Читать книгу The Baby Verdict - Кэтти Уильямс, CATHY WILLIAMS, Cathy Williams - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

JESSICA looked at her watch, stretched, and debated whether she should telephone Bruno Carr or not It was eight o’clock, she was still at work, and she needed information. If she was to win this case, she thought with a sense of self-righteous indignation, then he would have to be more available to answer questions. For the past week he had been abroad on business, and, however much information she could gather from various members of various departments, sooner or later he would have to avail himself.

She eyed the phone warily, as though fearing that it might metamorphose into something unpleasant at any moment, then, making her mind up, she dialled his direct work extension and was on the verge of hanging up when she heard his voice down the other end.

Irrationally, she felt a flutter of nerves.

‘Mr Carr? This is Jessica Steam here. I’ve been trying to reach you for the past week, but I gather you’ve been away on business.’

‘New York.’

‘Well, I’m glad you’re back because there are one or two questions I need to ask you.’ She shuffled some bits of paper in front of her, then began to doodle on her notepad.

‘Fire away.’

‘I think it might be better if this is done face to face. It’s important that you familiarise yourself with every aspect of the case so that every question that’s thrown at you on the stand can be dealt with.’

‘It wasn’t my intention to go into the witness box unprepared,’ he said dryly.

‘Perhaps we could meet some time tomorrow?’ she asked, glancing at her diary.

‘Why not now?’

‘Now?’

‘I take it you’re still at work.’

‘Yes, I am, but—’

‘No time like the present. Now, do you know the address of my office here?’ He rattled it off, and she hurriedly scribbled it alongside her complicated doodle. ‘Get a cab. You’ll get here quicker.’

‘Yes, but—’

She heard the flat hum of the dialling tone and stared at the receiver in her hand with an expression of stunned amazement. He’d hung up on her! He’d decided that now was as good a time to answer questions as any, and hadn’t even had the common politeness to ask her what her plans for the evening might be!

Was he so used to getting his own way that he simply took it for granted that the rest of the human race would fall in with whatever he wanted?

She stood up, slipped on her jacket and coat, grabbed her handbag from the low, square table in the corner of her office and hurried out of the building.

The more she thought about his attitude, the more exasperated she became. She could very nearly convince herself that she had really had exciting plans for the evening, when in fact her plans had included no more than a quick, pre-prepared meal in front of the television, a few law articles she wanted to have a look at, and then bed.

Hardly heady stuff, she knew, but she had been working since eight-thirty in the morning, and a low-key evening was just what she felt she needed.

It didn’t help that she had to trudge two blocks and wait fifteen minutes before she managed to hail a taxi. Thursday nights were always busy. Late-night shopping and the remnants of the January sales were enough to encourage even the laziest into the streets. She watched as taxi after taxi trundled past and was in a thoroughly foul temper by the time a vacant one pulled over to the side for her.

I need a long soak in a bath, she fumed silently to herself, staring out of the window at the bright lights and the people, hurrying along to minimise the length of time they spent in the cold. Her suit felt starched and uncomfortable, her make-up had almost vanished completely and she wanted to kick off her shoes and let her feet breathe.

His office block in the City was quite different from where she worked. Large, with a lot of opaque glass everywhere, and, when she entered, a profusion of plants strewn around an enormous reception area, in the centre of which the large, circular desk, manned by an elderly man in uniform, was a bit like an island adrift in the middle of an ocean.

A group of three men in suits was standing to one side, talking in low voices, and they glanced around automatically as she entered the building, but aside from them it was empty.

Because, she thought, everyone else has left to go home and relax, or else get dressed before stepping out to paint the town red.

Jessica couldn’t remember the last time she had painted the town red. She had a sneaking suspicion that she had never painted it red—or any other colour, come to think of it.

During her more active moments, when she’d been involved with a man, few and far between though they had been, she had gone to the theatre or had meals out Somehow, she didn’t think that that fell into the ‘Red Paint’ category.

‘Mr Carr, please,’ she said to the man behind the desk, now feeling gloomy in addition to exasperated and inconvenienced.

He lifted the receiver, spoke for a few seconds, and then nodded at her.

‘Mr Carr’s expecting you,’ he said, and she resisted the impulse to tell him that she knew that already, considering she had been summoned half an hour ago. ‘Fourth floor, last office on the right. He said it’ll be fine for you to make your own way up.’

‘Oh, grand!’ Jessica said with a large, beaming smile. ‘That must mean that he trusts me not to nick anything en route.’

