The new full-time receptionist at Rebecca Talworth Design Ltd. sorted through the morning’s post with practiced speed. Even though still at the tender age of nineteen, she had had the experience of working for a large litigation law practice in the Docklands where filing precision had been considered an essential and integral part of the firm’s success. She checked each envelope first to make sure that it didn’t bear a mark of confidentiality, and then, slitting it open with a letter knife, she discarded the envelope into the wastepaper bin and placed the letter in its relevant in-tray. Once she had finished, she gathered up the contents of each tray, slipped them into individual cardboard folders, twanged on the elastic retainer bands, and then, cradling the folders in her arms, she went off to deliver them to their respective recipients.
Her first port of call was to the office of Stephen Turnbull, the young and, to her mind, extremely good-looking financial director of the company. As she made to knock on the glass door of his office, he looked up and saw her, his face lighting up in a broad smile, and there was a glint in his eye that made her knees turn to jelly. She could sense immediately the involuntary flush that had been brought to her cheeks. He come-hithered her with his index finger and she entered the office.
“Good morning, Carrie,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind the slicked-back hair on his head. “How are you this morning?”
“I’m well, thank you, Mr. Turnbull,” Carrie replied, trying to avoid looking into his dark-brown eyes by casting a glance first at her armful of files and then out of the window behind him. A pigeon had settled down to preen itself on the rooftop of the building opposite and it was positioned in such a way that it appeared to be sitting on top of his head. She bit at her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing. “And how are you?”
“Couldn’t be better.” He pushed himself forward and leaned on the desk. “Listen, let’s drop this ‘Mr. Turnbull’ bit. This is not a stuffy old law firm. Stephen’ll do fine.”
“All right”—Carrie felt her face colour even more—“Stephen.”
“Good.” He held a hand out for his file. “Anything interesting for me today?”
“Not a lot, I’m afraid,” she replied, handing him the file. “Oh, there are the press cuttings from Paris. I didn’t read them, though. I thought that you might like to see them first.”
Stephen flicked the elastic bands off the file, and then hurriedly sifted through his mail before extracting the stapled pages of the press reports. He glanced quickly through them, dropped them on his desk, and clenched his fist into a tight ball.
“Are they good?” Carrie asked tentatively.
“They are bloody wonderful, Carrie. They are truly bloody wonderful.”
Carrie lifted her shoulders in girlish glee. “Oh, that’s terrific. Jackie will be delighted.”
“You bet she will,” Stephen replied, casting a smiling glance past the receptionist and across to the office opposite where Jackie sat at her desk. The steely glare that met him made the smile quickly disappear from his face. “Right,” he said, his voice suddenly becoming brusque. “I think that will be all, thanks, Carrie. I won’t hold you back. I’m sure you’ve got lots to do.”
The young receptionist became flustered at his sudden change of tone. “Right, yes, of course I have. I’m sorry I’ve kept you.” She hurriedly left the financial director’s office and averted her eyes from his gaze as she walked along the corridor to make her next delivery.
Stephen pushed aside the file and picked up the press reports. He held them up, facing Jackie, and brushed their top edge against his mouth. She looked at him quizzically before her mouth dropped open in realization of what he was showing her. He shot three consecutive winks at her, and she immediately understood their meaning. She jumped up from her desk and ran through to his office.
“What are they like?” she asked breathlessly.
Stephen spun the press cuttings across the desk towards her. “See for yourself.”
Jackie picked up the pages and flicked through them, her face becoming more animated with each one. “They’re brilliant, Stephen. Every one of them is absolutely brilliant!”
Stephen laughed. “I know. And that’s even with Gaultier showing at the same time.”
“Has Rebecca seen these?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so. She’s still at home. We’ll fax them through and see what she has to say about them.”
“She couldn’t be anything but pleased.”
“I would hope so. It depends on how the mood takes her.” Stephen pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “However, I think that we should feel extremely pleased with ourselves,” he said, walking around behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders, “because it was us who put the whole thing together.” He blew gently on her right ear.
