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and more than happy to resume normal service. I even force myself to eat the muffin, which suddenly tastes of cotton wool, and focus on him telling me all about his latest paper on the Ptolemaic period. Every now and then Simon asks me a question about my research, dropped into the conversation very subtly. My senses are heightened now. I can tell Simon’s trying to get to some point, but I can’t for the life of me work out what it is. He’s been around the houses more than Phil and Kirstie.
“Do you know what?” Simon says suddenly, jumping to his feet and grabbing my hands. “I think we need a change of scene. How about you and I play truant for the afternoon?”
I glance at my desk. Papers are strewn all over it and my laptop screensaver blinks at me balefully. Work ! it says, and I really should listen.
“I don’t think so, Simon, fun as that sounds. I’ve missed quite enough time as it is.”
“Then another hour or so won’t hurt. Let me take you out for lunch. I know a super little place just off Covent Garden. They do the best moules. Come on, Cleo, humour me. I’ve been wanting to take you out for weeks.”
He has? Wow. Funny though; a couple of weeks ago, pre bang on the head, the thought that Simon Welsh would be asking me out would have been enough to send my pulse sky high. I must really be off colour to be hesitating.
Now, what would Susie do in my position?
There’s an easy answer to that question: she’d be sitting at a table in a low-cut top and putting in an order before you could say lunch date . Maybe it’s time I loosened up a bit and took a leaf out of her well-thumbed book on dating. Besides, being in my office surrounded by all and sundry is starting to make me feel nervous. Who knows who’ll appear next? Elvis? Henry VIII? Maybe a change of scene and some fresh air is exactly what I need.
“That sounds lovely,” I say, deliberately turning my back on Alex et al as I reach for my satchel and start to gather up my papers. “Would you pass me my laptop, please, Simon?”
“Leave all that here,” Simon says quickly. “Have some time off for an hour or two at least. Lock your office up; it’ll all be fine until tomorrow.”
For a moment I’m tempted. But then I think about the promotion and just how much work I have to do. Maybe I will take the afternoon off, but I’ll work from home instead, and late into the night if I have to.
“Thanks, but I’d rather take it with me,” I decide, as I snap the laptop lid down and scoop up the rest of my papers. “I need it all anyway to finish off the job application.”
Simon’s smooth brow crinkles. “You’re still thinking of applying for the Assistant Director of the Department position?”
“I’m not thinking about it at all: I am applying,” I tell him.
“After all you’ve been through? You seriously think taking on all that extra responsibility is a good idea?” He shakes his head and rakes a hand through his thick blond hair. “Cleo, as a friend – a friend who cares for you very much – I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. I’m really concerned that the stress of it all might be too much for you.”
I almost laugh out loud. Stress? From a job? He seriously has no idea. When Simon’s experiencing the kind of crazy hallucinations that are bugging me right now, then he can talk about being stressed. Until then I think I’m the resident expert on that. Compared to seeing things that aren’t there, running our department would be a walk in the park.
“I’m fine, honestly. The doctor says there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me, so I’m still applying. Of course I am.”
Simon shrugs in a defeated manner. “Well, good for you. I just think it’s a shame that you’re putting yourself under extra pressure unnecessarily.”
I pause, holding my files in mid-air between desk and satchel. “What do you mean, unnecessarily?”
He looks a little embarrassed. “Come on, Cleo, don’t make me spell
Rebecca Royce
S. Andrew Swann
P.S. Bartlett
Alexander McCall Smith
Skylar Faye
Gia Dawn
Iris Murdoch
Kristen Simmons
Nadja Notariani
Gary Jonas