Twenties Girl (12 page)

The man with wavy hair looks wrong-footed, and I feel a stab of sympathy for him.

“Of course,” he mumbles.

“The emphasis in this room is all wrong.” The American guy frowns around the table. “We’re not here to perform tactical quick fixes. We should be influencing strategy. Innovating. Since I’ve been over here …”

I tune out as I notice Sadie sliding into the chair next to me. I scribble
WHICH MAN? and
push my pad across.

“The one who looks like Rudolph Valentino,” she says, as though surprised I even need to ask.

For God’s sake.

HOW WOULD I KNOW WHAT BLOODY RUDOLPH VALENTINO LOOKS LIKE?
I scribble.
WHICH ONE?

I’m betting on the wavy-haired man. Unless it’s the blond guy sitting right at the front; he looks quite nice. Or maybe that chap with the goatee?

“Him, of course!” Sadie points to the other side of the room.

THE MAN GIVING THE PRESENTATION?
I write, just to confirm it.

“No, silly!” She giggles. “Him!” She appears in front of the American man with the frown, and gazes at him longingly. “Isn’t he a dove?”

“Him?”

Oops. I spoke out loud. Everyone turns to look at me, and I hastily try to sound as though I’m clearing my throat: “Hmrrrm hrrrmm.”

SERIOUSLY, HIM?
I write on my pad of paper as she returns to my side.

“He’s delicious!” she says in my ear, sounding affronted.

I survey the American guy dubiously, trying to be fair. I suppose he is quite good-looking in that classic preppy way. His hair springs up from a broad, square brow, he has the hint of a tan, and dark wrist hair is visible inside his immaculate white cuffs. And his eyes
are
penetrating. He’s got that magnetic quality that leaders always seem to have. Strong hands and gestures. As he speaks, he commands attention.

But honestly. He’s so totally not my sort. Too intense. Too frowny. And everyone else in the room seems terrified of him.

“Speaking of which.” He picks up a plastic folder and skims it deftly across the table toward the goatee-beard guy. “Last night I put together some points with regard to the Morris Farquhar consultation. Just a memo. Might help.”

“Oh.” Goatee-beard guy looks utterly taken aback. “Well… thanks. I appreciate it.” He flips through wonderingly. “Can I
use
this?”

“That’s the general idea,” says the American guy, with a smile so wry and brief you’d miss it if you blinked. “So, regarding the final point…”

From my place at the back, I can see goatee-beard guy leafing through the typed pages, agog. “When the hell did he have time to do this?” he mutters to his neighbor, who shrugs.

“I have to go.” The American guy suddenly consults his watch. “My apologies for hijacking the meeting. Simon, please continue.”

“I have just one question.” The sandy-haired man hurriedly raises his hand. “When you’re talking about innovating procedure, do you mean—”

“Quick!” Sadie’s voice suddenly resounds in my ear, making me jump. “Ask him on a date! He’s leaving! You promised! Do it! Do-it-do-it-do-it—”

OK!!!!!!
I scrawl, flinching.
JUST GIVE ME A SECOND
.

Sadie stalks to the other side of the room and watches me expectantly. After a while she starts making impatient
Come on!
gestures with her hands. Mr. American Frown has finished answering the sandy-haired guy and is pushing some papers into his briefcase.

I
can’t
do this. It’s ludicrous.

“Go on!
Go on!”
Sadie’s voice blasts my eardrum again.
“Ask!”

Blood is pulsating around my head. My legs are trembling under the table. Somehow I force myself to raise a hand.

“Excuse me?” I say in an embarrassed squeak.

Mr. American Frown turns and surveys me, looking puzzled. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m in a hurry—”

“I have a question.”

Everyone around the table has swiveled to look at me. I can see a man whispering “Who’s that?” to his neighbor.

“OK.” He sighs. “One more quick question. What is it?”

“I… um … It’s just … I wanted to ask…” My voice is jumpy and I clear my throat. “Would you like to go out with me?”

There’s a stunned silence, apart from someone spluttering on their coffee. My face is boiling hot, but I hold steady. I can see a few astounded looks passing between the people at the table.

“Excuse me?” says the American man, looking bewildered.

“Like … on a date?” I risk a little smile.

Suddenly I’m aware of Sadie beside him. “Say
yes
!” she shrieks into his ear, so loudly that I want to flinch on his behalf.
“Say yes! Say yes!”

To my astonishment, I can see the American man reacting. He’s cocking his head as though he can hear some distant radio signal. Can he
hear
her?

