Chapter Eight #4
It wasn’t strictly true — I’d been fine until Flynn’s phone call.
This was the second time he’d let me down; not a very promising start, given that we’d only known each other for two days.
When I told him as much, he just laughed and said there was another reason for going into London, but he wasn’t at liberty to tell me.
I immediately thought of his negotiations with the BBC and felt slightly less annoyed.
The morning dragged by; in desperation, I invited Saint Jane out to lunch.
We went to Chez Pierre, where I hoped the haute cuisine and a large glass of Chablis would loosen her tongue on two subjects: everything she knew about Flynn from her time in Weymouth, and what had happened with Mark on Saturday night.
It didn’t go to plan at all; instead, she subjected me to an hour-long interrogation on my marketing strategy.
The only thing I learned about Flynn was that he claimed he’d increased The Mulberry Tree’s revenue by an average of thirty per cent a week.
More importantly, however, I got the impression that he didn’t have a girlfriend — which was all I really wanted to know.
When it came to Saturday night, I tried the subtle approach.
‘Mark’s been behaving quite strangely since his split with Tamara,’ I said. ‘Didn’t you notice, when we were at Kate and Tom’s?’
She paused with a forkful of Caesar salad halfway to her mouth. ‘What, exactly?’
Trust her to quibble. I racked my brains and came up with, ‘He was staring at people.’
‘Can’t say I noticed.’ She began to chew the salad, very slowly.
‘What about when he took you home?’ I leaned forward. ‘Did he do anything there that was, um, out of the ordinary?’
I had an agonising wait while she finished chewing. At last she said, ‘Not that I recall.’
So they hadn’t even . . . I mean, surely the woman would recall a kiss that made you feel like . . . Oh shit, why did I have to remember it all so vividly?
Maybe she was lying; but somehow I knew she wasn’t. As I’d thought, Kate was totally off track about her and Mark.
Back at Highbury Foods, we were walking to the lift when Jess, one of the receptionists, rushed over to us, grinning broadly.
‘Your car’s just been delivered, Jane, here are the keys.’
Jane stopped dead. ‘My what?’
‘Didn’t you see it in the car park? An old Jaguar, an E-type, the man said. Go outside and look over to the left, it’s a lovely bright red, you can’t miss it.’
Jane was silent for a moment. Then, ‘There must be some mistake.’
‘So you weren’t expecting it this soon?’ Jess said. ‘Chill out, it’s not often things arrive early—’
‘I wasn’t expecting it at all,’ Jane said abruptly. ‘You must have got me mixed up with someone else.’
‘No way, I saw your name on the papers — Jane Fairfax, Marketing Department, Highbury Foods. Here, see for yourself.’ She held out a large brown envelope.
Jane made no move to take it, just looked down at the floor.
Jess giggled. ‘If you don’t know anything about it, you must have a very nice boyfriend.’
‘Thank you, Jess, I’ll have the envelope, and the keys,’ I said. I took them from her, then steered Jane back through the main door and into the car park.
I spotted the Jag in one of the visitors’ spaces, low and sleek, its immaculate red paintwork gleaming in the pale autumn sun.
We came to a halt several yards away and simply gazed at it.
I reckoned it must have cost several thousand pounds, maybe even five figures. Some car. Some present. Some boyfriend.
For the first time in my life, I heard a little moan of pleasure escape from Jane Fairfax’s lips. ‘Isn’t it beautiful? I’ve always wanted one exactly like this.’
I said nothing; such an unexpected glimpse into her inner world threw me completely. Saint Jane, secretly hankering after a red E-type — whatever next?
Then she folded her arms and said, ‘Now I’ll have to send it back.’
I stared at her. ‘Send it back? Why?’
‘I can’t possibly accept it.’
‘Nonsense.’ I paused. ‘Do you know who sent it?’
She went crimson. ‘Of course I don’t.’
Of course she did.
‘I’m sure the papers will tell you which garage it came from, but why send it back?’ I said. ‘It’s obviously a very thoughtful gesture by someone, just when you need it, what with Mary’s car being out of action.’
