Beads, Boys and Bangles Read Free Page B

thing. I assume you’ve seen it?’
    ‘All sorted now,’ Andy smiles. ‘Good work, Edie, love. But I’ve just been shown what they were saying a couple of hours ago. Terrible, unjustified accusations. Against a schoolgirl, too. I’m horrified. We all are.’
    He grabs a spare chair and sits beside me. Sam Reed gives him a long, hard look, which is supposed to hint that Andy is not part of this interview, and would he please leave us in peace? However, Andy simply smiles back and ignores the look, and the rest of us are clearly grateful that he’s here. Sam gives in.
    ‘So, Andy, what’s your reaction to No Kidding’s claimthat some of the clothes in this collection were made by children working up to sixteen hours a day without a break in Indian sweatshops?’ she asks. She sounds less ‘kindly analyst’ now and more ‘hard-bitten journalist’.
    ‘I can categorically deny them,’ he says confidently. ‘Categorically. You can quote me on that. They’re rubbish from start to finish.’
    I take a breath to say something, but Andy wiggles his fingers subtly in my direction. It’s his version of the Look that we give each other when we want someone to SHUT UP. You learn it pretty quickly when you work with Andy.
    I shut up.
    ‘Were the girls aware that this was an issue?’ Sam continues, looking across at all of us. We madly shake our heads, except for Crow, who looks too shocked to even move.
    Sam notices Crow’s stillness even more than our head-shaking. She obviously believes her and takes pity on us.
    ‘That’s it then, everyone. I think I’ve got enough. Thanks. I’ll give you a call, Nonie, if I’ve got any follow-up questions. Great collection, Crow. Good luck!’
    The way she says ‘Good luck’ makes me more nervous than if she’d just said goodbye.
    Do we need luck? And what is her article going to be about? The fabulousness of the sold-out petal skirts? Or the rumours about how they were made?

A fter Sam leaves the room, Andy’s aides rush in to brief him on his next meeting. But Edie leaps out of her seat and grabs him first.
    ‘Are you sure?’ she asks.
    ‘About the children in India?’ he says. ‘Absolutely.’ He reaches out to put a friendly hand on her shoulder, then realises she’s now taller than him, even in her ballet flats, and turns it into a pat on the arm.
    ‘How can you know?’
    ‘Regular checks. You can’t be in my business and not be certain about this stuff. We monitor it all the time. Trust me.’
    He looks at her expression. It’s obviously not trusting enough.
    ‘Look, my reputation would be in the dirt if I used child labour. And besides, I like children. Look at you lot. If Crow insists on working into the night to finish something, I can’t stop her. But I don’t make her do it. And Ipay her.’ He sighs. ‘No children were harmed in the making of this collection, OK?’
    ‘OK,’ we agree, in slightly wobbly voices.
    But Andy didn’t get to be such a successful businessman by always believing people when they pretend to agree with him. Despite the fact that his minions are standing behind him, jiggling with frustration that he’s late for his next appointment, he doesn’t move. He looks straight at Edie.
    ‘I’ve got a report,’ he says. ‘Several. From the people who go out to the factories and check this stuff for me. Get one off Simon here. Read it. Put it on your website if you like. Good grief, girls. You should be thanking me for providing so much employment for people in Third World countries. I thought that was your sort of thing.’
    Finally, he moves on. Edie touches ‘Simon here’ on the shoulder and gives him her email address so he can send her the report.
    Crow didn’t wait while we had our chat with Andy. She dashed straight out of the room to find Henry, who was waiting outside, admiring the crowds on Oxford Street from a safe distance of about six storeys up.
    She looks at us now from under the crook of Henry’s arm, her