Amber had nosily asked Jack if his wife oversaw the catering side of the business. He’d told them he didn’t have a wife. A girlfriend then? Nope, not one of those either. Chrissie’s heart had soared at this piece of information. But her joy had plunged, like a rollercoaster with no brake, as realisation dawned that there had to be a big reason why a man like Jack was single. She’d inwardly groaned. Why were all the good-looking guys gay? Chrissie suspected Amber might fancy Steve Hood if he wasn’t already paired off with “his mate”. Funnily enough, Chrissie had never had Steve down as being gay. Just like Jack. She glanced over at him again to find his eyes once again on her. She blushed and looked away.
Ten minutes later he was back, this time with more crisps. Further gems of information were divulged. His three pubs were a full-on business commitment, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. It was rewarding, but hard graft. He didn’t have time for a girlfriend – much as he’d love one. Jack had looked at Chrissie when he’d said those last words, and she’d squirmed with joy knowing he wasn’t gay after all. And then Chrissie had found her mind wandering…imagining the large brass bell over the polished counter ringing as Jack called time…then Jack throwing the bolts across the door after the last customer had left. She fantasised about him giving her the sort of scorching look that would make the wood burner seem cooler than an air-conditioning unit…and then he would stride over to her and demand she set upon him in the same way she’d wrecked the tray of drinks and occasional table…and in her mind Chrissie had already placed her hands on his shoulders, trailing her fingers down to outline the shape of his muscular chest, and then in one swift movement ripped open his shirt so all the buttons pinged off and bounced across the polished floorboards as she moved down with her mouth, seeking out his nipples, her tongue starting to explore…hang on…she’d got this the wrong way round…too many gins…he was the one who was meant to rip all the buttons off her blouse and lick her nipples. Her brain scrambled to rearrange the scene just as Jack reappeared, this time with more drinks.
‘Another two lemonades, girls, and a gin and tonic for you, Chrissie,’ he smiled. He knew all their names now. ‘I can tell it’s your favourite tipple.’
‘Yesh,’ she slurred, naked images of Jack still playing vividly in her head. ‘I do love a nipple.’
His lips twitched. ‘I won’t give you any more, otherwise you’ll have a stonking hangover tomorrow morning.’
‘Yes, and Dee and I have to work with her,’ said Amber. ‘I’d rather not be hand-feeding her paracetamol while she’s staring at her computer screen, and wearing sunglasses because the monitor is too bright.’
‘Tell your boss the blame is all mine, and that he must be very kind to you,’ said Jack with a wink. He collected up the empties and, with a last mischievous grin at Chrissie, headed back to the bar.
‘I think he likes you, Chrissie,’ Dee whispered.
‘Me too,’ said Amber.
‘Don’t be ridic-less,’ said Chrissie, with effort. She was feeling incredibly lethargic.
‘You’re pissed,’ said Amber.
‘I’m a tit bipsy, that’s all.’
‘You’re certainly a tit. Fancy telling Jack you like a nipple. Here,’ said Amber, passing Chrissie her lemonade. ‘You have this. Dee and I will share your gin and tonic. I reckon we’ve eaten the equivalent of a factory’s worth of crisps this evening, so a smidgen more gin between the two of us won’t hurt.’ She took a slug of Chrissie’s drink. ‘Yum. Now then, where was I? Oh yes. Madam Rosa. So that’s sorted. We’re all in agreement that I make another appointment.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dee and Chrissie were taken aback at Amber’s insistence they see Madam Rosa yet again, but decided to go along with her wishes. After all, things couldn’t get any worse regarding the predictions for their individual lives. They’d all hit rock bottom with their boyfriends, or rather ex-boyfriends. It was incredible they’d started the New Year hoping for marriage proposals, but now didn’t have a man between them.
Chrissie and Dee were quiet on the drive back. Both women were mulling over their own private thoughts. In Dee’s case, she was feeling strangely euphoric. It was as if an invisible magical force had visited her, waved a sparkly wand through the air and coated her in fairy dust and glitter. She couldn’t wait to get into bed, pull the duvet up to her chin, and go over every moment of her earlier meeting with Harrison Hunter-Brown. She suspected that tonight her dreams might be full of heroes and heartthrobs, all by the name of Harry.
