Yes! I didn’t know what was going on and you’d missed the deadline. I didn’t want you to get in trouble with Miles so wrote something just in case. You weren’t replying to my messages and I didn’t know what else to do. I’m so relieved you’re ok!! xxx
While I was thinking about how to reply, she messaged again:
What happened? Is there anything I can do to help? I’m happy to keep things ticking over, but it’d be helpful to know how long you might be away xxx
I tried calling her again, but it went straight to voicemail. Lucy was of the generation where phone calls were for emergencies only, but I drew the line at firing someone via a text, if I could help it.
Lucy, I really need to talk to you properly about this. Please call me as soon as you can.
No reply.
I felt another stab of guilt. Lucy had been clearly worried about me – and about what my sudden disappearance would mean for her own job. Deciding to write and submit a review off her own back showed how stressed she must have been. I’d handled this horribly, and it was completely unfair to leave Lucy feeling responsible for writing reviews on top of managing everything else. By failing to speak to her properly, I’d inadvertently forced her to become Nora Sharp – even if as far as she knew, it was only temporary. I had to tell her that I’d resigned from the paper, and I wasn’t coming back, so she could speak to Miles and decide whether she wanted to keep Nora going, or whether we were going to formally lay her to rest.
Would a voicemail do?
If she didn’t call me back soon, it would have to.
If nothing else, I needed to warn her about the stalker who’d crawled back out of the shadows. She had nothing to hide when it came to being Nora, she’d be able to talk to the police about it, let the newspaper know. Get it sorted once and for all.
I’d wait one more day for her to call me, then decide what to do.
* * *
Lucy had recently graduated when she contacted me. She’d studied marketing and journalism, and was looking for an internship. I was impressed with how succinctly she expressed her respect for my work, and the areas in which she hoped she could prove useful. Given that I still felt like a lost child bumbling about in a maze of adulting, I was very tempted to consider her offer. Except that I wasn’t sure what I was meant to be doing half the time. I was hardly in a position to be mentoring or managing anyone else.
And then came the meeting with Miles and his marketing people, and the request for me to up my social media game, get with the times and stop hiding behind my mysterious persona.
‘People demand personal, these days, Nora,’ a PR manager, Duncan, drawled at me, flipping a greasy black fringe out of his eyes.
‘Eleanor,’ I muttered.
‘They want to know everything about you. What you wear, how you stay in shape, who you’re hanging out with. They want toseeeverything. Chilled back yoga before Sunday brunch, treating yourself to a boxset binge on a rare night in. Suited and booted for a meeting with your PR manager.’ He paused to snort a few times at his own hilarity. I was, in line with the rest of the office, dressed down in jeans, a stupidly expensive T-shirt some up-and-coming fashion student had sent me, and a pair of mustard Converse.
‘That’s not really everything about me though, is it? That’s only my personal appearance.’
‘Right! Precisely! Like I said, up close and personal is what people are looking for. Gone is the age of the untouchable celebrity. Your fans won’t care about your opinion if they don’t know the real Nora.’
‘How can people know the real Nora when she isn’t actually real?’ I asked. ‘And I’m not interested in being a celebrity.’ Not much, anyway. ‘I’m a professional journalist, albeit one operating at the lighter end of the news spectrum. People have appreciated my articles for years without seeing me slobbing in front of the TV with a tube of Pringles.’
‘I don’t think that would be a good moment to capture,’ Duncan grimaced. ‘While your image is thankfully more about attention-grabbing than attractive, maybe swap the Pringles for a banana-flour muffin, given you’re supposed to be a foodie?’
‘Supposed to be?’
I turned to Miles in the hope that he’d add some much-needed rationality. ‘How am I going to carry out my job if people know who I am? Half the places I go wouldn’t give me a table. The other half would be on their best behaviour, which kind of defeats the purpose. If Nora Sharp walks into an event, it’ll ruin it for most of the people there. No one’ll be able to relax if they think I’m eavesdropping from the corner.’
‘That being said, I have to listen to the experts,’ Miles said, shuffling a few papers on his desk. ‘You know that all print media is being forced to adapt in order to survive. It’ll be a chance to freshen up the image, experiment with Nora’s future direction. Most food reviewers aren’t anonymous and they still get tables because no restaurant manager believes their food to be anything short of spectacular. And you being there will get any event buzzing. Once everyone’s had a few drinks they’ll be even more likely to spill the gossip knowing that someone’s actually listening to them.’
‘Kathy will set up the YouTube channel, talk you through the details and offer tips on sprucing up your image.’ Duncan swivelled round to address Kathy, who’d spent the whole meeting slurping on her celery-infused water and staring out the window at the recycling bins below.
‘We were thinking, what, a less civilian hairstyle? Perhaps a bright colour to distract from your face. I’m feeling teal, indigo, possibly apricot, with a chop less middle-aged-mum-at-the-bingo and more “don’t mess me with me, I am a queen”.’
Kathy deigned to glance across at me. ‘That hair tone is upsetting. I didn’t think they sold such dismal shades outside Eastern Europe.’
‘This is my natural hair colour!’
Kathy widened her eyes, shoved her drink spout back in her mouth, and turned back to the window.
Panic started pumping through my system as Duncan droned on about eyebrows and cosmetic enhancements, underwear to provide a ‘more natural silhouette’. Apparently my 34D breasts were totally last decade.
