Into the Darkest Corner by Elizabeth Haynes Page A

time I came downstairs in my work clothes he had made me tea, and a sandwich to take to work with me.
    “You didn’t have to do that,” I said.
    He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. “You should think about what I said,” he whispered at last. “If you weren’t working we could go back to bed.”
    “You’re such a tease.”
    It was wet and windy and still almost dark outside, and the temptation to go back inside and spend another day with him was almost unbearable. I’d left a door key on the dining room table so that he could lock up if he wanted to go out. It seemed like a completely natural thing to do; I already knew I wasn’t going to ask for it back tonight. We’d spent two whole days in each other’s company, two blissful days and three nights of complete happiness. Not a moment of discomfort or awkwardness or bickering. Not a moment had gone by when I hadn’t been glad he was there.
    I’d been at work all of ten minutes when my phone rang: it was Sylvia. She had a few more weeks at her old job before moving to London.
    “Hiya,” I said. “How was the Red Divine?”
    “Divine, darling,” she said. “No, seriously, it’s ace. You missed a good night.”
    “What’s it like, then?”
    “Oh, it’s just lovely. Lots of red leather sofas and chrome and glass—and the bathrooms! My God, you’d have loved it, they had flowers in there and proper hand towels and bottles of moisturizer. And that barman, you remember the one who used to work in the Pitcher and Piano, the one you fancied—what was his name? Jeff? Julian?”
    “Jamie.”
    “Well, he was in there behind the bar, too. The bar staff are all wearing red horns. And right over the bar is the old stained-glass window with lights behind, so you’re drinking your demon sauces underneath the gaze of the saints. Fantastic.”
    “Wow. You going again next weekend?”
    “Maybe. Probably. Anyway, darling, I wasn’t calling to tell you about that ,” she said, before pausing for effect.
    “What, something more exciting than the opening night of the Red Divine?”
    “ Much more exciting. I’m having a dinner party, just for close friends. At Maggie’s house, not mine, of course, I’ve started packing up, it’s hideous, I can’t believe I’m surviving, but anyway—so can you come?”
    “When?” I asked, not sure if she’d actually said.
    “Next Thursday night. Can you come? Sevenish?”
    “Sure I can come, wouldn’t miss it for the world. Do you want me to bring anything? Dessert? Salad?”
    “New boyfriend,” she said coyly.
    “Oh, I think he’s going to be working,” I said.
    “Oh.”
    “I’ll ask him, anyway, maybe he could get out of it.”
    “Sean’s going to be there. And Lennon. And Charlie. And I was going to bring Stevie, just for a giggle.”
    In other words, come with a guy or be the odd woman out.
    “I’ll ask him, okay? If not, I’ll see you at the Spread Eagle for the party. There’s no way I’m missing that one.”
    “Okay, darling, let me know by Wednesday night so I know how much stuff to buy? And in the meantime, be good. And if you can’t be good, be bad.”
    “I will. See you then.”
    “Ciao, baby.”
    Was it too early to ask Lee to a dinner with all my friends? He was going to be scrutinized at Sylvia’s party anyway; surely it would be just bringing that forward? And parties at Maggie’s house were always good. She was a fantastic cook, too, and the thought of missing out on one of Maggie’s dinners just because my partner was too busy at work to accompany me was a truly dreadful thought.
    I plowed on with work, getting ready for a meeting at ten. Lots of meeting notes to prepare, still thinking about the last dinner party at Maggie’s, a girls-only one, eating crème brûlée and drinking too much brandy.
    After the meeting, I had a missed call from Lee, so I called him back.
    “Hi, gorgeous,” he said.
    “Hi,” I said. “What are you up to?”
    “I’ve just done the