LITMIR.BIZ

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this. Very badly.

      ‘Well … you know how you and I have an unspoken agreement never to talk about our private lives?’

      ‘Well, yeah …’

      ‘The thing is …’ I break off again uselessly.

      A silence and I swear I can physically feel his eyes burning into mine.

      ‘Eloise? Were you … I mean, are you …?’

      ‘What I’m trying to say is …’

      ‘Eloise, are you married? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?’

      Now he looks bewildered and a bit hurt.

      ‘No! Where’d you get that idea from?’

      ‘Separated? Living with a guy that you don’t want to know about me?’

      ‘None of the above, you’ve totally got hold of the wrong end of the stick. It’s just that …’

      ‘Well, well, well. Look who we have here. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world.’

       Shit and double shit.

      I do not buggery well believe this.

      Like a lingering bad smell that just won’t go away, Seth Coleman is standing right beside us, as ever, looking like a forty-year-old choirboy whose mammy continues to dress him for work. But that’s not what makes a cold clutch of terror grab at my chest. Right behind him, smiling benignly in that patrician way he has and taking in the whole scene – me, Jake, the bunch of flowers, the candlelight, the works – is none other than Sir Gavin Hume.

      ‘Ahh, Madame Editrix, there you are,’ he smiles kindly as I leap to my feet and rush to shake his hand.

      Oh holy fuck. What in the name of arse is Sir Gavin doing with Seth? And here of all places, when I so badly needed to be alone with Jake?, What the hell is going on between this pair that I don’t know about?

      ‘Hello there,’ I try to say calmly, composing myself. ‘Can’t believe you’re both meeting outside of work – and on a Sunday too! Everything okay?’

      My intention is for that to sound innocuous and breezy but it comes out so strangulated, I’m practically singing soprano.

      ‘Oh, Seth and I just had one or two bits and pieces to discuss,’ he says lightly. ‘Nothing whatsoever for you to worry about, Madame Editrix. You two seem to be, well, otherwise occupied as it is.’

      Now, whenever anyone tells me not to worry, my shoulders will, on cue, instantly seize up and my heart will start palpitating. But when it’s the chairman of the board saying that to me, then believe me, I’m this close to needing emergency services.

      ‘We’re just having a quiet dinner à deux, as it happens,’ Seth smoothly informs me, just a hint of a gloat in his snivelly voice.

      ‘Indeed,’ says Sir Gavin, patting his portly, overhanging stomach. ‘And in fact if we don’t order soon by the way Seth, I’m in danger of passing out with hunger.’

      Right, that’s it, my mind shoots up a gear to overdrive now. They’re having a quiet dinner? Just the two of them? Unheard of! So who asked who, is what I immediately want to know. I stand there with a frozen smile practically hard-wired onto my mouth, thinking all the while, Jaysus help Seth if he even thinks about writing this off as a company expense and if I find out, that’s all I have to say.

      ‘Emm … would you like to join us?’ I ask desperately.

      ‘Wouldn’t dream of intruding on your romantic evening. No you enjoy your meal and we’ll just have our little chat privately.’

      ‘Well, enjoy,’ I manage to say weakly, hoping it came out politely, but afraid my subtext is all too apparent. I hope you enjoy it, Sir Gavin, but may Seth Coleman choke on an asparagus tip and end up in an overcrowded emergency room surrounded by screeching kids with saucepans stuck on their heads. Serves him right for doing whatever he’s doing behind my back. But mark my words, I’ll find out precisely what’s going on, even if it bloody kills me in the process.

      ‘Tut, tut, Eloise. Now where are your manners?’ says Sleazebag Seth, noticing Jake now and suddenly in no rush whatsoever to leave. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us to you new friend?’

      Jesus, I think, suddenly irrationally furious. How does he do that? Manage to make the word friend sound like ‘gigolo’?

      I mumble my way through the introductions, hot flushing like a menopausal matron.

      ‘Heard a lot about you,’ sniffs Seth, taking Jake in from head to toe, while Sir Gavin just shakes his hand then stands patiently by, saying nothing, just glancing up at a board with all the day’s specials written on it every now and then.

      ‘Likewise,’ Jake smiles politely back.

      ‘Right well, have a lovely meal,’ I say, having to clear my throat a couple of times before it comes out right.

      ‘Yes, we’ll leave you to it.’

      Then I think, feck it. Might as well throw this in.

      ‘Emm … Sir Gavin, are you sure you don’t need me to be aware of, well, whatever it is that you are discussing?’

      ‘No need at all. Nothing for you to fret about, you’ve quite enough going on as it is. That’s all too apparent. Well, nice to meet you Jake.’

      ‘You too, Sir Gavin,’ Jake smiles easily, utterly unfazed by all this, while I just stand there clutching and unclutching sweaty palms.

      They’re almost gone, it’s almost over when Seth pauses for a split second before turning back to our table, à la Peter Falk in Columbo.

      ‘Just one more thing, Jake, wasn’t it?’ the slimy git says as he whips out one of his monogrammed hankies and dabs his long, bony nose in a gesture a dowager countess circa 1910 would baulk at using. ‘I’m assuming I’ll see you next weekend? At the directors’ corporate function?’

      Jake doesn’t answer, just shoots me an inquiring look, so I try to flummox my way out of it.

      ‘You know, I don’t actually think that’s going to be possible.’ I half stammer. ‘Jake is teaching, you see and his hours are a bit …’

      ‘Nonsense, of course you’ll have to be there,’ says Seth, clearly sensing my discomfort and revelling in it. ‘Won’t he, Sir Gavin?’

      ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Sir Gavin chimes in. ‘You must come Jake,’ he nods politely, ‘as a guest of Madam Editrix, you’d be more than welcome. I absolutely insist. Everyone will be delighted to meet you.’

      ‘Wonderful!’ I say in a strangulated high-pitched voice I hardly recognise as my own.

      ‘So that’s settled then,’ is Seth’s last, triumphant word. ‘See you next weekend Jake. And by the way, I’m very much looking forward to playing a round or two of golf with you.’

      Jake, I notice, says nothing to this, just stares back at him, arms folded, giving absolutely nothing away.

      And finally, they’re gone to the upstairs section of the restaurant, mercifully leaving us alone.

      Oh bugger this to hell. It’s as good as decreed now. If Sir Gavin himself has invited Jake, then short of the Post going into receivership before next weekend, that’s it. He’s got to come with me and that’s final.

      As soon as they’re well out of sight and safely upstairs, Jake’s sprung to his feet, gripping my arms as he gently eases me back into my chair. Then he sits me back down, as ever, making me feel tiny beside the sheer hulking size of him.

      ‘You okay?’ he asks me, looking straight into my eyes, all concerned. ‘Jeez, you were tense enough before they came in, but look at the state

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