Ajay leads us into his office. The walls are lined with beautiful landscape photographs in frames that we sell. The photographs were all taken by Ajay: Tuscan hills, the jagged mountains of the Dolomites and the Amsterdam canals. But mostly, they are vistas of the green, rolling hills of the South Downs throughout the seasons, and the atmospheric lights caught in the woodlands surrounding Horsham. Ajay is an accomplished photographer. On top of his silver filing cabinet are three photographs of Marianne and their kids.
He waves his hand at the two chairs in front of his desk and shuts the door firmly behind him. I feel as if we’re the naughty kids being brought in for a dressing-down from the headmaster.
‘This has got to stop,’ Ajay says as he sinks into his swivel chair with a sigh. ‘Your warring is killing off the business. If Lydia gives an instruction, you, Adam, cancel it. If Adam says we need to tighten the purse strings, you, Lydia, opt for expansion. Do you know how many staff we have lost in the past two months?’
Adam is staring out of the window. I shake my head meekly.
‘Seven. Two store managers, four from head office here, and this morning, Joe, Adam’s deputy, gave us three months’ notice. We have lost more people in the past month than we did in the whole of the previous three years. The atmosphere in the office is horrendous, staff morale is at its all-time lowest, and we’re about to have our second loss-making quarter in a row. And do you know why that is?’
‘Declining economy and political mayhem,’ Adam says, with narrowed eyes.
‘That doesn’t help, but the real reason is your warring. It’s killing Cracking Crafts.’
Adam stands up suddenly, knocking his chair backwards. He places the palms of his hands onto Ajay’s desk and leans forwards. ‘You’re being melodramatic. Our relationship is our business and no one else’s. Do you understand?’
‘Surely you get what–’
But Adam doesn’t let Ajay finish his sentence. He storms out of the office, slamming Ajay’s door behind him.
Ajay closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. I right the chair that Adam knocked over.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘It’s an impossible situation.’
Ajay looks at me. I see pity in his dark eyes and a weariness in his sallow face. ‘You need to sort it, Lydia. At this rate, one or the other of you will have to go. You need to be civilised to each other; put the interests of the business above your personal quarrels.’
‘I know,’ I say softly.
I gaze out towards the car park. Adam’s Bentley Continental speeds from his parking space, and it’s only the impressive power of the car that stops it from screeching and spinning as he turns at high speed onto the exit road.
‘He’s gone. Let’s go back to the boardroom,’ I say.
‘I think you and I should go out for a drink at lunchtime,’ Ajay says, picking up a folder from his desk.
The Weaver’s Arms pub is located down a narrow country lane about ten minutes from the office. Ajay and I used to go there often, and many of our most important business decisions were made at a little wobbly table in an alcove surrounded by low oak beams. But about five years ago, Adam had an upset stomach, which he attributed to their food, and we haven’t been there since.
Today, Ajay and I are back, seated at our regular table. I assume the place has changed hands during the past few years, because the walls have been painted a rich dark blue, the colour of a summer’s night sky, and the tables are no longer rickety.
‘Are you getting divorced?’
‘At some point,’ I say, holding my glass of bitter lemon tightly.
‘What does that mean for the business?’
‘I don’t know. We haven’t talked about settlements and stuff.’
‘What does your lawyer say?’
I scrunch up my eyes. ‘I haven’t got a lawyer. Not yet.’
Ajay grabs my hand. ‘But he’ll screw you, Lydia. Adam’s a great accountant; he’ll use every loophole in the book to make sure he comes out of this smelling like roses.’
‘You’ve never told me before that you don’t like him,’ I murmur.
‘I do like him.’ Ajay releases my hand, but his eyes suggest otherwise. ‘Well, I don’t like how he’s behaving towards you, and I don’t agree with his current ideas for Cracking Crafts, but generally he’s a good guy, and he’s an excellent financial director. But this isn’t just about your marriage. Your arguing and his erratic behaviour are in danger of affecting the livelihoods of over a couple of hundred people. You must fix this and get a good solicitor.’
‘We’ve talked about divorce, but haven’t started proceedings yet. I think he’s having an affair again. And the children don’t know anything.’ I sigh.
‘Children aren’t stupid. They’ll be picking up on what’s going on. Get this sorted, Lydia.’
I let out a groan as I close my eyes. ‘Honestly, Ajay, I don’t know what to do. Mia has exams coming up, and I don’t want to rock the boat right now. I’d rather have the discussion in the school holidays.’
‘Ok, love,’ Ajay says, leaning over and giving me a kiss on the cheek. ‘You know I’m always there for you, don’t you?’
Tears come to my eyes as I nod at him.
‘And Adam. He’s not a bad man.’
‘I know that, but he’s been acting strangely ever since his father died nine months ago. I suggested that he go to therapy to discuss it. He went ballistic at the idea.’
‘It’s hard for all of us when we become orphans, whatever our age.’
‘He wasn’t even close to his dad. After his mother died six years ago, I had to force Adam to visit his dad.’
‘Marianne was depressed for months after her mother died. It affects us all in different ways.’ Ajay tips back the remainder of his Coca-Cola.
‘How is Marianne?’ I realise I haven’t seen her for ages. The last time we met, she told me how hard she was finding her empty nest.
‘She’s fine,’ Ajay says, crossing his arms and briefly glancing away. ‘I suppose we’d better get back to the office.’
As I stand up, I feel exhausted. Ajay is right. Adam and I need to sort things. But how, I really don’t know.
3
It is just after 1 p.m. Adam hasn’t been in the office all morning. I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing. Nicky might know, but I can’t be bothered to ask. He was at home, swimming lap after rapid lap, when I eventually got back yesterday, having collected the kids from school after my lunch with Ajay. Adam ignored me all evening and walked out of the room when I said we needed to talk.
We are running some big promotions on craft kits to get the kids (or, more appropriately, their parents) through the long summer holidays. Things such as ‘make your own wigwam’ or ‘crochet a bikini’. It’s up to me to come up with marketing slogans for our in-store promotions as well as articles for our blog and website. Business is never great in the summer, when people prefer to be outside rather than indoors making things. But I’m acutely aware of our poor sales and am desperate to come up with some bright ideas.