She was standing outside his office door at a little after eight-thirty, quietly determined that she would stay no longer than half an hour. Long enough to brief him on the details of the case, find out his thoughts firsthand, and then anything more detailed could be arranged via their secretaries.

That way, she would be back at her apartment in North London by ten at the latest, just in time to catch the news, microwave a meal and read for half an hour. Any law books would have to wait for another day.

The thick, mahogany door was slightly ajar, so she knocked and pushed it open without waiting for a reply. The room, obviously his secretary’s, was empty. Jessica glanced around it, unconsciously noting that it was larger than most of the top directors’ offices she had been into in her lifetime, if a little lacking in character. A comfortable, functional room that spoke of high-octane efficiency and an ability to get on with the job without distraction.

She strode purposefully towards a further interconnecting door, knocked and, without thinking, pushed it open. He had been expecting her, hadn’t he?

Obviously not, because he was not alone, and his companion was not a fellow senior worker who might have popped in for a five-minute chat. Not unless his fellow senior workers resembled Barbie dolls.

‘I—I’m sorry,’ Jessica stammered, embarrassed, ‘I had no idea that I was interrupting...’

‘Come in.’

Bruno looked not in the least disconcerted by her abrupt arrival. His female companion, however, clearly didn’t welcome the intrusion. She turned from where she was half sitting on his desk and looked at Jessica with no attempt to disguise her annoyance.

‘You could have knocked,’ was her opening line. Her voice, high and girlish, matched the rest of her. She was the perfect male fantasy package. Jessica acknowledged that without a trace of envy. Petite, curvy, with full breasts bursting out of a tight-fitting, long-sleeved top, a skirt that was short enough to leave little to the imagination, and high shoes, which had been discarded. The blonde hair hung in curls past her shoulders and her face was angelic, even if the expression on it wasn’t.

‘I didn’t expect...’ Jessica began, not quite knowing where to go from there.

‘You never said that your so-called meeting was with a woman!’ the girl accused Bruno, pouting.

‘I think it’s time you left, Rachel,’ he said, patting her arm to encourage her off the desk.

‘But we need to talk! You promised!’ She wriggled unhappily off the desk and stepped into her shoes. Her face was a mixture of frustration and pleading.

‘Perhaps you could come over to my place when you’re finished here.’ She turned to Jessica. ‘You won’t be long, will you?’

‘No, I don’t plan—’

‘Close the door behind you after you leave, Rachel,’ Bruno interrupted, swerving back behind the desk and tapping into his computer.

Oh, charming, Jessica thought Was this how he treated all his women? She edged into the room, uncomfortably watching as the dismissed blonde stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her, then she sat down facing him and placed a sheaf of papers on the desk between them.

‘I won’t keep you,’ she said icily. ‘I had rather planned one or two things this evening...’

‘Oh, really? What?’ He looked up from the computer with a mildly curious expression.

This was not what she had expected. Fool that she was, she had anticipated some sort of apology, if only for the sake of politeness.

TV, a microwave dinner and an early night did not seem the appropriate admission. However, she could not bring herself to tell an outright lie. Instead, she said, ‘I need to consult a couple of references in some law books at home...’

‘Another fascinating hobby of yours, is it?’ The blue eyes glinted with sardonic humour. ‘I shudder to think what your dull moments are comprised of.’

Oh, what a keen sense of humour, she thought acidly, excuse me if I don’t fall off my chair laughing.

How could she have forgotten quite how irritating the man was?

‘I’ve read every detail of the case that’s being put forward,’ she said, ignoring his remark completely and tapping the sheaf of papers on the desk. ‘And I’ve highlighted the areas we particularly need to concentrate on.’

He obligingly picked up the lot, scanned through them, replaced them on the desk and asked her if she had eaten.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Have you eaten? Had dinner? Consumed food within the last three hours?’

‘I know what you mean,’ Jessica snapped, ‘I just have no idea why you’re asking.’

‘It’s late. I think we might just as well go out for a quick bite. We can go through all this tomorrow when we’re feeling more alert.’

‘You’re kidding, aren’t you?’ But he didn’t seem to be. She watched, bewildered, as he strolled across to the two-seater sofa by the bookshelf, picked up his jacket and slung it on, followed by a camel-coloured trenchcoat.

‘There’s a good Italian just around the corner. I can always get a table there.’ He stopped to look at her. ‘Coming?’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Jessica spluttered, getting to her feet and feeling utterly manipulated as she shoved all the paperwork back into her briefcase. ‘With all due respect, this has been a pointless exercise for me.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he mused, eyebrows raised, ‘a meal out is surely more fun than looking up a few legal references...’

