Twenties Girl

SEVEN

Macrosant is housed in a massive block on Kingsway, with big steps and a steel globe sculpture and plate-glass windows. From the Costa Coffee across the road, I have a pretty good view of it.

“Anything doglike,” I’m instructing Sadie, behind an open copy of the Evening Standard. “The sound of barking, baskets under desks, dog toys…” I take a sip of cappuccino. “I’ll stay here. And thanks!”

The building’s so massive, I could be waiting here awhile. I flick through my Evening Standard and slowly nibble my way through a chocolate brownie, and I’ve just ordered a fresh cappuccino when Sadie materializes in front of me. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are shining and she’s glowing all over. I pull out my mobile phone, smile at the girl at the next table, and pretend to dial a number.

“So?” I say into the phone. “Did you find a dog?”

“Oh, that,” Sadie says, as though she’d forgotten all about it. “Yes, there’s a dog, but guess what-”

“Where?” I cut her off in excitement. “Where’s the dog?”

“Up there.” She gestures. “In a basket under a desk. It’s the dearest little Pekingese-”

“Can you get a name? An office number? Anything like that? Thank you!”

She vanishes and I sip my new cappuccino, hugging myself. Shireen was right all along! Jean lied to me! Wait until I get on the phone with her. Just wait. I’m going to demand a full apology and full office rights for Flash and maybe a new dog basket as a goodwill gesture…

I glance through the window and suddenly spot Sadie drifting along the pavement, back toward the coffee shop. I feel a tiny spike of frustration. She doesn’t seem in any hurry at all. Doesn’t she realize how important this is?

I’m ready with my mobile out as soon as she enters. “Everything OK?” I demand. “Did you find the dog again?”

“Oh,” she says vaguely. “Yes, the dog. It’s on floor fourteen, room 1416, and its owner is Jane Frenshew. I’ve just met the most delicious man.” She hugs herself.

“What do you mean, you’ve met a man?” I’m scribbling it all quickly on a piece of paper. “You can’t meet a man. You’re dead. Unless-” I look up with a sudden thrill. “Ooh. Have you met another ghost?”

“He’s not a ghost.” She shakes her head impatiently. “But he’s divine. He was talking in one of the rooms I walked through. Just like Rudolph Valentino.”

“Who?” I say blankly.

“The film star, of course! Tall and dark and dashing. Instant sizzle.”

“Sounds lovely,” I say absently.

“And he’s just the right height,” Sadie continues, swinging her legs on a bar stool. “I measured myself against him. My head would rest on his shoulder perfectly if we went dancing together.”

“Great.” I finish writing, grab my bag, and stand up. “OK. I need to get back to the office and sort this out.”

I head out of the door and start hurrying toward the tube, but to my surprise Sadie blocks my way.

“I want him.”

“I’m sorry?” I peer at her, flicking my mobile open out of habit.

“The man I just met. I felt it, right here. The sizzle.” She presses her concave stomach. “I want to dance with him.”

Is she joking?

“Well, that would be nice,” I say at last, in placatory tones. “But I’ve really got to get to the office-”

As I move forward, Sadie thrusts a bare arm across my path and I stop, taken aback.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve danced?” she says with sudden passion. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve… shaken my booty? All those years, trapped in an old woman’s body. In a place with no music, with no life…”

I feel a rub of guilt inside as I remember the picture of Sadie, ancient and wrinkled in her pink shawl.

“OK,” I say quickly. “Fair enough. So, let’s dance at home. We’ll put on some music, dim the lights, have a little party-”

“I don’t want to dance at home to the wireless!” she says scornfully. “I want to go out with a man and enjoy myself!”

“You want to go on a date,” I say disbelievingly, and her eyes light up.

“Yes! Exactly! A date with a man. With him.” She points at the building.

What exactly is it about being a ghost that she doesn’t understand?

“Sadie, you’re dead.”

“I know!” she says in irritation. “You don’t have to keep reminding me!”

“So you can’t go on a date. Sorry. That’s the way it is.” I shrug and start walking on again. Two seconds later, Sadie lands in front of me once more, her jaw set.

“Ask him for me.”

“What?”

“I can’t do it on my own.” Her voice is fast and determined. “I need a go-between. If you go out with him on a date, I can go out with him on a date. If you dance with him, I can dance with him too.”

She’s serious. I almost want to burst out laughing.

“You want me to go on a date for you,” I say, to clarify. “With some random guy I don’t know. So you can have a dance.”

“I just want one last little burst of fun with a handsome man while I still have the chance.” Sadie’s head falls forward and her mouth pouts into the sad little O shape again. “One more whirl around a dance floor. That’s all I ask before I disappear from this world.” Her voice descends to a low, pitiful whisper. “It’s my last desire. My final wish.”

