He raised a hand to his forehead. ‘Don’t. Okay? Don’t say sorry. I should be the one apologising.’
‘I feel awful about what happened.’
‘Believe me, you’re not the only one.’ He turned to her. ‘I was an idiot . . .’
‘No, you weren’t.’
‘I was. I should never have kissed you. It just happened.’
‘I know.’
‘I totally misread the situation.’
Anna put her hand on his knee. ‘Jonah, I know. I misread it, too. And that’s what I wanted to say. You were so kind to me, taking me with you at short notice, listening to me talk about my mother and Ben and . . .’ She let out a long sigh. ‘And I didn’t know you had feelings for me.’
‘When I saw the bracelet from the bits I’d sent you, I assumed you’d guessed it was from me and were trying to let me know.’
‘I can see how you thought that. I’m sorry.’
‘I’m sorry, too. I never meant to scare you, Anna, or put you on the spot.’
They fell into silence, watching Bennett chasing around with his newfound friends. Anna knew what was left to say, but also that it wouldn’t be what Jonah was hoping for. A mother with a bright-red pushchair passed by, the curly copper-haired baby girl inside it giving them a quizzical look.
Jonah laughed. ‘Much easier to be that age, eh? All you have to worry about is playing, eating and sleeping. I don’t think she was a fan of us, though.’
‘Everyone’s a critic,’ Anna replied, knowing that the time had come for what she needed to say. ‘You know I don’t . . . feel the same way about you, don’t you?’
His smile faded. ‘Aye. I pretty much got that idea.’
‘It’s not for want of trying, honestly. You’re a good man and you mean a lot to me. I don’t want to lose that. But I just can’t see you as more than a friend.’
‘You don’t need to explain. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and reached the same conclusion. I like you, Anna, always have. But the thought of losing you as a friend has scared the crap out of me these past few days.’ He gently placed his hand on hers. ‘Start again?’
The outcome was better than Anna could ever have hoped. ‘Let’s do that.’
When they parted ways by the entrance to Walton Tower – Jonah giving in to his dog’s demands for a longer walk to compensate for three days without, Anna went into Spill the Beans, bought coffee and pastries for two and headed up to Tish’s apartment. Her conversation with Tish when the book had arrived had helped her make sense of where she was, and now Anna wanted to talk more.
When she reached Tish’s floor it became apparent that their friendship wasn’t the only one undergoing changes for the better. Seamus Flatley was leaving her friend’s apartment, rebuttoning his shirt and looking like the child who had received all the Christmas presents. He flushed a little when he saw Anna, muttering an excuse about ‘those troublesome water pipes again’ and hurrying down the stairs. Anna knocked on the still-open door.
‘Tish?’
‘In here . . .’ Her friend’s voice floated through the apartment, followed a few moments later by its owner. She was smoothing down her hair and sported the same self-satisfied expression as the caretaker. ‘Hey. You caught me – uh . . .’
Anna folded her arms. ‘Seamus? Really?’
‘You know, it’s the darnedest thing, my boiler bit the dust – again – and Seamus happened to be passing . . .’ She stopped, amused by her own preposterous excuse. ‘Who am I kidding? The man’s gorgeous and I’d be crazy not to take advantage. And it’s been a really long time since I enjoyed a body like that.’
Anna recoiled a little. Their friendship might be entering more personal territory, but she wasn’t sure she was ready yet to hear every detail of Tish’s latest liaison. ‘Just as long as you’re happy.’
‘Oh, I am. My mother would probably disown me. Not so much for entertaining a hot guy in my home, but more because he’s Irish. So, I finally found my rebellious side, at forty-five years old. Who knew that would happen?’ She straightened a cushion on the sofa. ‘But I guess you didn’t come here to bust me. What’s up?’
‘When I went away, it was with Jonah. We got our wires massively crossed and he made a pass at me. Since we came back I’ve avoided him, but I thought about what I’d told you in Spill the Beans last week and decided to sort it out. Which I just have.’