‘I would say that depends entirely on the company involved,’ she muttered stiffly.

‘If it’s any consolation, we’ll talk business for the duration of the meal. How about that?’ His phoney, soothing tone of voice got on her nerves even more, and she took a few deep breaths and controlled her temper.

‘I’m not dressed for a meal out,’ she pointed out, because a wayward thought had suddenly crossed her mind: she didn’t want to be alone with Bruno Carr unless there was the reassuring presence of files, desks and computers around.

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He gave her a leisurely look. ‘I’m sure Gino has witnessed the sight of a working woman in a suit before. This is the twentieth century, after all, as you were so adamant about pointing out the last time we met.’

He opened the door, stood aside, and she brushed past him with a lofty expression. Diplomacy is the better part of valour, she told herself on the way down in the lift. She was doing this because he was her boss and refusing point-blank was hardly a tactful manoeuvre. If any other man had treated her with such high-handed arrogance, she would have dismissed him on the spot.

That was a comforting thought.

They walked quickly and in silence to the restaurant. In this part of London, there were fewer people about. There were no trendy boutiques to attract the shoppers and not enough fashionable clubs to entice the young and the beautiful.

It was also too cold for dawdling. Within ten minutes they were at the restaurant, which was surprisingly full with an after-work crowd, but the proprietor immediately recognised Bruno and showed them to a table in the furthest corner of the place.

It occurred to Jessica that his girlfriend, or lover, or whoever the small, well-endowed blonde was, would not be impressed to find that his important business meeting had translated itself into a meal at the local Italian.

A suspicious thought began playing at the back of her mind, but she lost it as they were handed menus and the dishes of the day were explained with elaborate, Mediterranean flamboyance.

She had meals out with girlfriends on a fairly regular basis, but it had been a while since she had had a meal out with a man, and against all better judgement she found herself sneaking glances at Bruno as he contemplated the menu in front of him and ordered a bottle of white wine.

It was a unique experience to walk into a room and know that female heads were surreptitiously turning in their direction as they watched and assessed from under lowered lashes. She did not have the immediately captivating face of someone who aroused curious second looks. She was not unattractive, but she knew, deep down, that the few attractions she did possess were played down. Her mind and intelligence were what she wanted on display, rather than her physical attributes. It felt peculiar to be speculated upon by perfect strangers, even if it was simply because she was in the company of Bruno Carr.

He looked up suddenly from the menu and she dropped her eyes, ruffled to think that he might have caught her stare and followed the train of her thoughts from it.

‘So,’ he said lazily, ‘shall we launch immediately into a work-related discussion or would you like to have a glass of wine first?’

Why did she get the impression that, although he recognised her intelligence, he was secretly laughing at her?

‘I do have it in me to converse about things other than work,’ she told him coldly, unsettled by his attitude. She felt as though he was toying with her, in much the same way that a cat toyed with a mouse. ‘I just thought that that was my reason for flying over to see you at this time of the night.’

He ignored that part of her little speech. ‘Other things than work...well, I guess that means...play?’ He had ordered a bottle of white wine, and he looked at her as he tasted a thumbful, nodded, and then waited while two glasses were poured. ‘So, aside from law books and court cases, what other forms of play do you indulge in?’

He tilted his head slightly to one side, sipped his wine and contemplated her with a gravity which she knew was fake. He was highly amused by her and she found it exasperating.

‘I’m sure you know,’ she informed him calmly, taking a mouthful of wine and savouring the taste on her tongue, ‘considering you had my CV in front of you in my office and it was all listed there. But, in case you forgot, I enjoy going to the theatre, reading and foreign travel. What about you?’ She looked at him without blinking and decided that two could play that game. ‘Oops, sorry. I saw firsthand in your office what sort of play you enjoy indulging in.’

Had she said that?

Had she gone completely mad?

He grinned at her wickedly. ‘I do enjoy going to the theatre, reading, and foreign travel as well. But I’ll admit there are other, more absorbing types of play I prefer.’

‘Right.’ She could feel colour stealing into her cheeks, and she hurriedly drank some more wine. ‘Now, shall we discuss this case? At least go over a few things? I’m sure you have a hectic schedule tomorrow and the less—’

‘Dear me. Surely you can do better than that.’ He shot her a surprised look. ‘Just when I thought that we were going to have a little chat about these...things other than work you enjoy talking about.’

