Page 27 of Bad Influence
‘But that ambition and drive,’ he said, earnestly, ‘do I still have that?’ He bowed his head.
I cupped my hand around the side of his face and pulled him a little closer to me. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I mean that I’m not going places anymore, am I? And I’m not sure how to get that drive back.’
‘If you’re talking about your job at the moment,’ I said, ‘what’s happened with the show really sucks. But it’s not your fault, and nor does it define you, or your career, in any way.’
‘But it’s not very attractive,’ he muttered.
‘Rob, we’re well past the first impressions stage now.’
‘I know. I’m sorry, I just feel a bit shit about my life at the moment,’ he said forlornly, moving a stray piece of hair away from my face.
‘I know how it feels. Just last week I was feeling the same about Selfridges, but things can change so quickly. Try to keep positive.’
‘I’m so pleased for you, baby. This opportunity, it’s great for you.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, looking him square in the eyes. ‘But remember, a job isn’t your whole life. And one thing I have learnt is that nobody has it completely worked out all the time. Especially not me. How could I ask that of you? I never would.’
He smiled again. ‘You’re special Amber Green. I’m a lucky man.’
‘I’m the lucky one,’ I said, squeezing his arm. ‘Now. It’s time to maximise the remaining few hours we have left. So,let’s do something that is guaranteed to make us feel really,reallygood.’ I smiled at him.
‘Go back to bed?’ he asked wickedly.
‘Buy two tubs of ice cream, eat them on the sofa, and get an early night.’
‘Rock and roll,’ he purred. We took the last sip of our beers. ‘That sounds perfect.’
Chapter Seven
WEEK ONE
The next morning, we made a coffee each for the car, and Rob and I set off to drop me at Mandy’s Surrey Hills mansion. Thirty miles down the A3 motorway from London, it took just over an hour, a journey little more than it could sometimes take to get across London on public transport. This made it easier to cope with, we thought, it wasn’t too far.
It was a gloomy day and it rained non-stop as we drove slowly down a long lane, flanked by elegant old sycamore trees. The house stood back from the road, and a wooden sign stuck into the ground, which said ‘Gables Manor’, informed us that we were in the right place.
There were tall hedges all around the front façade, obscuring the building from immediate view. High wooden gates and fencing around the front gave it an unwelcoming impression – it seemed the kind of house that would keep people out rather than invite them in.
Rob pulled over in front of the gates to drop me off, as instructed.
‘So, this is it,’ he said, as he turned off the engine.
I swallowed a lump in my throat.
‘You got this,’ he added, sensing my nervousness about what I was walking into.
I opened the car door and battled to open my umbrella before it ruined my hair, which I had carefully straightened this morning. Rob popped the boot and dashed around the side of the car to lift out my heavy case, which he did in silence.
I turned to look at him and felt swamped with emotion.
‘I love you,’ I said, fighting back a few tears which had unexpectedly sprung into my eyes.
‘I love you too.’ He looked at me affectionately.
‘Remind me – what am I doing here?’ I asked.
‘What you do best,’ he said fondly.
