she’s right, Lily thought, a gentle momentum building in her. Maybe a little crush on Jack was worth exploring. Hell, maybe he was even worth detox-breaking.

  Taking her mother’s advice to be young, free and social, and finally feeling like she had the energy for it, Lily finally decided to call Simone on her dinner offer, and they made a plan to eat at the trendy Mexican joint. Of course, when Lily tried to book, there were no tables for a fortnight, but Simone assured her it would be fine, and sure enough, as soon as the pair arrived, the girl on the door recognised Simone and, in a flurry of air kisses and ‘babes’ and ‘you look hot’ and ‘amazing dress’, they were straight inside.

  Simone looked the part with her mini-dress and gold heels, even if that part was slightly reminiscent of a certain role played by Julia Roberts in a certain film starring Richard Gere; while Lily, wearing a simple black dress and wooden wedges, looked like she was there to clear the plates. Sensing this was not optimal for potential ego-boosting man-attracting-then-dismissing, Lily immediately pulled her long hair out of her high topknot and shook it loose.

  ‘HOT,’ Simone said, nodding seriously. ‘Always hotter out. Always.’

  ‘Speaking of, this place is an oven, would it kill them to turn the aircon on?’

  ‘No way. Hotter is sexier.’

  ‘What about this menu? Is this sexy, would you say, or is it hot?’ Lily asked, picking up the drinks menu – housed in a Mexican children’s book – and shaking it in front of her friend’s face playfully.

  ‘That’s cool. Different.’

  ‘Aha.’

  ‘Babe, it’s so fun to go out, just the two of us. Why don’t we do this ever? Remember the fun we used to have at Pelicans? Ohmygod those Pimms jugs were the worst but it was so fun!’ Simone said, clapping her hands together excitedly.

  ‘Because I’m overworked, and you travel a lot.’

  ‘I haven’t been travelling much lately, actually,’ Simone said, thoughtfully. ‘I’ve really just been trying to centre, you know? Get grounded. I went to this amazing talk on transcendental meditation the other day; I’m going to learn how to do it. There’s a retreat in Bali next month. I want to locate my inner bliss. By the pool.’

  ‘Sure there’s no secret man bringing you bliss I should know about? You’re not home much at the moment . . .’

  Simone shook her head quickly, tightly, a frown forming over her fresh, pretty, make-up-free eyes. ‘I’ve just had some late shoots and Grace’s boyfriend moved out, so I stayed there last weekend because she was a total mess and —’

  ‘I’m kidding. I know the reason you don’t have a boyfriend is cos you’re ugly and mean, but we also have a pact, and we don’t break pacts.’ As Lily said it, she thought of Jack and felt a shiver of shame trickle down her back like icy water.

  ‘Can we grab two tobacco margaritas, please?’ Simone called out to a waiter who had stopped for a second near them. He looked up at the voice, prepared to be pissed off, but one look at Simone’s dazzling smile and he simply nodded and walked off to perform his duties for the new Queen of Mexico.

  ‘Well, they sound disgusting,’ Lily said.

  ‘They’re the signature drink. Grace said they’re gorge. Anyway, you’re a cooking person, you should be game to try weird stuff.’

  ‘I’ll have one. Can’t get too pissed tonight, I need my brain tomorrow.’

  ‘Couple won’t hurt,’ Sim said, with the syrupy coercion of a seasoned enabler. ‘Oh, there’s that douche Sean I saw for a bit. Owns that pilates studio in Paddington and cracks on to all his clients.’

  ‘Sounds like a great guy, why’d you let him go?’

  ‘He’s the exact reason we’re ignoring men,’ she said, waving manically at someone across the bar – probably Sean – then blowing them a kiss.

  ‘I’m not exactly fighting them off with a stick.’

  ‘One jug of tobacco margaritas,’ the young waiter announced, setting down a ’70s-style plastic water jug and two plastic tumblers more appropriate in a preschool than a restaurant. ‘On the house,’ he said, blushing at Simone and scarpering away.

  ‘What a little honey,’ Sim said, as she poured out two drinks. ‘To us!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘To whatever this gross drink is!’ Lily added, taking a sip of the strangest, strongest cocktail she’d ever made the mistake of drinking.

  Three hours and the wrong amount of margaritas later, Lily and Simone w
ere with Grace at Bahama. Skye turned up, fresh from a house party, with her energy sitting at approximately 185 out of 10.

  ‘Woooooooh!’ Grace squealed, hand in the air as Calvin Harris pumped through the enormous speakers on the wall. She was chatting to a very, very beautiful man with a shaved head and no regard for the wedding finger on his left hand, and Simone was telling Lily in no uncertain terms Lily had to stay.

  ‘So what if you’re abi’tired tomorrow, the show will go on!’

  ‘The show! Must! Go! On!’ Skye contributed, marching like a soldier, her hand flipping in and out in a salute in time with the music.

  Lily shook her head. She actually felt quite unsteady on her feet. A whisper of ceviche, some fish tacos and one thousand cocktails will do that, she realised.

  ‘No. No, no, no, issnot like that, I HAVE to be there and make sure everything is smooth and running smoothly.’

  ‘IS THE HUNK COMING?’ Skye yelled directly into Simone’s ear. She really was quite the rubbish drunk. Simone cupped her hand over Skye’s mouth and said, ‘Shhhhh.’

  ‘Who?’ Lily demanded, sensing she was missing something. Something important.

  ‘No one!’ Simone said, grabbing Lily’s hand and kissing it messily.

  ‘You sure?’ Lily now on high alert. Simone nodded resolutely, her eyes glazed and wide.

  ‘Lil, why you wanna leave all the time? One more drink? Pleeeease?’ Simone was doing her sexy-baby-get-what-she-wantsy voice, which might work on everyone else, but Lily wasn’t swayed.