Jackie, who had been engrossed in the press reports, suddenly realized what was happening. She pulled away from his hold and began casting furtive glances around the open-plan office. Nobody appeared to be looking in their direction. “Stephen!” she exclaimed in a laughing whisper. “For goodness’ sakes, don’t do that! I’ve told you before, we don’t mix business with pleasure.” She leaned back on his desk, keeping a safe distance between them, as she nonchalantly continued to read the reports.
“What a pity,” Stephen replied, pushing his hands into the pockets of his trousers, “because I wouldn’t mind taking you right here and now on my desk.”
“Oh, wouldn’t you?” Jackie asked, without shifting her eyes from the paper. “And I suppose that Carrie would be in line for the same kind of treatment.”
“She’s not my type. I don’t go for—”
“Younger women?” Jackie cut in, lifting her head sharply to watch for his reaction.
“That was not what I was going to say.” He moved towards her, made to put his arms around her, but then checked himself and instead folded them across his chest. It was he, this time, who cast a glance around at the other offices. “You know how I feel about you, Jackie. I wouldn’t muck around.”
Jackie let out a sigh. “Aren’t we both guilty of that already, Stephen?”
Stephen grabbed the press reports out of her hand and waved them in front of her face. “Listen, we shouldn’t be talking like this today. We’ve got great news. Rebecca Talworth is made, and all thanks to us. We should be celebrating.”
Jackie smiled at him. “You’re right. We should be.”
Stephen let out a sigh of relief. “Jeez, I’m glad you said that. You had me worried there for a minute.”
“I worry myself quite often.”
“Well, don’t.” He gave her arm a quick squeeze. “Listen, I’ve got a great idea.”
“And what might that be?”
“I have to head off to Milan the week after next to see if I can strike a deal over the rental of the new premises. Why don’t you come with me?”
Jackie shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve got something on.”
“What have you got on?”
Jackie laughed. “I don’t know exactly what. I’d have to check my diary.”
“Come on, then.” He grabbed her forcefully by the arm and marched her out of his office, across the corridor, and into her own. “Right, let’s check it.”
Having been made to hurry, Jackie now took her time, deliberately flicking through the pages of her diary. She came to the appropriate date and ran her finger down the central spine to smooth them open. “Can’t do it, I’m afraid. It’s Millie and Nina’s half term.”
Stephen detected the hint of disappointment in her voice, and sensed that all was not lost. “Surely the great and wonderful Battersea Gran could look after them?”
“God, don’t talk about her. She’s been a nightmare lately. I get a different lecture every time I go home.” Jackie drew down the sides of her mouth as she reeled off a host of Battersea Gran’s requests in a whining Cockney accent. “Why can’t you make an effort to go to one of Nina’s concerts? Can’t you do some of the shopping for a change? It would be nice if you could at least be here at the weekends, so I could go back to my own place for a bit. And why don’t you ever phone Dan?”
Stephen’s eyes lit up. “Why don’t you?”
Jackie shot him an acid look. “Don’t you start as well.”
“I’m not meaning it in that way. Why don’t you call and ask if the girls can go up to stay with him and your son for half term? It would be a great adventure for them. Have they ever been to Scotland?”
“No,” Jackie replied with a shrug.
“Well, there you are. There’s your solution. And what’s more, you’d be scoring a few Brownie points with Battersea Gran by letting her get back to her flat for a week.”
Jackie pulled the arms of her chair forward and sat down, and began kneading her forehead with her fingertips.
“What’s the matter?” Stephen asked.
She dropped her hands to the desk. “I don’t think you quite realize how difficult all this is for me.”
Stephen moved behind Jackie, leaning one hand on the back of her chair, the other on her desk. To anyone who might have witnessed this action from the corridor, it would appear as if he had just made the move to read something over her shoulder. But Stephen was close enough to see the goosebumps rise when he blew softly on the back of her neck and he could smell the heady muskiness of her perfume.
