Page 21 of Pride and Privilege

“Oh, this again?” he said, voice heating with some shameful mix of hurt, embarrassment, frustration. Insecurity. “What was it you said? Golf and polo and rowing?”

“You really have no idea, do you?”

“Actually, I have an extremely good idea what you think of me.”

“That you’re entitled and privileged and take everything for granted?”

“I’ve worked hard, Poppy. You might be disappointed to learn that you can’t exactly sleep your way into an MBA. Doesn’t quite work that way at Cambridge either.”

“So maybe you had to jump through some hoops to get here, but most people don’t even get access to those hoops!”

“What does that even mean?”

“Do you seriously think everyone gets the chance to go to Cambridge? Get educated at Harrow like you? And that…that playing sport and making friends with all those guys who arenow going into business, politics, finance, isn’t helpful to you at all? Your connections, your accent, your upbringing, the way you can be in a room with rich, powerful people and feel they’re your social equals, know how to talk to them… You think none of that gives you an advantage?”

He breathed a laugh of irritation. “We’re both just people, Poppy. We both went to school, got educated, and now we’re both here, at BG, doing our jobs. I don’t really see how I’m so different to you.”

It was her turn to scoff. She nodded at the bag on his desk. “That’s how we’re different.”

“Takeaway food?”

“You have food. And I don’t. It’s a fairly fundamental difference.”

“If you’re hungry, just order some in. I know it’s not strictly company policy, but no one’s going to report you.”

She gave a hollow laugh. “Ican’torder it in. That’s the whole point. I have no money.”

“So pay with card.”

“I. Have. No. Money.”

She held his eyes for a moment, then seemed to give up looking for whatever it was she hoped to see there.

“Why am I bothering?” She shook her head. “You’ll never understand.”

She pushed herself up from her chair, turned on her heel, and promptly fainted.

TEN

“Shit! Poppy!”

Roscoe flung himself around the desk and onto his knees at Poppy’s side. He reached out for her, but she was already stirring, trying to sit up. He put an arm around her shoulders, felt how weak she was against him, trembling slightly, a hand pressed to her face. “Shit, shit…” she mumbled.

“What happened? Are you OK?”

“Low blood sugar, I guess.”

“You’re diabetic?”

“No. Just…hungry.”

She still had a hand to her face, over her eyes, breathing slow, deliberate breaths to steady herself. Although each one shook. “I should…”

“No, don’t stand.” He shifted position slightly, slipped his other arm under her legs and lifted her up, then carried her to the little sofa in the corner of his office. She made some noise of embarrassed protest, but he was already putting her down,setting her back against the sofa cushion. “Just sit. Take a moment. I’ll get you some water.”

There was a sideboard near the sofa area, a mini-fridge on one end of it. He normally hated the humming sound it made, but now he was grateful to have it. He set a glass of water down on the coffee table, then got a cereal bar out of his desk drawer.

“Eat this. It’ll get your blood sugar up.”

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