“It’s not your final wish!” I say, a bit indignantly. “You’ve already had your final wish! It was searching for your necklace, remember?”

For an instant Sadie looks caught out.

“This is my other final wish,” she says at last.

“Look, Sadie.” I try to sound reasonable. “I can’t just ask a stranger on a date. You’ll have to do without this one. Sorry.”

Sadie is surveying me with such a silent, quivering, wounded expression that I wonder if I somehow stepped on her foot.

“You’re really saying no,” she says at last, her voice cracking as though with emotion. “You’re really refusing me. One last innocent wish. One tiny request.”

“Look-”

“I was in that nursing home for years. Never any visitors. Never any laughter. Never any life. Just oldness… and loneliness… and misery…”

Oh God. She can’t do this to me. It’s not fair.

“Every Christmas, all alone, never a visitor… never a present…”

“It wasn’t my fault,” I say feebly, but Sadie ignores me.

“And now I see the chance of a sliver of happiness. A morsel of pleasure. Yet my own callous, selfish great-niece-”

“OK!” I stop in my tracks and rub my forehead. “OK! Whatever! Fine! I’ll do it.”

Everyone in my life thinks I’m a lunatic anyway. Asking a stranger on a date will make no difference; in fact, my dad will probably be delighted.

“You’re an angel!” Sadie’s mood has instantly flipped to giddy excitement. She whirls around on the pavement, the panels on her dress flying out. “I’ll show you where he is! Come on!”

I follow her toward the massive steps and push my way into the huge double-height foyer. If I’m going to do this, I need to do it very quickly, before I change my mind.

“So where is he?” I look around the echoing marble chamber.

“In a room upstairs! Come on!” She’s like a puppy straining the leash.

“I can’t just walk into an office building!” I hiss back, gesturing at the electronic security barriers. “I need a plan. I need an excuse. I need … aha.”

In the corner is a stand with the sign Global Strategy Seminar. A pair of bored-looking girls are sitting behind a table of name badges. They’ll do.

“Hi.” I approach briskly. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No problem. They’ve only just started.” One of the girls sits up and reaches for her list, while the other stares resolutely at the ceiling. “And you are…”

“Sarah Connoy,” I say, grabbing a name badge at random. “Thanks. I’d better get going.”

I hurry to the security barriers, flash my name badge at the guard, and hurry through into a wide corridor with expensive-looking artwork on the walls. I have no idea where I am. The building holds about twenty different companies, and the only one I’ve ever visited is Macrosant, which is on floors 11-17. “Where’s this guy, then?” I murmur to Sadie out of the side of my mouth.

“Twentieth floor.”

I head for the lifts, nodding in a businesslike way at all the other passengers. At floor 20 I get out of the lift and find myself in another massive reception area. Twenty feet away from where I’m standing is a granite-colored desk manned by a scary-looking woman in a gray suit. A plaque on the wall says Turner Murray Consulting.

Wow. Turner Murray are the really brainy ones who get asked to sort out big businesses. This guy must be pretty high-powered, whoever he is.

“Come on!” Sadie is dancing ahead toward a door with a security panel. A pair of men in suits stride past, and one of them gives me a curious look. I hold my phone up to my ear to discourage conversation, and follow the men. As we reach the door, one of the men punches in a code.

“Thanks.” I nod in my most businesslike way and follow them in. “Gavin, I’ve told you the European figures don’t make sense,” I say into my phone.

The taller man hesitates as though he’s going to challenge me. Shit. I hastily increase my speed and walk straight past them.

“I have a meeting in two minutes, Gavin,” I say hastily. “I want those updated figures on my BlackBerry. Now I have to go and talk about… er… percentages.”

There’s a ladies’ room on the left. Trying not to run, I hurry into it and duck into a marble-clad cubicle.

“What are you doing?” Sadie demands, materializing right in the cubicle with me. Honestly. Does she have no idea of privacy?

“What do you think I’m doing?” I reply under my breath. “We need to wait a bit.”

I sit it out for three minutes, then head out of the ladies’. The two men have disappeared. The corridor is empty and quiet, just a long stretch of pale-gray carpet and occasional water machines and blond-wood doors leading off on either side. I can hear the hum of conversation and occasional small computer sounds.

“So where is he?” I turn to Sadie.

“Hmm.” She’s peering around. “One of these doors along here…”

She heads along the corridor and I follow cautiously. This is surreal. What am I doing roaming around a strange office building, looking for a strange man?

