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her ‘interpersonal skills’ to get ahead. She enjoyed surprising people, whether with her
cut-glass English accent or Oxford degree, and what could be better than a career in the media, where she could surprise people by engaging them in issues they might not have been interested in.
She wanted to show disillusioned young people that the world doesn’t have to be a closed place and that they can carve out their own path. She wanted to tell tales of far away, and show
people new places. And so it was with the zeal of a romantic youth who has sailed through life that Abena had pressed the ‘send’ button on her job application to Mallinder Films five
months earlier.
    Mallinder Films turned out to be a bitter disappointment. She loathed the tedium of her office routine. Plonked in the accounts department on her first day, she had soon become aware of some
irksome facts about business. Firstly, that even if the product to be sold is an electrifying film, the accounts still need to be tracked daily on a spreadsheet; and Mallinder Films was fond of
spreadsheets. It was fond of targets. And it absolutely loved ‘performance indicators’ for all of its employees. Tracking the number of calls that the tubby head of sales had made last
Tuesday was about as far removed from Abena’s vision of inspirational creativity as a position stacking shelves at Somerfield.
    By the same token, although she’d been thrilled to be given her own assistant, the sweet but dowdy Wendy, she was by now bored rigid of hearing about the woman’s home life. No, she
did not wish to see another photograph of Wendy in the garden with her big, black dog Bruno. Or one of Wendy on holiday – with Bruno. Or a group shot showing Wendy’s sister with her
husband, Wendy’s brother with his wife, and Wendy herself with, well, Bruno. It pained Abena to think of Wendy grinding away at Mallinder well into her middle age, getting progressively more
bloated and pockmarked as she bought more dogs and cats. I need to get out now while I still can, she thought.
    Mallinder Films was also excruciatingly tight with money. Abena already knew that most of the staff were paid barely enough to keep them in lovefilm subscriptions. But she hadn’t realized
quite how bad things were until a celebratory team meal was held not at the delicious Arbutus restaurant near their Soho offices but at Bangers and Beans, a greasy spoon two doors down. Olympia,
the CEO, wasn’t prepared to cough up for more. Mallinder Films was clearly far from being the powerful international player in the world of film that Olympia had implied at interview. In fact
Abena quickly learnt that hardly anybody outside of Mallinder Films had heard of Mallinder Films.
    But now she was on the plane and by the time the second bottle of champagne lay empty, all thoughts of work were forgotten. ‘Cheers hon!’ Abena raised a glass to
Tara and helped herself to a praline, ignoring Natalya’s disapproving look. She noticed Reza pulling faces and sticking his tongue out at a bewildered Ciara, who giggled uncertainly, sitting
opposite him at the back of the plane with her wide-eyed young friend Francesca.
    ‘If in doubt, just smile and giggle when it comes to the big boss,’ advised Henry.
    ‘But what if he’s not joking? Or I’m not amused?’ Abena asked. The faces Reza was pulling were beneath the dignity of a man in his fifties.
    ‘Trust me, sweetheart, just smile and giggle. He doesn’t do small talk. He mostly talks business and makes party plans, preferably with men. With girls, it’s just smile and
giggle at his jokes.’
    Stubbornly, Abena turned to Reza, determined to engage him in normal conversation. When he looked over and caught her eye she leaned forward and raised her voice.
    ‘Thank you so much for inviting me. This is incredible – so exciting. I don’t even know where we’re staying when we get there? Are we all on your boat?’
    Reza looked blankly at her.
    Feeling