try and help you build up a little working relationship, get you used to working with an assistant. They do want to help you, honestly. I spent years being an assistant myself, Jane, I know.’
Connor fiddled with his phone. Nothing was happening. No reply …
‘Can I get you another drink?’ The waitress hovered at his elbow. ‘Another lime and soda? Or would you like something else?’
‘Ermmm …’ Connor weighed it up. He was trying not to drink much. There had been times in his life when he’d drunk way too much and more recent times when he hadn’t drunk at all. At present, he was trying to find abalance. He could not blank out what was happening in his life with booze; he knew that would be a disaster. He’d never get anything back on track like that.
On the other hand, teetotalism was damn, bloody, joyless hard work. Especially when he seemed to spend entire hours of every day totally stressed out of his box.
‘I think I’ll have a tiny tonic water …’ He wavered. ‘… with a double gin in it, please.’
Annie had Jane in the changing room now. Her coat was off and Annie was looking at the beige trousers and navy sweatshirt underneath.
This was nothing she couldn’t handle.
The phone in Annie’s handbag began to bleep.
‘Just one tiny second,’ she told Jane and turned away to look at the message.
‘U R L8!! When here? Connor.’
Annie looked at the letters for several moments.
They didn’t make any sense. She was late? Late for what? ‘When here?’ Where? Connor?
Connor?
Connor!
Suddenly the fog cleared and Annie remembered with total clarity the phone call, the restaurant arrangement and the details scribbled down on the Post-it note.
‘Oh bloody hell!’ she said out loud.
Jane looked at her with anxiety. ‘You’re not going to go? Please don’t go! I can’t do this without you!’ she wobbled.
‘That message …’ Annie began to explain, ‘I was supposed to be in Soho at one p.m. to meet my really, really good friend for lunch. He’s going to kill me.’
‘I’ll kill myself if you don’t stay!’ Jane exclaimed and then she opened up her handbag and took out two packets of paracetamol. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. It’sonly when I saw you that I thought maybe you’d be able to help me … and maybe I wouldn’t do it today.’
Annie was stopped in her tracks. She quickly tried to disguise the look of horror which had sprung up on her face as she wondered what on earth she should do.
The assistant hovering near the changing room with them looked totally shocked.
‘Jane, I’m not going anywhere,’ Annie soothed, ‘you and I are going to have a proper chat. Just let me phone my friend and tell him I’ll have to rearrange the lunch date.’
Jane nodded.
Annie sat down on a chair in the changing room beside Jane’s and dialled Connor’s number.
‘Annie!’ she heard him exclaim. ‘Where are you? What’s happened?’
‘Connor,’ she began nervously, ‘I’m not sure how to tell you this—’
‘What?’ he jumped in. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. It’s just … well … you should have reminded me! I’ve bloody well gone and forgotten and now I’m in Brent Cross and I’ll never ever make it over to Soho for lunch and you … you should have reminded me!’ she repeated, wanting it to be Connor’s fault and not hers.
There was a pause while a shocked Connor tried to digest the information.
‘Connor?’ she asked after a bit. ‘Are you OK?’
‘You forgot?’ Connor bellowed into the phone, sending a little ripple of surprise around the restaurant.
Then he remembered about Jay and Jay’s producer friend and the many other TV-related people in this place who may or may not have noticed him.
He felt himself blush as he frantically thought of a way to turn this around. He didn’t want anyone to know that he had been forgotten, that would be terrible. Gossip wouldsizzle up all over the place: ‘I was in De
Connor fiddled with his phone. Nothing was happening. No reply …
‘Can I get you another drink?’ The waitress hovered at his elbow. ‘Another lime and soda? Or would you like something else?’
‘Ermmm …’ Connor weighed it up. He was trying not to drink much. There had been times in his life when he’d drunk way too much and more recent times when he hadn’t drunk at all. At present, he was trying to find abalance. He could not blank out what was happening in his life with booze; he knew that would be a disaster. He’d never get anything back on track like that.
On the other hand, teetotalism was damn, bloody, joyless hard work. Especially when he seemed to spend entire hours of every day totally stressed out of his box.
‘I think I’ll have a tiny tonic water …’ He wavered. ‘… with a double gin in it, please.’
Annie had Jane in the changing room now. Her coat was off and Annie was looking at the beige trousers and navy sweatshirt underneath.
This was nothing she couldn’t handle.
The phone in Annie’s handbag began to bleep.
‘Just one tiny second,’ she told Jane and turned away to look at the message.
‘U R L8!! When here? Connor.’
Annie looked at the letters for several moments.
They didn’t make any sense. She was late? Late for what? ‘When here?’ Where? Connor?
Connor?
Connor!
Suddenly the fog cleared and Annie remembered with total clarity the phone call, the restaurant arrangement and the details scribbled down on the Post-it note.
‘Oh bloody hell!’ she said out loud.
Jane looked at her with anxiety. ‘You’re not going to go? Please don’t go! I can’t do this without you!’ she wobbled.
‘That message …’ Annie began to explain, ‘I was supposed to be in Soho at one p.m. to meet my really, really good friend for lunch. He’s going to kill me.’
‘I’ll kill myself if you don’t stay!’ Jane exclaimed and then she opened up her handbag and took out two packets of paracetamol. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. It’sonly when I saw you that I thought maybe you’d be able to help me … and maybe I wouldn’t do it today.’
Annie was stopped in her tracks. She quickly tried to disguise the look of horror which had sprung up on her face as she wondered what on earth she should do.
The assistant hovering near the changing room with them looked totally shocked.
‘Jane, I’m not going anywhere,’ Annie soothed, ‘you and I are going to have a proper chat. Just let me phone my friend and tell him I’ll have to rearrange the lunch date.’
Jane nodded.
Annie sat down on a chair in the changing room beside Jane’s and dialled Connor’s number.
‘Annie!’ she heard him exclaim. ‘Where are you? What’s happened?’
‘Connor,’ she began nervously, ‘I’m not sure how to tell you this—’
‘What?’ he jumped in. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. It’s just … well … you should have reminded me! I’ve bloody well gone and forgotten and now I’m in Brent Cross and I’ll never ever make it over to Soho for lunch and you … you should have reminded me!’ she repeated, wanting it to be Connor’s fault and not hers.
There was a pause while a shocked Connor tried to digest the information.
‘Connor?’ she asked after a bit. ‘Are you OK?’
‘You forgot?’ Connor bellowed into the phone, sending a little ripple of surprise around the restaurant.
Then he remembered about Jay and Jay’s producer friend and the many other TV-related people in this place who may or may not have noticed him.
He felt himself blush as he frantically thought of a way to turn this around. He didn’t want anyone to know that he had been forgotten, that would be terrible. Gossip wouldsizzle up all over the place: ‘I was in De
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