Page 22 of The Importance of Being Emma
‘I’m after something inspiring that the target audience can identify with,’ I went on. ‘I can’t think what, though.’
Just then, Philip came in carrying a bright blue tray.
Harriet pointed at it and shrieked, ‘Blimp! Have you got any Groggy as well?’
I groaned inwardly; the Ikea name game was really getting on my nerves. ‘Philip,’ I said hurriedly, ‘any suggestions for our strapline? You know the sort of thing — “let Harriet’s Secret Recipes save your day!” Obviously, that’s not very inspiring, but I’m sure you get the picture.’
Philip handed each of us a mug of tea and settled himself on what passed for a sofa. ‘What you’re alluding to with this new range is freedom for a certain type of woman, someone who feels constrained by the demands of life today. As you so eloquently said at that first Board meeting, she’s juggling work and family and entertaining — and wanting to do it all perfectly. She needs to be released from her inhibitions, given the means to explore her adventurous side.’
That last bit sounded like some sort of sexual fantasy; I wondered whether to go straight home and leave him and Harriet to it. But I couldn’t resist prompting him further. ‘I think you may have something there, go on.’
He looked straight at me, his eyes glittering. ‘You see, Emma, the woman I’m thinking about is trapped by routine, burdened by responsibility, repressed by other people’s expectations. What she craves is — emancipation. Or rather — ema-ncipation!’ For some reason, he paused after the first two syllables and gave a mysterious smile.
I frowned. ‘Emancipation . . . Emancipation . . . No, not snappy enough.’
He leaned forward and said in a husky voice, ‘How about “Get ema-ncipated in the kitchen . . . with Harriet’s Secret Recipes”?’
I laughed. ‘D’you know, that’s not bad at all, it’ll definitely do until I find something better, which may not happen before the focus groups. So thank you, Philip.’ I picked up my handbag and got to my feet. ‘Well, I must be going, just need my camera, wherever that is.’
Harriet stood up too. ‘It’s upstairs, I’ll get it for you.’
She dashed out of the room. I went to follow her, but Philip blocked my path. His face was flushed and he was almost panting. ‘Emma, I’m only too happy to help Marketing out in any way I can, any wayat all. And that strapline’ — he grinned, unpleasantly — ‘I’m sure it won’t take someone as clever as you very long to work out that it contains the name of my ideal woman—’
‘It’s glaringly obvious,’ I put in, with a pitying look, ‘even Harriet—’ I stopped as she came back into the room with my camera. ‘Thank you, Harriet, why don’t you stay and help Philip print those extra hard copies we discussed?’
Philip stepped away from me with a scowl. ‘Unfortunately, I have to go out now. And anyway, you need to take Harriet back to Hartfield to get her car.’
‘And the flowers,’ Harriet added. ‘I might have to borrow a vase thingy from you, Emma, there’s nothing like that at my house.’
I sighed. I felt like knocking their heads together, but on the other hand I was delighted at the way matters were progressing. ‘Come along then, Harriet. Thank you so much, Philip, see you tomorrow.’
‘I hope so, Emma. ’Bye, Harriet.’
As I drove off, I checked the mirror and saw him standing at his front door, gazing wistfully after us.
‘A very long but successful day,’ I said. ‘We’ve got our photos taken and printed off and we’ve even got a strapline. “Get emancipated in the kitchen . . . with Harriet’s Secret Recipes.” It’s growing on me.’ I paused. ‘While you were out of the room, Philip told me it contains the name of his ideal woman. He had the nerve to say it wouldn’t take me long to work it out. I mean, Harriet’s Secret Recipes — duh!’
Harriet said slowly, ‘But don’t you remember? Whenhesaid it, he made “emancipated” sound so-o-o like “Emma-ncipated”. So couldn’t he mean you?’
I burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Harriet, really! You’ll be saying next that he brought that huge bunch of flowers to give tome. You’re far too modest for your own good, you know.’
She giggled. ‘Oh, you’re right, silly me, I wish I was clever like you, Emma.’ She hesitated, then went on, ‘By the way, did I tell you I’m going out with Rob tonight? So I couldn’t have stayed at Philip’s anyway.’
It was an effort, but I said nothing. I made up my mind, though, to move things up a gear on the matchmaking front. Philip was obviously interested; I just had to get any notions about Robert Martin out of Harriet’s head and suggest to her that, in my humble opinion, Philip was far superior.
Harriet didn’t need to be clever; she had me to do all the brain work for her.
* * *
~~MARK~~
After Hartfield, I went to Abbey Mill Haulage to discuss the latest food transportation directive with Rob Martin. We sat drinking tea in his office, putting the European Union to rights and regretting that it was run by politicians rather than sensible people like us.
I liked Rob a lot. His bulk — he was built like the proverbial brick shithouse — and stern, craggy features put people off, but to me he was just a gentle giant.
When I mentioned I’d been at the photo shoot, his face lit up. ‘Harriet’s telling me all about it tonight. We’re going on our third date and I’m really looking forward to it.’ He gave me an anxious look. ‘How did she get on today?’
‘She did as well as could be expected, given the limitations of the photographer.’
