the cash machines with all our cards to get a decent wad for exclusivity too. I don’t mind her selling them at festivals once she’s fulfilled our orders, but there’s no way I’m having any of our competitors getting hold of them.”
Bloody hell. If she’d managed to get Rupert to haul his bum from the yurt and his mates then Ava must have been on a mission. Plus this almost deranged excitement Jen was witnessing was the tail-end of the hurricane. Aiden appeared with the teas, dodging Ava’s flinging arms.
“Well come on then, what is it?” Jen prompted. Hating surprises as she did, the build-up was not fully appreciated, but she had to admit she was intrigued as to what this thing was that had blown Ava’s already blown mind, and Jen was about to be landed with.
Ava looked behind them, lest anyone should be eavesdropping. The office had only the one door and any spies would have been noticed. She then swept a look between Jen and Aiden who was still hovering.
“Crocheted tampons,” she whispered dramatically.
The ensuing silence was deafening; exactly the affect Ava had been wanting as she nodded them through it. “Precisely,” she said, acknowledging their stunned state. “That’s what I thought.” She closed her eyes and shook her head at the momentous memory. “One hundred per cent organic cotton, filled with bamboo, hand-made and machine washable. Available in non-bleached ecru for the die-hards, but otherwise in pristine white. We’ll have to research how the bleaches are disposed of. But they tick all the boxes; organic, a national product and what’s more they’re even artisan. She doesn’t make her children help her either. I checked.” Ava’s beaming face could have kept ships from rocks.
Jen had no idea what to say. Crocheted tampons. Her brain didn’t know where to start. She opened her mouth a couple of times but had to keep shutting it as the right words, office-appropriate words, wouldn’t form.
“I know, right?” Ava was still nodding. “Rupes said I was a business wizard, a Biz Wiz, and Zara opened a bottle of Bolly right there on screen.”
“Do you think there’s a big market, Ava?” Jen managed tentatively.
“Well not yet, silly, nobody knows about them, unless they’ve been hoiking around Glasto, but once you start getting the word out there Jen, you betcha. All those women who use the mooncups but find it uncomfy having a rubber thingy up their ninny? They’ll love it and they’ll still avoid the years of expense, waste and eco-destruction of disposable tampons. All they need is a small stock, a waterproof pouch with two compartments – you know, one in one out – and they’re good to go until the menopause. Like I said, Jen, No Brainer.”
Jen wanted to call Lydia and howl. She’d feel better hearing Lydia mercilessly take the piss. But Lydia still wasn’t talking to her. This though, this might just be the thing to thaw Lydia out. This would tickle her no end. She already thought Ava and Zara were bonkers, this would send her over the edge. Well, if there was silver lining to be had from the crocheted tampon issue, then that might be it.
“How about, Ava,” Jen started carefully, “how about I run a few focus groups first? Say three for example, across various age groups and see how women feel about it.”
“Not just women, Jen,” Ava raised an eyebrow at her, “men can use tampons too. Gay men use them all the time. You need to widen your reading. Organic is important to men too.”
“Right,” Jen said, ignoring Aiden’s look of confusion. He could Google it. “I’d do a group for them too.” She couldn’t wait to do a focus group covering anal sex aftercare. That might just be the highlight of her career to date. Her eyes flitted to the clock and calculated how soon until home-time. She needed a drink. She needed to cocoon herself away in the non-bonkers safety of her brewery, la-la-la-ing to herself and casting all of this out of her mind.
“No need, darling. I appreciate your conscientiousness – one of the many, many things we love about you – but the extra work’s not needed given the response the things got at the festival. I saw it with my own eyes and both Zaz and I know in our hearts this is the right thing.”
Jen had been here before. Once the sisters “knew something in their hearts”, it was effectively an executive order. The vital-but-unused flotation tank in the meeting-slash-inspiration room was testament to that.
“And that’s not all, Jen” Ava said, suddenly looking terribly serious and moving to sit opposite Jen in the nearest chair. “I said I’d wait until Zaz got back for this conversation, but given the engagement thing and our need to act fast on the tampons, I can’t see the benefit of waiting.” This sounded ominous. Even more ominous, Jen adjusted, the great tampon reveal had set a new bar.
“This is a big step for the company and we’re going to require everyone’s efforts. Particularly yours, Jen and we’d like to show you we value you.” Ava sat up straight and took a deep dramatic breath for her proclamation. “Zara and I have agreed we want you to become a partner in the company alongside the expansion.” Ava grabbed both of Jen’s hands, presumably believing Jen needed support in light of this joyous bombshell. “We want you to share in the success, because you deserve it, because you’ll be family and because it simply makes sense.”
Jen experienced new levels of gobsmackedness, causing her to sway slightly.
“I know, darling,” Ava squeezed her hands kindly, “you don’t have to thank us, you’ve earned it. It’s not everyone we’d allow to buy in, but we know an asset when we see it. You should be very proud of yourself.”
Wait, what? Buy in?!
Jen’s finely-tuned nose was almost exploding with all the scents. Re:Love, Alice and Max’s florist-cum-salvage shop was a riot of blooms and a joyful assault on her senses. Jen often dropped in after work for a chat, today however it was an emergency. The shop was situated at the end of The Arches, adjacent to the arch Jen’s dad had worked in. Alice and her girlfriend Max had made the most of the exposed brick walls and concrete floor with Max showcasing select pieces around the shop – fireplaces, old furniture and some up-cycled items – while Alice’s flowers brought a sea of colour to the space.
“They’ll let you buy in?” Alice asked, incredulous. “I don’t know why I’m surprised, the pair of them are nutters.” She sat on the front desk, legs swinging as she chomped on a stack of chocolate digestives. She wore her staple of a homemade tea-dress, bobby socks and saddle shoes, which she only ever changed up by adding a cardy and Doc Martens with opaque tights in the winter. Other than the fabrics, Alice’s sole variables were her bright lipsticks and her hair styles, which ranged widely from a fully-spherical afro, to two Bjork sprouts when it was hot. Opposite, Jen was taking the opportunity to lie down along the length of an old church pew.
“I know,” Jen groaned, unsure how she had managed to get to this stage in her life. Four days ago she was happily tapping her beer, minding her own business and here she was being press-ganged into being part of someone else’s. And she hadn’t told Alice about the engagement yet. It didn’t quite seem like the right time, not when she’d come storming in, mouthing off about Ava’s offer-slash-decree. It felt like one of those double-edged honours dictators bestowed on people which invariably lead to a difficult demise. “It’s bad enough with the inco pads, but crocheted tampons? I keep asking myself if this is what I got a degree for?”
“I’m guessing you didn’t,” Alice agreed. She’d always been a good ear for Jen, but normally for Jen letting off steam about Lydia’s teenage antics. As the eldest of four girls Alice understood. “And good of them to decide how you want to spend your savings.”
“Which is ridiculous, because there are none. The house is paid for, sure, and there’s this place, but the rents are supposed to fund Lydia’s future prosthetics, not to mention a pension for her.” Jen felt