“Yes!” Sadie appears by my side, glowing. “He’s in there! He has the most penetrating eyes. Absolutely shiversome.” She points to a solid wooden door labeled Room 2012. There isn’t a window or even a tiny glass panel. I can’t see anything inside.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve just been inside! He’s there! Go on! Ask him!” Her hands are trying to push me.

“Wait!” I take a few steps away, trying to think this all through. I can’t just blunder in. I have to make a plan.

1) Knock and enter strange guy’s office.

2) Say hello in natural, pleasant manner.

3) Ask him out on date.

4) Almost die of embarrassment as he calls security.

5) Leave very, very swiftly.

6) Do not give my name under any circumstances. That way I can run away and blank the whole thing from my memory and nobody will ever know it was me. Maybe he’ll even think he dreamed it.

The whole thing will take thirty seconds max and then Sadie will have to stop pestering me. OK, let’s get it over with. I approach the door, trying to ignore the fact that my heart is suddenly galloping with nerves. I take a deep breath, raise my hand, and knock gently.

“You didn’t make any sound!” exclaims Sadie behind me. “Knock harder! Then just walk in. He’s in there! Go on!”

Squeezing my eyes, I rap sharply, twist the door handle, and take a step inside the room.

Twenty suited people seated around a conference table all turn to look at me. A man at the far end pauses in his PowerPoint presentation.

I stare back, frozen.

It’s not an office. It’s a conference room. I’m standing in a company I don’t belong to, in a great big meeting I don’t belong to, and everyone’s waiting for me to speak.

“Sorry,” I stammer at last. “I don’t want to interrupt. Carry on.”

Out of the corner of my eye I’ve noticed a couple of empty seats. Barely knowing what I’m doing, I pull a chair out and sit down. The woman next to me eyes me uncertainly for a moment, then pushes along a pad of paper and pen.

“Thanks,” I murmur back.

I don’t quite believe this. No one’s told me to leave. Don’t they realize I don’t belong here? The guy at the front has resumed his speech, and a few people are scribbling notes. Surreptitiously, I look around the table. There are about fifteen men in this room. Sadie’s guy could be any of them. There’s a sandy-haired guy across the table who looks cute. The man giving the presentation is quite good-looking too. He has wavy dark hair and pale blue eyes and the same tie I bought Josh for his birthday. He’s gesturing at a graph and talking with an animated voice.

“… and client satisfaction ratings have increased, year-on-year-”

“Stop right there.” A man standing at the window, whom I hadn’t even noticed before, turns around. He has an American accent, a dark suit, and chestnut-colored hair brushed straight back. There’s a deep V-shaped frown between his eyebrows, and he’s looking at the wavy-haired guy as though he represents some great personal disappointment to him. “Client satisfaction ratings aren’t what we’re about. I don’t want to perform work that a client rates as an A. I want to perform work that I rate as an A.”

The man with wavy hair looks wrong-footed, and I feel a stab of sympathy for him.

“Of course,” he mumbles.

“The emphasis in this room is all wrong.” The American guy frowns around the table. “We’re not here to perform tactical quick fixes. We should be influencing strategy. Innovating. Since I’ve been over here…”

I tune out as I notice Sadie sliding into the chair next to me. I scribble WHICH MAN? and push my pad across.

“The one who looks like Rudolph Valentino,” she says, as though surprised I even need to ask.

For God’s sake.

HOW WOULD I KNOW WHAT BLOODY RUDOLPH VALENTINO LOOKS LIKE? I scribble. WHICH ONE?

I’m betting on the wavy-haired man. Unless it’s the blond guy sitting right at the front; he looks quite nice. Or maybe that chap with the goatee?

“Him, of course!” Sadie points to the other side of the room.

THE MAN GIVING THE PRESENTATION? I write, just to confirm it.

“No, silly!” She giggles. “Him!” She appears in front of the American man with the frown, and gazes at him longingly. “Isn’t he a dove?”

“Him?”

Oops. I spoke out loud. Everyone turns to look at me, and I hastily try to sound as though I’m clearing my throat: “Hmrrrm hrrrmm.”

SERIOUSLY, HIM? I write on my pad of paper as she returns to my side.

“He’s delicious!” she says in my ear, sounding affronted.

I survey the American guy dubiously, trying to be fair. I suppose he is quite good-looking in that classic preppy way. His hair springs up from a broad, square brow, he has the hint of a tan, and dark wrist hair is visible inside his immaculate white cuffs. And his eyes are penetrating. He’s got that magnetic quality that leaders always seem to have. Strong hands and gestures. As he speaks, he commands attention.

But honestly. He’s so totally not my sort. Too intense. Too frowny. And everyone else in the room seems terrified of him.

