Free Spellbound by Jane Green Page A

the Friday night din.
    As usual for 6 p.m. on a Friday, Corney & Barrow is packed. Jackets are slung over the backs of stools, ties are being loosened, and the men and women who keep the money pumping through the financial heart of the country are finally able to have a few drinks and relax.
    They deserve it. Most are at their desks by 6 a.m. Monday to Friday, and many are lucky if they make it home before ten. Long hours are made bearable by the promise – not always fulfilled – of absurdly large January bonuses, and the knowledge that working hard guarantees early retirement and the ability to play even harder.
    Joe takes the drinks over to a noisy table in the corner. Dave drains his old pint glass to make way for the new, and the others follow suit, all except Josie, who didn’t want another Cosmopolitan, doesn’t really want to be here at all, but has to get to know her colleagues, can’t be seen as stand-offish or distant, and knows the Friday night drink after work is the best possible place to prove she is one of the boys.
    That Josie Mitchell is one of the boys is the very last thing on Joe’s mind. He’s been watching her for the last couple of days, looking up from his phone-calls with interest as she passes his desk, more interested because she has not noticed him, has not even looked his way.
    He had finally found himself in a meeting with her this afternoon, mustering all his charm to introduce himself, and had been surprised by her coolness and lack of interest, so that he was even more surprised when she agreed to join him and a few of the others for a drink.
    Naturally Joe is inspired by her apparent lack of interest. He likes cool women, sees them as a challenge, and has maneouvred the seating so he is sitting next to her. Right now he is ignoring her, chatting with other colleagues, biding his time, for he is quite sure that his time will come later that evening, that he will manage to melt her icy exterior, discover whether she is as intriguing as she looks.
    ‘Right, I’m off.’ Dave drains his third pint and stands up, reaching for his jacket. ‘Need to get home to the wife,’ he says. ‘You coming?’ He looks at Joe, a hint of a smile, for he knows what Joe is up to. Joe gestures to his full glass of single malt whisky. ‘Not yet,’ he says. ‘I still need a drink or two to relax.’
    ‘I’d better get going too.’ Sarah stands up, and within a few minutes the only people left at the table are Joe and Josie.
    ‘I should leave,’ Josie says, standing up and offering a smile to Joe for the first time that week.
    ‘At least finish your drink.’ Joe nods to her untouched Cosmopolitan. ‘Can’t let a decent Cosmopolitan go to waste.’
    Josie checks her watch, and sighs. She has nothing to rush home for, after all, just a stark empty flat in Chelsea, a chilled bottle of Chardonnay and Patrick Kielty Almost Live . And it is quite nice sitting in this cosy corner in this busy bar on a Friday night, and it is only one Cosmopolitan, and she’s curious to see if Joe Chambers really does live up to his reputation.
    Hell. It’s only a drink. What harm can it do?
    Emily has refused point blank to let Joe pay for her and Harry to go to the Lygon Arms, particularly as she has a perfectly good cottage in the country that the four of them can go to. As she said to Alice, it’s not very grand and the food probably won’t be Lygon Arms quality – unless of course Alice decides to take over on that front – but it’s certainly cheaper and they’ll have just as much fun.
    And so here they are, Emily and Harry, on a Friday afternoon, standing just inside the lobby of Alice’s house, on their way to driving down to the country, and Harry’s jaw is almost on the floor as he looks around, taking in the vast ceiling, the walls of glass, the sheer size of the place.
    ‘Bloody hell!’ he says.
    Alice starts to laugh. ‘I know. Welcome to my museum.’
    ‘It’s amazing,’ Harry says, when