Talk to Me by Jules Wake

there anything you can do? He’s freaking Emily out and I’ve got to live with her.’
    ‘I’ll make a few enquiries.’
    And that would be the end of that, I thought with a sneer.
    ‘I’m sure …
if
it was him, it was an isolated incident but don’t hesitate to call me if anything else happens.’
    What! Had hell just frozen over? Before I could summon up the capacity to speak again, Barney had gone.
    In contrast Kate thought it was all highly amusing.
    ‘Serves her right,’ she sniggered down the phone later that afternoon.
    ‘It’s not funny,’ I said, the handset tucked in the crook of my ear as I carried on typing an email. ‘I think it’s a bit scary. Emily’s just pissed off.’
    ‘Probably because the wrong guy emailed. Let’s face it, Olivia, she ticked three different boxes – there are still two other guys out there she’s not moaning about at the moment.’
    True, Emily hadn’t said a word about any other contact she’d had. I glanced up at her on the other side of the office. She was chatting away to Cara, perched on her desk as they both poured over a page of
Hello!
.
    ‘So how’s the packing?’ I asked, changing the subject. ‘Did you get everything you wanted in Boots?’
    There was a pause and a sigh as if she was about to say something and changed her mind. ‘A nightmare.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘Mum has gone out and bought grocery supplies – half of Asda. I’m never going to get it all in. You’d think I was emigrating for good. I’m only going back to Oz for another six months.’
    ‘Can’t you extend your visa?’
    ‘What the hell for?’ she snapped.
    ‘Sorry, I thought you loved it there.’
    ‘It’s all fine. Greg is great. Australia’s great. Everything’s just great.’
    ‘Sure?’
    There was a pause and a deep breath. I thought she was going to launch into some confessional but her voice was back to its usually perky tone. ‘It’s all fine. My biggest worry is getting through customs. I can see it now, surrounded by hysterical sniffer dogs driven wild by Mum’s Marmite stockpile.’
    I giggled. ‘I’m sure they’re used to it. All Poms travel with the stuff.’
    ‘Not ten jars of it.’
    ‘You’ll get it all in. If not, you could leave me a couple of pairs of shoes.’
    ‘Not bloody likely. I’d rather ditch the Marmite.’
    Things on the Luscious Lips launch were starting to get hectic. Emily was still in the office at six-thirty, which was unheard of, and her shoulders were so tense her neck had almost disappeared.
    Across the room her face was turning redder and redder as she carried on a conversation on the phone. I got a ‘God-give-me-patience’ eye roll before she slammed down the phone and hurled a pen at the wall opposite.
    Shrugging on my coat – a flak jacket might have been safer – I wandered over.
    ‘You OK?’ I asked briskly, as she tossed papers into her file tray.
    ‘What does it look like? You have no idea. You wouldn’t believe the hoops we’re jumping through to please “darling” Miranda.’
    Served her right. Although it was still nothing compared to my afternoon. An hour long phone call placating my client, a doppelganger for Jabba the Hutt, when a planning application didn’t go his way. His company had just seen several million go down the Swanee.
    She looked appealingly at me. If she was looking for sympathy, she’d come to the wrong place.
    ‘I suppose you could say it serves me right,’ her voice softened. ‘I’m sorry, Olivia. I should have told you that we were using the dress idea.’
    Normally I would have said something conciliatory like, ‘Don’t worry about it.’ But an ear bashing from Jabba had left a full-blown disco beat pounding in my head. All I wanted was to get home.
    ‘I’m leaving,’ I said wearily. ‘Now.’ Just talking to her was taking too much effort.
    ‘I’ve said I’m sorry,’ she said in a lost little voice. ‘Please don’t be mad at me.’
    It was just like being