Oh-So-Sensible Secretary / Housekeeper's Happy-Ever-After: Oh-So-Sensible Secretary

We were passing a burger bar just then, and as the smell of barbecued meat wafted out Phin stopped and sniffed appreciatively. ‘Mmm, junk food…!’ His eyes glinted as he looked down at me. ‘Are you still hungry?’

‘What? After all those delicious alfalfa sprouts? How can you even ask?’

We took our burgers away and sat on the steps in front of the National Gallery, looking down over Trafalgar Square. It was a bright February day, and an unseasonal warmth in the air taunted us with the promise of spring.

I was certainly feeling a lot better than I had earlier that morning. I was still a bit fuzzy round the edges but my headache had almost gone. Perhaps my mother’s crystal was working after all.

‘What are you doing?’ Phin demanded as I unwrapped my burger and separated the bun carefully.

‘I don’t like the pickle,’ I said, picking it out with a grimace and looking around for somewhere to dispose of it.

‘Here, give it to me,’ he said with a roll of his eyes, and when I passed it over he shoved it into his own burger and took a huge bite.

‘See—we’re like a real couple already,’ he said through a mouthful.

I wished he hadn’t reminded me of the crazy pretence we’d embarked upon the night before. I couldn’t believe I’d actually agreed to it. I kept waiting for Phin to tell me that it was all a big joke, that he’d just been having me on.

‘Did you really tell Lex that we were going out?’

‘Uh-huh.’ He glanced down at me. ‘I told him that we were madly in love.’

I wanted to look away, but my eyes snagged on his and it was as if all the air had been suddenly sucked out of my lungs. Held by the blueness and the glinting laughter, I could only sit there and stare back at him, feeling giddy and yet centred at the same time.

It was a very strange sensation. I was acutely aware of the coldness of the stone steps, of the breeze in my face and the smell of the burger in my hands.

I did eventually manage to wrench my gaze away, but it was an effort, and I had to concentrate on my breathing as I watched the tourists milling around the square. They held their digital cameras at arm’s length, posing by the great stone lions or squinting up at Nelson on his column. A squabble erupted amongst the pigeons below us, and my eyes followed the red buses heading down Whitehall, but no matter where I looked all I saw was Phin’s image, as if imprinted behind my eyelids: the mobile mouth with its lazy lop-sided smile, the line of his cheek, the angle of his jaw.

When had he become so familiar? When had I learnt exactly how his hair grew? When had I counted the creases at the edges of his eyes?

There was a yawning feeling in the pit of my stomach. Desperately I tried to conjure up Jonathan’s image instead, but it was hopeless.

‘What did Lex say?’ I asked, struggling to sound normal. ‘Did he believe you?’

‘Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?’

‘You’ve got to admit that we make an unlikely couple.’

‘Your mother doesn’t think so,’ Phin reminded me.

‘My mother believes that fairies dance around the flowers at dawn,’ I pointed out. ‘The word “unlikely” doesn’t occur in her vocabulary.’

‘Well, Lex didn’t seem at all surprised—except maybe that you would fall in love with me.’ Phin crumpled the empty paper in his hand. ‘He seemed to think that you were too sensible to do anything like that. He’s obviously never seen you drinking pomegranate martinis!’