“I do understand, Jackie, believe me, I do, but I want you to be with me all the time. I need you to be with me all the time. And I know that you feel the same way about me. I don’t want anything ever to come between us, Jackie, because if that happened, I just couldn’t cope with working here anymore. We’re a great partnership, my girl, not only in business, so why should we do anything to break that up?” He reached for the telephone receiver, picked it up, and held it out for her. “Go on, give Dan a call”—he leaned over and pressed his mouth to her ear—“and think about Milan!” he whispered.
Jackie took the receiver from him but made no attempt to dial. “Do you really mean that, about wanting me, Stephen?” she asked without turning her head to look at him.
“I think you know me well enough by now, don’t you? When I want something badly enough, I’ll go all out to get it. And once I’ve got it, I’ll never let it out of my grasp again.”
Jackie closed her eyes as she felt his breath tickle the back of her ear. “Would you mind leaving the office, then, while I make the phone call?”
Stephen glanced out at the corridor, then over to the other offices, and finally across to the reception desk. When he was sure that everyone was occupied at work, he planted a light kiss on the nape of Jackie’s neck. “Of course. Good luck.”
Jackie waited until he was back at his desk before punching in the quick-dial number of Dan’s mobile. As it rang, she pulled in a long, settling breath, feeling herself shudder nervously as she let it out.
“Hu-llo?”
Hearing his voice again after so long sent an involuntary shockwave of guilt through her body, but it was countered by the resentment that she felt at the cheeriness of his reply.
“Dan?”
“Jackie, is that you?”
“Yes.”
“Just hang on a minute, can you? I’m just going to pull over onto the side of the road.” In the background, she could hear the muffled sound of the engine dying as he brought the car to a halt. “Sorry, I didn’t look to see who was calling. How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s so good to hear your voice. I haven’t spoken to you for ages.”
“I know. I’ve been really busy.”
“How did Paris go?”
Jackie wished that he wouldn’t be so bloody interested in everything that she did. “It went really well. The press reports were excellent.”
“That’s terrific. Well done, you. That’s a real feather in your cap.”
“Dan?”
“How’s everything at home? Battersea Gran coping all right, is she?”
“Yes, she’s being wonderful. Dan?”
Once again he cut across her question. “And how are Millie and Nina?” She heard him laugh. “Still watching the soaps instead of doing their homework, are they?”
Jackie grasped the opportunity. “That’s what I was calling you about, Dan.”
That seemed to quieten him. “There’s nothing wrong, is there?” She could hear the concern in his voice.
“No, nothing at all. It’s just that . . .” She glanced across to Stephen’s office. He was eyeing her intently. She spun her chair round to avoid his gaze. “It’s just that it’s the girls’ half term the week after next, and I have to go over to Milan so I won’t be here.”
“Right. So, can’t Battersea Gran look after them?”
Jackie suddenly saw her direction. “Well, I think your mother could do with a rest. She’s longing to go back to Battersea for a bit, and I’m afraid that I just haven’t been able to give her the chance.”
“So what are you suggesting?”
“Well, maybe that they could come up and stay with you and Josh for the week.” She paused to hear Dan’s reply, but none was forthcoming. “It would be an adventure for them.”
Dan laughed. “You must be joking, Jackie. They’d hate it up here. They’d get more enjoyment going to the moon! Anyway, there’s hardly enough room for Josh and me to swing a cat in the cottage, let alone have the girls come to join us.”
Jackie narrowed her mouth petulantly. “So you don’t want them, then?”
“That’s not what I said. I would love to have them come to stay more than anything, but I don’t think it’s, well, very practical. Josh and I leave the house every morning at six-fifteen and we don’t get back until early evening. What would they do with themselves?”
“They could look after the dogs.” She regretted saying it the moment that she opened her mouth. She knew as well as Dan that the last time the girls had shown any interest in the dogs was when the Porter family, en masse, had driven to the Battersea Dog Home to collect them and Nina had given Cruise his name. “And they both have a lot of work to do, especially Millie. It would be so much better for them to be up in Scotland where there are obviously no distractions. They could just get on with it.”
