room’ and ‘Put bottle of Krug on ice’.
At least the phone call meant I got to the office earlier than usual. Since I was leaving shortly after lunch to pick up Tamara from the airport, then taking the rest of the day off, I needed to get a head start.
It felt like I’d only just got going when Cherry, my PA, rang through.
‘ Ready for coffee?’ she asked.
‘ Not yet, it’s only – ’ I glanced incredulously at my watch. ‘Five past eleven? Yes, coffee please, then can you get hold of Mitch and ask him to come up here before one o’clock.’ David Mitchell was our Sales Director and in charge of the Parkinson account. ‘Oh, and could you check that Tamara’s plane’s on time? The details are in my diary.’
‘ Fine. And you’ve got a visitor.’
‘ There’s no one scheduled – ’
‘ It’s Emma Woodhouse, she says it’ll only take a few minutes.’
‘ Oh. All right, but … ’ The words died in my throat.
‘ I’ll bring coffee for two, then, shall I?’
‘ OK’.
I’d hardly put down the phone when the door opened and there stood Emma in a too-short skirt, holding a large round tin emblazoned with ‘Fortnum & Mason’. We hadn’t seen each other – hadn’t even spoken – since our quarrel over a week earlier. And yet I’d lost count of the times I’d almost phoned her, almost called in at Hartfield …
I forced a smile. ‘’Morning.’
She took a few steps into the room and hesitated. I got up and shut the door. As I passed behind her, she spun round and thrust the tin at me.
‘ Happy birthday. And Mark,’ – sharp intake of breath – ‘let’s call a truce and make up.’
I took the tin from her and placed it on the desk. ‘Make up?’ I said, cautiously.
‘ You know, for the whole Robert Martin thing. How I wish I’d never even heard of that stupid man! But what I hate most of all is this – this bad feeling between us. I’ve been so unhappy, I thought you’d never speak to me again.’
I don’t know which came first, my arms opening in welcome or her eager step forward. Did it matter? She was there, burying her face in my chest, gripping the belt at the back of my trousers. My hands, as if guided by an unseen force, came to rest firmly on the curve of her suede-clad hips. My eyes closed; but whether in pain or pleasure, I had no idea.
After a while, I became aware that she was crying – or rather trying not to. I opened my eyes, held her slightly away from me and raised one hand to cup her chin and tilt her face towards mine. Slowly, reluctantly, she obeyed and I watched, fascinated, as a teardrop quivered on her lower lid – and fell. Without thinking, I pressed my lips against her cheek to catch it and tasted a fleeting moment of intimacy.
Not physical intimacy. That was all too familiar, although not with her.
Something else. A closeness forged by shared memories, tempered by deep – affection.
My hand dropped back to her hip and I let out a long breath. ‘Just making the hurt better, same as when you were little,’ I said in a hearty voice. Too hearty, perhaps.
She stifled a sob, then frowned. ‘I don’t remember it ever being like that.’
‘ Really? It should be me who doesn’t remember things. Thirty-five today, can’t you see all the grey hairs that have appeared overnight?’ To my relief, her frown became a smile. ‘Look,’ I went on, ‘the Rob and Harriet incident’s over. Let’s forget about it. Especially now you’ve come to apologise.’
I felt her stiffen in my arms, saw her eyes flash. ‘I haven’t – I’ve come to let you apologise to me!’
‘ What on earth have I – ?’ I stopped and let out another steadying breath. ‘As you said at the time, we’ll just have to agree to differ.’
‘ I still don’t think there was any harm done, not on Harriet’s side anyway.’ She gave a dismissive shrug. ‘I don’t know about him , of course, but I can’t imagine he’s too upset.’
After spending several
At least the phone call meant I got to the office earlier than usual. Since I was leaving shortly after lunch to pick up Tamara from the airport, then taking the rest of the day off, I needed to get a head start.
It felt like I’d only just got going when Cherry, my PA, rang through.
‘ Ready for coffee?’ she asked.
‘ Not yet, it’s only – ’ I glanced incredulously at my watch. ‘Five past eleven? Yes, coffee please, then can you get hold of Mitch and ask him to come up here before one o’clock.’ David Mitchell was our Sales Director and in charge of the Parkinson account. ‘Oh, and could you check that Tamara’s plane’s on time? The details are in my diary.’
‘ Fine. And you’ve got a visitor.’
‘ There’s no one scheduled – ’
‘ It’s Emma Woodhouse, she says it’ll only take a few minutes.’
‘ Oh. All right, but … ’ The words died in my throat.
‘ I’ll bring coffee for two, then, shall I?’
‘ OK’.
I’d hardly put down the phone when the door opened and there stood Emma in a too-short skirt, holding a large round tin emblazoned with ‘Fortnum & Mason’. We hadn’t seen each other – hadn’t even spoken – since our quarrel over a week earlier. And yet I’d lost count of the times I’d almost phoned her, almost called in at Hartfield …
I forced a smile. ‘’Morning.’
She took a few steps into the room and hesitated. I got up and shut the door. As I passed behind her, she spun round and thrust the tin at me.
‘ Happy birthday. And Mark,’ – sharp intake of breath – ‘let’s call a truce and make up.’
I took the tin from her and placed it on the desk. ‘Make up?’ I said, cautiously.
‘ You know, for the whole Robert Martin thing. How I wish I’d never even heard of that stupid man! But what I hate most of all is this – this bad feeling between us. I’ve been so unhappy, I thought you’d never speak to me again.’
I don’t know which came first, my arms opening in welcome or her eager step forward. Did it matter? She was there, burying her face in my chest, gripping the belt at the back of my trousers. My hands, as if guided by an unseen force, came to rest firmly on the curve of her suede-clad hips. My eyes closed; but whether in pain or pleasure, I had no idea.
After a while, I became aware that she was crying – or rather trying not to. I opened my eyes, held her slightly away from me and raised one hand to cup her chin and tilt her face towards mine. Slowly, reluctantly, she obeyed and I watched, fascinated, as a teardrop quivered on her lower lid – and fell. Without thinking, I pressed my lips against her cheek to catch it and tasted a fleeting moment of intimacy.
Not physical intimacy. That was all too familiar, although not with her.
Something else. A closeness forged by shared memories, tempered by deep – affection.
My hand dropped back to her hip and I let out a long breath. ‘Just making the hurt better, same as when you were little,’ I said in a hearty voice. Too hearty, perhaps.
She stifled a sob, then frowned. ‘I don’t remember it ever being like that.’
‘ Really? It should be me who doesn’t remember things. Thirty-five today, can’t you see all the grey hairs that have appeared overnight?’ To my relief, her frown became a smile. ‘Look,’ I went on, ‘the Rob and Harriet incident’s over. Let’s forget about it. Especially now you’ve come to apologise.’
I felt her stiffen in my arms, saw her eyes flash. ‘I haven’t – I’ve come to let you apologise to me!’
‘ What on earth have I – ?’ I stopped and let out another steadying breath. ‘As you said at the time, we’ll just have to agree to differ.’
‘ I still don’t think there was any harm done, not on Harriet’s side anyway.’ She gave a dismissive shrug. ‘I don’t know about him , of course, but I can’t imagine he’s too upset.’
After spending several
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