‘Okay. Then let’s talk about why you ordered me over to see you only to drag me out here the minute I step foot through the door.’

‘Drag you out here? You have a way with words, don’t you?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jessica said stiffly, ‘I didn’t mean to appear rude.’

‘Oh, feel free to speak your mind. I appreciate honesty in a person.’

‘In that case, I might as well tell you that I’m a great believer in discussion. I don’t like being commanded to do things. I realise that you’re my boss...’

‘And have the authority to tell you precisely what I want you to do...?’ His voice was soft and when he drank his wine he continued to look at her over the rim of his glass.

‘Theoretically.’ The conversation seemed to be getting out of hand and she wondered when they had veered away from the conventional boss-employee line of chit-chat. ‘You did say that you wanted me to be honest,’ she said a little defensively, in anticipation of criticism.

‘Oh, I know. And there’s no need to look so alarmed. I’m not about to invoke the wrath of Khan on you for your temerity. After all, we will be working together to some extent. We might as well make sure that we can co-operate. I’m a great believer in the open forum.’

‘Except for tonight.’

‘Except for tonight,’ he agreed, half smiling.

‘Because...?’ She looked at him, and tried to let that suggestion of great charm wash over her. ‘Because...’ Bruno Carr did things for a reason. ‘You wanted me at your office...at that precise moment...because...’ It suddenly clicked. ‘Because you wanted to get rid of your girlfriend and my appearance was the most convenient way of doing that... am I right?’

‘You have a suspicious mind,’ he answered, leaning back slightly as plates of food were put in front of them, and vegetables were distributed with flourish. ‘It must be the lawyer in you.’

‘I don’t like being used, Mr Carr.’

‘Why don’t you call me Bruno? I encourage first names among my employees. Good for company morale. Makes people feel more comfortable.’

‘But that’s an illusion, isn’t it?’ Jessica said in a steely voice. ‘As tonight proved. You wanted me over because it was an expedient way of getting your girlfriend to leave.’

She could see that he was getting uncomfortable with her persistence but the thought of such blatant manipulation of her stuck in her throat.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, you’re like a dog with a bone. If it makes you feel any better to hear me admit it, then, yes, you’re right. You telephoned, and the idea occurred to me that an unavoidable business meeting was just what I needed’

Jessica finished her glass of wine and it was immediately refilled.

‘That’s despicable.’ She thought it, yes, but she was still amazed when it popped out of her mouth, almost as though any connection between thought and action had been severed. She knew that she ought to apologise. Whatever he said about first names and appreciating honesty and trying to make his employees feel comfortable, he still owned the company she worked for.

But she found it difficult not to voice her objections. She had spent too many years witnessing the price of her mother’s silence.

‘Why didn’t you just tell the poor woman that you were tired of her?’

‘The poor woman?’ All trace of charm had disappeared from his face and he glowered at her. ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about when you refer to Rachel as the poor woman, and I have no idea why I’m bothering to elaborate on any of this with you.’

‘Guilt?’ she suggested. ‘Guilt that I saw through your little manoeuvre? A basic sense of decency in realising that I need some kind of explanation? Even if I am only an employee? I wouldn’t suggest this normally, but you did say that you enjoyed the open forum.’

He shook his head and raked his fingers through his hair, then he shot her a frustrated, perplexed look from under his lashes. ‘So, I gather, do you,’ he commented, eyebrows raised, and she smiled serenely at him.

‘I’m not in the habit of being quite so outspoken—’

‘Not in the habit! God, I should think you send men running in the opposite direction as fast as their legs can take them the minute you confront them with your brand of open forum chit-chat!’

Jessica went bright red and stabbed a few of the vegetables on her plate with misdirected aggression.

‘This is ridiculous,’ she muttered, eating a mouthful of food that now tasted like sawdust. ‘All of this is beside the point. Whatever your reasons for getting me to your office, and whether I approve of them or not, the point of my being here is in my briefcase on the ground.’

‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ he told her darkly. ‘You generated this topic of conversation, and we’ll finish it.’

‘Like you said, you don’t owe me an explanation...’

‘But we’ll be working together and I don’t intend to spend my time being treated like some kind of inhuman monster.’

‘Does it matter, just so long as we get the job done?’

‘Yes, I rather think it does.’

Jessica didn’t say anything. She concentrated on her food and waited for him to speak.

