Oh-So-Sensible Secretary / Housekeeper's Happy-Ever-After: Oh-So-Sensible Secretary

‘I can’t believe you’d have much trouble finding someone else to make sure she gets the point,’ I demurred. ‘There must be much more likely types who would give the impression that you’re ready to settle down.’

‘I wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea,’ said Phin, not bothering to deny it. It would have been annoying if he had, but I was annoyed anyway. ‘I’m not the settling down kind,’ he said. ‘At least with you we’d both know it was just a pretence.’

I blame it on the pomegranate martinis, but it was starting to make a weird kind of sense.

‘No one would believe that I was really your girlfriend,’ I said. ‘You’re used to going out with actresses and models.’

‘Which is why they’ll think I’m serious if they see me with you.’

My, this was doing wonders for my ego.

‘It would only be for a few weeks,’ Phin was saying. ‘You wouldn’t have to do much. Just be seen out at a few parties with me and hang around looking like a girlfriend for the interview. Then we can seem to break it off later, so I can carry on avoiding commitment while you walk off into the sunset with Jonathan.’

‘Do you really think it would make a difference with Jonathan?’ I asked wistfully.

‘Listen, do you really want him back or not?’

‘I really do.’

‘Even though he’s made you feel boring and unlovable?’

‘I love him,’ I said, dangerously close to getting weepy again.

‘OK,’ said Phin, ‘if Jonathan is what you really want, then I think you deserve what you want. The first thing is to make him realise that you’re not boring at all, that you’re quite capable of being spontaneous when you’ve got the right incentive. Make him think that it’s his fault you never had much fun with him—which it probably is, by the way. We’re going to convince him that we’re having a raging affair, and he’s sure to sit up and take notice.’

‘How do we go about having an affair?’ I said doubtfully. I couldn’t see myself being convincing as someone in the throes of a raging affair somehow. It wasn’t the kind of thing I would do. It wasn’t the kind of thing I liked, to be honest. It smacked too much of losing control and abandoning yourself. I liked things calm and steady and safe.

‘Well, let’s see,’ said Phin with a grin. ‘I could take you back to my place. We’ll say it’s just for a drink, but we won’t be able to keep our hands off each other. The moment we’re through the front door I’ll start kissing you, and you’ll kiss me back. You’ll fall back against the door and pull me with you—’

‘I don’t mean really have an affair,’ I interrupted, scarlet. I was horrified at how vividly I could imagine it, and there was a strange thumping deep inside me. Jonathan had never lost control like that. I was beginning to feel very odd, but I hoped very much that was down to the martinis. ‘I meant…how would we make everyone believe it? We can hardly send round an e-mail announcement that we’re sleeping together.’

Phin didn’t seem to think that would be a problem. ‘We’ll go to a couple of parties, maybe leave work together—or even better arrive together—and word will get round in no time. If you can contrive to blush whenever my name is mentioned in the Ladies’, or wherever you girls all congregate, so much the better. And remember how besotted I’m going to be with you,’ he went on. ‘I won’t be able to keep my hands off you—especially when Jonathan is around. I don’t think it will take long before he gets the point.’

I buried my nose in my martini, trying not to wonder what it would be like to have Phin putting his arm around me, sliding his hand down my back. Would he twine his fingers around mine? Would he stroke my hair?

Would he kiss me?

The breath rushed out of my lungs at the thought. Would he? And if he did what would it be like?

My heart was thudding painfully—ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom—and I had to moisten my lips before I could speak. This was about Jonathan, remember?

‘But if Jonathan thinks I’m with you, he’ll assume I’m not interested in him any more,’ I objected.

‘Once he starts paying attention—and he will—you’ll have to let him know that you just might be tempted away from me. If you can do it without seeming too keen. You might have to spend some time alone together…’ Phin snapped his fingers. ‘Of course! Jonathan can come to Cameroon. If you can’t seduce him back on a steamy tropical night, Summer, I wash my hands of you!’

I thought about it as I sucked on the long curl of orange peel which was all that was left at the bottom of my glass. Apart from the reminder of Cameroon, which I’d been rather hoping he’d forgotten about, I was struggling to think of a good argument as to why Phin’s idea wouldn’t work.

The third martini wasn’t helping. I was feeling distinctly fuzzy by now, and finding it hard to concentrate.

