Chapter 45
Lucy
Dirk wants to see me. He’s angry, though he holds it in check. Jamison must have recognized me. That interview ...
I am too hot, then too cold. It could be about anything.
I ditch my cleaning clothes, pull on a fresh blouse and slim skirt.
My best navy heels always give me confidence. I fasten my “big girl” pearls around my neck, with matching earrings, and carefully dab perfume behind my ears.
There’s no time to do my hair, so I brush it and push at it with my fingers until it’s acceptably neat, if not chic, apply fresh lipstick and check my appearance. I’m defensive, but I’ve actually done nothing wrong. Or have I? I have to make a living. I’m doing Donna’s sister a favor. Dirk doesn’t have to understand.
Dirk is sombre when I open the door. He’s behaving like a school principal, as if I’m an errant child. I invite him into my living room, my head held high.
“Jamison tells me you’re Mrs West, Lucy,” he says.
“Not exactly.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“There are a lot of Mrs Wests. It’s a business name.”
“Don’t play games with me. When were you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what, Dirk?” I say. “Please take a seat.”
He sits directly opposite, facing me, arms folded. The inquisition...
“That you’re Mrs West.”
“I’m not usually ... I just stepped in to help out. My friend’s sister runs the service. They were desperate.”
“How often have you been in my place without my knowledge?”
“Just a few times.”
“‘Just a few times.’”
“Well, for the rest of this week. And I unpacked your boxes when you first arrived. It’s what I do. With Donna. All over the city.”
“And when were you going to tell me that you’ve been in my apartment, moving my personal items?” His tone is flat, accusatory. I’d hate to have been his opponent on the soccer field. He won’t give an inch. Well, two can play that game.
“It’s just been for a week or two.”
“But why didn’t you tell me?” He’s more hurt than angry. This is not going well.
“I didn’t ...”
“I thought we were friends, Lucy. I thought I could trust you.”
