He puts on the gloves without delay, wriggling his fingers to stretch the wool. ‘Thanks, Scarlett.’
‘You’re welcome. Happy hunting.’
Making my way to the revolving office doors, I call back to him. ‘Paul, hot drinks and food, okay?’
‘Sure thing.’
In truth, I don’t mind what he spends my two pounds on and I never do because the reality is, my two pounds can’t buy him a home and if I was living on the cruel streets of London, I might spend my last penny on a drop of alcohol to numb the pain too.
As the lift doors open, Margaret walks past with a stack of ring binders and I fall into the same stride as her kitten heels.
‘Good morning, Scarlett. Your latte is on your desk and I’ve sorted the paper mail. Only one letter you need to action. I’ve popped it in your top tray. Did you have a good weekend? How was the big party?’
I stop dead in my tracks, regretting that I haven’t had the foresight to prepare a response to simple questions like this. Margaret looks back over her shoulder and I quicken my pace to catch up to her. ‘It was fine, thank you. Did you have a nice weekend?’
‘Nice but tiring. My daughter brought my grandson to visitand we had a pyjama party on Saturday night. He’s a little bundle of treasure and terror all wrapped up in one three-year-old body. Before I forget, Neil Wallace has a brunch with a potential client at the Savoy this morning and he’d like you to go along if you’re free.’
‘Am I free?’
‘You can be if I juggle your diary. You’ve got a call with the CEO of the Platinum Spring Hotel Group ten until eleven but I’ve checked your emails and it looks more like a catch-up call than an instruction, so I could bring it forward to nine thirty or bump it to tomorrow, then you could go to the brunch.’
‘What time’s the table at the Savoy?’
‘Eleven.’
‘Who booked my meeting with Richard Blakely: him or his PA?’
‘His PA.’
‘Okay, bump the meeting to tomorrow and let Neil know I can go to brunch, please. Do you know who he’s entertaining?’
‘I’ve already printed some information from their website and left it on your desk.’
‘What would I do without you, Margaret? You’re a star.’
She blushes and rolls her eyes. ‘Oh and one more thing: an appointment just came through from Mr Ryans at GJR Enterprises. I haven’t accepted it yet but it mentions an interview withThe Times Magazineat GJR’s office; does that ring any bells?’
‘I’ll deal with that one, thanks, Margaret.’
I take a seat at my desk, dump my laptop into its docking station and fire up my computer, then take a big gulp of latte. As I’m typing my username and password, Amanda struts into my office then plants her hands on the hips of her grey, tailored dress.
‘What are you doing here?’ She’s whispering but her words are fiery.
‘Happy Monday to you, too.’
‘Scarlett, how aren’t you completely freaking out right now? You can’t be at work when, after, well, youknow. I mean, holy shit, how are you?’
My best friend is upset and I know it’s not just about me. Saturday was a shock for everyone and only now is it dawning on me that I’ve spent the last two days thinking about Gregory, Jackson and myself and not about the other people in my life.
‘Come here,’ I say, rising from my desk and holding out my arms.
Amanda walks straight into me and relaxes into my cuddle.
‘Are you okay?’
She pulls back, shaking her head. ‘You’re asking me ifI’mokay? Scarlett, babes, stop worrying about other people. Sit.’
Despite how irritating it’s becoming to have everyone telling me what to do, I sit and Amanda plonks herself on the desk in front of me. She takes my hand in hers, bracing herself to tell me something I suspect she won’t be able to take back.