Tish motioned for Anna to sit. ‘You did good, honey. Misunderstandings can blow friendships apart. Believe me, I’ve been trapped in explosions like that before, and they aren’t pretty.’
‘I feel good about it. I don’t like being at odds with anyone.’
‘Apart from your mother.’ Tish winked. ‘But, hey, you’re preaching to the choir with me on that one.’
‘And my job looks safe for the foreseeable future, too, which is great.’
‘So why does your face tell me things aren’t so rosy?’
Anna stared back. ‘Does it?’
‘You suck at lying, Anna Browne. The FBI is unlikely to call on your services any time soon. What happened to the journalist?’
Was it obvious that Ben was still playing on her mind? ‘I think he might be leaving the paper. I don’t know what to think about him, Tish – that’s the truth. I’m angry that he used me; and in the light of what he did, I don’t know if any of our friendship was real. But when I considered what you said, I couldn’t help feeling I should have listened to his explanation when he tried to give it. Instead I shot him down in flames because I couldn’t see past the injustice.’
‘The guy used you. You have every right to be upset.’
‘I do. But why don’t I feel satisfied with how things are?’
‘So, the book – if it’s from him – changed things?’
‘I don’t know. I saw him at work yesterday, briefly. But he left before I had a chance to speak to him. I’d just like answers, I suppose. Without them, I’m left hanging and I want to draw a line under this.’
‘Keep looking for opportunities,’ Tish said. ‘But if they don’t arrive, let it go. You can’t control what someone else wants to do. If he isn’t prepared to fight for your respect, he never deserved it from the start.’
Over dinner that night, Anna pieced together her response to Ben, if she was ever able to speak to him. She would hold him to account for his actions, of course, but would make herself listen to his reply. Had he been more interested in her story all along? If so, how much further had he been prepared to go, if she hadn’t given him the story he wanted? His answers might hurt her, but if she was ever going to move on, she needed to know.
‘Good or bad, Anna, we need truth,’ Grandma Morwenna often said. Anna had discovered truths about her beloved grandmother that didn’t sit well with her soul, but learning them had been a key component of the person she was becoming. The truth she’d given Jonah today wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear, but was necessary if their friendship was to survive. Ben might confirm her worst suspicions, but at least she would know. That knowledge would help her heal, even if it stung.
She would find an opportunity to speak to him tomorrow, she decided. And if that didn’t happen, the next day or the one after that, until a resolution came. It was too important to her own peace of mind and forward movement to shrink back now.
Fifty
The invitation for the Messenger party was as impressive as Juliet Evans had promised the actual event would be. Made of thick card, it featured a beautifully intricate, three-dimensional hand-cut tree design, complete with tiny birds and swinging apples amid the filigree branches, every edge lined with gold foil. Just holding the work of art took Anna’s breath away. The Messenger building was humming with excitement, following the discovery of the invitations in thick, purple vellum envelopes on every employee’s desk. Rumours of a stellar guest list began to emerge, along with an intriguing report that Juliet had invited the editors of every national newspaper to witness the Daily Messenger’s comeback.<
br />
Juliet had certainly done her job: online gossip columns and news agencies were already talking about the event, while certain broadsheets discussed the challenge facing every newspaper in the digital age, painting the Messenger as a test case for survival. Before the party had even taken place, it was the talk of the town.
The invitations confirmed that the party would be held in the elegant Kensington Palace Orangery, a venue well known for hosting high-profile events on the London party circuit. Sheniece wasted no time informing everyone who would listen of its delights, having seen parties there featured in the celebrity magazines she read religiously. Even Babs, who remained to be convinced that she’d be allowed to work till retirement, promised she’d buy a new outfit for the occasion, ‘just in case a handsome actor asks me to dance’.
Anna shared her colleagues’ excitement, the party becoming a symbol of better times ahead. Like her, the Daily Messenger was evolving, leaving behind the uncertainty of recent months and daring to begin a new chapter.
