getting here now? What the hell do you think this is, Georgio? Do you know what time it is? And, here. We don’t want these. Or these. Take them back.’
Guy pricked up his ears. For a second he ignored his blistered pride and eavesdropped on the conversation in the back room.
‘Wait, Georgio. No, don’t take them back.’ It was Amber’s voice. ‘I ordered them, Ivy. I want them.’
There was a rapid murmured exchange, finishing with, ‘I thought I’d explained this yesterday, Amber. Here—give me that invoice. Where’s Serena, anyway?
She
should have sorted this lot.’
‘Serena’s had a problem with her …’
Guy saw a harassed-looking Amber pass by the open doorway. She halted when she caught sight of him still standing there.
‘Oh.’ She came flying across the room, flushed, hair dishevelled, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Look,’ she said urgently, ‘I can’t talk now. Our delivery’s arrived late and everything’s in a bit of a shemozzle.’ Catching sight of the roses, she said impatiently, ‘Do you really want these?’
Unwilling to be ejected so summarily after he’d been downgraded to the level of brute, with no right of appeal, he insisted. ‘Sure I do. Of course.’
Flustered, perhaps distracted by the voices issuing from the back room, she wrapped them in silver paper, tied a ribbon around them, then sped through the transaction. It was clear to Guy by the way her fingers flew over the keys that she was eager to be rid of him ASAP.
She thrust his card and the receipt towards him. He accepted them, then snaked his hand out to grab hers. ‘Meet me in the city after work.’
Her hand quivered in his, cool and burning hot at the same time, but she yanked it away fast. There was a momentary spark in her violet eyes that he could almost have sworn teetered on capitulation, then they chilled pretty convincingly.
‘No. There’s no point.’
Hope died hard. He might have deserved punishment, but the rejection hit the old nerve. A man should have at least
half
a right to defend himself before execution.
He was about to intensify his attempt to retrieve some of his honour when the small woman reappeared from the back room, muttering, ‘That Serena’s useless.’
Amber turned her gaze to the woman. ‘She really couldn’t help it, Ivy,’ she said quietly. ‘Her babysitter was sick. She rang in to warn me.’
‘You’re too soft, Amber,’ the woman snapped. ‘You’d swallow anything. Yes?’ This to Guy. ‘You still here? Can we help you?’
Guy saw the quick flush flare in Amber’s cheeks.
‘It’s all right, Ivy. I’m helping the customer.’
‘He’s had time to help himself to the whole shop by now.’
‘Ivy.’
The small woman threw up her hands and stomped into the back room, where her sharp voice could be heard harrying the old man.
Conscious of more tension in the room than just his own, Guy picked up his briefcase and the roses. Refusing to accept defeat, he gazed down at Amber. ‘We’ll finish this later. Do you know the Shangri-la Hotel?’
Her eyes darkened, her lashes fluttering down to hide them. She shook her head. ‘No. Look, I have to attend a meeting tonight at six. Anyway, I told you. There’s no point.’ She hardened her expression. ‘No
point
.’
He felt his gut tighten. There was a point for him. He couldn’t leave it like this. Not like this.
Luckily, when the chips were down, inspiration could strike him. Right at that moment he had an image of his aunt’s face, and along with it the calendar she kept pinned to her fridge with all her social commitments.
Something about a meeting of the Kirribilli Mansions Residents’ Committee. At six p.m. on the thirtieth. Wasn’t this the thirtieth?
CHAPTER FIVE
A T THE end of a difficult day, Amber wished, rather than pressing for the lift to take her to the residents’ meeting, she could be far away. On a Pacific cruise, like Jean, or better still the planet Saturn.
Somewhere free