‘I knew it!’
Ted Blaskiewicz was not impressed. He was sore that he’d only learned of Anna’s date after the event, but his main bone of contention appeared to be that Ashraf had blurted it out over coffee that morning. ‘Why wasn’t I informed of this?’
‘Because it’s none of your business?’ Sheniece shot back, clearly happy that she’d been party to the news before the chief of security. ‘Anna doesn’t have to tell you everything, Ted.’
‘She told you. And Ashraf. Apparently everyone who didn’t need to know first, unlike me. The point is, I should know as a matter of urgency if it could affect the security of this building,’ he blustered. ‘It could have . . . ramifications.’
‘How, exactly? They met outside of work. So your pokey old nose can stay out of it.’
Anna found their verbal battle amusing. The memory of Saturday night still burned brightly within her and her colleagues’ war couldn’t extinguish it. ‘I had a lovely evening, Ted. Thanks for asking.’
Ted folded his arms. ‘And are you planning on doing it again, girl?’
‘Maybe.’ Her comment had its desired effect on the rotund security guard, whose expression simmered with beetroot rage.
‘Impossible, the lot of you,’ he stormed, huffing away to his room.
‘Was it amazing?’ Sheniece was eager to know every detail. ‘I heard you went to Riverside One. My mate knows someone who works there, and they said celebrities turn up to eat there all the time. Peter Andre, the love-rat from Made in Chelsea and that woman from Geordie Shore were spotted just last month, apparently.’ She let out a sigh. ‘Maybe if this place goes under I should go for a job there. You never know who I might bump into . . .’
While Sheniece drifted away to her own reality-TV fantasy, Anna sorted passes for the next expected visitors. ‘I didn’t see anyone famous, if that’s what you want to know, but the food was fantastic.’
‘So, did he stay the night?’
Even for the liberal-minded junior receptionist, this was direct. Anna stared at her colleague. ‘I can’t believe you asked me that!’
‘That’s a yes then.’ Rea Sinfield – summoned no doubt by the gossip searing through the building – grinned as she joined them. ‘You should see McAra this morning. Typing like a demon with a great big, dopey smile on his face.’
‘Not that either of you deserves an answer, but no, actually. He was the perfect gentleman.’
‘Oh, bore off. Trust Ben McAra to change the habits of a lifetime just when things were getting interesting.’ Scandal denied her, Sheniece headed for the kitchen.
Rea leaned closer. ‘Have you seen Ben yet this morning?’
‘We had coffee before work, but he was in a hurry so we didn’t stay long. Why?’
‘I’ve been watching him upstairs. He looks really happy, Anna. And now I see you do, too.’ Checking that they were alone, Rea lowered her voice. ‘Don’t tell anyone but . . . I was hoping you two would get together.’
‘You were?’ The journalist’s sudden confession surprised Anna.
‘We’re not all cynics in the newsroom, you know. I’ve seen far too many sordid office flings lately. It makes a nice change to see the real thing happen for someone. Makes me believe it’s possible.’
‘Anything is possible.’ But before our date I couldn’t have known how wonderful it would be, Anna added to herself, her heart growing warm at the thought.
‘I was beginning to think that wasn’t true.’ Sadness passed across Rea’s eyes. ‘Everyone has an agenda in this city. Especially in the media. You take my advice, Anna: if this is the real thing, hang on to it and never let go.’
News of Anna and Ben’s date surged through the Messenger building, bringing people Anna had barely shared two words with before down to reception. Each arrived armed with a threadbare excuse: visitors that mysteriously hadn’t shown for appointments; water-cooler bottles that needed replacing immediately; enquiries after expected parcels not yet delivered. Anna calmly and politely answered them, knowing that a question about Ben would surely follow. In return, she heard more reports of his good mood and increased focus, all of which were assumed to be down to her influence.
‘He’s spent the whole morning at his desk. McAra never does that . . .’
‘I heard him humming to himself . . .’
‘He’s like a different man, Anna. What did you do to him on Saturday night?’
She wondered if the reporters, picture editors and interns who visited her would return to Ben with similar tales of Anna. Did she look different? Were her answers more confident than before? On the inside she felt as if a spotlight had been pointed at her and a raised stage planted beneath her feet. As her visitors kept arriving and the questions continued, she drifted back to the gorgeous memory of Ben’s hand holding hers, of their kisses that she’d never wanted to end.
Ted, still smarting from being the last to know, sidled up to her at the end of the day. ‘For what it’s worth, girl, I’m happy for you. McAra might be a pesky hack, but if he makes you smile like that, more power to you both.’
Anna patted his arm. ‘Aw, thanks, Ted.’
‘I’m still watching him, mind,’ he added quickly, in case Anna thought he was turning sentimental. ‘Wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t.’
‘I’d expect nothing less. Thanks for watching out for me.’
Reddening, he tipped the brim of his guard’s hat and hurried away.
Tish was agog with the news when Anna met her in the coffee shop beneath Walton Tower, later that afternoon.
‘You’ve liked the guy for so long – was it what you’d hoped?’
‘Better.’ A small squeal of pure joy escaped from Anna’s lips before she could stop it. ‘Honestly, Tish, he was a complete sweetheart. It was like we’d been together for years and I felt so comfortable in his company. I thought we’d have a good time, but Saturday night was incredible.’
‘Ugh, spare me the details,’ Tish grimaced. ‘I don’t need to know my friends are getting it, when I’m not.’
‘Tish! I wasn’t “getting” anything, apart from a really great night out.’ Anna’s face had begun to ache deliciously from smiling all day. ‘I think this could be something that lasts, though. I hope it is . . .’
Her friend’s frown softened. ‘I can tell: it’s written all over your face, Anna. Believe me, I’ll be first to the hat store when the wedding invitation arrives.’
Anna laughed off the insinuation, but it struck her how differently she felt about Ben compared with other men she had dated in the past. The last time she had been so at ease and so certain of her partner’s feelings was with Tom; when he left she’d wondered if she would ever feel that way again. She had never questioned Tom’s love for her – until the end of their relationship – but he’d always maintained a distance that she never managed to breach. It meant that even when she was by his side, as close as two people could be, Tom could feel as if he was a hundred miles away. He had protected his heart too much, and Anna realised after he’d ended their relationship that he’d never really opened up to her in the way she had to him.
But it was as if Ben had already closed the emotional distance between them, long before the physical gap narrowed. Being with him, first as a friend and now as – well, whatever they were becoming – felt more grown-up from the beginning, and Anna knew her hopes were soaring sky-high for where that might take them.
In her apartment she caught sight of the star-studded shoes beside the table. All this had happened since their arrival. Was it possible that one had brought about the other? It was fantastical to consider, but that the two had happened so close together – if a coincidence – was intriguing. But then her life had taken an extraordinary road this year, turning on its head her idea of who she was and what her life looked like. She liked the difference immensely.
Life is beautiful, she thought, pouring a glass of wine and sinking into her sofa to consider it all.