Page 34 of Fast Forward

Mr Turrow lifted the coffee mug to his lips and tipped his head back, shaking the remaining drops out. He plonked the mug down and clasped his hands together again on the table. “Now tell me, Mrs McSnelly, why Harrods London, would choose your products as opposed to your competitors. What makes your company unique?”

Whoa, he must be a buyer from the iconic department store. Sitting in front of me, listening to my presentation! An engine of nerves revved up inside me, as I realised the implications of this meeting. If Harrods were to become buyers of KC Interiors’ products, the business would become very well off indeed.

What made us unique? I hoped the next slide would tell me and him. I pressed the arrow button.

An animation began, showing an old-fashioned mirror, a little like the one at Queen of Beauty, merging with a modern safe and forming a decorative piece of storage for valuables. Carved swirls danced around the frame and each golden flourish was a hinged cover which opened to reveal a compartment for trinkets and jewellery. There were no words on the screen, so I winged it.

“KC Interiors combines modern technology and design with classic style.” Yay, good one, Kelli. “And I’m sure ‘thy valued Harrods customers’ would appreciate our… allegiance with history and tradition that merges forth into contemporary living.” Man, I was good. Shakespeare who?

Mr Turrow nodded. “I see, I see. Now, tell me what your highest selling product is.”

Crap. I pressed the arrow button but the next slide only continued showing transformations of old products into new.

I tapped my finger on my chin, as though trying to conjure the last financial year’s sales figures. Of which I knew nothing about. “Let me think… oh, it’s escaped my mind,” I blabbed on. “You see, all our products sell so well, it’s hard to remember which one the stand-out is.”

William tried to tell me something with his eyes and he kept jerking his head forward as though to remind me of what to say, or trying to catapult the information from his brain to mine. Eventually, William stood, just as a strange gurgling presented itself in my stomach. I’d been holding it in of course, trying to look slim, but now it was expanding again, like it had done earlier at the cafe.

“Kelli’s right, all our products are successful. But, our smart-lamps are definitely our best-selling item.”

Thank God William was here.

“Their innovative design and intelligent computer program provides the right amount of lighting for any given situation,” William continued, as my stomach continued to churn and I couldn’t resist giving it a firm rub with my hand. Oh man, I really should have gone to the toilet beforehand.

“Plus, the energy-saving, infra-red powered light source lasts for years, so they are both stylish and environmentally friendly.”

Gurgle… Gurgle… bloody hell. I had to get out of here! “Um, I’ll be right back!” I raised a reassuring finger and turned for the door. “Right back,” I repeated with a forced smile, while William glared at me with a ‘what the hell are you doing’ expression.

Lucy eyed me curiously too as I dashed past her desk and towards the toilet sign. Once in the privacy of the bathroom I breathed a sigh of relief and then bolted to the cubicle. Damn lactose. It never bothered me before, why now?

I washed my hands (after figuring out the taps worked just like the faucet-free shower at home) and emerged from the bathroom. How would I explain my sudden departure from the meeting? Poor William was probably sick of my incompetence and attacks of the crazies by now. I needed a reason to have left that didn’t involve bodily functions. I scanned the reception area and my eye caught the shine of light on a spiral-shaped object on the coffee table in the waiting area. Without thinking I grabbed it and dashed back into the meeting room.

“I’m sorry to run off like that, but I just had to show you this…” What the hell was this thing?

“… this… particular piece, which as you can see, forges traditional class with modern innovation. A perfect example of our exquisite products which are like… the past, present and future all rolled into one.” Nice one.

William stifled a chuckle. “Yes, our automated, decorative, tissue-dispensing machines are definitely unique, but the smart-lamps will be quite a hit in Harrods, I’m sure. Especially since our deluxe smart-lamp also doubles as a heating device.”

Sure enough, when I pushed on the top edge of the spiral a tissue popped out and I plucked it out and dabbed at each of my temples in a show of post-exertion. I really was good at this. I knew I should have taken up the offer of being a model on The Price Is Right when I had the chance. I gave a little hand flourish around the tissue-dispenser before placing it on the table. As if I had somehow anticipated needing to dab my temples with a tissue, a wave of heat rolled up from my toes to my head, my cells jumping in shock as a tsunami hot flush drowned my body and left behind a sea of carnage.

“Kelli, are you all right?” William asked.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” I said, sweat drenching my face as I dabbed at it with a tissue. “See, getting a tissue when needed has never been so easy with our dispensing machine.” I glanced around the room for something to fan myself with.

Why was there no bloody paper in this office? It was worse than the bathroom with no towels.

I sidled up to a fake plant in the corner of the room and surreptitiously stroked the large plastic leaves, leaning slightly forward and flapping the leaf around my face, as William and Mr Turrow looked on with confused expressions. “I, ah, I was just thinking… that um… we could create a plant that has an in-built fan function!” I flapped the leaves a little harder, swishing blessedly cool air around my face. “Yes, the leaves could…” flap, flap, flap, “swivel, or vibrate and create a cool environment for the home or office!”

Both William and Mr Turrow jutted out their bottom lips, turned the corners of their mouths downwards and nodded.

“That’s not a bad idea!” said Mr Turrow.

William murmured his agreement as he cocked his head towards the screen. The message in his expression said it all: Now get back to the bloody presentation and quit doing weird things!

I gulped down a glass of water in as dignified a way as possible and resisted the strong urge to tip it over my head. I clicked through more of the slides, ad-libbing as I went and sprinkling various compliments here and there for Mr Turrow’s ego.

My e-pad beeped and I glanced at my wrist to see Selena calling on the screen.

Selena! I was about to answer it when I realised I couldn’t. The future of KC Interiors’ international expansion depended on this meeting and I couldn’t let William down. I could see he was eager to please Mr Turrow – he probably thought I didn’t notice, but he kept wringing his hands under the table. My poor husband was probably more nervous than me. Damn it! I wanted to speak to Selena but couldn’t. I pressed decline and got back to the slides.

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