‘There’s no time for that today. This is just a preliminary chat. Short-listed candidates will have to make a formal presentation in the next week. The final three will be asked to meet Marv Schultz when he comes over to London for Fashion Week.’
Amy pressed her lips together to mask her disappointment. It was obvious what Douglas was saying.
There was a knock at the door and Josie came through with two cups of coffee.
Douglas flashed her a smile. ‘Thank you, Josie.’
Amy looked straight ahead as Josie put the white china in front of her. She was determined not to look at her directly, even when she felt Josie’s sleeve brush against her own.
‘Doesn’t even start until Monday and she’s already part of the team,’ said Douglas with something approaching affection as she left the room.
What special power did Josie have? Amy found herself wondering. It couldn’t just be her looks. Douglas had many faults but he was not a senior management sleaze; Genesis was full of attractive, highly groomed women, but he always seemed more focused on his spreadsheets. Could it be something as simple as a suntan? Amy had never noticed David give Josie any particular attention until they got to Provence and her skin had toasted golden brown.
‘So what do magazines have to do to get ahead in the digital age?’ asked Douglas, cutting through the noise in her head. ‘Now that everyone’s on their phone. Email, text, social media, movies, even books have gone digital; how do magazines compete?’
‘The website needed to be improved, for a start,’ said Amy, trying to pull herself together. ‘At the moment, we’re not good enough. Companies like BuzzFeed are expert at SEO, data, clickbait. We need to recruit staff who are really, really good at those skills.’
Douglas nodded thoughtfully. ‘You’re right. I was just talking to Josie about how we pull young people in, and she said the same. They want the instant fix, the hottest news. She suggested videos, selfies, messaging forums. We have to make mobile the priority.’
Amy tried to stop a small frown forming between her brows. Why was he spouting the opinion of Josie as if it was gospel?
‘How do we do that, Amy?’
She hadn’t expected such a general chat. She had a bag full of slides, not
es and images about her vision for Mode, but Douglas was provoking her into a discussion about media platforms.
‘Invest in the website and increase our reach on other social media platforms,’ she said, realising that was what he wanted to hear. ‘It’s not good enough having a five-page news section at the front of the print magazine any more, because it’s not news. Face creams, shoes, celebrity news, it-bags. Anyone who has even a passing interest in fashion has already seen it all before the magazine even hits the newsstands.’
‘So you think there’s merit in the argument that we should be a digital-first product? Josie says she hasn’t read a magazine in five years. Why are we bothering with the expense of print when everyone wants short and snappy on their phones? Josie says she just follows bloggers and influencers.’
Josie says, Josie says. Why did men listen to her? What had she said to David to lure him into bed? Their bed. How had she got him to buy her the necklace? What had she been doing staring into their bedroom the night Tilly had had sunburn? Josie, Josie, Josie.
‘What do you think, Amy?’ asked Douglas, but she could hardly hear him, as if she were swimming underwater, drowning.
She was tempted to say that Josie did read magazines. That she had confessed to being a fan of Verve and Living Style, but she didn’t want to sound petty.
‘Well, we have to compete with them. Beat them. Give the consumer more than the blogger can offer. A slick e-commerce division, glamorous events, corporate tie-ins and digital TV.’
‘The last time I looked, the most successful bloggers are selling their own products, quite successfully I might add. As for events, I’ve just had to sign off the budget for a deluxe train. Are influencers hiring the Orient Express to get followers? I’m not sure they are.’
‘Then why don’t we just recruit an army of bloggers?’ said Amy, finally snapping.
Douglas shuffled some papers on his desk. If the hard copy of her presentation was amongst them, she couldn’t see it.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, feeling suddenly panicky.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Douglas. It was clear that their preliminary chat was over. The look on his face told her she’d blown it.
Her breath started to stutter. ‘I go to New York on Tuesday, so if you want me to make my presentation before then . . .’
‘I’m aware of the problems of Fashion Week when we have such a short time frame to make the appointment. Nothing that we haven’t done before, though.’
He glanced at his watch and stood up, stretching his hand over the desk.
‘I’m sure you’ve got a busy week. Keep me in the loop about the gala.’
‘But Douglas . . .’