someone who was clearly so useful.
She feigned horror when she saw the rough costings Penny had come up with on her own, but within a few days the budget had been increased by twenty per cent and the extra rental on the house was passed too.
Though there was little time for reflection, Penny was nevertheless slightly dazed by the feeling she was being allowed to write her own ticket. In fact, the whole project was beginning to take on such an air of unreality that she was starting to feel more like a player in a game she couldn't lose than someone who was preparing to battle her way through the minefields of launching a new magazine. Perversely, it was only when Sylvia or Yolanda pronounced some of her ideas to be unworkable that she felt truly comfortable with her new role, but even so she was still finding it hard to see herself as a boss when she really didn't feel like one and nor was she convinced that she actually had what it took to be one. That wasn't to say she was considering backing out - far from it, in fact, she'd already come too far for that, and, besides, she was becoming kind of attached to her new magazine lately. So why doubt herself when Sylvia obviously had total faith in her and when, in her more
78
confident moments, she was sure she would come through?
During the hectic week before her departure, which included a radio phone-in for LBC, a book review for Time Out and the handing over of material on interviews she had already set up, she kept trying to round up her friends and colleagues for some kind of farewell bash. But, typical of Londoners, their diaries were always booked weeks in advance and though a couple could make it one night the others couldn't and vice versa. Experiencing intense swings in emotion as the day of departure approached, their unavailability made Penny feel horribly like someone already in the past. She was used to having a full diary herself, but she'd always managed to make room for emergencies. And that was how she saw herself, as an emergency. For this was going to be her last chance to dish out invitations and extract assurances from everyone that they'd stay in touch or come to visit.
However, the night before she was due to leave the surprise was sprung. Sylvia had invited her to dinner at Mossiman's, saying she would send a car to pick Penny up and take her there. But when the driver sailed right on past the restaurant Penny got her first inkling that something was afoot. And what a something it turned out to be. Sylvia had taken over a West End nightclub and it seemed everyone Penny had ever known or interviewed was there. The place was bursting with journalists, photographers, celebrities, politicians, activists, sports people, high achievers, New Age healers, designers, novelists, restaurateurs, reviewers, astrologers and any number of the many eccentrics she had interviewed. They were all there to wish her good luck and tell her how sorely she was going to be missed. Penny was so overwhelmed that all she could do was shriek in surprise and joy as she recognized one face after another, after another.
79
They rocked and bopped the night away, drank the place dry of champagne, then moved on to wine, and devoured a magnificent buffet that had been prepared by a team of Mossiman's students. Sylvia made a speech that got tears flowing and Yolanda presented her with a gold Cartier pen, a red, leather-bound and goldembossed diary from Smythson's of Bond Street, and a hilarious caricature of herself in a beret with a string of onions around her neck and umpteen scandalous rags and lawsuits fluttering from her hands.
At the end of the evening, as Penny moved tearfully from one embrace to the next, she wished to God that Sylvia hadn't singled her out for this job, because the idea of leaving them all behind was suddenly almost too much to bear. It no longer felt like a game she couldn't lose - quite the reverse, in fact: it felt as if she was being sent straight to
She feigned horror when she saw the rough costings Penny had come up with on her own, but within a few days the budget had been increased by twenty per cent and the extra rental on the house was passed too.
Though there was little time for reflection, Penny was nevertheless slightly dazed by the feeling she was being allowed to write her own ticket. In fact, the whole project was beginning to take on such an air of unreality that she was starting to feel more like a player in a game she couldn't lose than someone who was preparing to battle her way through the minefields of launching a new magazine. Perversely, it was only when Sylvia or Yolanda pronounced some of her ideas to be unworkable that she felt truly comfortable with her new role, but even so she was still finding it hard to see herself as a boss when she really didn't feel like one and nor was she convinced that she actually had what it took to be one. That wasn't to say she was considering backing out - far from it, in fact, she'd already come too far for that, and, besides, she was becoming kind of attached to her new magazine lately. So why doubt herself when Sylvia obviously had total faith in her and when, in her more
78
confident moments, she was sure she would come through?
During the hectic week before her departure, which included a radio phone-in for LBC, a book review for Time Out and the handing over of material on interviews she had already set up, she kept trying to round up her friends and colleagues for some kind of farewell bash. But, typical of Londoners, their diaries were always booked weeks in advance and though a couple could make it one night the others couldn't and vice versa. Experiencing intense swings in emotion as the day of departure approached, their unavailability made Penny feel horribly like someone already in the past. She was used to having a full diary herself, but she'd always managed to make room for emergencies. And that was how she saw herself, as an emergency. For this was going to be her last chance to dish out invitations and extract assurances from everyone that they'd stay in touch or come to visit.
However, the night before she was due to leave the surprise was sprung. Sylvia had invited her to dinner at Mossiman's, saying she would send a car to pick Penny up and take her there. But when the driver sailed right on past the restaurant Penny got her first inkling that something was afoot. And what a something it turned out to be. Sylvia had taken over a West End nightclub and it seemed everyone Penny had ever known or interviewed was there. The place was bursting with journalists, photographers, celebrities, politicians, activists, sports people, high achievers, New Age healers, designers, novelists, restaurateurs, reviewers, astrologers and any number of the many eccentrics she had interviewed. They were all there to wish her good luck and tell her how sorely she was going to be missed. Penny was so overwhelmed that all she could do was shriek in surprise and joy as she recognized one face after another, after another.
79
They rocked and bopped the night away, drank the place dry of champagne, then moved on to wine, and devoured a magnificent buffet that had been prepared by a team of Mossiman's students. Sylvia made a speech that got tears flowing and Yolanda presented her with a gold Cartier pen, a red, leather-bound and goldembossed diary from Smythson's of Bond Street, and a hilarious caricature of herself in a beret with a string of onions around her neck and umpteen scandalous rags and lawsuits fluttering from her hands.
At the end of the evening, as Penny moved tearfully from one embrace to the next, she wished to God that Sylvia hadn't singled her out for this job, because the idea of leaving them all behind was suddenly almost too much to bear. It no longer felt like a game she couldn't lose - quite the reverse, in fact: it felt as if she was being sent straight to
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