Cathy Kelly 6-Book Collection: Someone Like You, What She Wants, Just Between Us, Best of Friends, Always and Forever, Past Secrets

As she talked, Hannah listened with one ear and began organizing her desk for the day ahead. The office had been so busy the last few days, ‘the last flurry before the season dies down,’ David James remarked. Last flurry or not, Hannah wanted to hire a new photographer before too long. The current guy could make a glorious multi-million-pound stately home in rolling parkland look like a two-up, two-down in need of renovation. He was hopeless and she was determined to get rid of him before the new influx of clients began to sell their homes elsewhere. Of course, bad photography worked when it made people arrive at a house they’d thought was hideous from the photo only to discover it was really a bijou residence with buckets of potential. But when it put them off viewing altogether, bad photography was a major disadvantage. He had to go, that was it. Today, she’d start phoning around for replacements.

‘Where were you last night that you weren’t in watching telly like the rest of us?’ Gillian asked archly, removing a bit of imaginary dust from her desk.

‘Out.’ Hannah had no intention of telling Tell-All Gillian about her actor boyfriend. She relented, however, seeing Gillian’s mouth metamorphose into a prune. ‘With my girlfriends. We went to an Indian restaurant for a meal.’ Well, they’d eaten Indian, after all, though she could hardly tell Gillian that her lover had licked cucumber raita off her nipples because they’d been eating their takeaway in the nude.

‘I can’t stand Indian food,’ Gillian muttered.

You would if it was served on six foot of blond sex god, Hannah thought with a secret smile.

By noon, she’d been in touch with four photographers who were going to visit the office with their portfolios and she’d arranged for a stand-in to replace their own photographer, whom she’d fired.

‘You can’t do this to me,’ he had sputtered on the phone when Hannah rang him to politely tell him that she was giving him a month’s notice. ‘I’ve been working for your boss for years. I’ll go over your head and have you sacked, you bitch. You can’t fire me.’

‘Actually, I can,’ Hannah said calmly. ‘You work for us on a freelance basis, which means that I don’t even have to give you a month’s notice. I was doing that out of respect for the years you’ve worked for us. It’s not necessary. And you may phone my boss if you wish. But you’ll find that this decision is final.’

‘It’s so sudden,’ he roared, ‘not a clue you were going to do this. When I think of the work I’ve put in for you people, out in all weathers, trying to make crappy dumps look nice. This is the thanks I get, being dumped by some whippersnapper who’s probably screwed somebody to get the job. Or have you some boyfriend in mind for my job? Is that it, eh? Nepotism?’

Hannah had had enough. ‘If you haven’t seen this coming, you must be living on another planet,’ she said. ‘Ever since this branch has been renovated, I’ve had to phone you about bad photos. Remember the property on Watson Drive? You had to go back twice because of how terrible the photos were. The house was a total blur the first time. It was impossible to tell where the house ended and the garage began. The owners wanted to go to a different estate agency and only a promise that we’d give them a discount in their fees, as well as taking the photo again until they were satisfied, made them stay with us. You must have realized that we were not pleased with your work. And, no, I’m not firing you so I can conveniently hire one of my relatives. I have four total strangers coming in tomorrow to apply for the position. As office manager, it’s my job to make sure this business runs smoothly. If you were doing your job properly, you’d still have one. Good day to you.’

She put down the phone to find David James and at least half of the office staring at her. Gillian looked outraged. David looked amused, his dark eyes shining at her and a smile curving up the dead straight line of his mouth.

‘Well done,’ he said. ‘I’ve been wondering how long it would take you to do that. His shots are so obscure that they practically qualify as modern art.’

Hannah let herself indulge in a small smile. ‘Nobody likes firing people, but it has to be done if we want the company to grow,’ she said seriously. Not that I’ve ever fired anyone before, she added to herself. But nobody here had to know that.

She may have come from a background where her family took orders rather than gave them, but she was determined to hide the fact. Hannah knew she could play to the manor born as well as the best of them.

Her phone buzzed. Hannah jumped, hoping it was Felix, but it was David James. ‘Can you drop into the office?’ he asked.