She gave a deep sigh. ‘I might just sit in it for a few minutes, but that’s all.
’ She took the keys from me, opened the door, ran her hand lovingly along the leather upholstery and settled herself behind the wheel.
She didn’t put the key in the ignition, however, and I really think she might have sent the car back — if Batty hadn’t arrived on the scene.
‘Jane, Jane, I came as soon as I heard,’ she bleated. ‘Oh my goodness, isn’t this a splendid . . . I feel so much better now that poor Mark doesn’t have to ferry us round any more.’
Jane immediately got out of the car and locked it. ‘I’m going to phone the garage that brought it here and get them to take it back.’
‘Jane dear, think about—’
‘I don’t even know who it’s from.’
Batty’s face brightened. ‘Oh, now don’t you remember?
You mentioned all the inconvenience we were having when you were on the phone yesterday to the Campbells.
This is just the sort of thing they’d do, isn’t it?
I mean, money’s no object to them . And I don’t like to impose on Mark, when he’s so . . . ’
I left them to argue it out and went back to my office. I knew Batty was wrong about the Campbells; they’d merely passed on the message. It was obvious to me who’d given Jane the car: Dan Dixon.
Jane’s argument with Batty must have lasted a long time; at any rate, she didn’t return to the office until twenty minutes after me.
‘Made your decision?’ I said, as soon as she walked through the door.
‘Yes, I’ll keep the car for the moment,’ she said primly. ‘By the way, Flynn Churchill’s waiting downstairs. Shall I get Reception to send him up?’
‘Please.’ While she was ringing Reception, I touched up my lipstick and wondered if anyone else would hear the thud of my heart.
A few minutes later, Flynn burst into the room. My gaze went automatically to his hair; it had been well cut and the shorter style really suited him. He came straight over, held out his hand palm upwards and looked soulfully at me.
‘Please miss, I’m ready for my punishment.’
I couldn’t help laughing as I waved his hand away. ‘Your punishment is to have lunch with me tomorrow instead.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jane get up and go through to Harriet’s room. I added, in a low voice, ‘Did you notice a red E-type Jag when you parked your car?’
He frowned. ‘Don’t think so. Whose is it?’
‘It arrived this afternoon for Jane, from a secret admirer.’
‘Or a not-so-secret admirer,’ he said, with a knowing wink.
I giggled. ‘You think it’s from Dan, don’t you? A token of his undying affection.’
‘Well, it’s certainly a token of someone’s undying affection, more like passion if it’s bright red. But I daren’t speculate who—’ He broke off as Jane came back, then went on, ‘I have to go. Can’t make tomorrow, Em, I’m going to a wine auction with Dad. Keep Thursday free instead.’
‘You’d better not cancel,’ I said, trying to sound severe and failing miserably.
He grinned and sauntered out of the room; I heard Harriet shriek with laughter at whatever he said to her in passing and smiled to myself.
He couldn’t help it, could he? He just had a knack for making people, especially women, feel good.
I reluctantly turned my attention to a string of unread email messages.
Jane gave a discreet cough. ‘Could I have Mark’s number, please? I’d better tell him there’s no need for any more lifts.’
‘His direct line’s 432501,’ I said absently, staring at an email from Dad which seemed to make no sense whatsoever.
Then it hit me. What if the car was from Mark? After this morning’s journey with Batty, no doubt he’d be willing to part with vast sums of money to avoid repeating the experience. But he could simply have paid for a hire car; a flamboyant gesture like this was so out of character.
Except — what if Kate was right and he was desperate for Jane to take Tamara’s place? A chance remark from her about her dream car, maybe as he drove her home on Saturday night, then a few phone calls this morning — and there it was, all sorted.
Lucky Jane, being pursued with such determination.
Of course, it didn’t matter to me at all, because I’d be getting up close and personal with Flynn, very soon. Very soon indeed.
And I couldn’t wait.