‘And Ward is married,’ she continues, ignoring his unkind remark. Criticism never brings out the best in Graham.
‘You’ve got to admit, we have slowed down,’ I say.
Graham gets up. ‘Well, I know I’m pullingmyweight.’ He gathers his jacket and diary, and leaves.
‘How does his boyfriend put up with him?’ Lucie asks, before telling me she’s heading out for a fag. On her way out I hear her talking to Spencer.
Spencer Hunt’s office at Barker & Goulding is only a fifteen-minute walk away, and my workmates have guessed why he pops in more than he should do. ‘It’s your boyfriend, Jan,’ calls Nadine. He strides into the office, suit jacket flung over his shoulders as if he’s modelling for Paul Smith on a catwalk, grabs Graham’s chair and slides across the floor, positioning himself right next to me. ‘You’re looking particularly springlike this morning, Jan.’
I’m wearing my navy trousers, white fitted shirt and a mandarin-colouredflower in my hair that matches my shoes. After Mum died Granny used to dress in bright colours, refusing to wear black and brown. ‘Your mother loved colour, Jan, the brighter the better.’ I stop typing, hiding some paperwork under a brochure. I turn to him, narrow my eyes. ‘What do you want?’
‘Depends on what you’re offering. A croissant and latte would be nice.’
‘There’s a cafe over the road.’
I turn away, wishing I wasn’t attracted to this man. He has an air of arrogance, even in the way he sits with one leg crossed casually over his knee.
‘When will you go out on another date with me, J?’
‘We haven’t really ever had a date, have we?’
‘Well, now’s our chance. How long must a man wait?’
‘A long time.’ I could sleep with Spencer again. He’s sexy, good in bed – but I want more than that. Besides, I can’t fool around. Maybe if I was on my own, with no responsibility, things might be different. Stakes are higher with Isla.
He sighs, picks up one of our brochures and turns the page. ‘This charming, one of a kind property…’ He winks at me, ‘like that phrase, might nick it.’
‘I nicked it off you, ha ha.’
He laughs. ‘Full of character… So, basically this house needs a shitload of work.’
I watch his lips as he talks, wishing I didn’t fancy him.
‘We didn’t want this one.’ He tosses the brochure back on to my desk. ‘Too small fry for us.’
‘Spence, unless you’ve got something interesting to say, get lost.’
‘She loves me really, doesn’t she, Spud?’ He scoops him up and tickles his tummy, Spud in heaven. ‘So, how are you getting on with the new boss?’
‘Fine,’ I pretend, considering… And then I whisper what happened in the bar the night of Jeremy’s leaving party.
‘You didn’t,’ Spencer keeps on saying, our faces close as I recount me telling Ward’s wife that he was a bit of a shit and a womaniser.
‘I was tipsy. Anyway, it’s your fault for gossiping.’
He holds his hands up. ‘Everything I said is true, your honour.’
‘Please don’t tell anyone, not even Nadine.’ I lean back in my chair and stretch, aware Spencer is watching me. ‘So, we’re not the best of friends. And then to top it off Spud peed against his desk.’
Spencer roars with laughter, lifts Spud’s paw to do a doggy high five. ‘You see, dogs are a fine judge of character.’
‘You used to work together for years, didn’t you?’ I ask quietly.
‘Yeah. We go back a long way. No love lost between us, I’m afraid.’
‘Why?’ My telephone rings. ‘Hang on.’ I pick up. ‘Oh hello, Mrs Macintosh.’
‘I want a meeting,’ she demands. ‘The photos in the kitchen don’t capture the new oven.’
