energetic or Lucy wouldn’t be able to participate. And while Adrian might be able to splash out on a ten-course tasting menu at some super fancy restaurant I had never even heard of, I was on a tight budget if I ever wanted to live somewhere that wasn’t a shed. I needed something fun but not too physically demanding. Affordable but still exciting. Something that would make Sumi so happy, she’d forget to be shitty to Patrick and they would end the night as BFFs.
‘Piece of piss,’ I whispered to myself as I scrolled through my options. ‘It’s going to be the best birthday ever.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Second Chances was full of inspirational advice on how to open yourself up to new opportunities and allow magic into your life. What it was not so good at was telling you how to do so when you were trapped in the bowels of your office with no natural light and a rancid stench that crept in through the walls and was in no way improved by the addition of half a can of air freshener.
‘Ready for the big meeting?’ Ted said, knocking on the studio door before letting himself in. ‘Our boy’ll be here in two minutes.’
‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ I agreed as I gathered my notes and knocked four empty cans of sugar-free Red Bull into the bin. I’d spent my first week deep in prep but today was the big day. I was finally meeting Snazzlechuff.
‘Come on, we’d better be in the meeting room when they get here, his agent doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’ The corner of Ted’s mouth flickered.
‘What’s the agent like?’ I asked as we climbed the stairs.
‘Impressive,’ he replied.
‘That’s an interesting way to describe someone,’ I said as we emerged back into daylight. I took a deep breath in, slightly relieved to discover the world was still there.
‘Wait until you meet her,’ Ted said, holding open the meeting room door and waving me inside. ‘I think that’s their car outside.’
I looked out the meeting room window to see a huge white Range Rover pulling into the alley down the side of the building.
Ted frisked his oversized hoodie for imaginary crumbs and took a deep breath in.
‘I’ll go and get them. Get ready, Ros, your life is about to change forever.’
I rolled my eyes as I helped myself to a Hobnob from the plate in the middle of the table. The meeting room was nice, big, airy. Just the sort of room in which you’d like to spend eight hours of your day, five days a week, rather than a mouldering pit. According to the pop art painting on the wall, this was the Alexander Graham Bell room. All the PodPad meeting rooms were named after icons of telecommunications: Bell, Samuel Morse, Guglielmo Marconi and, for reasons best known to someone who was not me, Keith Chegwin. Every time I walked past his meeting room, with its bright Cheggers mural on the wall, I couldn’t help but shudder.
‘Ros Reynolds, are you ready to meet a superstar?’ Ted shouted from outside the door. I stood up then sat down then stood back up. What was the correct protocol for meeting internet-famous children? I felt like Mary Poppins without the magic bag. Or the chimney sweep. Or the songs. I didn’t feel that much like Mary Poppins.
Ted flung the door wide, an enormous smile on his face as he ushered in a furious-looking woman with the biggest white leather handbag I had ever seen on her shoulder and a coffee the size of a fire extinguisher in her hand. She had to be the impressive agent. She was followed by a sad-faced man holding a set of car keys in one hand and a four-pack of full-sugar Red Bull in the other. Bringing up the rear of the strange party, was what I assumed to be a Snazzlechuff. He was a shortish human in blinding white jogging bottoms, matching oversized track jacket and enough gold chains to weigh him down to the bottom of the Thames tottered in behind the adults. The outfit alone would have been disturbing enough but, perched on his shoulders was a bizarrely lifelike, furry panda head.
‘This, is Snazzlechuff,’ Ted breathed, holding out his arm as though he were presenting the Christ child.
‘Hey,’ squeaked the panda.
‘Hi,’ I replied, not sure whether to shake his hand or call social services. ‘I’m Ros.’
‘Snazzlechuff,’ he replied, as though he could be anyone else. ‘You can call me Snazz