“I think so. Although it’s not something he says often.”
I knew that was a sore point. Marie liked praise – in many different situations. She’d told me a couple of times that sometimes she just wanted her father to tell her well done.
I needed to tell my kids that more.
“He should.”
She nodded, not moving. “Maybe you should say it to your son too. I don’t think you realise how brilliant he is.”
My dad’s focus landed back on me, his expression solemn. A nod, of course, because that was his sole language. “I’m aware of how talented he is.”
I shot a look at Marie, asking her to leave it. I knew that as okay as he’d been with me asking for leave, he wouldn’t be happy about it. In his eyes, business came first, above everything. That was why boarding schools existed along with nannies and tutors.
“Good.” She took a step closer to me, close enough so our hands brushed. This wasn’t her being discreet. “It’s been really good to work alongside him.”
“Excellent.” He looked towards Marie’s father who was trying to catch his attention. “I’ll let you two young people talk about whatever young people discuss. Make the most of tonight.” He sailed off, apparently oblivious to anything but the bottle of whisky Marie’s dad had hold of, which didn’t surprise me.
I knew there were talks about buying shares in an Irish distillery, which would solidify exactly what my father would become behind the pretence of a whisky connoisseur.
“I shouldn’t have said that, should I?” Marie turned around so her back was to the other men. “It’s just annoying to see how he doesn’t appreciate you.”
It was the first time anyone had ever defended me, possibly ever. “It doesn’t matter. He won’t pay any attention to it and it might soften the fact I’ve just asked for three months leave.” I couldn’t resist touching her, even if it was her shoulder. “You look fucking beautiful, by the way.”
“Thank you. It was why I had to head back in a hurry. I’d booked someone to come and do this. It’s not something I could do on my own. If Bernie was here, she’d have put me together.” She tentatively touched her hair. “You might have to get these pins out before anything else happens later.”
“Oh. It’s like that, is it? Presumptuous.”
Her eyelids narrowed. “I can always find someone else to take them out.”
Looking like that she could have anyone.
But it wasn’t happening.
“Try that and see who ends up in hospital.”
“Fighting talk, Callaghan. Fighting talk.” She took another sip of her champagne. “They’re going to figure out we’ve been spending time together. There’s no way they won’t guess – not with the way you’re looking at me.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Totally. But that’s okay. I think.” She glanced over at her dad. “He might skin you.”
“That’s what I’m concerned about. And this ends next week, doesn’t it?” I wanted her to tell me that it didn’t. I wanted some indication that it had more mileage than just a few more days.
“You go back home, so it has to.” She looked away from me. “But they’d expect us to be friends. We have a lot in common.”
“We do. Not that we talk about it.”
Her smile was bright. “Somehow we manage not to talk about work. I don’t think that’ll happen tonight though. Come on, we should be sociable.” She led me over to the rest of our teams, champagne and whisky flowing as freely as the Thames.
We managed to sit next to each other at the table, some small relief while tiny portions of food were dished out and shop talk continued. I wasn’t in the mood to discuss cases, clients or industry gossip. There was something about how two of the old firms were merging, or had been, until something untoward had been revealed, as well as gossip about an affair that a partner had been having that’d caused some scandal.
I was quiet, probably unusually so, and Marie had noticed.
Her hand found its way under the table to my leg, resting on my thigh between courses.
“Are you okay?” She turned to me, speaking as if she was discussing the case.
I nodded, blown away once more with just how beautiful she was. “Just in a pickle, I suppose.”