Phin followed my gaze to the empty glass. ‘Had enough?’ he asked, and I bridled at the humorous understanding in his voice.

A sensible girl would say yes at this point, but being sensible hadn’t got me anywhere, had it?

‘No,’ I said clearly. Well, it was meant to sound clear. Whether it did is doubtful. ‘I’d love another one.’

One of Phin’s brows lifted. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Absho—absolutely sure.’

‘It’s your hangover,’ he said, the corner of his mouth quirking in that lop-sided smile of his. He beckoned the waitress over. ‘Another pomegranate martini for my little lush here, and I’ll have another half.’

I waited until she had set the glasses on the table. Part of me knew quite well that Phin’s plan was madness, but I hadn’t been able to come up with a single argument to convince him how ridiculous the idea was.

‘Do you really think it would work?’ I asked, almost shyly.

‘What’s the worst that could happen if it doesn’t?’ Phin countered. ‘You’d be in the same situation you are now, but at least you’ll know you did everything you could to make your dream come true. That has to be better than just sitting and watching it disappear, doesn’t it? And, if nothing else, we’ll have promoted the family image of Gibson & Grieve with this interview. As a good company girl, I know you’ll be glad to have done your bit!’

He was watching my face.

‘It’s a risk,’ he said in a different voice, ‘but you don’t get what you really want without taking chances.’

I looked back at him, biting my lip.

‘So,’ he said, lifting his glass, ‘do we have a deal?’

And I, God help me, chinked my glass against his. ‘Deal,’ I said.

‘Good morning, Summer!’ Phin’s cheery greeting scraped across my thumping head.

‘Not so loud,’ I whispered, without even lifting my head from the desk, where I’d been resting it ever since I’d staggered into work twenty minutes earlier. Late, for the first time in my life. I would have been mortified if I had had any feelings to spare. As it was, I had to save my energy for basic survival. Breathing was about all I could manage right then, and even that hurt.

‘Oh, dear, dear, dear.’ I could picture him standing over me, blue eyes alight with laughter, lips pursed in mock reproach. ‘Is it possible you’re regretting that last martini?’

I groaned. ‘Go away and leave me to die in peace!’

‘Aren’t you feeling well?’ Phin enquired solicitously.

‘How could you possibly have guessed that?’ I mumbled, still afraid to move my head in case it fell off.

‘I’m famed for my powers of deduction. The FBI are always calling me up and asking me to help them out.’

I didn’t even have the energy to roll my eyes. ‘How many martinis did you make me drink last night?’

‘Me? It wasn’t me that insisted on another round, or the next, or the next…I asked you if you were sure, and you said that you were. Absolutely sure, you said,’ he reminded me virtuously, and I hated the laughter in his voice.

I only had the vaguest memory of getting home the night before. Phin. A taxi. Anne’s astonished face as I reeled in the door.

‘Oh, God…I’m going to be a statistic,’ I moaned into the desk. ‘I’ll be one of those moody binge drinkers we’re always hearing about who throw away their entire careers.’

‘You don’t think you might be exaggerating just a teeny bit?’ said Phin. ‘Letting your hair down once in a while isn’t the end of the world.’

It certainly felt like the end of the world to me. I’d never been closer to pulling a sickie. I couldn’t even imagine a time when I would feel better. My forehead stayed where it was, pressing into the desk. ‘If you knew how awful I felt, you wouldn’t say that.’

‘You were great fun,’ he offered, but that was no consolation to me then. ‘You were the life and soul of the bar by the time I managed to bundle you into a taxi. It’s one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. I think I’m going to enjoy going out with you.’

‘I’m not going out ever again,’ I vowed.

‘You’ll have to. How else will everyone know how in love we are?’

Very cautiously, I turned my head on the desk and squinted up at him. ‘Please tell me last night was all a bad dream.’

‘Certainly not!’ said Phin briskly. ‘We had a deal. You drank to it—several times, if I recall. Besides, we’re committed. I met Lex on my way in and asked if I could take you to some drinks party he’s having on Friday.’

‘What?’ Horrified, I straightened too suddenly, and yelped as my head jarred.

‘Our cunning plan is never going to work if you hide away,’ Phin pointed out, sitting on the edge of my desk and deliberately pushing a pile of squarecut folders aside. I was in such a bad state that I didn’t even straighten them, and he looked at me in concern.

