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sensible.’

      ‘I think you’re mad!’ she said, throwing up her hands. ‘I can’t believe you spend every day with a hot guy like Phin Gibson and you’re still obsessing about Jonathan Pugh!’

      ‘Phin’s not that hot,’ I said, dismissing Anne’s objections as I always did. ‘And anyway, he’s my boss. And we all know his idea of commitment is making it through to dessert without feeling trapped. I’m certainly not going to waste my time falling for him. That really would be mad! Now, concentrate, Anne. This is important. The twinset or the jacket?’

      I held them on hangers in each hand. The cropped jacket was one of my favourites, a deep red with three-quarter-length sleeves, a shawl collar and a nipped-in waist. ‘Too smart?’ I asked dubiously. ‘I don’t want to look as if I’m trying too hard. But maybe the cardigan is a bit casual for the office?’

      I’d bought the twinset with my Christmas bonus. A mixture of angora and cashmere, it was so beautifully soft I hadn’t been able to resist it. I liked to take it out and stroke it, as if it were a kitten. To be honest, I wasn’t sure that the colour—a dusty pink—was quite me, and I never felt entirely comfortable with the prettiness of it all, so I’d never worn it to the office. It was very different from my usual smartly tailored look, but perhaps different was what I needed.

      Anne agreed. ‘The twinset,’ she said without hesitation. ‘It’s a much softer look for you, and if you leave your hair loose as well it’ll practically scream touch me, touch me. Even Jonathan won’t be able to miss the point.’

      The hair was a step too far for me. If I turned up at work with my hair falling to my shoulders everyone would get the point. I might as well hang out a sign saying ‘On the Pull’. So I tied my hair back as usual, but made up with extra care and painted my nails a pretty pink: Bubblegum—much nicer than it sounds. I wore the twinset, with a short grey skirt and heels just a little higher than usual.

      Phin whistled when he came in—late, as usual—and saw me. ‘You look very fetching, Summer,’ he said. ‘What’s the occasion?’

      ‘No occasion,’ I said. ‘I just felt like a change of image.’

      ‘It’s certainly that,’ he said. ‘You look very…touchable. How many people have stroked you to see if that cardigan is as soft as it looks?’

      ‘A lot,’ I said with a sigh. I’d lost count of the women who’d stroked my arm and ooh-ed and aah-ed over its softness. I couldn’t blame them, really. Wearing it was like being cuddled by a kitten. ‘It’s a bit disconcerting to have perfect strangers running their hands down your arm.’

      ‘But you can understand why they do,’ said Phin. ‘In fact, I’m sorry, but I’m just going to have to do it myself. I don’t count as a perfect stranger, do I?’ Without waiting for my reply, he smoothed his own hand down from my shoulder to my elbow, and I felt it through the fine wool like a brand. ‘Incredibly soft,’ he said, ‘and very unexpected.’

      Funny—I’d never felt anyone else’s stroke quite like that. My skin was tingling where his fingers had touched me. I swallowed.

      ‘I think I’ll go back to a suit tomorrow.’

      ‘That would be a shame,’ said Phin. ‘I like this new look a lot.’

      Now all I needed was for Jonathan to like it, too. If the cardigan had the same effect on him, it would be worth feeling self-conscious now.

      For the first time I realised that Phin didn’t look quite his normal self either that morning. There was a distinctly frazzled air about him, and his shirt was even more crumpled than usual. Probably partying all night again with Jewel, I thought unsympathetically.

      I was sure of it when he suggested having coffee immediately. ‘In keeping with today’s theme, I’ve bought Danish pastries for a change,’ he said. ‘I’m badly in need of some sugar!’

      ‘Hangover?’ I asked sweetly.

      ‘Just a very fraught morning,’ said Phin with a humorous look. ‘I never thought I’d be glad to say I had to go to the office!’

      He didn’t say any more, and I didn’t ask. I was too busy checking the clock every couple of minutes and willing the hands to move faster.

      I decided that if Jonathan didn’t suggest lunch, I would. I would make it very casual. Do you want to grab a sandwich while we’re talking? Something like that.

      I mouthed the words as my fingers rattled over the keyboard. The trouble was that I didn’t do casual very well. Look how astounded everyone was when I appeared in a cardigan.

      I knew the words would come out sounding stiff and awkward if I didn’t get it right, but how was I supposed to practise when Phin was in and out of my office every five minutes, asking how to send a fax from his computer, wanting to borrow my stapler, giving me the dates for the Cameroon trip—about which I was still trying to keep a very low profile.

      ‘You know, you could just buzz me and I’d come in to you,’ I said, exasperated, in the end.

      ‘I’d rather come out,’ said Phin, picking up a couple of spare ink cartridges from my desk and attempting to juggle them. ‘I feel trapped if I have to sit down for too long.’

      I detoured back from the photocopier to snatch the cartridges out of the air. I put them in a desk drawer and shut it firmly as I sat down.

      ‘Why don’t you go for a walk?’ I suggested through clenched teeth.

      ‘It’s funny you should say that. My producer just e-mailed me to say that we’re going back to finish filming in Peru next week, so I’ll be doing the last part of the trek again. I’ll be away about twelve days.’ Now he had my stapler in his hand, and was holding it out to me like a microphone. ‘Do you think you’ll miss me?’

      ‘Frankly, no,’ I said, taking the stapler from him and setting it back on the desk with a click. I glanced at the clock. Just past midday! I didn’t have long. ‘Are you going out for lunch?’ I asked hopefully.

      ‘I haven’t got any plans,’ said Phin. ‘I might just—’

      That was when my mother rang. As if I didn’t have enough to cope with that morning!

      ‘I just had to tell you,’ she said excitedly. ‘A new galactic portal is opening today!’

      I love my mother, but sometimes I do wonder how we can possibly be related. I’d suspect a mixup in the hospital if I hadn’t been born into a commune, with who knows how many people dancing and chanting and shaking bells around my mother. It must have been the most godawful racket, and if had been me I would have told them all to go away and leave me to give birth in peace. But of course Mum—or Starlight, as she prefers to be called nowadays—was in her element. The wackier the situation, the more she loves it.

      I pinched the bridge of my nose between thumb and forefinger. I knew better than to ask what a galactic portal was.

      ‘That’s great, Mum,’ I said. ‘Look, I can’t really talk now—’

      But she was already telling me about some ceremony she had taken part in the night before, that apparently involved much channelling of angels and merging of heart chakras.

      ‘Such a beautiful spiritual experience!’ she sighed. ‘So empowering! The energy vibrations now are quite extraordinary. Can’t you feel them?’

      I resisted the urge to bang my head against my desk.

      ‘Er, no—no, I can’t just this moment,’ I said, aware that Phin was eavesdropping. I couldn’t imagine him caring about the fact that this was obviously a personal phone call, but I hoped he couldn’t hear anyway. My mother was deadly serious but, let’s face it, she could sound nuts.

      ‘That’s because you’re not open to the energy, darling,’ my mother told me reproachfully.

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