“Young lady,” says a gray-haired man curtly. “This really isn’t the time or place—”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” I say humbly. “I won’t take up much time. I just need an answer, one way or the other.” I turn to the American man again. “Would you like to go out with me?”

“Say yes! Say yes!”
Sadie’s yelling increases to an unbearable level.

This is unreal. The American man can definitely hear something. He shakes his head and takes a couple of steps away, but Sadie follows him, still yelling. His eyes are glazed and he looks like he’s in a trance.

No one else in the room is moving or speaking. They all seem
pinioned by shock; one woman has her hand clapped across her face as though she’s watching a train wreck.

“Say yes!”
Sadie’s starting to sound hoarse as she screams.
“Right now! Say it! SAY YES!”

It’s almost comical, the sight of her yelling so hard and only getting the faintest reaction. But as I watch, I only feel pity. She looks so powerless, as though she’s shouting behind a sheet of glass and the only one who can hear her properly is me. Sadie’s world must be so frustrating, I find myself thinking. She can’t touch anything, she can’t communicate with anyone, it’s obvious she’s never going to get through to this guy—

“Yes.” The American man nods desperately.

My pity dies away.

Yes?

There’s a gasp all around the table and a hastily stifled giggle. Everyone immediately turns to gape at me, but I’m temporarily too dumbfounded to reply.

He said yes.

Does this mean … I actually have to go on a date with him?

“Great!” I try to gather my wits. “So … let’s be in touch, shall we? My name’s Lara Lington, by the way, here’s my card. …” I scrabble in my bag.

“I’m Ed.” The man still looks dazed. “Ed Harrison.” He reaches into his inside pocket and produces his own business card.

“So … um … bye, then, Ed!” I pick up my bag and hurriedly beat a retreat, to the sound of a growing hubbub. I can hear someone saying, “Who the bloody hell was that?” and a woman saying in an urgent undertone, “You see? You just have to have the
guts
. You have to be
direct
with men. Stop the games. Lay it out there. If I’d known at her age what that girl knows …”

What I know?

I don’t know anything except I need to get out of here.

EIGHT

’m still in a state of shock as Sadie catches up with me, halfway across the ground floor reception lobby. My mind keeps rerunning the scene in total disbelief. Sadie communicated with a man. He actually
heard
her. I’m not sure how much he heard—but obviously enough.

“Isn’t he a peach?” she says dreamily. “I knew he’d say yes.”

“What went on in there?” I mutter incredulously. “What’s with the shouting? I thought you couldn’t talk to anyone except me!”

“Talking’s no good,” she agrees. “But I’ve noticed that when I really let off a socking great scream right in someone’s ear, most people seem to hear something faint. It’s terribly hard work, though.”

“Have you done this before? Have you spoken to anyone else?”

I know it’s ridiculous, but I feel the tiniest bit jealous that she can get through to other people. Sadie is
my
ghost.

“Oh, I had a few words with the queen,” she says airily. “Just for fun.”

“Are you
serious?”

“Maybe.” She shoots me a wicked little smile. “It’s hell on the old vocal cords, though. I always have to give up after a while.” She coughs and rubs her throat.

“I thought I was the only person you were haunting,” I can’t help saying childishly. “I thought I was special.”

“You’re the only person I can be with instantly,” says Sadie after pondering a moment. “I just have to think of you, and I’m with you.”

“Oh.” Secretly, I feel quite pleased to hear this.

“So, where do you think he’ll take us?” Sadie looks up, her eyes sparkling. “The Savoy? I
adore
the Savoy.”

My attention is wrenched back to the present situation. She seriously envisages all three of us going on a date together? A weird, freaky, threesome-with-a-ghost date?

OK, Lara. Stay sane. That guy won’t really claim a date. He’ll tear up my card and blame the incident on his hangover/drug habit/stress levels and I’ll never see him again. Feeling more confident, I stride toward the exit. That’s enough craziness for one day. I have things to do.

As soon as I get back to the office, I put a call through to Jean, lean back in my swivel chair, and prepare to relish the moment.

“Jean Savill.”

“Oh, hi, Jean,” I say pleasantly. “It’s Lara Lington here. I’m just calling about your no-dog policy again, which I totally understand and applaud. I can absolutely see why you’d wish to keep your workplace an animal-free zone. But I was just wondering why this rule doesn’t extend to Jane Frenshew in room 1416?”

Ha!