He was staring at an open file on his desk when she arrived but Hannah had the funniest feeling that David wasn’t paying any attention to it. He looked distracted, tired even, which was unusual for him. He was such a powerhouse of a man, she often felt that if the electricity went off, they could power the office from the energy emanating from him. But today he had shadows under his eyes and there were new lines etched in his already craggy face. He had the weary air of a man who’d spent the night with a sick child, although she knew he didn’t have any kids.

Gillian often mentioned David’s ex-wife, with whom he had a strained relationship. According to Gillian’s intelligence-gathering machine, they’d separated a few years ago but weren’t divorced yet. David was still in love with her, insisted Gillian wistfully, although his love wasn’t returned. Unlike some of Gillian’s wilder bits of gossip, this titbit made sense: why else would a clever, attractive man like David James still be single?

Hannah wondered briefly if his miserable love life was the reason David looked tired or if it was something to do with work. She’d never dream of asking, though. Anything other than business was taboo between them for all their easy-going relationship.

They talked briefly about the type of photographer they needed and, when the conversation was over, Hannah stayed in her seat. ‘Is there anything else, David?’ she asked, sure there was something he wanted to discuss.

‘No.’

She rose gracefully to her feet.

‘Actually, there is.’

He looked ill at ease and he fiddled with his pen as he spoke. ‘I know it’s not exactly any of my business, but I believe you’re seeing Felix Andretti.’

Hannah stared at him, taken aback by this personal remark. ‘It isn’t really any of your business, David,’ she said formally, ‘but I am seeing him. Is there a problem with that in relation to my job?’

David sighed. ‘Come down off your high horse,

Hannah,’ he said in exasperation. ‘I’m not playing the heavy-handed boss and there’s no law that says you can’t go out with a friend of mine. I’m just asking. I’ve seen Felix a few times lately and he never mentioned it to me.’

Hannah stared at him. How strange. Felix had said nothing to her about seeing David. Stranger still that Felix hadn’t mentioned her to David, but then perhaps he was trying to be discreet for her sake.

‘Another friend of mine who’s a film producer mentioned that Felix was dating you. I was surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think Felix would be your type.’ David looked up from his desk to gaze at her. His expression was, as usual, unreadable. He had to be a superb poker player, Donna always said. You’d never know what he was thinking behind that cool, detached exterior.

‘Who knows what sort of person is anyone’s type,’ Hannah said dismissively, trying to remain calm even though a maelstrom of emotions were stirred up inside her at the thought of her lover’s secretiveness. How could Felix meet her boss and say nothing to her? What else had he been hiding? He was so damn enigmatic, so insistent on keeping parts of his life shrouded in mystery.

‘Of course, I appreciate that,’ David was saying slowly and painfully as if he was pulling teeth. ‘I was merely concerned about you, that’s all. You’re my star employee and I don’t want to see you being hurt because I’ve inadvertently introduced you to someone…’

Hannah finally tuned in. ‘Because you’ve inadvertently introduced me to someone who’s what?’ she demanded hotly at the implied criticism.

David’s face was impenetrable as he ground his pen nib into his desk until it left a mark.

He must hate doing this, Hannah thought suddenly, aware of how tense he was. Every muscle in his face was taut. Getting involved in personal matters was obviously distasteful to him, but he seemed to have an old-fashioned feeling that he had some duty to his workers. Victorian wasn’t the word for it.

‘Someone with a reputation for being a playboy,’ David said finally, as if it was vitally important that he pick his words with care.

‘I’m a big girl, David. I can look after myself,’ Hannah said with finality. The conversation was over as far as she was concerned. ‘Is there anything else?’

David shook his head and stared at her for a moment before looking back at his paperwork.

The rest of the morning sped past. Hannah tried not to think about Felix’s odd behaviour in meeting David and not mentioning it to her. It was nothing, she was sure of it.

Dismissing the idea that he was sly from her mind, she began to plan their dinner tonight. Felix was coming round after his first day’s filming in Wicklow. She’d told him she’d cook, as distinct from ordering pizza, although her nerve faltered at the idea of making something edible that didn’t involve chicken breasts and a tin of supermarket sauce.

