Page 70 of Unbind

She doesn’t look like a woman whose insatiable new lover kept her up half the night because he couldn’t keep his hands off her—though it seems from the way she’s stroking my bicep through my sweater that I’m not the only one suffering from that problem.

‘Luxury goods are the ultimate indulgence for me,’ I confess now. ‘The OfficeScape stuff is great—I get off on all that problem-solving and streamlining. I like smooth processes. Which is odd, because there’s nothing that gives me more pleasure than the total opposite—like knowing how much care and attention has gone into crafting the world’s most desirable goods.

‘And I’m not talking about huge logos, obviously. I’m talking about the labour of love that is hand-combing the most cherished cashmere goats on the planet and artisanal practices that are passed down from generation to generationand which require years of apprenticeship to master.That’swhat floats my boat.’

‘Exactly!’ Her brown eyes are shining with fervour. ‘That’s what I love most, too—that’s why I chose the higher end of the market.’ She pauses and returns her hand to my thigh. ‘Do you think some of that fixation comes from having done time? I mean, if you were using newspaper as loo roll at one point, then maybe being able to enjoy possessions purely for their beauty is something you’ve aspired to? It’s the ultimate sign that you’ve moved on.’

It’s something I’ve not only pondered at length over the years but discussed ad nauseam with my therapist. ‘There’s definitely an element of that,’ I admit. ‘My therapist thinks it’s a combination of rewarding myself for having turned things around and establishing safety cues. And it goes way beyond prison. If I grew up mired in uncertainty and deprivation, it stands to reason I’d try to surround myself with enough of a material buffer to mimic stability—or something like that, anyway.’

‘That makes sense,’ she murmurs.

‘I think’—this part is harder to admit, especially to Nat—‘there’s a redemption angle, too. I get to invest in and enjoy the best life has to offer. I’ve got the money, after all. I charter yachts and commission art because I can.

‘And I know that sounds flippant—I mean it as the opposite, really. I never take a single instance for granted. I marvel at my good fortune every fucking day. But it’s something I’ve cultivated very, very intentionally, this ability to surround myself with beauty and ease and to be able to sit with that without guilt or shame or self-recrimination. Does that make sense?

‘At the end of the day, luxury makes me happy, pure andsimple, and I’m finally at peace with being happy, I suppose.’

‘That’s as valid a reason as any, and it’s probably how lots of people feel. I’d guess the market is split between those who buy high-end because of the status it implies or the need they have for validation and those for whom beautiful objects and experiences crafted with care bring them a deep, intrinsic happiness.’

‘Especially at a time when fast fashion is threatening to overrun our planet,’ I agree.

‘Especiallynow. And, honestly, I have very similar feelings to you about the whole issue. My dad’s investment company went bust when I was seven, and he wasn’t allowed to run money anymore. That’s why my brother and I ended up at St Benedict’s. We lost our lovely house—we had to live in a council flat for years and it wasgrim.’

‘I’m so incredibly sorry to hear that,’ I murmur. I know far more about Nat’s childhood than I intend to let on, so vague sympathy seems the best policy for now.

‘Thanks. I had nothing like the kind of trauma you and your family lived through, obviously, but it was still pretty shitty for a long time. My mum was depressed, and then…’

She trails off.

And then you beat the shit out of Stephen and put him in hospital, minus one working eye.

She doesn’t need to say it.

I dig my teeth into my lower lip.

‘Anyway,’ she continues, flustered, ‘it wasn’t like we were mega-rich before, but we were comfortable, you know? And I had this bedroom that was all pink and white with a gauzy white canopy over my bed. I loved that room so much. The entire bed was so covered in soft toys I could barely fit in it.’

I smile, but my heart is breaking for her. No, she didn’tlose a sister or have a waste-of-space mother, but I’ll warrant she lost a huge piece of what made her feel like herself when Noel Bennett’s crooked business partner brought them down.

She’s such a lovely person. She tries so fucking hard, all the time. I’ve only known her a couple of weeks, but it’s evident in everything she says and does. That she felt so helpless, so bereft, makes me fucking furious.

‘It all went,’ she says with a little shrug. ‘The flat they moved us to was tiny. I got the box room, and I could only bring a few toys with me. It was such a little shit hole. Anyway, my point is that yeah, running a fashion brand is far harder work than I could ever, ever have imagined, but I’m so happy that I spend my days helping to create beautiful things that make people happy.

‘We’re not saving lives, but there’s something so indulgent about it all, you know? Being surrounded by creative talent and gorgeous fabrics fills my soul—that’s the crux of it.’

She has a beautiful soul, and after everything she’s been through I’m so fucking relieved she’s finding a way to feed it—even if that way is far more rife than I’d like with stress and financial woes.

I’d love to take away all her headaches and allow her to focus only on the work that makes that soul of hers sing.

As I unfasten her seatbelt and pull her into my lap, I vow this to myself:

If it’s in my power to do it, I will.

43

NATALIE

I’m not prepared for the sheer scale of the huge glass building that looms over us as we thank Nigel for the lift and step from the car.

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