‘Didn’t think you were a Santa hat kind of guy.’
‘Well, that just goes to show how little you know me, Rachel Foster.’
I turn to him, surprised. I didn’t think he had a clue who I was.
He reclines a little, stretches out his legs. ‘I should imagine Christmas parties are a nightmare for you, with your HR hat on.’
‘Only if people misbehave.’
I regret this, of course, as soon as I’ve said it. Because it’s already clear to me that Lawrence is not the kind of guy you want to flirt with unless you’re sure.
He lets my words hang for a moment, which immediately makes me wonder if I misread his tone. Then he says, ‘Heard you did stellar work on the feedback and engagement project, by the way.’
‘Did you? Thanks.’
‘Sure. Everyone’s singing your praises. Talking about our new rising star. You must only be – what? Mid-twenties?’
What a line. I shake my head. ‘Very funny. I’m thirty-two.’
Lawrence’s eyes widen.
‘Please don’t,’ I say quickly.
At this, he laughs. I can tell he is the kind of guy for whom misconduct is oxygen. ‘What? I was going to be nice.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I don’t want to have to report you.’
‘Report me . . . to yourself?’
Annoyingly, a laugh slips free. I shake my head again, wondering why I am making time to indulge this very strange back-and-forth.
‘Out of interest, what did you think I was about to say?’
‘Something like,You don’t look a day over twenty-five.’
‘You’re wrong, actually.’
I can hardly hear him now above the booming bassline from the dance floor. But I refuse to lean in any closer. ‘Really.’
‘Of course. That’s the kind of thing I’d say to my mother.’
‘Okay, then, what were you going to say?’ I am cross with myself for asking. For being willing, apparently, to play his game.
He moves his head towards mine. For a surreal moment I think he is about to kiss me. I swallow, my mouth sticky from the snowball.
But instead, he straightens up and gets to his feet. ‘Ah, I think I’ll keep that to myself. You being HR, and everything.’
29.
Rachel
January 2003
A few days into the new year, I am walking to my car after work when Lawrence catches up with me. It’s already dark, the air weighty with woodsmoke and wet with mist.
