28. A Cunning Plan

Katie

Effy was lying face down on her belly flat out asleep. To be fair I had shagged her to within an inch of her life when we had finally gotten back to the hotel last night. I lay beside her propped up on one elbow watching her sleep, whilst re-running the events of last night on a loop in my head. I still couldn't quite believe it. The event that I had been dreading for weeks had come and gone, and her reaction had been so far beyond my wildest dreams I had to constantly remind myself that it wasn't in fact a dream. The love of my life had asked me to marry her. Effy had asked me to marry her. Ever since I had met her, she had been constantly surprising me, and it looked like that wasn't about to stop any time soon. The massive curveball she had hefted in all of our directions had effectively sideswiped any animosity from my family. Emily had found the whole thing hilarious, my dad appeared to have fallen in love with her and somewhat predictably, my pervy brother just wanted to shag her. Even my mother and her unfiltered xenophobia had been swayed by Effy's charms, and the fact that she wanted to make an honest woman of me, the thrill of a potential wedding outmatching her ingrained prejudices. I too had been stunned when I had seen that message in flames, but my every instinct had screamed at me to run straight into her arms and say yes.

You would have thought that having been so badly burned in the past I would have been more cautious, especially because of the short time we had known each other. And the fact that up until now our relationship had been based on a massive lie. It would have been logical to have given ourselves some breathing space, to make sure that our feelings were still the same now that everything was out in the open. But fuck logic, my heart was yelling at me far, far louder than my brain, and my heart belonged to Effy. I reached out and and ran my hand gently up and down her back, mesmerised by the soft texture of her delicate pale skin. Asleep, with her hair splayed out across the pillow, and her arm hung dead weight over the side of the bed, she looked innocent and fragile. It was hard to believe that she had once been such a voracious sexual predator, or that this slender body could spring into life and lug heavy pots in and out of the truck with aplomb. I continued to stare at her helplessly, as the physical manifestations of all the heavy emotions that were overtaking me played themselves out across my body. My nerve endings were tingling with such anticipation it felt like I was shooting sparks of electricity out into the atmosphere from my skin, and my muscles shook and spasmed as they struggled to contain the forces that ran through them. My stomach was swirling so violently I could have sworn I was at sea, and even though I had been awake in plenty of time, the idea of going for breakfast had seemed completely beyond me. Even without the fact that I could neither bear to wake Effy up nor even begin to entertain the idea of letting her wake up without me.

So I continued to gaze at her from the cocoon of my half-witted devotion as the minutes ticked by until the inevitable knock came on our door. I reluctantly dragged myself from the bed, and struggled into a half-hearted attempt at clothing, before opening the door to a slyly beaming Cook.

"Hey ho my luscious little lovebird," he said. "You guys ready to go and de-rig?"

"Not exactly," I said, pushing the door a little further open so he could see Effy's prone unconscious figure on the bed.

"Katiekins, you dog," he grinned at me. "What did you do to the poor girl?"

"I may have been showing her my appreciation," I shrugged.

"All fucking night by the looks of it," he smirked.

"I love her," I declared, as if the effort of holding it in had finally become too much for me, and I had to express myself to anyone who would listen.

"I know you do sweetheart," said Cook, pulling me into one of his big animal hugs.

"I couldn't bear to wake her up," I said.

"Tell you what, me and Thommo will go and make a start, and you girls can come and join us when you're ready," he offered.

"I should come with you," I said. "I already missed out on the rigging."

"Are you really going to let her wake up on her own the night after she proposes to you?" he asked. "I don't fucking think so, I won't let you."

"But…" I said helplessly.

"It's cool," replied Cook releasing me from the embrace. "Let's call it an engagement present."

I let him go without an argument. What else could I do? I could no sooner have cut off my own arm than left her alone right then. I slipped back into bed beside her and wrapped my arm around her waist, laying my head down beneath her shoulder blades and listening to her heartbeat through her back. I must have dozed off again in the comfort of being wrapped around her, for the next thing that I knew was the feeling of her fingers intertwined with mine, and the sound of her voice telling me she loved me. Once more, I felt a physical explosion inside of me. It was unspeakable, a thing that I could not describe in words. It was passion, but so much more than mere lust. Feeling so close and so connected to her was everything I needed from this moment, and if I had to choose one moment from my life to live over and over again, it would be this one. Beyond sex, beyond work, beyond friendship, beyond all things in the normal realms of human life, what I felt and shared with Effy was supernatural, a thing of unfathomable loveliness crafted in the realms of the gods.

"So, do you still want to marry me?" murmured Effy.

"Oh fuck yeah," I replied.

.

.

.

Several days later it was all change back at the barn. Freddie was gone. He had taken some things before we'd got back, and he'd sent his Dad round to get the rest. Part of me still felt guilty at destroying his life so comprehensively, but I never held onto it for very long. It was easily overshadowed by the great swirlings of joy that would suddenly leap out at me at any time of the day or night. I could finally accede to Effy's wish for me to live with her, and Cook and Thommo had been helping me shift stuff from my flat. I put the kettle on as they brought the last of the boxes in, and wandered upstairs to see if I could find Eff. She was staring at her computer screen without making any effort to interact with it. Instead she reached across her desk for her pack of cigarettes and lit one from the butt of the one that had been dangling from her mouth. She must have heard me sighing, because she span around in her executive chair and looked me up and down.