Whether Ben would be part of that, however, was still unclear. Anna didn’t see him for two days after the company meeting; when she asked Rea from the newsroom, she said Ben was working away, although she didn’t know where his assignment had taken him. Nobody said it aloud, but the accepted wisdom was that a new position had called him away – the news not being official, in case it affected morale. Anna wondered if she had missed her chance.
A ray of hope emerged, the day before the Messenger party, when an intern working for Juliet’s PA let slip to Ted that a certain Ben McAra was on the guest list – and had confirmed his attendance.
‘You see, girl? Any information you want getting, Uncle Ted’s your man.’
That settled it: the party would be the perfect place to talk to Ben. Anna knew it could well be her last opportunity and she was determined not to let it pass.
That afternoon a hesitant-looking man approached the reception desk, looking a little lost.
‘Can I help you?’ Anna asked.
‘This is the address I have, but – ’ he checked the folded piece of paper he carried, ‘ – I think there must be a mistake. This is Messenger House, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘We don’t usually have appointments in the City. Not in places like this, at least . . . I’m sorry – Grant Ogilvy,’ he offered his hand, much to Anna’s amusement. It wasn’t often that a visitor to the building proffered a handshake to her.
‘I’m Anna. Nice to meet you. Who are you here to see?’
‘Anna? Anna Browne?’ Seeing her name badge, Grant beamed broadly. ‘Then it would appear, my dear girl, that I am in the right place after all. Stay right where you are . . .’ He turned tail and hurried back out of the building.
‘What was that about?’ Sheniece asked.
Anna watched the visitor leaving. ‘I’m not sure.’ A stranger asking for her by name was unsettling. She had been assured her time as a headliner was over, but what if it wasn’t?
Five minutes later the man reappeared, carrying a large flat object under one arm. Placing it on the reception desk, he grinned. ‘Sorry for the delay, just been arguing the toss with a most unpleasant traffic warden. Tried to suggest I was parked illegally, would you believe? I digress. This is for you.’
The brown-paper-wrapped object bore her name, but no address. Glancing at the corners confirmed that it fit the pattern of Anna’s previous parcels.
‘Who sent it?’ she asked quickly. Grant obviously wasn’t a courier – and if the parcel he had brought had been ordered in person, he might have more details about the sender. Anna held her breath, willing him to answer.
‘Can’t say, sorry. It was stipulated in the terms of the order. Have to say, they were startlingly specific about it. Took my staff the best part of an hour to fold the corners of the wrapping paper correctly.’
‘Oh.’ She knew she’d been grasping at straws, but Anna felt disappointed to find another dead-end for her search. ‘Well, thank you.’
Grant hesitated and brought a hand to his heart. ‘Would you mind terribly opening it before I go? Only I don’t often get to see the reaction, when people receive my designs.’
‘You’re a designer? Oh my life, you have to open it!’ Sheniece and Ashraf flanked Anna like a pair of shaken Prosecco bottles ready to pop.
Given the avid attentions of her audience, how could Anna refuse? ‘Okay.’ Suppressing an urge to laugh out loud, she removed the wrapping paper to reveal a glossy copper-gold box. It bore the initials ‘G.O.’ in looping black script.
‘That’s me,’ Grant beamed, tapping the box. ‘Now, look inside.’
Laid between sheets of bronze-coloured tissue Anna caught a glimpse of scarlet red. She lifted it, the folds falling out as the fullness of the red fabric shivered across the reception desk.
‘It’s a dress,’ she breathed.
‘One of our most popular,’ Grant said. ‘I designed it with the Golden Age of Hollywood in mind. Simple, flowing, cut to emphasise a real woman.’
‘Oh, wow, it’s beautiful . . . I don’t know what to say.’
The designer nodded. ‘You’ve said all I wanted to hear. Have a lovely time at your party.’ Taking a last look at his latest customer, he left.