‘And would you like to know why? Because I wouldn’t want you to think that I spend my time chasing women. We’ll be working together, and I can’t have you feeling threatened, now, can I?’ Which, she thought, neatly put her in her place.

‘I feel so much better for that. Thank you for setting my anxious mind at rest.’

‘Where do you get it from?’

‘Get what from?’

‘That special talent you have for biting sarcasm? I can’t see Robert dealing all that well with that viperlike tongue of yours.’

‘Robert,’ Jessica informed him stoutly, ‘is a sweetie.’ And I’m not normally prone to biting sarcasm, she thought to herself, but then again the rest of the human race don’t provoke me quite like you do.

‘Oh, good grief.’ He closed his knife and fork and signalled for another bottle of wine.

Had they consumed one already? She had barely noticed what she had been drinking, and, looking down, she realised that she had done justice to her plate of food, also without noticing.

‘And just to clear the air,’ he informed her, ‘I don’t walk around treating women like second-rate citizens.’

‘I’m sure you don’t.’

‘That’s right, so you can wipe that supercilious expression off your face.’

‘Look, there’s really no need...’

‘Rachel, just for the record, started off as a bit of fun, but I discovered that she wasn’t as content as I thought just to have a good time. Pretty soon, she...she...’

‘Wanted more?’ Jessica said helpfully.

‘Oh, you’re aware of the phenomenon, are you?’

‘Not personally.’

‘Well...’ he shrugged and adopted a hangdog expression ‘...what can a man do?’

The blue eyes scoured her face with boyish bewilderment.

‘Oh, please!’ Jessica told him awkwardly, recognising that this was the essence of true charm. Bruno Carr, arrogant and self-confident that he was, would never veer into the arena of cruelty, because he genuinely liked women. His natural instincts were to persuade, even when seduction played no part in a hidden agenda. The ability to flirt was as inherent with him as the ability to breathe. He did it without thinking, which was why he was so adept at it

‘Women.’ He raised both shoulders expressively. ‘Sometimes I don’t think I understand them at all.’

‘Really. Now I wonder why I find that so hard to believe.’

‘Rachel started talking about the importance of families, of having children, the benefits of settling down.’

‘Poor, misguided girl,’ Jessica said without a trace of sympathy in her voice for him. ‘And what a dreadful predicament for you, I’m sure. One minute, you have a willing, vivacious partner, the next minute she’s gazing into jeweller shops and dropping hints about permanence.’

‘I’m not the marrying sort,’ he said. ‘Some men are and some men aren’t.’

‘You mean it’s all in the genes?’

‘Whereas all women are. Eventually.’

‘Ah. I see.’ She nodded slowly. In a strange, masochistic way, and even though she still resented his high-handed behaviour and was appalled by his train of thought, she found that she was enjoying this conversation. She must be mad.

‘I mean,’ he said, ‘you come across as being the archetypal career woman, but, if you were to be brutally honest with yourself, wouldn’t you agree that when you see the odd pram being pushed you get a certain pang?’

‘What kind of pang?’

‘A pang of longing. Something to do with a biological clock, I gather.’ He poured another glass of wine for them both.

‘Well, not that I’ve ever recognised, but I suppose if your theory’s true then I must subconsciously have that pang lurking in there somewhere.’ How come the conversation was suddenly featuring her in the starring role? Her mind was feeling a little unreliable from the wine.

‘And you don’t?’

Jessica shook her head and frowned. ‘I thought we were talking about you,’ she said, thinking furiously.

‘We were, but then somehow we’ve ended up talking about you. I think it’s important to have some insight into the people who work with me.’

‘You mean you enjoy prying into their lives?’

He grinned, and then laughed, and she gave him a wry smile in return.

This was beginning to feel just a little too dangerous for her liking, although she had no idea why. They were simply, at least for the moment, getting along. She got along with lots of people. Most of the human race, in fact. So why did this make her feel uneasy? When he raised the bottle to her glass, she shook her head and covered it with the palm of her hand.

‘I’ve drunk enough already,’ she told him honestly. ‘Any more and I’ll be fit for nothing in the morning. I don’t have much of a head for alcohol.’

‘Lack of practice?’

‘Something like that.’

‘You mean you don’t spend the occasional night seeing the dawn rise with a glass of champagne in your hand?’

‘Not routinely, no,’ she said. Her hand slipped from round the rim of the glass to the stern, and she curled her fingers lightly around it, not meeting his eye.

Did he do that sort of thing on a regular basis? The blonde bombshell looked like the sort of woman who appreciated overblown gestures along those lines, and presumably she was merely an indication of the type of female he went out with.