‘Jonathan will be there,’ he added, to tempt me, but I was beyond comfort by then.

‘Oh, God.’ I collapsed back onto the desk. ‘What did Lex say? He must have been horrified.’

‘Not at all. He was surprised, sure, but he said falling for you could be the most sensible thing I’d ever done.’

‘I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,’ I moaned.

‘Now, come along—you’ll feel better when you’ve had some sugar,’ said Phin, jumping off the desk. ‘I’ll go and make some coffee, and you can have your doughnut early.’

Oddly enough, I did feel a bit better after something to eat. My head was still thumping, but at least it didn’t feel as if it was about to fall off my neck any more.

Gingerly, I settled down at my computer and managed a few e-mails, although the clatter of the keyboard made me wince and I had to type very, very slowly, while Phin drip-fed me coffee and tried to rouse me by pretending to put files away in the wrong drawer.

‘Don’t torture me,’ I grumbled. ‘I thought you were supposed to be in love with me?’

‘That’s true. I should think of a truly romantic gesture to show what you mean to me. I could start putting my books in alphabetical order, or using a square rule to tidy my desk.’

‘Why don’t you try leaving my desk alone, for a start?’ I said, swatting his hand aside as he made to pick up my calculator.

‘Aha, I see you’re feeling better!’

‘I’m not. I’m a sick woman. I can’t take any more.’

The words were barely out of my mouth before ‘more’ arrived—much more—in the shape of my mother.

She wafted in the door, beaming. ‘Summer, darling, there you are!’

‘Mum!’

It was Phin’s turn to gape. ‘Mum?’

I couldn’t blame him for looking staggered. No one ever believes she’s my mother. You’d never think she was in her forties. She’s got long red hair, shining eyes and a clear happy face. There’s something fey, almost childlike, about her. I’ve never seen her in a scrap of make-up, she wears sandals and flowing ethnic skirts, and she always looks wonderful.

And, while she may be deeply into all things spiritual, she’s not immune to flattery either. The smile she gave Phin was positively flirtatious. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting?’

‘Of course not,’ said Phin, leaping forward to shake her hand. ‘I’m Phin Gibson.’

‘And I’m Starlight,’ she told him.

They beamed at each other. I judged it was time to put a stop to their mutual love-in.

‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ I said.

‘I did tell you I was coming to London,’ she reminded me.

She had said something, I remembered too late. ‘I didn’t realise it would be so soon.’

‘It was an impulse.’

When had it ever not been an impulse? I thought wearily.

‘We were gathered the other evening, channelling, when we were all seized by the same idea. It was the most extraordinary coincidence, so we knew that it had to be meant! Each of us felt our guardian angels were telling us to follow the ley lines into London…and now here we are!’

‘What about the shop?’ I asked, my heart sinking. A couple of years ago she had decided that she would open a New Age shop in Taunton. I’d been all for the idea of her settling to a job, so I’d helped with the practicalities of arranging the lease and sorting out a set-up loan. Mum had been full of enthusiasm for a while, but I hadn’t heard much about it recently. Obviously she was into something else now.

Sure enough, she waved all talk of the shop aside. ‘This is more important, Summer. We’ve been walking between the worlds at the powersites along the ley line. The earth needs it desperately at the moment. Only by channelling the energy and letting the Divine Will flow through us can we help to heal it.’

‘Someone told me there’s a ley line running right along the Mall to Buckingham Palace,’ said Phin, sounding interested. ‘Is that right?’

‘It is.’ She beamed approvingly at him. ‘And this building sits on the very same line! I’m getting good vibes here.’

I dropped my head into my hands. My hangover had come back with a vengeance. I wasn’t up to dealing with my mother today. I wished Phin would stop encouraging her.

Meanwhile my mother had turned her attention back to me. ‘Your aura is looking very murky, Summer. Haven’t you been using the crystals I sent you? If only I had some jade with me. That’s very calming for irritability.’

‘I’m not irritable, Mum,’ I said—irritably. ‘I’ve just got a bit of headache.’

‘I sense your energy is all out of balance.’ She tutted. ‘You need to realign your chakras.’

‘Right, I’ll do that. Look, Mum, it’s lovely to see you, but I have to get on. Where are you staying? We could meet up this evening.’

