‘We already have an Instagram account,’ I said defensively, ‘not as many followers as you, but we do okay. And I ask questions… interact.’ I offered, a lone voice in the wilderness. ‘I just don’t have the time to do it every day – I’ve been running the social media on my days off.’
‘Yeah – I’ve seen your social media. And, er, no offence, Clare, but… well, days off? I mean, this isn’t something a company should be doing part-time in between the washing and cooking.’
I flushed slightly at this. ‘I work actually – I’m a nurse,’ I added defensively. ‘I work full-time in long shifts. I couldn’t possibly do any more on the website than I already do.’ I was trying to stay calm and not allow my voice to give away my irritation and upset at her remark.
‘Exactly, you’re busy doing other stuff… and sounds to me like you’re doing enough as it is,’ she said, in what I felt was a slightly patronising way. ‘No, Clare, you’re making a real effort, and gosh… all while working as a nurse? All those beds to make… you must be exhausted. But really guys, the website needs to be professionally managed, it isn’t a hobby. No offence, Clare.’
No offence? I took deep offence, but stopped myself from saying anything.
‘… polished, more interactive, Taylor’s needs to be attracting bigger clients.’ She was still talking. ‘And those clients who want bigger buildings… beautiful buildings.’
‘I agree in essence Ella,’ I said, still perched on the arm of Dan’s chair. ‘But we’re a small company, we do need someone but we can’t afford to pay them ,’ I explained, waiting for Dan to agree with me; after all I was only repeating what he’d always said.
‘You can’t afford to pay someone because your social media’s so bad you aren’t getting enough customers,’ she sighed, like she’d told me this so many times she was bored.
‘Yeah, but we don’t have a huge following because most of our clients don’t use Instagram. They probably don’t even know what it is,’ I added, knowing I should just be quiet and leave it, but feeling rather bruised by her criticism. I looked around for some kind of confirmation of what I’d just said, but again no one said a word, and Dan was staring so intently at Ella, I don’t even think he heard me.
‘Oh Clare,’ she said, like I’d just made the most ludicrous statement. ‘If most of our clients don’t know what Instagram is – might I suggest we start looking for some new ones?’
‘I’m sorry but—’ I started.
‘Just hear Ella out,’ Jamie said, and no one argued. I glanced around at my family, trying to gauge their reaction to this. Dan was enthralled, Joy’s face was a blank mask and Bob just looked confused.
Ella gave Jamie a ‘thank you’ smile and turned to me. ‘Look, Clare, I don’t blame you for the fact the social media isn’t working, but a company like Taylor’s needs a… younger, more fresh approach. We need new ideas, faster thinking.’ She spoke softly, like she was explaining something complicated to a child. ‘You don’t want to be the one that’s left behind, do you?’ There was something in the way she said this that felt like she wasn’t just talking about the importance of social media.
Jamie was nodding in agreement as she flicked her hair. I’d done my best helping out with the family business, but perhaps my best hadn’t been good enough? Neither Dan, Bob nor Joy were sticking up for me. Maybe they all thought Ella was right, they needed someone younger, with fresh ideas, someone like Ella. Maybe Ella was right and maybe, just maybe I was taking all this too personally. Ella was trying to help, and who was I to say what would work and what didn’t? She was the expert.
‘Okay.’ I smiled, getting up from the arm of Dan’s chair. ‘I think we all want a work-free, carefree holiday, so can we just talk sun cream and gin?’ I asked. ‘And, talking of which, who wants another drink?’
‘What a lovely idea,’ Joy said, relief flooding her voice as Ella glanced at Jamie who put a steadying hand on her arm.
Everyone wanted another drink, and as I poured and passed them round, I tried not to show any signs of the bashing I’d just been given in front of everyone. I hoped this was just early teething problems, people getting to know and understand each other. I hoped that maybe there was some simple explanation for what I’d seen with Joy’s earrings. Maybe once I’d got to know Ella better, we could think back to this first meeting and laugh about it? I hoped that we could be friends, sisters even. I had no family of my own, that’s why the Taylor’s were so precious to me.
After my father was killed, any semblance of family was obliterated. I was old enough to remember my father, and I knew my life would have been richer if he’d been around longer. Even as a little girl, he’d tell me stories and share ideas I was perhaps too young to grasp the full meaning of, but later I appreciated his life lessons. One of my favourite ‘stories’ was the one about the butterfly. ‘Tell me about the butterfly, Dad,’ I’d ask. And he’d smile and tell me how a butterfly flapping its wings in New Mexico could eventually cause a hurricane in China. I loved this idea and we played this game where we added our own theories of what might happen all over the world. I know now it was more than a game: My dad was also teaching me – telling me to be responsible for my actions, and be aware of the impact of what I did. ‘Life is about consequences, Clare. Everything you do will have an effect on someone, somewhere, just like that butterfly,’ he’d say. I didn’t understand what he was telling me then, but as I grew older, it made sense to me. And last summer, after everything that happened, I was made even more aware of the consequences of our actions, how the faintest flutter of a butterfly’s wings can lead to unimaginable things.
Chapter Seven
In the few days before Ella and Jamie had arrived, I’d enjoyed going down onto the terrace each morning at about six thirty, before anyone else was up. It was perfect, so quiet, the pool and the trees so still, the birds slowly awakening, everything new and fresh and untouched. I’d make a pot of real Italian coffee on the stove, grab my book and a chair and just sit there enjoying the quiet. It was a part of the day that felt precious to me, so on the morning after Ella and Jamie arrived, I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed to step outside with my coffee to see Ella already on the terrace. She looked stunning in coral pink Lycra and, what’s more, she was bending over touching her toes – something I hadn’t been able to do since about 1998.
‘Oh, I didn’t expect anyone to be here,’ I said, and Ella immediately shot up.
‘You made me jump, Clare,’ she laughed.
‘Sorry,’ I said, sitting down at the table, putting my coffee down, my book already waiting.
She looked great, no bags under her eyes, and even without make-up, her skin was flawless, not a line or crease. Her nails were now shiny cappuccino, and I couldn’t help it, my eyes strayed down to mine, what could only be described as an angry coral. The colour had looked lovely and summery when I bought it from Boots and painted it on a couple of nights ago, but her sophisticated, shiny cappuccino polish put mine to shame.