Forget Me Not. Isabel Wolff

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ then made a short thank you speech, just managing not to cry, as the reality of it all finally hit me. Then, clutching my presents and having tipsily – and tearfully now – hugged everyone goodbye, I went to have supper with Sue.

      It felt strange going through Arden’s revolving doors for the last time, giving the guys on security one final wave. Sue and I went round the corner to Chez Gerard for our valedictory dinner. As we ordered, I looked at Sue who was only seven years younger than my mum; in some ways she was like the aunt I’d never had.

      ‘You know, Anna…’ Sue lowered her menu. ‘I’ve worked for you for five years and not had a single bad day.’

      ‘You’ve been much more than a PA, Sue.’ I felt my throat constrict. ‘You’ve been a true friend.’

      She put her hand on my arm. ‘And that’s not going to stop.’ Then she opened her bag and took out a gift-wrapped package. ‘I’ve got something for you too.’ Inside was a beautiful book about Alpine flowers, which I’ve always loved, with stunning photographs of dainty gentians, Edelweiss and Dianthus growing in the Carpathians, the Pyrenees and the Alps.

      ‘Thank you,’ I murmured. ‘It’s lovely.’ I turned to the title page and read Sue’s inscription: To Anna, may you bloom and grow … ‘I hope I do,’ I said anxiously.

      ‘Oh, you will,’ Sue said.

      Later, as our coffee arrived she mentioned that she’d arranged to meet her friend Cathy for a late drink. ‘Why don’t you come along?’ she suddenly suggested.

      I sipped my espresso. ‘Oh … I don’t … know.’

      ‘You’ve met Cathy before – at my forty-fifth birthday drinks, remember?’

      ‘Yes, I do – she was nice.’

      ‘We’re meeting at this new club near Oxford Circus, then we’ll get the train back to Dartford together. Say yes, Anna.’

      ‘Well …’

      Sue glanced at her watch. ‘It’s not even ten. And you’re not doing anything else tonight, are you?’ I shook my head. ‘So?’

      ‘So … OK, then. Thanks. Why not?’

      ‘I mean today’s your last day in the City after twelve years,’ she added as we emerged on to the street.

      ‘Twelve years,’ I echoed. ‘That’s more than a third of my life.’ I felt unsteady from all the champagne.

      ‘You don’t want it to just … fizzle out, do you?’

      ‘No. I want it to end in a memorable way.’

      ‘With a bang – not a whimper!’

      ‘Yes!’

      But as we stepped on to the escalator at Bank tube station, my right heel got stuck in the metal slats. It was wedged. As we neared the bottom, I began to panic. Then, as I wrenched it free, it sheared off.

      ‘Oh, shit,’ I moaned as I hobbled off. Sue’s hand was clapped to her mouth in horrified amusement. ‘There’s a metaphor in this,’ I said grimly as I retrieved the amputated stiletto. ‘I’m leaving the security of the City, so I’m going to be down at heel.’

      ‘That’s nonsense – you’re going to be a big success. But there’s only one thing for it …’

      ‘Yes, Superglue,’ I interjected. ‘Got any?’

      ‘On with the green wellies!’

      ‘Oh no!’

      ‘Oh yes.’ Sue giggled. ‘What else are you going to do? Go barefoot?’

      ‘Oh God.’ I laughed as I pulled them on, attracting amused looks from passers-by. I stared at my legs. ‘Very fetching. Well, I’m suited and booted all right. At least they fit,’ I added as I clumped along the corridor. ‘But they make my feet look massive.’

      ‘You look delightfully Boho.’ Sue laughed.

      ‘I look bizarre.’

      ‘Well, you did say you wanted a memorable evening.’

      ‘That’s true.’

      Five stops on the Central Line later and we’d arrived at Oxford Circus, where Cathy was waiting for us by the ticket barriers.

      I registered her surprised glance. ‘My heel snapped off.’

      ‘Never mind,’ she said sympathetically. ‘With a smile like yours no one’s going to notice your feet.’ I could have kissed her. ‘The Iso-Bar’s just up here.’ Two thick-set bouncers stepped aside to allow us through the purple rope.

      ‘This place hasn’t been open long,’ Cathy explained as we went down the steps into the vaulted interior. ‘I saw Clive Owen in here last time. He actually winked at me.’

      ‘Lucky you,’ I said. ‘But let’s have some more champagne. I’ll get it while you two find a table.’

      I went up to the crowded bar. I felt self-conscious in my wellies, though it was, mercifully, quite dark – but I couldn’t seem to catch the barman’s eye. And I’d been standing there for a good ten minutes, feeling irritated by now, and annoyed by the spinning spotlights which were making my head ache, when I became aware that the man standing on my right was gesticulating extravagantly at the barman, then pointing at me with both index fingers, thumbs cocked. He saw me looking at him and smiled.

      ‘Thanks,’ I said to him, as I placed my order. I looked at him properly, then felt a sudden thump in my ribcage. He had dark curly hair that spilled over his collar and his eyes were a smoky blue. He was mid thirties, tall and slim, but his shoulders were broad. ‘That was kind of you,’ I added. ‘I couldn’t get the barman to notice me.’

      ‘I don’t know why,’ the stranger replied. ‘You’re very noticeable. You look like …’ Gwyneth Paltrow I hoped he’d say. Or Kirsten Dunst. People do say that sometimes – if they’ve had enough to drink.

      ‘… an iceberg,’ I heard him say. ‘You look so tall, and pale and … cool.’

      ‘And of course I have hidden depths.’

      ‘I’m sure you do.’ To my annoyance, this made him glance at my feet. Puzzlement furrowed his brow. ‘Been on a countryside march, have you?’

      ‘No.’ I explained what had happened.

      ‘How inconvenient.’

      ‘You’re telling me.’ I paid for the bottle of Taittinger. ‘But I always carry alternative footwear around with me.’

      ‘So I see. How practical.’

      ‘Anyway, thanks for your help there. You’re a gent.’

      ‘Sometimes,’ he said wistfully. ‘But not always …’

      Now, СКАЧАТЬ