Her face fell. ‘Jemima is going to regress tonight. Her spiritual journeys are always so interesting,’ she told Phin. ‘Last time she was reborn as one of Cleopatra’s maids. It was quite an eye-opener.’

‘I can imagine,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t want to miss that, so why don’t I take you both out to lunch?’

‘Oh, but—’ I began in dismay, but neither Phin nor my mother were listening.

‘I know a vegan restaurant just round the corner,’ he was telling her, having accurately guessed her tastes. ‘They do a great line in nut cutlets.’

How Phin came to know a vegan restaurant I’ll never know, as I’d had him down squarely as a steak and chips man, but sure enough, tucked away a block or two from the office, there was a little café. Before I knew it, we were tucking into grilled tofu, bean ragout and steamed brown rice, and my mother, blossoming under Phin’s attention, was well into her stride with stories about my childhood. I gazed glumly into my carrot juice and wished for the oblivion of another martini.

‘She was such a funny little thing,’ Mum told Phin. ‘Always worrying! Ken and I used to joke that her first words were “Have you paid the electricity bill?”’ She laughed merrily.

‘Ken was my father,’ I explained to Phin. ‘He died when I was nine.’

‘Such a spiritual man!’ My mother sighed. ‘I know I should be glad he’s moved on to a higher astral plane, but I still miss him sometimes. We were totally in harmony, physically and spiritually.’

‘You’re lucky to have had that,’ said Phin gently. ‘It’s quite rare, I think.’

‘I know, and I’m so glad dear Summer is going to have the same feeling with you.’

I looked up from the alfalfa sprouts I was pushing around my plate, startled. ‘Er, Mum, I think you’ve got wrong end of the stick. Phin’s my boss.’

I might as well have spared my breath. ‘His colours are very strong,’ she said, and turned to him. ‘I’m getting a lot of yellow from you.’

‘Is that good?’ asked Phin, as if he was really interested.

‘In positive aspects, absolutely. Yellow is a warm colour. It relates to the personality, the ego.’

‘No wonder you’ve got so much of it,’ I said snippily, but Phin held up a hand.

‘Hold on, I get the feeling your mother really understands me.’

‘Yellow is how we feel about ourselves and about others.’ Did I tell you Mum is a colour therapist? ‘It tells me that you’re confident and wise and positive about life.’

‘And you thought I was just like everyone else,’ Phin said to me. ‘What about Summer? Is she as wise as me?’

‘Summer has a cool aura,’ said Mum, well away now. ‘She’s got a lot of indigo and blue. That means she’s fearless and dutiful and self-sacrificing, but she’s also kind and practical.’

Phin nudged me. ‘Bet you wish you were wise, like me!’

‘You’re a very good match,’ Mum said, and I scowled.

‘How do you work that out? Yellow and blue are quite different.’

‘But when you put them together they make green,’ said my mother. ‘That’s the colour of balance and harmony.’ She smiled at us both. ‘Green relates to the heart chakra, too. When it comes to giving and receiving love, it’s the perfect combination.’

‘Thank you for not laughing at her,’ I said to Phin when my mother had drifted off to prepare for the evening’s regression. I fingered the clear crystal pendulum (“Very good for energy tuning”) that she had pressed on me before she left. ‘I know she’s a bit wacky, but…’

‘But she’s so shiningly sincere you can’t help but like her,’ said Phin. ‘What’s not to like about someone who loves life as much as she does?’

As we walked back to the office I tried to imagine Jonathan sitting down to grilled tofu with my mother. I’d never really talked to him about my childhood. I’d had the feeling he’d be appalled by her flaky ideas, and I was absurdly grateful to Phin for seeing her good side.

‘It must have been hard for you, losing your father when you were so young.’ Phin broke into my thoughts. ‘Did you miss him?’

‘Not that much,’ I said honestly. ‘We were living in a commune then, and there were lots of other people around. Besides, we weren’t allowed to be sad. We had to rejoice that he had ascended to a higher plane.’

I shook my head, remembering. ‘I think it must have been much harder for my mother. They do seem to have really loved each other, and I suspect she threw herself into the spiritual side of things as a way of coping. She’s got a very flimsy grasp on reality, and sometimes she drives me mad, but at least she’s happy.’ I sighed. ‘And who am I to say what she should or shouldn’t believe?’

