‘I also wonder why you did not begin with a basic analysis of strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats? It’s not rocket science, people! And visual aids! I see no visual aids! A simple PowerPoint slideshow would have helped support your arguments.’
Heather made eye contact with Napoleon: What do we do? She saw the confusion and fear on his face and that made her panic grow, because if Napoleon had no answers, they were in trouble. She thought of those times in hospital emergency waiting rooms with Zach when they realised they were dealing with a numbskull of a triage nurse, how they would exchange looks over Zach’s head, and how they both knew exactly what to do and say to act as advocates for their child. But they had never dealt with this dizzying lack of logic.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Tony humbly. ‘Obviously, PowerPoint would have helped support my argument. Yes.’
‘Sorry doesn’t cut it!’ snarled Masha.
‘Could I go next?’ A loud voice cut unexpectedly through Masha’s.
Heather saw with a start that it was Carmel, her chin lifted, her eyes unflinching.
‘I’ve prepared a strategic analysis on behalf of Zoe Marconi, and what we should be doing, ah, going forward, and I’d really like your buy-in on this, Masha.’
Masha’s face smoothed. She lifted a hand. ‘Go ahead, Carmel.’
Carmel strode to the centre of the room and straightened an imaginary suit jacket, even though she was wearing leggings and a pink singlet top emblazoned with the sequinned word hawaii. ‘I know you wanted me to really drill down on this, Masha, and think outside the box.’
It was hard to reconcile this woman of such confidence with the Carmel who had just a few hours earlier begged so pathetically to go home. Now you could practically see her power suit. Was she an actress? Or was she calling on the memory of a previous profession? Whatever it was, it was impressive.
‘Absolutely.’ Masha made a brisk chopping motion with the side of her hand. ‘This is more like it. We need to push the envelope. This is very impressive, Carmel.’
It could almost be amusing if it weren’t so terrifying.
‘The way I see it, we’ve got a real window of opportunity here to leverage Zoe’s core competencies,’ said Carmel, ‘and achieve, ah . . . best-practice solutions.’
‘Oh well done,’ whispered Frances.
‘That’s right.’ Masha nodded. ‘We should always be aiming for best practice.’
It was bizarre to see how well she responded to this meaningless corporate-speak, like a baby responds to the sound of its mother’s voice.
‘The question is this,’ said Masha shrewdly. ‘Does it align with our corporate values?’
‘Exactly,’ said Carmel. ‘And once we have all our ducks in a row, we need to ask this: is it scalable?’
‘Is it?’ said Masha.
‘Exactly,’ said Carmel. ‘So what we’re looking for is . . .’ She faltered.
‘Synergies,’ murmured Lars.
‘Synergies!’ said Carmel with relief.
‘Synergies,’ repeated Masha dreamily, as if she were saying, ‘Paris in spring.’
‘So to sum up, we need a synergistic solution that dovetails –’
‘I’ve heard all I need to hear,’ said Masha briskly. ‘Action that please, Carmel.’
‘Will do,’ said Carmel.
Masha stubbed out her cigarette on the windowsill behind her. She leaned back against the window. ‘Welcome to Tranquillum House.’
Oh dear God, thought Heather. We’ve lost her again.
Masha smiled. No-one smiled back. Heather saw that every face in the room was slack with exhaustion and despair, like the face of a woman who has innocently prepared a ‘natural birth plan’, created a playlist, and who, after thirty hours of labour, is told that she must now have an emergency caesarean.
Masha said, ‘I promise you this: in ten days, you will not be the person you are now.’