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Authors: Lucy Diamond
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a moment. ‘Quiet, really. My parents and one of my sisters, and her husband. Five go mad in Essex, you know.’
He laughed. He had a nice laugh, Max – a proper, genuine one. You heard a whole orchestra of fake versions in PR. ‘Excellent.’ He paused. ‘Listen, I’ve been trying
to get hold of you all week,’ he said. ‘Are we all right?’
We.
He thought there was a ‘we’. Well, there was, but it included an extra person these days. ‘Um . . . ’ she said, not sure how to respond. ‘Yes, sorry
– I saw you’d tried ringing. I was away for New Year, didn’t have much of a signal.’
That was all true at least.
‘Okay.’ He sounded hesitant now. ‘So . . . do you want to do something soon? Did you get that kite-surfing link I sent? I thought it might be a laugh.’
She bit her lip. Oh Max. It would have been a laugh a fortnight ago. They would have had a blast. If it wasn’t for those two wretched blue lines, she’d be floating up like a bunch of
shiny helium balloons right now, delighted that he wanted to ‘make a weekend of it’, already googling gorgeous boutique places to stay. ‘I . . . ’ she said awkwardly.
Help.
‘I’m pretty busy actually,’ she blurted out. ‘I’ve just been given this new account, you see, so my diary’s hideous for the next few
weeks.’
Also true. Her diary was crazy! Although she did actually have two free weekends this month, either of which she’d have happily spent with him, sleek in wetsuits, laughing and shrieking on
a kite-surf in the North Sea. But how could she? How could she carry on without telling him? This way was for the best, really. It was.
‘Oh,’ he said, and the laughter fell away from his voice. Now he sounded more clipped, as if he was speaking to a colleague he didn’t know very well. ‘I see.’
You don’t,
she thought miserably.
You have no idea.
She fiddled with two linked paper clips, twisting the wires round and round, trying and failing to think of something to
say.
‘Well, in that case, I’ll leave the ball in your court,’ he said, brisk and businesslike after a short silence. ‘You’ve got my number, so . . . Yeah.’
‘Okay,’ she said, dying a little inside. One sharp end of a paper clip scraped her skin and she winced.
Sorry,
she felt like blurting out.
Sorry! If you knew, Max,
you’d understand why I’m doing this, You’d agree that I was doing the right thing!
‘See you then, Saffron,’ he said.
‘See you then, Max,’ she echoed, replacing the phone. Well, that hadn’t gone very well. She wished she could rewind the last few minutes, let him down more gently. Actually,
scrub that: she’d rewind even further, given half a chance, right back to the start of December. Then she’d make sure the condoms were to hand every single time, before it was too late. Before this situation ever had the chance to unfold.
But it had unfolded, of course, and she’d clumsily made a mess of that last conversation. And now he’d be across town, staring at his phone and wondering how he could have got it so
wrong about Saffron Flint.
What’s up with
her
?
he’d be thinking, perplexed.
I thought I was onto something. I thought we liked each other!
She imagined one of his colleagues glancing across the office and noticing Max’s handsome features creased with a frown.
You okay there, Max?
Women,
Max would say, shaking his head, still confused. Maybe he’d start to feel exasperated, rolling his eyes in a long-suffering manner.
Women!
He was better off without her. He was. And now here came Charlotte, and she needed to stop fiddling with paper clips and look busy.
‘Saffron? Time for a quick word? I’ve been going through the accounts, and I’ve got another one that’s right up your street . . . ’
Chapter Seven
January was a great time for new starts, Gemma always thought. You could draw a veil over the excesses of Christmas and start with a nice clean slate and a lovely long list of
He laughed. He had a nice laugh, Max – a proper, genuine one. You heard a whole orchestra of fake versions in PR. ‘Excellent.’ He paused. ‘Listen, I’ve been trying
to get hold of you all week,’ he said. ‘Are we all right?’
We.
He thought there was a ‘we’. Well, there was, but it included an extra person these days. ‘Um . . . ’ she said, not sure how to respond. ‘Yes, sorry
– I saw you’d tried ringing. I was away for New Year, didn’t have much of a signal.’
That was all true at least.
‘Okay.’ He sounded hesitant now. ‘So . . . do you want to do something soon? Did you get that kite-surfing link I sent? I thought it might be a laugh.’
She bit her lip. Oh Max. It would have been a laugh a fortnight ago. They would have had a blast. If it wasn’t for those two wretched blue lines, she’d be floating up like a bunch of
shiny helium balloons right now, delighted that he wanted to ‘make a weekend of it’, already googling gorgeous boutique places to stay. ‘I . . . ’ she said awkwardly.
Help.
‘I’m pretty busy actually,’ she blurted out. ‘I’ve just been given this new account, you see, so my diary’s hideous for the next few
weeks.’
Also true. Her diary was crazy! Although she did actually have two free weekends this month, either of which she’d have happily spent with him, sleek in wetsuits, laughing and shrieking on
a kite-surf in the North Sea. But how could she? How could she carry on without telling him? This way was for the best, really. It was.
‘Oh,’ he said, and the laughter fell away from his voice. Now he sounded more clipped, as if he was speaking to a colleague he didn’t know very well. ‘I see.’
You don’t,
she thought miserably.
You have no idea.
She fiddled with two linked paper clips, twisting the wires round and round, trying and failing to think of something to
say.
‘Well, in that case, I’ll leave the ball in your court,’ he said, brisk and businesslike after a short silence. ‘You’ve got my number, so . . . Yeah.’
‘Okay,’ she said, dying a little inside. One sharp end of a paper clip scraped her skin and she winced.
Sorry,
she felt like blurting out.
Sorry! If you knew, Max,
you’d understand why I’m doing this, You’d agree that I was doing the right thing!
‘See you then, Saffron,’ he said.
‘See you then, Max,’ she echoed, replacing the phone. Well, that hadn’t gone very well. She wished she could rewind the last few minutes, let him down more gently. Actually,
scrub that: she’d rewind even further, given half a chance, right back to the start of December. Then she’d make sure the condoms were to hand every single time, before it was too late. Before this situation ever had the chance to unfold.
But it had unfolded, of course, and she’d clumsily made a mess of that last conversation. And now he’d be across town, staring at his phone and wondering how he could have got it so
wrong about Saffron Flint.
What’s up with
her
?
he’d be thinking, perplexed.
I thought I was onto something. I thought we liked each other!
She imagined one of his colleagues glancing across the office and noticing Max’s handsome features creased with a frown.
You okay there, Max?
Women,
Max would say, shaking his head, still confused. Maybe he’d start to feel exasperated, rolling his eyes in a long-suffering manner.
Women!
He was better off without her. He was. And now here came Charlotte, and she needed to stop fiddling with paper clips and look busy.
‘Saffron? Time for a quick word? I’ve been going through the accounts, and I’ve got another one that’s right up your street . . . ’
Chapter Seven
January was a great time for new starts, Gemma always thought. You could draw a veil over the excesses of Christmas and start with a nice clean slate and a lovely long list of
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