Grace began to speak, but Douglas shook his head. ‘I was being ironic, Grace. Any ideas?’ he said, looking from Amy to Juliet. ‘You get on with William. What would he like? Preferably something we can get biked over within the next forty-five minutes, before he’s scheduled to make his speech.’
‘Forty-five minutes?’ said Amy glancing at her watch. Half past seven: it was very unlikely any fashion PRs would still be at their desks, so no favours could be called in.
/> ‘Anything,’ said Douglas, a note of pleading in his voice. ‘A suitcase, a cigar cutter, even a silk tie, just as long as we’ve got something to present him with.’
‘I can send our fashion director to Selfridges. She has excellent taste,’ said Juliet quickly.
Douglas shook his head. ‘She’ll never get there and back in time.’
‘Then we can put back the speeches,’ suggested Amy, her mind searching for a solution.
‘Can’t. Marv has to leave for Paris at nine.’
Amy looked back at the party, where William was deep in conversation with Marv Schultz. She pulled out her mobile and nodded to Douglas. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Juliet disappeared to find Carlo, her luxury editor, to see if he could rustle something up within the hour. Amy stood in the foyer and hit her address book, mostly coming up against annoyingly breezy recorded messages or numbers that just rang out into the void. A call to Berry Bros, the exclusive vintner’s in St James’s, was more promising. They were closing soon but could bike over a case of good Bordeaux immediately and arrange for William to spend an afternoon with the fine wine team at a date of his convenience. He would love that, she felt sure. It was job done, unless Juliet could come up with something even better.
Catching Douglas’s eye, she gave a discreet thumbs-up and flashed her hands open and closed to signify twenty minutes. She doubted if it was possible to get from Pall Mall to South Bank that quickly in rush-hour traffic, but Douglas was close to having a coronary and she wanted to calm him down.
She felt a tap on the shoulder and spun round, wondering if Berry Bros had worked miracles, but it was only Josie.
‘I think I’ll be off now. Unless you need me to do anything.’
‘Actually, I do need something,’ she said, filling her in on William’s missing present. ‘I’ve got a replacement gift on its way. It will probably come gift-wrapped, but just in case, I need you to go to the office, pick up ribbon, tissue paper, anything you can find. Quickly,’ she added as Josie ran obediently out of the restaurant.
Amy returned to the party and was swept into a gaggle of advertisers whom she greeted with a broad and welcoming smile, instantly indulging in easy small talk that belied the behind-the-scenes panic that was going on. She was not a naturally gregarious person; didn’t know the precise moment she had learnt to switch on the charm, although it had struck her recently, when she had met Karen, that it was probably not the countless hours at fashion dinners and product launches that had done it. At Oxford, when she’d worked at the Bear, she’d mixed with some of the grandest students from Christ Church, Oriel and Magdalen, students who thought nothing of coming for a drink in white tie, tweed or subfusc, students who seemed a world away from her friends down the road at Oxford Brookes.
She felt a presence at her shoulder. ‘Any luck?’ whispered a voice.
She peeled away from the group to talk to Juliet.
‘A case of fine wine to present him now and a tasting experience in the cellars of Berry Bros. And you?’
‘A set of luggage. Maybe,’ Juliet said. ‘Or whatever Carlo can rustle up from the office.’
‘Why do I suddenly feel as if I’m on an episode of The Generation Game?’
‘Grace needs sacking for this,’ said Juliet with a faint flare of her nostrils.
‘It wasn’t her fault.’
‘Really? The present was her responsibility. How she could have let it get to seven p.m. until she started panicking is beyond me.’
‘So when’s the luggage coming?’ asked Amy, looking around for another drink.
‘I don’t know,’ said Juliet with an irritation that said she was anxious not to fail her boss. ‘And the wine?’
Amy gave a soft, resigned chuckle. ‘You know, maybe William will see the funny side of it if we come clean.’
‘Maybe. But Marv Schultz isn’t known for his sense of humour.’
‘Miss Shepherd?’
Amy turned to face the voice.
‘I’ve got a delivery for you.’
She’d been expecting a courier in bike leathers rather than a fifty-something crook-backed man in a green fleece, but she was just glad to see that he was holding a large cardboard box.