grown-ups. Amanda comes in, looking even more tired than usual (bad sign). Then the design team troop in behind her and sit in their chairs, staring at their cappuccinos and not looking at us (very bad sign). Then Andy Elat himself comes in, chatting to another man I haven’t seen before and sounding very jolly. But he doesn’t say hello. Extremely bad sign.
When everyone’s settled, Andy finally pretends to notice Crow and me. He nods briefly in our direction. If he’s trying to be scary and intimidating, it’s working. Even Crow looks slightly unnerved. I have a feeling she’s wishing Henry was here, to tuck her under his arm.
‘This is Paolo,’ Andy says. ‘My new PR guru. I’m sure you’re all aware of him, so no introductions needed.’
Everyone round the table nods except Crow and me. I’ve never heard of him, and an introduction would be really nice.
Paolo has one of those beards that is only a few millimetres long and reminds you of David Beckham. He’s about the same age as Mum, with dark hair, light brownskin and very pink lips. I’m guessing he’s Italian and that he probably has brown eyes, but I don’t know because he’s wearing impenetrable black wraparound sunglasses. To go with his black polo-neck jumper, baggy black flannel trousers and shiny black shoes. He looks like how I’d imagine a Russian bodyguard to look. If he had a pistol tucked into his trouser belt, it wouldn’t seem at all out of place.
Paolo looks super-serious. He’s turned his head in our direction, so I suppose he’s checking us out, but I can’t be sure.
‘Great to meet you at last,’ says the girl nearest to him, holding out her hand.
He says nothing, but stands up and leans forward a bit. The girl rightly guesses that this means he wants a kiss, not a handshake. So she gets up and air-kisses him on both cheeks, which is what you do in fashion. I wonder for a split second whether Crow and I are supposed to air-kiss him too, but one look at Andy Elat assures me that kissing is off the agenda for us today. We’ve done something terrible and we’re about to hear all about it.
I realise that since our last meeting with Amanda, we haven’t made quite as much progress as we’d hoped. Crow’s designs are still just as ‘adult’ and ‘undoable’ as ever, and I haven’t exactly managed to get Edie to change her website. But we’ve been busy with dates and Sigrid Santorini and party frocks. And anyway, there are those photos from No Kidding, which we can’t really ignore,and that reminds me – surely Andy will be impressed when he hears about Edie’s amazing award?
I decide to start things off on a positive note, so I lean across to Andy and say, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard, but our friend Edie’s just won a web award.’
He looks back at me without a hint of a smile in his crinkly eyes and says that yes, funnily enough, he had heard about that.
Wow! He already knows. Yay!
‘Isn’t it incredible?’ I say. ‘She’s thrilled. Her site’s got so many hits it’s crashed twice. She’s having to upgrade the server.’ I can’t believe I just said that. Sometimes the right words come to me when I’m least expecting it. I sound so technical!
I’m about to go into lots more detail when Andy does his wiggling fingers thing, so I shut up.
‘Exactly,’ he says. ‘Paolo?’
Paolo strokes his mini-beard. Paulo pauses until he has the room’s full attention. Then Paolo speaks.
‘DISASTER!’ he declares, glaring through the sunglasses. ‘It has to stop.’
‘Stop?’
‘Stop! Cease! Desist! Every day this girl . . . this schoolgirl . . . gets more hits on her website. More publicity. And now the award. Thousands of people go to her site. Not just other girls now. Journalists. Bloggers. Fashion commentators. Serious people. They read about Crow. They read about Miss Teen. They read about Mr Elat andhis brand. And they read this.’
He presses a button and some wood panels slide
When everyone’s settled, Andy finally pretends to notice Crow and me. He nods briefly in our direction. If he’s trying to be scary and intimidating, it’s working. Even Crow looks slightly unnerved. I have a feeling she’s wishing Henry was here, to tuck her under his arm.
‘This is Paolo,’ Andy says. ‘My new PR guru. I’m sure you’re all aware of him, so no introductions needed.’
Everyone round the table nods except Crow and me. I’ve never heard of him, and an introduction would be really nice.
Paolo has one of those beards that is only a few millimetres long and reminds you of David Beckham. He’s about the same age as Mum, with dark hair, light brownskin and very pink lips. I’m guessing he’s Italian and that he probably has brown eyes, but I don’t know because he’s wearing impenetrable black wraparound sunglasses. To go with his black polo-neck jumper, baggy black flannel trousers and shiny black shoes. He looks like how I’d imagine a Russian bodyguard to look. If he had a pistol tucked into his trouser belt, it wouldn’t seem at all out of place.
Paolo looks super-serious. He’s turned his head in our direction, so I suppose he’s checking us out, but I can’t be sure.
‘Great to meet you at last,’ says the girl nearest to him, holding out her hand.
He says nothing, but stands up and leans forward a bit. The girl rightly guesses that this means he wants a kiss, not a handshake. So she gets up and air-kisses him on both cheeks, which is what you do in fashion. I wonder for a split second whether Crow and I are supposed to air-kiss him too, but one look at Andy Elat assures me that kissing is off the agenda for us today. We’ve done something terrible and we’re about to hear all about it.
I realise that since our last meeting with Amanda, we haven’t made quite as much progress as we’d hoped. Crow’s designs are still just as ‘adult’ and ‘undoable’ as ever, and I haven’t exactly managed to get Edie to change her website. But we’ve been busy with dates and Sigrid Santorini and party frocks. And anyway, there are those photos from No Kidding, which we can’t really ignore,and that reminds me – surely Andy will be impressed when he hears about Edie’s amazing award?
I decide to start things off on a positive note, so I lean across to Andy and say, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard, but our friend Edie’s just won a web award.’
He looks back at me without a hint of a smile in his crinkly eyes and says that yes, funnily enough, he had heard about that.
Wow! He already knows. Yay!
‘Isn’t it incredible?’ I say. ‘She’s thrilled. Her site’s got so many hits it’s crashed twice. She’s having to upgrade the server.’ I can’t believe I just said that. Sometimes the right words come to me when I’m least expecting it. I sound so technical!
I’m about to go into lots more detail when Andy does his wiggling fingers thing, so I shut up.
‘Exactly,’ he says. ‘Paolo?’
Paolo strokes his mini-beard. Paulo pauses until he has the room’s full attention. Then Paolo speaks.
‘DISASTER!’ he declares, glaring through the sunglasses. ‘It has to stop.’
‘Stop?’
‘Stop! Cease! Desist! Every day this girl . . . this schoolgirl . . . gets more hits on her website. More publicity. And now the award. Thousands of people go to her site. Not just other girls now. Journalists. Bloggers. Fashion commentators. Serious people. They read about Crow. They read about Miss Teen. They read about Mr Elat andhis brand. And they read this.’
He presses a button and some wood panels slide
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