‘Actually,’ she said, looking at him, ‘I thought people only did that sort of thing in third-rate movies.’

His mouth twitched, but at least he didn’t burst into laughter. She had a sneaking suspicion that if he had her remark would somehow have backfired in her face, making her appear dull and unadventurous.

‘I take it you don’t approve...?’

‘Does it matter what I think or not? Oh, I forgot, you like to have insight into your employees. Well, as a matter of fact, I neither approve nor disapprove. I just think that it’s not my style.’

‘And what is your style?’

His voice was a low murmur and his eyes on her were suddenly intense. She felt her skin break out in a faint film of perspiration. It was the wine, of course. Between them, they had managed to drink the better part of two bottles, and that simply was not something she was accustomed to doing. One glass, yes. But virtually a bottle? She was surprised that all she saw on his face was a look of curious interest. She should rightfully be seeing three faces, all blurry, and all with different expressions.

‘Work!’ she told him, plucking the word from out of the blue.

‘Work,’ he repeated obligingly. ‘I take it that my limited time on getting insight has been exhausted?’

Jessica looked at her watch and realised that they had been at the restaurant far longer than she had imagined.

‘I must be getting back!’ she exclaimed.

‘Before the carriage turns into a pumpkin?’ he asked with dry amusement.

‘I don’t have a carriage,’ she answered, choosing to ignore any possible innuendo. ‘In fact, I shall have to take a taxi back to my place. I only hope I can find one.’

‘Why don’t you walk back with me to the office, and I can give you a lift home?’

‘That won’t be necessary.’ A lift home? She thought not. Whether it was the drink or not, the night seemed to have taken her onto unfamiliar ground. She had no desire to prolong the experience. Unfamiliar ground was territory she felt should be better left unexplored. She bad never been able to control her background. She had watched in helpless silence as her parents had waged their unremitting cold war and as soon as she had been able to she had left, first to university, then to London. She had learned to exercise control over her life and that had always suited her.

Bruno Carr, however, was not a man who slotted easily into any sort of category she could handle.

As she reached for her briefcase and her bag she realised that the conversation between them had had all the elements of a free fall. How had that happened?

She could feel his eyes on her, and she refused to look at him, at least until she had managed to get some of her thoughts in order.

‘It’ll be a damned sight more convenient if I give you a lift home,’ he said.

‘No, thank you. Honestly.’ Why was she in such a panic at the suggestion? It made sense. ‘Perhaps I ought to telephone for a taxi.’ She looked around her, searching for inspiration.

‘Come on,’ he said, signing his credit-card slip, tearing off his copy, and then standing up. ‘Before you collapse in distress at the thought of getting into a car with me.’

She heard the amusement in his voice with a sinking heart. What must he think of her? Another hysterical woman, overreacting at something utterly insignificant. Hardly professional behaviour, was it?

She took a few deep breaths to steady herself.

‘I must appear quite ridiculous,’ she said in a calmer voice, rooting around for something sensible to say, ‘but I had no idea that the evening would be this late, and...’ Inspiration! ‘I completely forgot that my mum was supposed to call tonight...’

‘Ah. Important call, was it?’

‘My sister-in-law was due to have her baby today...’ Or around now, anyway. ‘Mum lives in Australia with my brother and his wife,’ she explained. True enough. Three weeks after her father had died, her mum, faced with sudden freedom, had taken flight to the most distant shores possible and was having a wonderful time out there. ‘She’ll be terribly disappointed that I wasn’t at home. Anyway, the sooner I get back the better, so if you don’t mind I’ll just jump in a taxi and tell him to go as quickly as he can...’ She knew that she was beginning to ramble, so she stopped talking and smiled brightly at him. What a pathetic excuse.

‘Of course. At times like these, every second counts.’ He ushered her out of the restaurant, and as luck would have it hailed a cab within seconds.

‘There now,’ he said, opening the door for her and peering in as she settled in the back. ‘Feel better?’

She felt a complete fool, but she smiled and nodded and tried to inject an expression of relief on her face.

‘Tomorrow,’ he told her. ‘My office. Eight-thirty.’ He stood back slightly with his hand on the door. ‘Make sure you bring your brain with you. You’ve got important work ahead of you. Can’t have your head addled with thoughts of babies.’ With which he slammed the door behind him, and Jessica ground her teeth together in sheer frustration and watched as he strode off along the pavement in the direction of his building.