“Speaking of which.” He picks up a plastic folder and skims it deftly across the table toward the goatee-beard guy. “Last night I put together some points with regard to the Morris Farquhar consultation. Just a memo. Might help.”

“Oh.” Goatee-beard guy looks utterly taken aback. “Well… thanks. I appreciate it.” He flips through wonderingly. “Can I use this?”

“That’s the general idea,” says the American guy, with a smile so wry and brief you’d miss it if you blinked. “So, regarding the final point…”

From my place at the back, I can see goatee-beard guy leafing through the typed pages, agog. “When the hell did he have time to do this?” he mutters to his neighbor, who shrugs.

“I have to go.” The American guy suddenly consults his watch. “My apologies for hijacking the meeting. Simon, please continue.”

“I have just one question.” The sandy-haired man hurriedly raises his hand. “When you’re talking about innovating procedure, do you mean-”

“Quick!” Sadie’s voice suddenly resounds in my ear, making me jump. “Ask him on a date! He’s leaving! You promised! Do it! Do-it-do-it-do-it-”

OK!!!!!! I scrawl, flinching. JUST GIVE ME A SECOND.

Sadie stalks to the other side of the room and watches me expectantly. After a while she starts making impatient Come on! gestures with her hands. Mr. American Frown has finished answering the sandy-haired guy and is pushing some papers into his briefcase.

I can’t do this. It’s ludicrous.

“Go on! Go on!” Sadie’s voice blasts my eardrum again. “Ask!”

Blood is pulsating around my head. My legs are trembling under the table. Somehow I force myself to raise a hand.

“Excuse me?” I say in an embarrassed squeak.

Mr. American Frown turns and surveys me, looking puzzled. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m in a hurry-”

“I have a question.”

Everyone around the table has swiveled to look at me. I can see a man whispering “Who’s that?” to his neighbor.

“OK.” He sighs. “One more quick question. What is it?”

“I… um… It’s just… I wanted to ask…” My voice is jumpy and I clear my throat. “Would you like to go out with me?”

There’s a stunned silence, apart from someone spluttering on their coffee. My face is boiling hot, but I hold steady. I can see a few astounded looks passing between the people at the table.

“Excuse me?” says the American man, looking bewildered.

“Like… on a date?” I risk a little smile.

Suddenly I’m aware of Sadie beside him. “Say yes!” she shrieks into his ear, so loudly that I want to flinch on his behalf. “Say yes! Say yes!”

To my astonishment, I can see the American man reacting. He’s cocking his head as though he can hear some distant radio signal. Can he hear her?

“Young lady,” says a gray-haired man curtly. “This really isn’t the time or place-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” I say humbly. “I won’t take up much time. I just need an answer, one way or the other.” I turn to the American man again. “Would you like to go out with me?”

“Say yes! Say yes!” Sadie’s yelling increases to an unbearable level.

This is unreal. The American man can definitely hear something. He shakes his head and takes a couple of steps away, but Sadie follows him, still yelling. His eyes are glazed and he looks like he’s in a trance.

No one else in the room is moving or speaking. They all seem pinioned by shock; one woman has her hand clapped across her face as though she’s watching a train wreck.

“Say yes!” Sadie’s starting to sound hoarse as she screams. “Right now! Say it! SAY YES!”

It’s almost comical, the sight of her yelling so hard and only getting the faintest reaction. But as I watch, I only feel pity. She looks so powerless, as though she’s shouting behind a sheet of glass and the only one who can hear her properly is me. Sadie’s world must be so frustrating, I find myself thinking. She can’t touch anything, she can’t communicate with anyone, it’s obvious she’s never going to get through to this guy-

“Yes.” The American man nods desperately.

My pity dies away.

Yes?

There’s a gasp all around the table and a hastily stifled giggle. Everyone immediately turns to gape at me, but I’m temporarily too dumbfounded to reply.

He said yes.

Does this mean… I actually have to go on a date with him?

“Great!” I try to gather my wits. “So… let’s be in touch, shall we? My name’s Lara Lington, by the way, here’s my card…” I scrabble in my bag.

“I’m Ed.” The man still looks dazed. “Ed Harrison.” He reaches into his inside pocket and produces his own business card.

“So… um… bye, then, Ed!” I pick up my bag and hurriedly beat a retreat, to the sound of a growing hubbub. I can hear someone saying, “Who the bloody hell was that?” and a woman saying in an urgent undertone, “You see? You just have to have the guts. You have to be direct with men. Stop the games. Lay it out there. If I’d known at her age what that girl knows…”

What I know?

I don’t know anything except I need to get out of here.