Page 120 of Who’s That Girl?

My whole body contracts with horror.

‘So, just to confirm, the exact address for the press release is …’

I scramble for the receiver, but it’s too late. Beatrice is reading out the address of Oliver’s granddad’s antique shop.

Fuck.

‘Anyway, got to run, it’s salsa tonight!’

The line goes dead and there’s silence. Frozen, I stare at the phone, my mind whirling. Until slowly I turn round. Oliver is standing in the doorway, just looking at me. His face is white with shock.

‘I can explain,’ I manage finally.

‘You?’ he says in disbelief. ‘It was you.’ He’s staring at me as if it doesn’t make sense, his brow furrowed in confusion. ‘Granddad said he thought he recognised one of the people who came into his shop. A girl. Blonde. I thought he was getting confused …’ He trails off, his mind joining up the dots.

‘Yes, it was me,’ I admit quietly, my whole body suffused with regret.

‘You’re the reason my granddad’s lost his shop?’

His voice may be quiet, but the accusation stings. ‘It’s not like that,’ I say quickly.

‘So what is it like?’ he replies. There’s an edge to his voice now.

‘I’m in PR. I represent a client.’

‘But it was your idea.’

‘I might have made some suggestions about the location, but I wasn’t specific.’

‘So who’s your client?’ he demands, his shock fast giving way to anger. ‘Don’t tell me, it’s going to be another coffee shop,’ he gasps in disgust, before I can answer.

‘No, he’s a cosmetic dentist. He’s going to open his first UK clinic: Star Smile.’ Hearing myself say it, it suddenly sounds ridiculous.

Oliver looks at me incredulously. ‘My grandfather’s antique shop – sorry, junk shop’ – he spits angrily and I blush hotly. I’ve never used that phrase, it was Larry Thompson, but suddenly by association I’m as guilty as he is – ‘is going to be a fucking dentist’s?’

‘A cosmetic dentist,’ I correct, and then by the look on his face wish I hadn’t. ‘I was going to tell you,’ I try again.

‘When exactly?’

‘I don’t know …’

‘Before or after you spent the afternoon with my granddad?’ he says coldly.

A shiver runs down me and I’m suddenly aware that my blouse is still unbuttoned and my bra straps are pulled down. I quickly shove them back up again, feeling vulnerable and foolish.

‘I didn’t know until today. I just found out too. Look, I’m sorry.’ I reach out my hand to touch his arm, but he wrenches it away.

‘Yeah, I bet you’re sorry,’ he retorts, his face set hard. ‘Sorry all the way to the bank.’

‘That’s not fair,’ I exclaim. ‘You’re being unfair!’

‘I’m being unfair?’ he cries acerbically.

‘Well, it’s not like I killed someone,’ I gasp, feeling a snap of impatience.

‘You might as well have. It was my granddad’s whole life.’

All at once I feel a wave of anger. I feel guilty enough without him going on at me. ‘How dare you stand there and judge me? You’ve got no idea,’ I reply hotly. ‘You’ve got no idea the pressure I’m under, or the impossible situation I’m in! I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t plan it, but when a big client’s involved, there’s a lot at stake. It’s not just about me any more. I have a job to do, a business to run, wages to pay.’