Free Victoria Line, Central Line by Maeve Binchy

long.’
    Politely she extricated herself from further explanations, from any more conversation, from having a drink at a near-by pub with Sara. She had to go home now.
    ‘You never tell me about your home,’ said Sara.
    ‘You never tell me about yours, Miss Gray, either,’ said Eve.
    ‘I would if I got a chance,’ Sara said.
    ‘Ah yes, but you and I would not get on so well if I knew about your worries and problems!’
    Sara took it as a very faint warning. It meant that Eve didn’t want to hear about Sara’s problems and worries either. She sighed. It would have been very helpful if Eve could apply her amazing skills to Sara’s disastrous relationship with Geoff. He had been gone now three weeks. No, it couldn’t be three weeks. Itwas. She could hardly believe it. The last ten days had passed so quickly she had scarcely missed him. She was so stunned by this that she hadn’t heard what Eve had said.
    ‘I was only saying that I left your invitation for the supper party tomorrow night there on your desk,’ Eve repeated as she gathered up her things. ‘I hope you enjoy it. I heard that all senior executives were normally invited to meet the chairman and board members so I made sure your name was on the list. Nice chance to wear that black dress too, Miss Gray, I expect you’re thinking.’
    Sara’s eyes were big with gratitude. As if by magic Eve seemed to have known that another lonely weekend was looming ahead. But she knew not to admit to any emotion.
    ‘Great. I’ll go in there and knock them dead. And on Monday we’ll be ready to begin the campaign.’
    ‘Excellent,’ said Eve. I suggest you find out whether any of the board have young and hopefully stupid sons who might want to start in the business. As your assistant, you know. We need someone rather over-educated with no brains.’
    ‘What are you going to do for the weekend?’ asked Sara.
    ‘This and that, Miss Gray. See you Monday,’ said Eve.
    Sara spent Saturday reading the company’s reports which Eve had left thoughtfully on her desk. She tookEve’s advice and wore the black dress to the party where Garry Edwards’ surprise at seeing her was as exciting as any romantic flutter. ‘I can see how people can become obsessed with all this infighting and competitiveness,’ thought Sara.
    She was charming to the chairman, she was respectful to Garry Edwards and risked calling him Garry once or twice: she caught him looking at her sideways several times. She was very pleasant to a middle-aged and lonely woman who was the wife of a noisy extrovert board member. The woman was so grateful that she positively unburdened her life story. Eve’s face came like a quick flash across the conversation; Sara remembered how she had implied that people don’t really want to be bogged down with personal life stories, particularly of a gloomy nature. She murmured her sympathy for the details and disclaimers of the woman’s tale about neglect and being pushed into the background.
    ‘All he cares about now is our son, he’s coming down from Cambridge soon, with an Arts Degree: no plans, no interests.’
    Eve would have been proud of her. She geared the conversation gently to her own office, to how she would be delighted to meet the boy – she even gave the woman her card with a little note scribbled on it. How amazing that she should suddenly find a need for those nice new cards which Eve had ordered for her and produced within days of her arrival. GarryEdwards came across at one stage to find out what she was up to; Sara steered the conversation away again.
    ‘Where’s that chap that you are seen with sometimes and sometimes not?’ asked Edwards, determined to wound.
    ‘If he’s not here, it must be one of the evenings I’m not seen with him,’ said Sara cheerfully.
    That night she went to sleep in her big double bed, hoping that Geoff would not come home. She had too much to think about.
    The weeks went by, two more of them. She had already