"Disapproving of me already, Katie?" she asked.

"No, I answered quickly. I had to accept that smoking would always be a part of who Effy was, but it did worry me when she literally went at it full pelt. I always wondered if it signified the start of another attack.

"Are you, ok?" I asked her. "Have you taken your pills?"

"I'm fine," she said, reaching out her hand so I was compelled to go and sit on her lap. "The pills are working. I feel much better now."

She span us back round and indicated the screen of her computer.

"It's just all of this," she said, waving her hand over a screen full of emails. "I just don't know how I'm going to manage it all without Freddie. I'm not exactly cut out for admin, none of us are. Seriously, can you imagine me trying to talk to clients on the phone? I'm not exactly chatty at the best of times."

"Well I've been meaning to talk to you about that," I said kissing her gorgeous forehead. "I have plans for us."

"I see," grinned Effy, grateful for the distraction. "And do any of these plans involve you and me naked with a meringue based pudding any time soon?"

"They might do," I smirked. "But those are private plans, I'm talking about business plans."

"Enlighten me," said Effy.

"I want to come and work for you," I said. "I'll do all of the admin, the PR and all of that bollocks. I'm really good at it."

"But what about Fitchtastic?" she frowned. "I don't want to become your family's enemy all over again."

"I've already spoken to them about it," I said. "The problem has been with us competing for the same markets. If I can move us up a notch, target more high-profile gigs then I'll be doing us all a favour."

"I'd love you to come and work with us," said Effy, giving me a little squeeze. "And God knows I need you. But as for the other stuff, doesn't that take money? I'm not sure we can afford to pour a lot of cash into promotion right now. Sure it's been a better year than I expected already, but we have loans to pay off, overheads to take care of and we're not exactly swimming in it."

"Which is why I think we need a backer," I explained.

"Really?" said Effy sceptically. "I'm not sure about getting into any more debt."

"It's not debt, it's investment," I said. "From someone who believes in the company's future, and if I play this right they'll get a return on their money within no time. Trust me Effy, I've got the skills and the contacts. I can make this happen."

"Ok," she said hesitantly. "Did you have anyone in mind?"

"Well, I thought that your mum might…"

"No," said Effy forcefully.

"But,"

"No," she insisted. "Absolutely not. I came over here to prove myself on my own. I can't do that if I keep running back to mummy. I'm sorry, Katie, but it's important to me. You'll have to find someone else."

"So you're not against the idea altogether?" I asked her.

"Not entirely," she admitted. "But I'd have to really trust whoever it was, this is more than just a business for me. It's my dream."

"I know baby, I know," I said, holding her close. "I promise I'll look after you."

.

.

When the idea had finally struck it had been so very fucking perfect, I wondered why I hadn't thought of it sooner. The entire plan was a marketing fucking dream. I called an old friend from Paris to make sure it was a goer, before rocking up one rainy afternoon at Emily and Naomi's swanky Camden flat.

"Jesus Katie, come in," said Naomi, when she saw my somewhat bedraggled state.

"Yeah, it is a little damp out there," I shrugged.

There was a time when I would have been appalled if something as trivial as the elements had fucked with my perfectly prepared appearance, but I was becoming increasingly reacquainted with muddy fields, and a girl who loved me regardless of what I looked like.

"Do you want a cup of tea," offered Naomi, taking my wet coat. "I'm afraid Emily's not here, she's.."

"In Budapest, I know," I said. "I didn't come to see Emily, I came to see you."

"Oh God," she groaned. "Is it some kind of Fitch family conspiracy? What am I getting myself into now?"

"God paranoid much," I laughed at her. "Relax, I have a proposition for you."

Naomi's eyes widened and she looked far from relaxed.

"Christ Campbell, it's a business proposition you idiot," I scoffed. "Your body ain't that special."

"Thousands of paying customers would beg to differ," she smirked.

"Whatever bitch," I scowled.

"Have to say, your business pitching style is admirable," she said sarcastically. "I'm convinced already."

"Look, I'm not going to bullshit you of all people," I said. "Le Coeur Explosif needs an investor to help us reach the next level, and I think you're it"

Naomi smiled to herself as if remembering something.

"Effy's a great girl," she said. "And seriously talented. I like her a lot, but if this is business as you say, what's in it for me?"

"Money," I replied. "And lots of it."

"How so?" she asked me. "Fireworks can't be that lucrative."

"Do you have a perfume?" I asked her.

"I've got lots of perfumes," she frowned at me.

"No," I grinned. "Do you have a perfume?"

"Oh," she said suddenly twigging what I meant. "No."

"Picture this," I said, sweeping my hand across the room for emphasis. "'Detonate' by Diamond. Emily makes the advert, which has you looking fucking drop dead gorgeous in the middle of a bunch of Effy's pyros. It's dangerous, it's edgy, it's a sure fire fucking winner. I have a friend in a Paris perfumerie who's itching to create a scent for you. If we move on it now, we'll be able to launch it for Christmas. Your profile's still on the rise right now. You'll make a fucking fortune."

"And I'm guessing your cut goes back into helping Effy," said Naomi. "You know, that brain of yours is wasted in pyrotechnics. You should come back to fashion, or at the very least come and handle my PR."

"It's where I want to be," I said.

And for the first time since I had lost my job in Paris, I meant it.

"Give your man a call," said Naomi. "I'll run it by Ems, but if she's up for it, I'm in."