He considered. ‘It’s what you plan to sell, and how.’
She groaned. ‘Same thing, different words, yes. What else?’
‘Your marketing and sales strategy.’
‘I’ve marketed it. I’ve sold it.’
‘Personnel?’
‘Me. Maybe Bryony. Even Tamzin, if she fancies it.’
He began to feel like laughing. ‘I don’t think you’re going to chase Jaeger out of the market, do you?’
She shook her head. There was a glimmer of a smile.
‘Premises?’
‘Home.’
‘Equipment?’
‘Only when I take on another machinist. But maybe I need a new table. Materials and money to live on are my priorities.’
‘Financial forecasts?’
She looked horrified. ‘Are you absolutely certain a bank will want a business plan?’
He kissed the tip of her nose and tucked the folded envelope into her hand. ‘Or you could just smile at the bank manager and he’ll lend you the money.’
She gazed at him reproachfully. ‘She’s a woman.’
‘Better write the business plan, then.’
They kissed for the last time before he walked her back in silence to her car. There was none of the heat and passion of the back-seat episode. He cradled her against him and explored her mouth as if committing it to memory. He kissed her throat and the palms of her hands. Then waited, impassive, while, her lap full of tissues, she reversed out of the parking space and drove home to Purtenon St. Paul.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tamzin had been going out with George for three weeks. Three blissful weeks of holding hands. Kissing. Laughing, talking. Eating fast food.
George had such a huge appetite and punctuated his days with, ‘I need a McDonald’s,’ or, ‘How long till I get a pizza?’ Tamzin was actually beginning to gain weight because she sat beside him and opened her mouth like an obedient little bird as he fed her titbits of pizza dough festooned with cheese or strips of spicy chicken, while he ate.
Besides Erica, Rob and Marty, George had loads of friends; it made her head spin how many. He fell over them at every pub, club and gig.
In the busier of these, Tamzin withdrew – and tonight was happy-cheapy night at Danny Boyes, so mega busy. As the place heaved and voices rose she grew sweaty and tense. To her surprise, George seemed to realise and, when holding her hand didn’t make her feel any better, just whispered, ‘Let’s go,’ in her ear and led her out into the night, out of the rafter-shaking racket.
‘Are you a panicker?’ He pulled her close to kiss her.
She snuggled into his arms, the evening air chilly after the cheerful fug inside. ‘Kind of. I’m sorry if I spoilt your night.’
‘So what is it? Crowds?’
She felt her hands become fists. ‘Not always. It’s certain kinds… Certain people. It sounds so stupid when I say it aloud.’
‘It can’t be stupid if it makes you feel so crazy bad.’ The street was quiet. He pulled her down beside him on a wall. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘You’ll think I’m babyish.’ She shivered.
He squeezed her tightly. ‘I’m on your side, Tamz.’
