‘Tell you what, why don’t you say you’re a vet? That saves you from having to do the abdominal thrusts.’
‘A vet’s even worse!’ He gestures to Spud lying down at my feet, his face turned away from Ward. He still hasn’t forgiven him for not being allowed in the boardroom. ‘People care much more about their pets than their partners.’
I shrug. ‘Animals are much more loyal.’
‘Exactly. Imagine if I couldn’t resuscitate Fifi the poodle.’
I laugh again. ‘OK, so maybe it’s best to stick to the truth. You say, “I’m an estate agent, get over it.”’ I register that the framed photograph of his wife that used to be on his bookshelf has disappeared.
‘After the expense scandals at least we’re more popular than politicians.’
‘True,’ I say.
‘I tell you what makes me so angry, though. It’s that everyone paints us with the same brush. I admit I’ve worked with the boys – and women actually – who think time is money, take shortcuts, are late, have sloppy manners, can’t even be bothered to do their homework.’
I nod, telling Ward it reminds me of Alex, the agent who had shown me a series of houses when I was heavily pregnant with Isla, before finally I found the right place.
‘I’ll never forget this one flat.’ I sigh. ‘Priory Road. So, he says, “Okey-dokey.”’
‘Okey-dokey?’
‘Exactly. Bad start. “Okey-dokey, this is the kitchen.” I say—’
‘No shit, Sherlock?’
I laugh. ‘I wanted to say that, but instead I ask, “How many years are left on the lease?”’
‘Sensible question.’
‘He says, “Not sure. This is the fridge.”’
Ward laughs now. ‘They don’t care about anything but the commission. I’m guilty of that. Not so much the money, although of course that’s great, but sometimes I forget the bigger picture. But these boys, who drag our reputation down, they’d never be able to speak to Mrs Roberts the way you did, January.’
‘It was nothing.’ I catch him looking at me, as if an idea is brewing.
‘Have you ever considered coming on a few pitches?’
‘I’m usually too busy running my boss’s life.’
‘Oh him. That little shit.’
We both look at one another and smile, something unexpectedly changing between us in that moment, a glimpse of promise that we might become good friends.
‘I’ll give you a lift,’ Ward suggests again when I tell him I need to get going. Ruki will be wondering where I am, although she was only too happy to stay with Isla tonight because I think she believed, or more like prayed, I was on a Friday-night date.
Ward grabs his keys off the desk, helps me on with my jacket. ‘Don’t worry. Spud and I are happy on the tube.’
‘But I only live round the corner.’ Ward and his wife live in Brook Green. ‘Come on,’ he insists, pointing out that he’s only had one glass.
On the way home Ward turns on the radio and asks me what I’m up to this weekend. After a couple of drinks I find myself confiding that I’m meeting Isla’s dad’s new girlfriend for the first time.
‘Awkward on all sides,’ Ward says. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, when did you separate?’
‘The moment I told him I was pregnant.’
He glances at me.
‘He wasn’t ready; we were young.’