I’ve never heard Jean so squirmy. At first she denies it altogether.
Then she tries to say it’s due to special circumstances and doesn’t set any precedent. But it only takes one mention of lawyers and European rights for her to cave in. Shireen can bring Flash to work! It’s going to be put in her contract tomorrow, and they’re throwing in a dog basket! I put down the phone and dial Shireen’s number. She’s going to be so happy! Finally, this job is
fun
.

And it’s even more fun when Shireen gasps incredulously over the phone.

“I couldn’t imagine anyone at Sturgis Curtis taking the same trouble,” she keeps saying. “This is the difference when you work with a smaller outfit.”

“Boutique,” I correct her. “We have the personal touch. Tell all your friends!”

“I will! I’m so impressed! How did you find out about the other dog, by the way?”

I hesitate briefly.

“Ways and means,” I say finally.

“Well, you’re brilliant!”

At last I put the phone down, glowing, and look up to see Kate gazing at me with avid curiosity.

“How
did
you find out about the other dog?” she says.

“Instincts.” I shrug.

“Instincts?” echoes Sadie derisively, who has been wandering about the office throughout. “You didn’t have any instincts! It was me! You should say, ‘My marvelous great-aunt Sadie helped me and I’m extremely grateful.’”

“You know, Natalie would never have bothered tracking down a dog,” says Kate suddenly. “Never. Not in a million years.”

“Oh.” My glow dims. Suddenly, looking at the whole thing through Natalie-type business eyes, I feel a little unprofessional. Maybe it
was
a bit ridiculous, to spend so much time and effort on one dog. “Well, I just wanted to save the situation; it seemed the best way—”

“No, you don’t understand.” Kate cuts me off, pink in the face. “I meant it in a good way.”

I’m so taken aback, I don’t know what to say. No one’s ever compared me favorably to Natalie before.

“I’ll go on a coffee run to celebrate!” Kate says brightly. “Do you want anything?”

“It’s OK.” I smile at her. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Actually …” Kate looks awkward. “I’m a bit ravenous. I haven’t had a lunch break yet.”

“Oh God!” I say, appalled. “Go! Have lunch! You’ll starve!”

Kate leaps up, bashing her head on an open file drawer, and pulls her bag down off a high shelf. The minute she’s closed the door behind her, Sadie comes over to my desk.

“So.” She perches on the edge and regards me expectantly.

“What is it?”

“Are you going to ring him?”

“Who?”

“Him!” She leans right over my computer.
“Him!”

“You mean Ed Whatsit? You want me to
ring
him?” I shoot her a pitying glance. “Do you have no idea how things work? If he wants to ring, he can ring.”
Which he won’t in a million years
, I silently add.

I delete a few emails and type a reply, then look up again. Sadie is sitting on top of a filing cabinet, staring fixedly at the phone. As she sees me looking, she jumps and quickly looks away.

“Now
who’s obsessing over a man?” I can’t help a little dig.

“I’m not obsessing,” she says haughtily.

“If you watch the phone, it doesn’t ring. Don’t you know anything?”

Sadie’s eyes flash angrily at me, but she turns away and starts examining the blinds cord, as though she wants to analyze every fiber. Then she wanders over to the opposite window. Then she looks at the phone again.

I could really do without a lovelorn ghost trailing around my office when I’m trying to work.

“Why don’t you go sightseeing?” I suggest. “You could look at the gherkin building, or go to Harrods. …”

“I’ve been to Harrods.” She wrinkles her nose. “It looks very peculiar these days.”

I’m about to suggest that she go for a long, long walk in Hyde Park, when my mobile trills. Like lightning, Sadie is by my side, watching eagerly as I check the display.

“Is it him? Is it him?”

“I don’t know the number.” I shrug. “Could be anyone.”

“It’s him!” She hugs herself. “Tell him we want to go to the Savoy for cocktails.”

“Are you crazy? I’m not saying that!”

“This is my date, and I want to go to the Savoy,” she says mulishly.

“Shut up or I won’t answer!”

We glare at each other as the phone trills again, then Sadie takes a reluctant step backward, her cheeks pouchy.

“Hello?”

“Is this Lara?” It’s a woman I don’t recognize.

“It’s not him, OK?” I hiss at Sadie. I make a shooing-away motion at her, then turn back to the phone.

“Yes, Lara speaking. Who’s this?”

“It’s Nina Martin. You left a message about a necklace? At the old folks’ jumble sale?”

“Oh, yes!” I’m suddenly alert. “Did you buy one?”

“I bought two. Black pearls and a red one. Good condition. I can sell them both to you if you like; I was planning to put them on eBay—”

“No.” I deflate. “They’re not what I’m looking for. Thanks, anyway.”

