‘Not falling for it again.’
‘You don’t know what I was about to say.’
‘Go out for a drink?’
‘I was going to say have hot sex on the desk.’ He taps it.
‘Tempting, but no.’
‘Oh come on, J. I’ve had a pig of a day and could do with a laugh and I don’t see why that top should suffer by staying in the bag because some jerk stood up the most beautiful girl in town – in the country – in the world.’ He grins. ‘So, what do you say?’
My mobile rings. It’s Lucas. I hesitate. Should I screen, but he so rarely calls me. What if something’s happened to him or to Grandad?
Spencer waits as I stare at my phone. ‘My offer is going…’ he backs away, ‘going… gone.’ He blows me a kiss goodbye.
‘Hope tonight goes well,’ Lucas says when I pick up.
‘He has to work.’
‘Oh. Sorry, Jan. I know he was looking forward to it.’
‘These things happen.’ I bite my lip. ‘It’s just annoyingbecause I sorted out the babysitter and…’
‘Well, you should still go out.’
I’m about to say it doesn’t matter and that I fancy an early night but – what the hell! After we say goodbye I gather Spud’s lead calling, ‘Spencer! Wait!’
Spencer is ordering drinks in one of the only bars in this part of town that doesn’t mind dogs. It’s heaving on a Thursday night, jazz music playing in the background. Everyone appears to be in a good mood, the taste of the weekend in the air. I’m sitting at a table by the window. I’ve let my hair down and am wearing my new top and jeans. I changed into them quickly in the office while Spencer waited for me, asking to give him a shout if I needed a hand with any zips. ‘So, Jan, what’s the gossip?’ he says, when he joins me with a bottle of white wine, two glasses and a couple of packets of dry-roasted peanuts. ‘How are you getting on with stiff old Ward?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Whoa. I was only making conversation.’
‘Sorry.’ Act normal. I reach down to stroke Spud, his head warming my feet. ‘It’s fine.’ Fine never means fine, I hear Ward saying.
‘I hate to admit it, but Sherwoods is very much the topic of conversation in our boardroom these days. You’re doing pretty well.’
It’s true. We’re currently winning about 80 per cent of our pitches.
‘Jan, we’re friends. Something’s wrong, I can tell.’
I look at Spencer, knowing I can’t confide in him about Ward. He must never find out.
‘You can trust me.’
I circle the rim of my glass, almost empty now. ‘I feel stuck in a rut,’ is all I say.
‘Don’t we all.’
‘Do you, Spence?’
‘Sometimes. I’ve been doing the same old job and living in the same old flat for years. A lot of my friends are settling down now, moving out of London, having kids.’
‘You don’t want that?’
‘With the right woman, yes.’ He looks at me.
‘I’ve been thinking about trying to find a job in publishing again.’
