‘Good news. I can absolutely join you for a cup of tea. The department heads meeting was cancelled because, according to your assistant, you’re out all afternoon on a very important secret meeting with a very important secret author. Should we be ordering champagne?’
‘I don’t drink in the daytime,’ I lied before Mal could spontaneously combust. ‘So no thanks.’
Joe shrugged and reached across the table and nudged Mal’s napkin aside, revealing the special edition copy ofButterflies. Slowly, intentionally, he turned it over in his hands like a detective with a smoking gun and my stomach dropped all the way through the soles of my comfortable shoes.
‘Big fan of Este Cox, are you?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ said Mal.
Both at the exact same time.
One corner of Joe’s mouth flickered upwards.
‘I’m not a big fan, I’m a huge fan,’ I corrected, hitting my godfather with the world’s finest side eye. ‘Malcolmmentioned there was a special edition coming out and I begged him for a copy.’
‘Huh.’ Joe flicked through the pages with a look of easy disdain. ‘Three hundred pages of wish fulfilment fantasy for women who need to get out the house more often. Or stay in more often, if you catch my drift.’
It wasn’t a difficult drift to get a hold of.
Mal said nothing, I said nothing. Instead I clenched my jaw tightly and felt my teeth grinding against each other.
‘Two fresh mint teas?’
The toxic silence around the table was broken by our waiter.
‘Mint tea sounds good, I’ll have one too,’ Joe said as the waiter put down our cups, eyeballing the awkward situation he’d walked in on.
‘No problem, you can have both of ours.’ Mal rose to his feet, pulled out his wallet and pressed his credit card into the waiter’s empty hands. ‘I’ve got to be getting back to the office, busy afternoon.’
‘Except the department heads meeting is cancelled,’ Joe said.
‘I’ve got a call scheduled with an author.’
‘Your assistant said your diary was empty.’
‘Pamela is a PA, not a mind reader.’
I watched the action volley back and forth between them as though I was watching a particularly heated game of tennis and not two grown men bickering until the waiter returned holding a card machine, waiting for a break in the posturing to present it to Mal.
‘If I could get your PIN, sir.’
There had never been a more apologetic man than that waiter.
‘So, Sophie Taylor.’ Joe said my name slowly, trying it on for size to see if it fit. ‘You’re Malcolm’s goddaughter, are you?’
‘That’s right,’ I replied, sucking in my cheeks and tamping down the desire to kick him in the shins.
‘And this is a nice, friendly catch-up lunch?’
Tightening my jaw, I did my very best not even to glance at my book as he dropped it heavily onto the table.
‘What else would it be?’
‘Can’t imagine,’ he answered with mock confusion. ‘Just seems a bit odd that Malcolm would be paying for lunch with his goddaughter with his company credit card, that’s all.’
Me, Mal and the waiter froze as the little white receipt reeled silently out of the card machine.
