‘Of course not.’ Dylan paused. ‘But she does know how to play you.’ Imogen went to speak – she hated it when Dylan patronized her like this – but he put his hands on the tops of her arms. ‘She knows you’d do anything for her,’ he said softly.
Imogen sniffed, mollified a little. ‘Miss Young did say she was going to speak to Nancy.’
‘There you go, then. I’m sure this is all being sorted out.’
‘Glass of wine?’ asked Imogen, pulling a bottle of red out of the cupboard.
‘It’s Monday night.’
‘I know, but a small one can’t hurt.’ She got the corkscrew, popped the cork and poured them both a glass. She took a mouthful, swallowed then smiled at Dylan.
‘I’ve had an idea.’
He returned her smile, a touch nervously. She knew he was sometimes intimidated by her ‘ideas’ but this was a good one. ‘Oh yeah?’ he ventured.
Imogen moved closer to him, put her hand on his chest. Dylan was tall – over six foot – it was one of the things that had made her fall in love with him when they first met. She looked up into his eyes.
‘We want to save up for a deposit, right? Get our own place again?’
‘Yes...’
‘Now please hear me out. I know you love your job but there will always be teaching jobs at state secondary schools.’She paused. ‘They’ve published the ad for the job at Kingsgate—’
‘You know how I feel abou—’
‘It pays twenty thousand a year more.’
A tiny bud of satisfaction bloomed quietly as she saw the look of surprise on his face. ‘You’d walk it, Dylan. I know you would. You’re the best teacher at Ripton High – Kingsgate would be mad not to hire you.’
Dylan gave a half grimace. ‘Not sure about that.’
‘Just think about it. Please?’ Imogen gave her best earnest look. ‘And I want to help out too.’
‘Oh?’
‘The restaurant premises are still empty.’
‘I don’t understand...’
‘You know no one ever gets rich working for someone else. I want to set up another company—’
‘Imogen—’
She shook her head. ‘Not like before. Not with tons of upfront investment to create the most high-end restaurant and be saddled with loads of debt. No, this time, I was thinking of a pizzeria.’
Dylan looked doubtful. ‘But who’s going to fund it? Our credit’s stuffed for some time.’
‘I have an offer from a private investor.’
He was surprised. ‘Who?’
She paused. ‘James.’
‘James?Since when has he been into funding restaurants?’
‘It’s not restaurants that interest him, it’s viable businesses. He and I have talked it all through. He’s fronting the capital,my part is my expertise in running a restaurant – and of course the cooking. Profits fifty-fifty.’
Dylan laughed nervously. Ran his hand through his hair. She could tell he was on the verge of telling her it was too soon, too risky.