Chrissie leant against the head rest in Dee’s car, and gave the sort of sigh that could have been misconstrued as contentment. She suspected the gin was responsible. After all, there was no other reason for her to feel blissed out. The last twenty-four hours had been horrific. She’d nearly caught Andrew with his trousers down, met his “amour” (that had been a huge shock in itself), then packed her bags and gone home to good old Mum and Dad. She should have been distraught. But weirdly, she wasn’t. No doubt the fall-out would catch up with her tomorrow. Perhaps, when Cougar Kate summoned Chrissie for assistance with a pile of Probate documents, she would finally collapse with grief and say she couldn’t type a single word because of what Andrew had done to her. She felt as though she’d been given an invisible pain-relief injection that had numbed her against all the recent blows. It had left her able to focus on other things. More pleasurable things. Like Jack. Chrissie was so looking forward to her bed. She was going to close her eyes and conjure up the image of Jack that she’d committed to memory. She suspected she’d have the sweetest of dreams.
Amber drove home feeling very peeved. She’d had a nice evening with her two besties, but despite the three of them all having had a weekend of emotional turmoil, somehow Amber felt like it was just her who was having the lousy time. Dee might have been sitting in The Beagle and Bugle, but her mind had taken a spaceship and launched off to a completely different planet. Amber didn’t have to be a scientist to suspect the planet was called Harrison Hunter-Brown. When Dee had deigned to speak, it had been “Harry this” and “Harry that”. Her friend had been distracted and vague, all the while glowing like a newlywed. And as for Chrissie. Amber mentally tutted. The woman hadn’t so much as chuffed off to another planet as beamed off to an entirely different cosmos.
Amber sighed and put the car’s gear into fourth. She wanted to get home, fall into bed and curl up in a tight ball. She wished that she, too, could be distracted by a good-looking man. Preferably one that was also kind and charming. For the briefest moment her thoughts strayed to her boss, Steve Hood, but then skittered away. He was spoken for and living happily with “his mate”. Still, at least the girls had been in agreement about making another appointment to see Madam Rosa. The sensible part of Amber wondered what on earth she was thinking of wanting to waste more money on this clairvoyant who, by some sort of cosmic coincidence, had been accurate about their individual dilemmas. But another part of her…the sod-it-what-have-I-got-to-lose part…thought, “Why not?” Madam Rosa had been uncannily correct so far. What if Harry turned out to be Dee’s new beau? And what if Jack was the new man entering Chrissie’s life? Hadn’t Madam Rosa told Amber that she, too, was due a romance at any moment? In which case, where was the bugger?
Chapter Thirty-Four
On Monday morning, there was a shift in the atmosphere at Hood, Mann & Derek, one which junior partner Alan Mann likened to a sense of foreboding. He’d already heard, through the office grapevine, that Chrissie had packed her bags and left her prat of a boyfriend. Rumour had it she’d caught Andrew with a woman old enough to be his great-great-great-grandmother. There was another story circulating about Dee, who’d been spotted driving through Seal with tear-stained face, but nobody knew why.
Despite specialising in family law, Alan wasn’t very good with hysterical females. He hoped he didn’t find Dee sobbing over her keyboard when they exchanged their good mornings. Approximately twice a week, a female client would bur
st into tears and weep all over Alan’s jotter pad, which he found incredibly awkward for two reasons. Firstly, in today’s no-touching-or-I-will-sue-you society, he was unable to put a comforting arm around a client’s shoulder. Secondly, the client’s tears always made his notes, written in ink, spread out and bloom like a pH indicator test on litmus paper. Alan hoped Dee would maintain a British “stiff upper lip” over whatever had upset her. He relied heavily upon her, especially when he had the occasional female breaking down as they filed for divorce. A client always calmed down when Dee came in with a soothing cup of tea and a plate of “cheer-up” biscuits. The last thing he needed was a weeping client and a wailing secretary duetting over his jotter pad. He pulled the notebook possessively towards him as the first client of the day took a seat opposite his desk.
