Oh-So-Sensible Secretary / Housekeeper's Happy-Ever-After. Jessica Hart

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СКАЧАТЬ you should say that.’ Monique glanced around and lowered her voice, even though there was no one else in there with us. ‘Have you seen Jonathan recently?’

      Phin and the cream were instantly forgotten. ‘A couple of times,’ I said, as casually as I could. My poor old heart was working overtime this morning. Now it was pattering away at the mention of Jonathan. ‘Why?’

      ‘He’s a changed man, isn’t he?’

      I thought of how relaxed he had looked the last time I’d seen him. ‘He seems to be in a good mood.’

      ‘Yes, and we all know why now!’

      ‘We do?’ I asked cautiously.

      Monique grinned. ‘Our steady, sensible Jonathan is in love.’

      Not content with pattering, my heart polevaulted into my throat, where it lodged, hammering wildly. ‘In love?’ I croaked.

      She nodded. ‘And with Lori, of all people! I wouldn’t have thought she was his type at all, but they’re all over each other and they’re not even bothering to try and hide it. Oh, well, at least he’s happy.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’d better get on. Lex will be wondering what’s happened to me.’

      There was a rushing in my ears. I think I must have said something, but I’ve no idea what, and Monique waggled her fingers in farewell as she hurried off, oblivious to the fact that my world had come crashing down around me.

      Shaking, feeling sick, I shut myself in a cubicle and put my head between my knees. I mustn’t cry, I mustn’t cry, I mustn’t cry, I told myself savagely. I had the rest of the afternoon to get through, and if I cried my mascara would run and everyone would know my heart was broken.

      I don’t know how long I sat there, but it can’t have been that long. I knew I had to get back. Lifting my head, I drew long, painful breaths to steady myself. I could do this.

      Thank God for make-up. I reapplied lipstick very carefully and studied my expression. My eyes held a stark expression, but you’d have had to know me very well to spot that anything was wrong. Inside I felt ragged and raw, and I walked stiffly, so as not to jar anything, but outwardly I was perfectly composed.

      I made it back to my desk and sank down in my chair, staring blankly at the computer screen. I just had to sit there for another few hours and then I’d be able to go home. Phin had gone out to his lunch with Jane, the director of HR, so I was spared him at least. Those blue eyes might be full of laughter but they didn’t miss much.

      By the time he came back it was after four, and I had had plenty of time to compose myself. I ached all over with the effort of not falling apart, and my brain felt as if it had an elastic band snapped round it, but I was able to meet his gaze when he came in.

      ‘How was your meeting?’ I asked, knowing Phin would never guess what it cost me to sound normal.

      ‘Very useful. Jane’s great, isn’t she? We talked about Cameroon and she’s all for a trial visit to see—’ He broke off and frowned. ‘What’s the matter?’

      ‘Nothing.’ My throat was so tight I had to force the word out.

      ‘Don’t try and deny it,’ said Phin. ‘That stapler is a millimetre out of alignment. And…’ he peered closer ‘…yes, I do believe that’s a chip in your nail polish!’ The laughter faded from his voice and from his face. ‘Come on, I can see in your eyes that something’s wrong. What is it?’

      ‘It’s…nothing.’ I couldn’t look at him. I stared fiercely away, pressing my lips together in one straight line.

      ‘You’re not the kind of person that gets upset about nothing,’ he said gently. Going back to the door, he closed it. ‘Tell me,’ he said.

      There was a great, tangled knot of hurt in my throat. I knew if I even tried to say Jonathan’s name I would break down completely, and I wasn’t sure I could bear the humiliation. ‘I…can’t.’

      ‘OK,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to say anything. But we’re going out. Get your coat.’

      I was too tired and miserable to object. He took me to a dimly lit bar, just beginning to fill with people leaving work early. Like us, I supposed. We found a table in a corner and Phin looked around for a waiter.

      ‘What would you like?’ he asked. ‘A glass of wine?’

      God, I was so predictable, I realised. No wonder Jonathan didn’t want me. Even Phin could see that I was the kind of girl who sensibly just had a small glass of white wine before going home. I was boring.

      ‘Actually, I’d like a cocktail,’ I said with a shade of defiance.

      ‘Sure,’ said Phin. ‘What kind?’

      I picked up the menu on the table and scanned it. I would love to have been the kind of girl who could order Sex on a Beach or a Long Slow Screw Against a Wall without sounding stupid, but I wasn’t. ‘A pomegranate martini,’ I decided, choosing one at random.

      His mouth flickered, but he ordered it straightfaced from the waiter, along with a beer for himself.

      When it came, it looked beautiful—a rosy pink colour with a long twirl of orange peel curling through it. I was beginning to regret my choice by then, but was relieved to take a sip and find it delicious. Just like fruit juice, really.

      I was grateful to Phin for behaving quite normally. He chatted about his meeting with Jane, and I listened with half an ear as I sipped the martini which slipped down in no time. I even began to relax a bit.

      ‘Another one?’ Phin asked, beckoning the waiter over.

      About to say that I shouldn’t, I stopped myself. Sod it, I thought. I had nothing to go home for. ‘Why not?’ I said instead.

      When the second martini arrived, I took another restorative pull through the straw and sat back. I was beginning to feel pleasantly fuzzy around the edges.

      ‘Thank you,’ I said on a long sigh. ‘This was just what I needed.’

      ‘Can you talk about it yet?’

      Phin’s voice was warm with sympathy. The funny thing was that it didn’t feel at all awkward to be sitting there with him in the dim light. Maybe it was the martini, but all at once he felt like a friend, not my irritating boss. Only that morning the graze of his finger had reduced me to mush, but it was too bizarre to remember that now.

      I sighed. ‘Oh, it’s just the usual thing.’

      ‘Boyfriend trouble?’

      ‘He’s not my boyfriend any more. The truth is, he was never really my boyfriend at all,’ I realised dully. ‘But I loved him. I still do.’

      In spite of myself, my eyes started to fill with tears. ‘He told me before Christmas that he wanted out, that he didn’t think it was working,’ I went on, my voice beginning to wobble disastrously. ‘I’d been hoping and hoping that he’d change his mind, and I let myself believe that he was beginning to miss me, but I just found out today that he’s going out with Lori and he’s СКАЧАТЬ