Wedding Night

but—”
    “You should hef gone yourrrself.” Gunter spits the words dismissively. “Wherrrre is your crrrredibility, Felicity? Wherrre is your rrrreputation?”
    As he stalks off, I secretly feel a bit shaken. As I lift my eyes to Gavin, my heart is pumping.
    “Well!” I try to sound lighthearted. “What an overreaction.”
    “Why didn’t you cover the Palm Stellar?” Gavin is frowning. “You review all major launches. That’s always been the deal.”
    “I decided to send Celia Davidson,” I say brightly, avoiding the question. “She’s a great writer.”
    “Why didn’t you cover the Palm Stellar?” he repeats, as though he hasn’t heard me.
    “I had some stuff going on with … with …” I clear my throat, unwilling to say the word. “Some personal stuff.”
    I watch as Gavin suddenly comprehends. “Your divorce?”
    I can’t bring myself to answer. I twist my watch round my wrist, as though suddenly interested in the mechanism.
    “Your divorce?” His voice sharpens ominously.
“Again?”
    My cheeks are burning with embarrassment. I know my divorce has taken on epic,
Lord of the Rings
–style proportions. I know it’s taken up more of my working time than it should have. I know I keep promising Gavin that it’s all done and dusted.
    But it’s not like I have a choice. And it’s not like it’s
fun
.
    “I was talking to a specialist barrister based in Edinburgh,” I admit at last. “I had to fly up there; his schedule was really busy—”
    “Felicity.” Gavin beckons me to one side of the corridor, and at the sight of his tight-lipped smile, my stomach turns over. That’s the smile he wears to cut salaries and budgets and tell people their magazine is unfortunately being axed, could they please leave the building? “Felicity, no one could be more sympathetic to your plight than me. You know that.”
    He’s such a liar. What does he know about divorce? He has a wife and a mistress, and neither of them seems to mind about the other.
    “Thank you, Gavin,” I feel obliged to say.
    “But you cannot let your divorce get in the way of your job or the reputation of Pincher International,” he raps out. “Understand?”
    Suddenly, for the first time, I feel genuinely nervous. I know from experience that Gavin starts invoking the “reputation of Pincher International” when he’s thinking of firing someone. It’s a warning.
    I also know from experience, the only way to deal with him is to refuse to admit anything.
    “Gavin.” I draw myself up as tall as possible and affect a dignified air. “Let me make one thing
quite
clear.” I pause, as though I’m David Cameron at Prime Minister’s Questions.“
Quite
clear. If there’s one thing I never,
ever
do, it’s let my personal life compromise my job. In fact—”
    “Pow!” An earsplitting shriek interrupts me. “Laser attack!”
    My blood freezes. That can’t be—
    Oh
no
.
    A familiar
rat-a-tat
sound assaults my ears. Orange plastic bullets are shooting through the air, hitting people in the face and landing in glasses of champagne. Noah is running down the corridor toward the atrium, laughing uproariously and firing all around him with his automatic Nerf gun. Fuck. Why didn’t I check his backpack?
    “Stop!” I launch myself at Noah, grab him by the collar, and snatch the plastic gun out of his hands. “Stop that! Gavin, I’m
so
sorry,” I add breathlessly. “Daniel was supposed to look after Noah tonight, but he left me in the lurch, and— Shit! Argh!”
    In my agitation, I’ve pressed some button on the Nerf gun, and it’s spraying more bullets out, like something out of
Reservoir Dogs
, hitting Gavin in the chest.
I’m massacring my boss with an automatic weapon
flashes through my mind.
This won’t look good in my appraisal
. The stream of bullets rises to his face and he splutters in horror.
    “Sorry!” I drop the gun on the floor. “I didn’t mean to shoot.…”
    With a shudder, I notice Gunter, ten feet away. There are three orange Nerf bullets lodged in his tufty white hair and one in his drink.
    “Gavin.” I swallow. “Gavin. I don’t know what to say—”
    “It was my fault,” Elise interrupts me hastily. “I was looking after Noah.”
    “But he shouldn’t have been at the office,” I point out. “So it’s
my
fault.”
    We turn to Gavin as though waiting for his verdict. He’s just staring at the scene, shaking his head.
    “Personal life. Job.” He meshes his hands