‘I can’t see you in a commune,’ Phin commented.

‘I hated it, but, looking back, it was the best place for Mum,’ I said reflectively. ‘I wish she’d join another. At least then someone else would worry about the day-to-day things.’

‘Like paying the electricity bill?’

‘Exactly. They were both hopeless with money, and just couldn’t be bothered with things like bills, so the electricity was always getting cut off. They thought it was funny that I used to fret, but if I didn’t sort out the practicalities no one else would.’

‘Sounds like they were the opposite of my parents,’ said Phin, as we waited to cross the road at the lights. ‘They were both obsessed with financial security. They thought that as long as they could pay for us to go to “good” schools and we had everything we wanted they would have done their duty as parents.’

He grinned at me suddenly. ‘We’re an ungrateful generation, aren’t we? My parents did their best, just like yours did. It’s not their fault that we want different things from them. Mine drive me mad, just like your mother does you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love them. The truth is that there’s part of me that still craves their approval. Why else would I be at Gibson & Grieve, getting in Lex’s way?’

‘At least you’re trying,’ I said. ‘My mother would be delighted if I gave up my job to channel angels or dowse for fairy paths. I don’t think she even knows what “career” means.’

We were passing a burger bar just then, and as the smell of barbecued meat wafted out Phin stopped and sniffed appreciatively. ‘Mmm, junk food…!’ His eyes glinted as he looked down at me. ‘Are you still hungry?’

‘What? After all those delicious alfalfa sprouts? How can you even ask?’

We took our burgers away and sat on the steps in front of the National Gallery, looking down over Trafalgar Square. It was a bright February day, and an unseasonal warmth in the air taunted us with the promise of spring.

I was certainly feeling a lot better than I had earlier that morning. I was still a bit fuzzy round the edges but my headache had almost gone. Perhaps my mother’s crystal was working after all.

‘What are you doing?’ Phin demanded as I unwrapped my burger and separated the bun carefully.

‘I don’t like the pickle,’ I said, picking it out with a grimace and looking around for somewhere to dispose of it.

‘Here, give it to me,’ he said with a roll of his eyes, and when I passed it over he shoved it into his own burger and took a huge bite.

‘See—we’re like a real couple already,’ he said through a mouthful.

I wished he hadn’t reminded me of the crazy pretence we’d embarked upon the night before. I couldn’t believe I’d actually agreed to it. I kept waiting for Phin to tell me that it was all a big joke, that he’d just been having me on.

‘Did you really tell Lex that we were going out?’

‘Uh-huh.’ He glanced down at me. ‘I told him that we were madly in love.’

I wanted to look away, but my eyes snagged on his and it was as if all the air had been suddenly sucked out of my lungs. Held by the blueness and the glinting laughter, I could only sit there and stare back at him, feeling giddy and yet centred at the same time.

It was a very strange sensation. I was acutely aware of the coldness of the stone steps, of the breeze in my face and the smell of the burger in my hands.

I did eventually manage to wrench my gaze away, but it was an effort, and I had to concentrate on my breathing as I watched the tourists milling around the square. They held their digital cameras at arm’s length, posing by the great stone lions or squinting up at Nelson on his column. A squabble erupted amongst the pigeons below us, and my eyes followed the red buses heading down Whitehall, but no matter where I looked all I saw was Phin’s image, as if imprinted behind my eyelids: the mobile mouth with its lazy lop-sided smile, the line of his cheek, the angle of his jaw.

When had he become so familiar? When had I learnt exactly how his hair grew? When had I counted the creases at the edges of his eyes?

There was a yawning feeling in the pit of my stomach. Desperately I tried to conjure up Jonathan’s image instead, but it was hopeless.

‘What did Lex say?’ I asked, struggling to sound normal. ‘Did he believe you?’

‘Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?’

‘You’ve got to admit that we make an unlikely couple.’

‘Your mother doesn’t think so,’ Phin reminded me.

‘My mother believes that fairies dance around the flowers at dawn,’ I pointed out. ‘The word “unlikely” doesn’t occur in her vocabulary.’

‘Well, Lex didn’t seem at all surprised—except maybe that you would fall in love with me.’ Phin crumpled the empty paper in his hand. ‘He seemed to think that you were too sensible to do anything like that. He’s obviously never seen you drinking pomegranate martinis!’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.