Cougar Kate was feeling jubilant. As she stood in the staff kitchen pouring boiling water into two mugs for Clive Derek and herself, she was confiding in young Jessica from Accounts everything that had happened to her over a crazy but fabulous weekend. Kate was so excited because, after months of despairing it would ever happen – not to mention a warning from Madam Rosa – her much younger boyfriend had moved in. He’d finally been able to escape the clutches of his unstable, highly-strung, totally neurotic ex-girlfriend. He’d assured Kate his relationship had been dead for months, but he’d not been able to extricate himself before now because the wretched woman had always threatened to kill herself. But for some bizarre reason, the nutty ex-girlfriend had lost the plot and gone bonkers. Apparently, she’d emptied the entire contents of his wardrobe all over their lawn.
‘Between you and me, Jessica, and this is not for repeating, I’m handing in my notice this morning. Now that my boyfriend has moved in, he can support me. I’m going to give up work and start trying for a family. I’ve been reading how important it is to be relaxed in order to conceive. After all, I’m now forty. Time is not on my side. So bye-bye work, and hello to getting pregnant.’
‘I won’t tell a soul, promise,’ said Jessica, crossing her fingers behind her back.
Kate sighed happily as she stirred the two drinks. She had clouds in her coffee and love in her heart. ‘The only downside to the weekend was losing a diamond earring.’
Outside, in the corridor, Steve Hood froze. He’d already overheard Amber whispering down the phone to her sister – something about chucking clothes about, and a diamond earring in her bed. Amber might have thought Steve couldn’t hear her, but she didn’t realise she had a voice like a fog-horn and her voice box didn’t know how to talk quietly. Steve had glanced at Amber to see if she was all right, but she’d misconstrued his expression as one of annoyance for making a personal call in company time. She’d gazed at him with watery eyes and mouthed, ‘Sorry, just five minutes, please,’ and he’d nodded and mimed sipping a drink, to which Amber had given the thumbs up. Steve remembered only too well how Kate had made a move on Amber’s boyfriend at the last Christmas party. Now it would seem the two of them had been having it off behind Amber’s back. What a despicable pair. He stepped into the kitchen, and Kate and Jessica clammed up.
‘Morning, ladies,’ he said, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Jessica nodded in greeting. Grabbing her coffee, she hastily absented herself leaving Kate alone with Steve. Kate regarded Amber’s boss with cool eyes.
‘Hello,’ she said, her lips pinching into a thin line. She’d never told a soul, but in a moment of gloominess, thinking Matthew might never leave Amber, she’d recently made a clumsy pass at Steve. He’d rejected her. Kate had felt humiliated. Her cheeks flamed at the memory. She’d heard the rumours about Steve Hood. Both conflicting. She certainly didn’t believe he was gay. And he definitely wasn’t a woman who’d had a sex-change operation – because that was a rumour she’d put about herself after his rejection. Revenge was sweet. She picked up the two coffees and made to leave the kitchen, only to find Steve shutting the door and barring exit. She smiled, coldly.
‘If you’re looking for sexual favours, you’re too late,’ she said nastily. ‘I’m no longer interested.’
‘I’m not,’ said Steve bluntly.
‘What do you want?’
‘I want you to drink your coffee with Clive Derek and, whilst doing so, tell him that not only are you handing in your resignation today, but it is with great regret you cannot work your notice. I expect you to tell Clive, truthfully, why. Your position here is not tenable.’
Kate’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why isn’t it?’
‘It won’t be long before Amber finds out Matthew has moved in with you. It’s bad enough that neither of you had the decency to tell her yourself, but there’s no way you’re rubbing her nose in it for another month while you strut around this office like the cat who’s swiped the cream.’
‘You bastard,’ Kate spat. ‘Got the hots for her, have you? I always thought you looked at her with dewy eyes when her back was turned.’
