Читать книгу Daughters of Fire - Barbara Erskine - Страница 27

‘So, Dr Lloyd Rees, are you coming to hand in your notice? As a popular author, you clearly no longer need the pittance you earn with us.’ Hugh had just managed to ease his car into a much coveted parking space near George Square. He was pocketing his car keys as he turned and found himself face to face with Viv.

She could feel her face flaming in response to the comment. Somehow she clamped down on the retort which fizzed in her head. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her lose her temper again. She forced herself to smile. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with me a while, yet, Hugh. Someone has to try and bring our attitudes out of the ark and into the world of modern research, after all.’

Damn! Why had she said that? Why antagonise him further?

He had started it, though.

She gripped the strap of the tote bag on her shoulder until her knuckles turned white. Don’t say another word, Viv. Wait for him to mention the brooch. Did he even know it was missing? If he didn’t he soon would if he was heading into the office. She chewed her lips nervously, watching as he bent to retrieve from the pavement the heavy briefcase which he had just pulled out of the car.

For a moment they both stood unmoving there on the footpath. It was the professor who turned away first. Swinging on his heel without another word he strode off, carrying his heavy case with him. He had said nothing about the pin. At the corner he veered away from the office, walking briskly into the square. In spite of herself she smiled with relief. At least they were not going to the same place, but he wouldn’t want to carry that briefcase far.

Following him at a safe distance she headed away from him, seeking the sanctuary of the small book-lined room she had called her own for five years now on the first floor of the small Georgian terraced building on the west side of the square.

Turning up the steps she ducked in through the door to look in at the office where the departmental secretary, Heather James, was sitting at her computer, her eyes fixed on the screen. The coffee machine was gurgling quietly. ‘Can I grab one on my way upstairs?’ Viv dropped her bag on the only empty chair and reached towards the tray of mugs. ‘I suppose you saw that through the window?’

‘Saw what?’ Heather’s large blue eyes seemed to grow larger behind her glasses as she glanced up, then went back to her letter.

‘The Prof heading off towards the library rather than come in here with me.’ Viv grinned. She poured herself a coffee, then realised that her legs were shaking. She sat down abruptly beside her bag, cupping her hands around the mug.

Heather raised an eyebrow. Her light-hearted daily flirtations with her devastatingly attractive boss were part of office life, as was her ability to soothe his notoriously short fuse. ‘Don’t let him get to you, Viv.’ Her fingers flashed across the keyboard; her eyes didn’t leave the screen.

‘It’s hard not to.’

‘But not impossible. He’s done it before, you know.’

‘What?’

‘Bullied people. I think it means he likes you.’ There was an unexpected chortle from behind the piles of files on her desk. ‘Keep cool. He’s won if you lose it.’

Viv exhaled audibly. ‘Lose what? Temper or job?’ Heather clearly hadn’t heard about her attempt at grand larceny.

‘Either or both. Take some time out this summer and chill. Get right away from the department.’

It was a tempting idea. Upstairs Viv stared round her office. Book-lined walls, desk, chairs for students. Piles of papers and the view out across the square. How many days and months had she spent in this room in all? She didn’t like to think. It was beginning to feel like a trap. It smelled dusty. Depressing. She could cross the floor in three paces. Throwing up the sash window with its old frayed cords juddering on the brink of stasis, she stood looking out. Hugh hadn’t headed across towards the library as she had assumed after all. He was sitting in the square. She could see him easily from here. His briefcase on the bench beside him, he was leaning forward, his hands clenched between his knees, his face set in deep lines as he stared down at his feet, the dappled shadow of the trees playing over his features. He looked up briefly as someone walked past him, then he looked down again. His whole body language spelled out dejection. She frowned. She wasn’t about to feel sorry for him.

Twice she looked out of the window again. He hadn’t moved. Then as she was about to sit down at her desk at last she saw him climb to his feet and slowly turn back towards the department.