Then, very quickly, I click on “Items I’m Bidding On.”
Obviously I joined eBay very much as a seller rather than a bidder. But I just happened to be browsing the other day when I came across this amazing orange vintage coat from the fifties with big black buttons. It’s a total one-off, and no one had made a single bid on it. So I made a tiny exception, just for that.
And also for a pair of Prada shoes, which only had one bid on them, for fifty quid. I mean, Prada shoes for fifty quid!
And that fantastic Yves Saint Laurent evening dress, which some other bidder got in the end. God, that was annoying. I won’t make that mistake again.
I click on the vintage coat — and I don’t believe it. I bid £80 yesterday, which is the reserve price, and I’ve been trumped with £100. Well, I’m not losing this one. No way. I quickly type in “£120” and close down, just as Luke comes in with a tray.
“Any e-mails?” he says.
“Er… some!” I say brightly, and take a cup of coffee. “Thanks!”
I haven’t told Luke about the whole eBay thing because there’s no need for him to get involved in every mundane detail of the household finances.
“I found these in the kitchen.” Luke nods toward a tin of luxury Fortnum and Mason chocolate biscuits on the tray. “Very nice.”
“Just a little treat.” I smile at him. “And don’t worry. It’s all within the budget.”
Which is true! My budget is so much bigger now, I can afford a few luxuries!
Luke takes a sip of coffee. Then his eyes fall on a pink folder lying on his desk.
“What’s this?”
I wondered when he was going to notice that.
“That’s for you,” I say casually. “Just a little thing I’ve put together to help you. My ideas for the future of the company.”
It hit me in the bath the other day. If Luke wins this great big pitch, he’s going to have to expand the company. And I know all about expansion.
The reason is, when I was a personal shopper at Barneys, I had this client named Sheri, who owned her own business. I heard the whole saga of how she expanded too fast and all the mistakes she made, like renting six thousand square feet of office space in TriBeCa which she never used. I mean, at the time I thought it was really boring. I actually dreaded her appointments. But now I realize it’s all totally relevant to Luke!
So I decided to write down everything she used to say, like consolidating your key markets and acquiring competitors. And that’s when an even better idea came to me: Luke should buy up another PR firm.
I even know which one he should buy! David Neville, who used to work for Farnham PR, set up his own firm three years ago, when I was still a financial journalist. He’s really talented and everyone keeps saying how well he’s doing. But I know he’s secretly been struggling, because I saw his wife, Judy, at the hairdresser’s last week and she told me.
“Becky…” Luke’s frowning. “I haven’t got time for this.”
“But it’ll be useful to you!” I say quickly. “When I was at Barneys I learned all about—”
“Barneys? Becky, I run a PR company. Not a fashion store.”
“But I’ve had these ideas—”
“Becky,” Luke interrupts impatiently. “Right now my priority is bringing in new business. Nothing else. I don’t have time for your ideas, OK?” He stuffs the folder into his briefcase without opening it. “I’ll look at it sometime.”
I sit down, feeling a bit crestfallen. The doorbell rings and I look up in surprise.
“Oh! Maybe that’s Jess, early!”
“No, it’ll be Gary,” says Luke. “I’ll let him in.”
Gary is Luke’s second in command. He ran the London office while we were living in New York and on our honeymoon, and he and Luke get on really well. He even ended up being Luke’s best man at our wedding. Kind of.
The wedding’s a bit of a long story, actually.
“What’s Gary doing here?” I ask in surprise.
“I told him to meet me here,” replies Luke, heading out to the entry phone and buzzing it. “We have some work to do on the pitch. Then we’re planning to go to lunch.”
“Oh, right,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment.
I was really looking forward to spending a bit of time with Luke today, before Jess arrives. He’s so busy these days. He hasn’t been home once before eight all week, and last night he didn’t arrive back until eleven. I know they’re working hard at the moment. And I know the Arcodas pitch is important. But still. For months and months, Luke and I were together twenty-four hours a day… and now I hardly ever see him.