She turns to face Jean, sleek black bob swinging. ‘There are other factories that fit my needs, and with much less hassle.’
‘Not in this ballpark.’ Though her heart hammers, Jean matches Katherine’s tone of cool disinterest. ‘And not in this region. That’s why you’re here: you want the factories in Vietnam because they’re by the coast, meaning you can ship larger products by sea and keep your distribution costs to a minimum, maximising profit.’
Katherine’s carefully plucked eyebrows climb. But she’s quick to recover herself. ‘At least someone here has done their homework. You’re right about my motives, but wrong if you believe this is my only option.’ The smile she directs towards Henshall is as bright and devoid of warmth as midwinter sunlight. ‘I’d recommend bearing that in mind as you consider this next offer, which will be my last.’
Her counsel slides a piece of paper across the table, which Hugo lifts for Henshall to examine. Judging by the silent working of his jaw, he’s less than impressed. Before Henshall can kick off, Jean nods in acknowledgement. ‘We’ll take that into consideration.’
‘Good.’ Katherine rises, tugging invisible creases from her Balenciaga blazer. ‘I’ll expect your answer by the time I get back from Kyoto.’
Katherine sweeps from the room, her entourage scurrying in her wake. And Henshall recovers his voice. ‘I am fucking sick of that woman and her puffed-up pride.’
‘George,’ says Lana, his long-suffering PA.
‘No!’ He thumps the table, and Jean tenses. ‘I’ll say my piece. I am sick to the back teeth of dealing with that slant-eyed dyke.’
Hugo’s jaw drops – Jean’s certain he’s heard worse on the journey from private school to his private members’ club, in rooms filled with other men just as white and wealthy, but this is the first time he’ll have heard slurs in a professional setting.
‘That’s just as well,’ Jean says, gathering her papers. ‘Because this will all be over inside a fortnight. I’ll leave you to think things over.’
She strides from the boardroom, Hugo close behind. Knows deep in her heart that Marianne would have done more than be curt with Henshall. Even back in their junior associate days, she’d had the courage to speak up; to cite policy and enact procedure in the face of wrongdoing. As always, Jean finds herself falling short against Mari’s memory. But Jean hasn’t made it this far by pushing back against men’s bullshit directly. The top job will be hers, and where is Marianne now?
When they’re alone in the lift, Hugo clears his throat. ‘Anything else I can do for you today, Ms Howard?’
‘No. Go and bring Alexander and his team up to speed, then you can go home.’ He won’t – Jean recognises the hunger in his eyes, the way Hugo is at his sharpest on the days when his path intersects with hers. But at least she offered.
Their illustrious founder, Will Decker, never would have gone home when there was still work to be done. And it’s the work ethic he’d nurtured in her that keeps Jean at her desk until at least nine. Not every Ava Night, but those following on from them. She’s too close to let up now. And the Leonides case requires close management – few of the junior associates have yet to work with an international client operating on this scale, but then few men have built empires on a par with that of Andreas Leonides. Jean pores over his portfolio, the history of his business; the legend of his self-made success, going from a paper-round age twelve to buying the foundering local news outlet age twenty and bringing it into the modern era.
From there Leonides had developed an unshakeable instinct for which businesses were salvageable, and which ought to be stripped for parts, buying and selling his way into the Forbes 500. Jean admires his ingenuity, knowing firsthand the struggle of inventing oneself from thin air, no money or social standing to fall back on. It’s engrossing work. But tonight is an Ava Night, and Jean will do better for coming back refreshed in the morning.
She logs out of her computer, packs her things, and leaves her office with Helen. No doubt she has her suspicions, but Helen’s smart enough to know when to stay silent – a quality Jean prizes in an assistant.
Of course, Peter catches her on the way out. ‘Jean! There’s something different about you, but I can’t put my finger on it. Whatever it is, keep doing what you’re doing.’
‘Thank you,’ Jean says, straight-faced. ‘I’ve taken up badminton. It’s an excellent way to destress in the evenings. In fact, I’m on my way to meet my partner now. So, unless there’s anything urgent…’
Helen’s looking resolutely skywards, as if the overhead lighting has become suddenly fascinating. But Peter buys it.
‘See!’ He nudges her. Peter has known Jean long enough – first as her boss and then, since Will’s retirement, the closest thing he has to an equal – to get away with it. ‘You thought work-life balance was nonsense. But now look at you. Glowing, isn’t she Helen?’
‘Absolutely.’ Helen’s face is the picture of innocence. ‘Maybe I should take up a new sport.’
‘You see, Jean? Leading by example.’ He clasps her shoulder as they step out into the lobby. ‘Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Could you excuse us please, Helen?’
Jean swallows, mouth suddenly dry, as Helen disappears through the revolving doors. She has been waiting for Peter to bring up the matter of succession, not wishing to force his hand. And then, like an actress at the Academy Awards, she will settle on an expression of gracious surprise as a response.
‘I would like you to represent DDH at the London Legal Network Conference. Be the face of the firm.’ Peter’s eyes twinkle. ‘And try to have some fun while you’re there. What do you say?’
‘Really?’ Her smile at least is entirely unfeigned. ‘If you think it’s best, I’d be glad to step in.’
They bid each other goodnight, and Jean mulls it over in the car. It’s not how she would have chosen to soft launch her leadership of DDH. Whereas icebreakers and reverse mentoring are exactly the kind of blue-sky crap Peter thrives on, there’s a higher chance of Jean having fun during a root canal.
Yet for all his faults Peter has changed the culture of DDH for the better. Standards have tightened considerably since he took the helm. On the first day of her internship the junior associate charged with watching over Jean had asked whether her carpet matched her drapes, and from there it had been open season – she’d taken a vicious pleasure in leapfrogging Angus to associate, more still in laying him off when she was promoted to management. But there was no Marianne to share her victory with, and that hollowed out the joy. The life that should have been theirs was Jean’s alone.
Chapter Seven
Ava buzzes her in, and Jean gets the lift to the ninth floor. The door’s on the latch, so Jean lets herself in and locks it behind her. Ava’s working at the sunny little table, typing hell for leather.
‘Just give me a minute,’ she says without looking up. ‘And I’ll be right with you.’