‘My feelings for Amber are borne out of concern,’ said Steve, ‘but I’m not having my first-class secretary compromised by a second-rate typist.’ He opened the kitchen door again, and stood aside for her. ‘Don’t let me hold you up, Kate.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
Amber ended the call to her sister and briefly massaged her temples. She felt emotionally wrecked. The events of the weekend were overtaking her faster than a jockey riding a Grand National winner. She’d have a proper catch-up with her family very soon. Maybe even spend a weekend with her parents. She needed a complete break from New Ash Green’s nattering neighbours nudging each other every time she came out of her house. It was inevitable that people gossiped, but hopefully something else would distract pensioners like Edith and Mr Jefferies who had nothing better to do with their time. There hadn’t been so much excitement since Derek the postman had delivered their mail wearing full make-up and a dress.
Although Amber was glad her cheating scumbag of a boyfriend had gone, it was only natural she felt miserable. Much as she loved Mr Tomkin, he was unable to sweep her into his paws and whisper that everything would be all right. Her gloom was heightened by the behaviour of Dee and Chrissie. Amber could see how distracted both women were. Dee was preoccupied with this Harry guy who didn’t just have a James Bond job, but looked like him too. And Chrissie had terrible mentionitis about Jack. Amber wasn’t silly. She’d seen the way Jack had looked at her friend. Amber suspected that if Chrissie stepped back over the threshold of The Beagle and Bugle, it wouldn’t be only the pints getting pulled.
Both Dee and Chrissie had assured Amber they felt wretched, but Amber didn’t believe them. Far from being hungover, Chrissie had bounced into the office as if her stilettoes had been pogo sticks. Instead of getting on with a pile of tapes, she’d picked up the phone to make an appointment with a hairdresser in her lunch hour. She’d then told them she was going to Bluewater, after work, as she wanted to update her wardrobe.
‘Now that I don’t have to stump up money for Andrew, I’m going to splash some cash on clothes. Do either of you fancy joining me?’
‘I’d like to,’ said Dee, trying and failing to sound sincere. ‘But I’d prefer to be at home, in case I need to ring Harry.’ Or in case Harry rings me, she’d privately thought.
‘What about you, Amber?’
‘Well–’
‘Sorry to interrupt, ladies,’ said Steve, walking into the open-plan office with two coffees, ‘but I’d like you, Amber, in my office.’
Amber inwardly groaned. Ah well. She’d wanted to be distracted by work, so she might as well get on with it. She picked up her notebook and pen.
‘Leave that,’ said Steve, disappearing into his office.
Amber looked after him in surprise, then followed her boss into his office.
‘Shut the door, Amber,’ said Steve.
‘Yes, sir,’ she quipped. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I think that’s my line.’
‘Eh?’
‘I made you coffe
e.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, taking the mug and sipping gratefully.
‘So, I gather you’ve thrown Matthew out.’
Amber nearly dropped the coffee in her lap. ‘Blimey,’ she said, puffing out her cheeks. ‘News travels fast. Are you by any chance related to one of my nosey neighbours?’
‘No,’ said Steve. ‘I simply want to make sure you’re all right.’
Amber was so touched, she burst into tears. ‘I-I’m so s-sorry,’ she stuttered, foraging up her sleeve for a tissue, but not finding one.
‘Here,’ said Steve, giving her his own handkerchief.
‘Th-Thank you,’ she hiccupped. She pressed the pristine square to her eyes, desperate to rescue her mascara. One cotton corner tickled her nose, and she caught a whiff of Steve’s lovely aftershave. ‘Sorry to blub. Yes, you’re right. I’ve chucked Matthew out. It was all high drama, and rather embarrassing. You know me. Never afraid to make a fool of herself, and then stop and think about it after the event.’
‘Amber,’ said Steve softly. An observer would have said his tone was tender.
‘Yes?’ She looked up at him, eyes brimming. She was lucky to work for such a kind man. She was quite sure Steve wasn’t the first boss to witness his assistant falling apart, but she was positive not many employees would be given such a long rein for their private upsets. Especially at the rate she’d been having them.
‘I do know what you’re going through, you know. What about, after work, I take you out to dinner? You can tell me about it over a glass of wine.’
The Woman Who Knew Everything Page 20