I take out the list and scribble off Nina Martin’s name while Sadie watches critically.

“Why haven’t you tried
all
the names?” she demands.

“I’ll phone some more this evening. I have to work now,” I add at her look. “Sorry, but I do.”

Sadie heaves a huge sigh. “All this waiting is unbearable.” She swishes over to my desk and stares at the phone. Then she swishes to the window, then back to the phone.

There’s no way I can sit here all afternoon with her swishing and sighing. I’m going to have to be brutally honest.

“Look, Sadie.” I wait until she turns. “About Ed. You should know the truth. He won’t call.”

“What do you mean, he won’t call?” Sadie retorts. “Of course he will.”

“He won’t.” I shake my head. “There’s no way on earth he’s going to call some loony girl who blagged her way into his meeting. He’s going to throw my card away and forget all about it. Sorry.”

Sadie is staring at me with reproach, as though I’ve deliberately set out to dash all her hopes.

“It’s not my fault!” I say defensively. “I’m just trying to let you down lightly.”

“He’s going to call,” she says with slow determination. “And we’re going to go on a date.”

“Fine. Whatever you think.” I turn to my computer and start typing. When I glance up, she’s gone, and I can’t help breathing out in relief. Finally. Some space. Some silence!

I’m in the middle of typing a confirmation email to Jean about Flash when the phone rings. I pick it up absently and cradle the receiver under my chin. “Hello, Lara speaking.”

“Hi there.” An awkward-sounding male voice comes over the phone. “This is Ed Harrison.”

I freeze. Ed Harrison?

“Um … hi!” I look wildly around the office for Sadie, but she’s nowhere.

“So … I guess we’re going on a date,” says Ed stiffly.

“I… guess we are.”

We sound like a pair of people who’ve won an outing in a raffle and don’t know how to get out of it.

“There’s a bar in St. Christopher’s Place,” he says. “The Crowe Bar. You want to have a drink there?”

I can read his mind instantly. He’s suggesting a drink because that’s about the quickest date you can have. He really doesn’t want to do this. So why did he call? Is he so old-fashioned and polite that he felt he couldn’t blow me off, even though for all he knows I could be a serial killer?

“Good idea,” I say brightly.

“Saturday night, seven-thirty?”

“See you there.”

As I put the phone down, I feel surreal. I’m actually going on a date with Mr. American Frown. And Sadie has no idea.

“Sadie.” I look around. “Sa-die! Can you hear me? You won’t believe it! He called!”

“I know,” comes Sadie’s voice from behind me, and I swivel around to see her sitting on the windowsill, looking totally unruffled.

“You missed it!” I say in excitement. “Your guy called! We’re going on a—” I break off as it hits me. “Oh my God.
You
did this, didn’t you? You went and shouted at him.”

“Of course I did!” she says proudly. “It was simply
too
dreary waiting for him to call, so I decided to give him a little nudge.” Her eyebrows lower disapprovingly. “You were right, by the way. He
had
thrown the card away. It was in his bin, all crumpled up. He wasn’t planning to call you at all!”

She looks so outraged, I have to bite back a laugh.

“Welcome to twenty-first-century dating. So how did you change his mind?”

“It was terribly hard work!” Sadie looks affronted. “First I just told him to call you, but he absolutely ignored me. He kept turning away from me and typing more quickly. Then I got really close and told him if he didn’t call you and fix a date at once, he’d be cursed with illness by the god Ahab.”

“Who’s the god Ahab?” I ask incredulously.

“He was in a penny novelette I once read.” Sadie looks pleased with herself. “I said he’d lose the use of his limbs and be covered with grotesque warts. I could see him waver, but he was still trying to ignore me. So then I looked at his typewriter—”

“Computer?” I interject.

“Whatever it is,” she says impatiently. “I told him it would break down and he would lose his job unless he called you.” Her mouth curves into a reminiscent smile. “He moved quite quickly after that. Although, you know, even when he was picking up the card he kept clutching his head and saying to himself, ‘Why am I calling this girl? Why am I doing this?’ So I yelled in his ear, ‘You
want
to call her! She’s very pretty!’” Sadie tosses her hair back triumphantly. “And so he telephoned you. Aren’t you impressed?”

I gaze back at her, speechless. She’s blackmailed this guy into going on a date with me. She’s messed with his mind. She’s forced him into a romance that he had no intention of pursuing.

She is the only woman I’ve ever known who could make a man call. Ever
.

OK, it took supernatural powers, but she did it.

“Great-Aunt Sadie,” I say slowly, “you’re brilliant.”