Anna revelled in the feel of the fabric against her fingers. She had never been given a dress before, and certainly would never have chosen one designed to stand out. In the back of her mind Grant’s words replayed, gaining in volume until –
‘Wait! How do you know about the party?’ But Grant Ogilvy had gone. Anna looked down at the empty box and caught sight of a small card tucked into the folds of tissue:
For the most beautiful woman at the party.
I will see you there.
Her colleagues were oblivious to this, their attention still caught by the stunning dress. Heart thumping, Anna quickly hid the card in her suit pocket.
‘How perfect is this?’ Ashraf was saying. ‘You have to wear it tomorrow night, Anna! It’s like Cinderella, only better!’
‘Was there a note?’ Sheniece looked up from her inspection of the dress. ‘There sometimes is with your stuff, right?’
‘I’ll check.’ Anna made a theatrical search of the tissue layers in the box. ‘Doesn’t seem to be one here.’
‘Who cares when you get a gift like this? I am phoning Rea right now . . .’
Anna left Sheniece and Ashraf to send the latest news along the Messenger grapevine, retreating to the relative calm of the work kitchen. As the kettle boiled, she considered the new parcel’s meaning. Was the sender preparing to reveal their identity at the party? Or would they be watching from a distance? She could rule neither out – the message gave little away. What she now knew for certain was that the sender would be there.
What happens when I’m there is my choice, she told herself.
Given the evidence at hand, the sender must be Ben. He was conveniently absent from work, but the gift had arrived soon after his attendance at the party had been confirmed. If she didn’t already know he would be there, the message with the dress left her in no doubt. He had hurried away from the meeting in the newsroom, but was this because he’d planned to speak to Anna at the party and not before? He had hinted when they last spoke that he could make things right between them: was this what he’d had in mind?
If the beautiful Dodie Smith book was an apology, what did he plan to say at the party? And would it be what she wanted to hear? The dress was designed to be noticed by everyone; would whatever he said be heard by them all, too?
And so Anna knew what she would do.
Tomorrow night Anna Browne would stand out from the crowd in a stunning red dress – and would meet the person she’d longed to thank for so long. She would thank them for their gifts and explain that no more were required: she had discovered the woman they had seen in her from the beginning – and so much more.
Because, for the last few days, she had been aware of something she could no
longer deny, no matter what had happened before. She knew it on the beach when Jonah tried to kiss her and she knew it now. Despite every reason she shouldn’t feel as she did, Anna knew she could no longer deny her heart.
And if what she was almost certain of now were proved to be right, she would forgive Ben McAra and tell him she was falling in love with him . . .
Fifty-One
‘Wow!’
Anna locked her front door and smiled at Jonah, who was walking up the corridor towards her, a large kit bag slung over one shoulder and a tripod in his hand. He looked tired, but his eyes were bright from doing what he loved most. She had seen it at Godrevy – being in the great outdoors seemed to bring out the best in him.
‘Good day’s filming?’
‘Cold, but good. You look incredible.’
Pleased by his reaction, Anna gave a little twirl. ‘It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?’
‘I wasn’t talking about the dress . . .’
‘Jonah.’
‘Don’t worry, I think we’ve established the boundaries on that one. But I can say what I see, can’t I?’
‘Well, you look very nice, too. Rugged.’
‘Aye? Is that what you call being dragged through a hedge backwards, when you’re being polite?’
‘Apparently so.’
The new understanding between them still felt a little out of place, but Anna was glad it existed. She loved Jonah as a friend and was relieved to know he was content to feel the same about her.
‘So, what’s with the glad rags? You off out somewhere nice?’
‘It’s the Messenger party tonight.’
‘Ah, I see. And will he be there?’ Jonah’s smile was warm. ‘It’s okay, lass, I guessed. I just hope he’s worthy of you.’
‘I think he might have sent the parcels,’ Anna admitted. ‘Well, almost all of them.’
‘Except mine was the best, of course. If he did send them, he’s a better man than I thought. Just don’t take any of his messing, you hear? You’re worth more than that.’
Arriving at the gates of Kensington Gardens, Anna saw her colleagues waiting for her.
A Parcel for Anna Browne Page 34
