thought loved her back, define who she was, and what she could be. This was her life and she was going to take it by the horns and own it.
She’d picked up her full glass and poured it into the sink, mesmerized by the swirls of dark burgundy as the water carried what had become her cornerstone away. Surprised by the power that surged through her as she did so, she systematically opened the remaining six bottles, some she’d only bought earlier that day, and drained them.
When she went up to bed, her tablets, which made her sleep just that little bit easier and smoothed out the rough edges of her paranoia, called out to her from where she hid them behind the bubble bath she never used in her medicine cabinet. She allowed them to goad her for a little while as she alternated between looking at them, thinking she needed them, to looking at herself in the mirror and knowing she didn’t.
She credits both those decisions with how in control she feels this morning, and the team seem buoyed by this new sense of confidence and authority. Everybody, it seems, apart from Nathan, who is still sitting there in a haze of confusion.
‘I’m also going to organize some meetings with fabric houses and furniture makers,’ Alice goes on. ‘See if we can make some new contacts, build new relationships. We’re going to need people onside once we get started.’
‘Oh my God, I am so up for this,’ says Lottie, beaming from ear to ear.
Alice returns her smile. ‘Okay, let’s get to work.’
The team gather their things and head back to their desks. Only Nathan remains, which Alice isn’t remotely surprised about.
‘Since when are you making executive decisions like that without consulting with me?’
Alice doesn’t look up from her computer screen. ‘Since I remembered that I own this company.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ he asks, standing in front of her with his hands burrowed deep into his trouser pockets. ‘Are we going to harp on about Tom again? The prodigal son who so thanklessly put his inheritance into setting up AT Designs?’
Alice looks at him with a smile, immune to the barbed snipe. He can say what he likes about Tom now – she doesn’t care. But she will not let it be implied that without him she wouldn’t be where she is today. For the first time, she allows herself to wonder if she might’ve even gone further without the men in her life, both seemingly intent on holding her back.
‘Tom may have put the start-up money in,’ says Alice calmly, ‘but I have worked my arse off to get this company to where it is today. We wouldn’t have the house, the cars – even the expensive shoes you’re standing in – if it wasn’t for me. Nobody has put more into AT Designs than I have. And if that threatens you Nathan, then I suggest you start thinking about what else you might like to do.’
Alice thinks she sees a flash of vitriol darken his features, but his expression quickly changes to one of bemusement, which riles her even more.
‘I’m going to get a sandwich,’ he says.
‘You do that,’ says Alice.
As soon as his back is turned, she lets out the air that she’d held in to bolster herself up. Those swallowed breaths that give you extra confidence and stop your nerves from jangling, at least not loud enough for anyone else to hear.
She watches as he disappears from view, picks up her phone and scrolls through until she finds the number for Liz, her old solicitor. The one who dealt with Tom’s estate, and the one who advised her to get a pre-nup before marrying Nathan.
‘Alice, how are you?’ Liz asks warmly. Her voice immediately takes Alice to those dark days after Tom died. If it had been this time last month, she would’ve allowed herself to be transported back there, to wallow in the mire, but not today.
‘I’m well,’ she says. ‘How are you?’
‘Busy, but when are we not?’ She gives a little laugh. ‘What’s going on with you? It’s been a while. What is it? Six years?’
‘About that, yes.’
‘And how is Sophia and little Olivia?’ Alice feels touched that she remembers the names of her children. ‘Not so little any more, I bet?’
‘Livvy’s nine going on twenty-four, and Sophia is everything you’d expect a fifteen-year-old girl to be,’ says Alice. She can’t for the life of her remember Liz’s children’s names and