Anna mouthed a STFU and logged on with a cheerful flourish. She would have to ask him how old he was, she decided. Surely no more than fifteen years older, though. Surely not yet forty. And what was his name? And… Her train of thought came to an abrupt halt, and she grabbed her mobile out of her bag, looking again at the text message. He had called her Miss Rice. Had she told him her surname? She was still trying to remember, forehead strained, mind stubbornly blank, when her desk phone rang. Two rings—external call. She snatched it up and almost stumbled over the stock phrase, “Good morning, Recorder and Sunday Post.”
“Good morning, Recorder and Sunday Post.” Amusement in the voice. That voice! His voice. She wanted to melt all over the phone, to squeeze herself down the lines and pop out at the other end so she could see the smiling glint in his eye. “I thought your name was Anna.”
“Hello,” she half whispered, covering the receiver and crouching low over the desk in a hopeless attempt to maintain privacy.
“How are you this morning?”
“Good. Really good. Thanks.” Anna’s head had lost its connections; the words blundered out without touching the sides of her consciousness.
“Did you sleep well? Were your dreams sweet?”
She was flooded with sudden embarrassment, remembering the climax that had shaken her slumbering body, seemingly beneath his eyes. Oh God, don’t be silly, he’s just asking a polite question.
“Uh-huh, yes, thanks.”
“Good.” He let the vowel sound stretch out before cutting it off and chuckling softly. “I need you in top form. I’m picking you up when you finish work. Six, is it? That dinner we talked about.”
“Not…straight from work!” Anna was aghast at the idea.
“Why not? It’s close to my office. It’s easy for me. Easy for you.”
“But…I’m not dressed.”
“You’re not dressed? Anna, I think I might have to come up and see you right now.”
“Noooo, I mean for dinner. You know. Somewhere nice. If it’s somewhere nice.” Argh, the conversation
was skidding way out of control. She was about to say something incredibly stupid. Best to just shut up and let him talk.
“It’s somewhere nice. But you don’t need to change. What you’re wearing—whatever you’re wearing—will be fine. I’ll be in the lobby at six then?”
“Oh…well…oh…yes, all right.”
“Perfect. I’m looking forward to it. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t. Goodbye, then.”
“Goodbye, Anna.”
“Oh! Don’t put the phone down!”
He held on, with a silence that somehow managed to sound amused.
“What’s your name? I don’t know your name.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought I’d told you. My name’s John.”
“Right. Goodbye, John.” She hugged the receiver beneath her chin, pressing it to her ear as if his voice could pour into her head and stay there.
“See you soon,” he promised. The words echoed and she tried to trap them, keep the sound waves reverberating in her mind for the rest of the day. But they had faded in seconds, and she found herself dialling Mimi’s desk on the floor above.
“Mimi! Forget the canteen! We have to go shopping at lunchtime.”
“Jesus, calm down, girl, you sound hysterical. What’s happening?”
“He called. He’s taking me out, straight from work. I can’t go to, oh, I dunno, the Ritz, in Primark capri pants.”
“Why ever not? Primark is very now.”