Normally, she didn’t take a full lunch break, preferring to eat a sandwich in the office before going for a brisk ten-minute walk to clear her head for the afternoon. But today, as soon as the clock hit one, she nipped down to the main street in Dun Laoghaire to buy something special for dinner. A bottle of really good wine, she decided, browsing through the wine shop and wondering if the most expensive wine was the best. David would know something like that, she thought, staring blankly at racks of bottles. She’d meant to ask his advice earlier, but after this morning’s strange discussion it had seemed best not to. In the light of his remarks about her inability to look after herself, she hated to show her lack of savoir-faire when it came to wine. No, she’d ask the guy in the shop.

‘I’m not much of an expert on wine,’ she said, ‘but I want a Spanish red…’ she tried to remember what wine Felix had picked that first time they’d gone out to dinner. Spanish, definitely. But her accent was atrocious. ‘Marques de…?’ she said hesitantly, thinking she’d probably said it totally wrong.

‘de Caceres,’ finished the wine shop man confidently.

Admitting you didn’t have a clue was a novelty for her but it had certainly worked out well, Hannah decided as she strolled back to the office carrying her two bottles of wine, some horrifically expensive Parma ham and a Provençal tart. Felix would be impressed, she was sure of it. Cooking was not her strong point. When she’d lived with Harry, they’d existed on a diet of chicken with supermarket sauces or takeaways.

‘Press the redial button on the phone and you’ll get the Kung Po Palace,’ Harry used to joke. He thought it was a howl telling people that. But then, he was hardly king of cuisine himself. His idea of a home-cooked meal was putting the little tinfoil containers back in the oven when he got home to re-heat them.

Felix, on the other hand, said he loved cooking. ‘I’ll cook you my special veal parmigiana soon,’ he’d told Hannah. She couldn’t wait. In the meantime, she was going to show him that she too could cook, even it that wasn’t strictly true. The Provençal tart was straight from the deli, but what Felix didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

That afternoon Hannah was so busy, she barely had time to think about Felix. She still managed it, though. By half six, she was home, singing to herself as she carelessly arranged the arum lilies in her glass vase. She put her Carmen CD in the player, poured herself a glass of wine and started getting dinner ready. He’d be there by seven thirty at the latest, he’d said.

By eight, the edges of the Parma ham were beginning to curl from being left out on the carefully laid table, so she put the plates back in the fridge. She poured another glass of wine and waited.

At ten, she listlessly ate her part of the meal and watched the second half of Romancing the Stone. She’d seen it so many times she didn’t need to see the first three-quarters of an hour to know what had happened. As she watched, she unconsciously listened for the sound of footsteps outside. One of the paving stones on the path to the front door made a very distinctive noise when anybody stepped on it. Even from her first-floor flat, Hannah could hear people walking to the red-brick Victorian villa. She sat up eagerly when somebody stepped on it at half ten but sank back into her seat dispiritedly when she realized it was the couple from the flat downstairs coming noisily home. The bottle of wine was empty by the time Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner were kissing on board his new yacht as it was towed along a New York city street. Hannah switched off the television, threw Felix’s dinner in the bin and went to bed. She wasn’t sure why she’d bothered going to bed as she lay wide-eyed in the darkness. She couldn’t sleep, but going to bed was automatic. Like getting up and going to work the next day.

Nobody in Dwyer, Dwyer & James noticed the dullness in Hannah’s usually sparkling toffee-coloured eyes. She was determined they wouldn’t. She chatted idly with Gillian about inconsequential things, interviewed four photographers with her usual polite skill and even had a quick tuna sandwich with Donna Nelson in the little coffee shop around the corner. She talked, smiled and worked, all on automatic pilot. Inside, she was screaming. Screaming at herself for being so incredibly stupid as to ever trust a man, and screaming at Felix for treating her like this. If she ever saw him again, she’d kill him, so help her.

She wasn’t the only one in the office in a raging bad mood. David James was in a foul temper.

Most uncharacteristically, he’d roared at Steve Shaw over some deal that had fallen through and later the walls of his glass office rattled as he was heard yelling down the phone at someone. Hannah knew how he felt. She could have contributed a bit of screaming herself.