“I don’t know, Jackie.”
She could sense his resolve falter. “They really have missed both you and Josh, you know.” She thought that a little friendly laugh wouldn’t go amiss at that precise moment. “Not your cooking, I have to say.”
“Jackie, you have to understand that we’re miles away from the nearest McDonald’s.”
“Scotland’s famous for its fish-and-chip shops, isn’t it?”
Jackie bit at the side of a fingernail when she heard him laugh.
“That’s true. Maybe I could wean them slowly onto my cooking.”
“It really would be an ideal environment for them to catch up on their work, Dan.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“So could they come?”
“It would be a hell of a squash.”
“They wouldn’t mind that.”
“They’d have to bring sleeping bags.”
“They’re used to kipping on the floor. You know as well as I do how many sleep-overs they go to.”
Dan was silent, and Jackie sensed it as being the moment of decision.
“Oh, all right, then, but you’ll have to clear it with Millie and Nina first. I don’t want them coming up here and just moping around the place.”
“Of course I will!” Jackie replied, stifling the urge to jump to her feet and let out a whoop of triumph. “I’ll build Scotland up as the happening place.”
Dan chuckled. “For goodness’ sakes, don’t do that.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll say all the right things. Now, how do they get up there?”
“Probably best putting them on the overnight train from Euston to Fort William. When are you thinking of sending them up?”
Jackie turned her chair around and glanced at her diary, realizing immediately that she had no idea when Stephen was planning to go to Milan. “Just hang on a moment.” She caught Stephen’s eye and beckoned to him frantically. He raced over to her office.
“How did you get on?” he asked as he entered, his voice reverberating around her room.
She mouthed at him to shut up and gesticulated towards the mouthpiece of her telephone before clamping her hand over it.
“Who was that?” Dan asked.
Jackie took her hand away. “Just somebody coming into my office to find out how we got on in Paris.”
“Ah, right. So when are they coming up?”
“I’m still trying to find my diary.” She put her hand over the mouthpiece again and glared at Stephen. “You nearly blew it then,” she whispered angrily at him. “When are you wanting to go over to Milan?”
“I’ve booked two seats on the Tuesday morning flight out of Heathrow.”
“Oh, have you? Was that before or after our little conversation just then?”
“Jackie?” Dan’s voice sounded down the telephone. “Are you still there?”
Jackie took her hand away. “Yes, sorry, I’ve found it now. How about if I put them on the Monday night train? They’d be with you then on Tuesday morning.”
“Okay. And when would they have to be back in London?”
Jackie turned the page on her diary. “The following Monday morning would be fine. They are meant to be starting back at school that day, but I’m sure they could be a little late.”
“Would you meet them at the station?”
“Yes, or if not, they could always get the tube.”
“No, I want you to meet them. If I’m going to have them for the week, I think you could take a bit of time off work just to do that.”
“All right. Of course I’ll do that. Listen, Dan, I have to go. I’ve got a meeting about to start. I’ll text you their train times.”
“You could always ring me during the day.”
“I’ll see. And everything’s all right with you and Josh?”
“Yes, all’s well. I’m just on my way back from Buckie at the minute. Hell, Jackie, you’d have laughed. I had this contretemps with a guy down in Oban—”
“I have to go, Dan,” Jackie cut in. “They’re calling me into the meeting. Tell me another time.”
“Oh, all right.” She could hear the tone of his voice dip with disappointment. “It’s been great talking to you, Jacks. You know, the other day, I was just thinking that in all the time that we’ve been married, I don’t think that—”
“Your line’s breaking up, Dan. I can’t hear you very well.” She put her finger on the button to end the call, and slowly replaced the telephone on its cradle.
Stephen had not bothered to return to his office, but had remained standing by her door until she finished the call. “Sorry about that,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know that you were still speaking to him.”
“I realized that.”
“So are we on for Milan?”
Jackie smiled at him and nodded.
Stephen gave her the thumbs-up. “That’s wonderful. You just wait. I’ll give you the time of your life.”