Twenties Girl

EIGHT

I’m still in a state of shock as Sadie catches up with me, halfway across the ground floor reception lobby. My mind keeps rerunning the scene in total disbelief. Sadie communicated with a man. He actually heard her. I’m not sure how much he heard-but obviously enough.

“Isn’t he a peach?” she says dreamily. “I knew he’d say yes.”

“What went on in there?” I mutter incredulously. “What’s with the shouting? I thought you couldn’t talk to anyone except me!”

“Talking’s no good,” she agrees. “But I’ve noticed that when I really let off a socking great scream right in someone’s ear, most people seem to hear something faint. It’s terribly hard work, though.”

“Have you done this before? Have you spoken to anyone else?”

I know it’s ridiculous, but I feel the tiniest bit jealous that she can get through to other people. Sadie is my ghost.

“Oh, I had a few words with the queen,” she says airily. “Just for fun.”

“Are you serious?”

“Maybe.” She shoots me a wicked little smile. “It’s hell on the old vocal cords, though. I always have to give up after a while.” She coughs and rubs her throat.

“I thought I was the only person you were haunting,” I can’t help saying childishly. “I thought I was special.”

“You’re the only person I can be with instantly,” says Sadie after pondering a moment. “I just have to think of you, and I’m with you.”

“Oh.” Secretly, I feel quite pleased to hear this.

“So, where do you think he’ll take us?” Sadie looks up, her eyes sparkling. “The Savoy? I adore the Savoy.”

My attention is wrenched back to the present situation. She seriously envisages all three of us going on a date together? A weird, freaky, threesome-with-a-ghost date?

OK, Lara. Stay sane. That guy won’t really claim a date. He’ll tear up my card and blame the incident on his hangover/drug habit/stress levels and I’ll never see him again. Feeling more confident, I stride toward the exit. That’s enough craziness for one day. I have things to do.

As soon as I get back to the office, I put a call through to Jean, lean back in my swivel chair, and prepare to relish the moment.

“Jean Savill.”

“Oh, hi, Jean,” I say pleasantly. “It’s Lara Lington here. I’m just calling about your no-dog policy again, which I totally understand and applaud. I can absolutely see why you’d wish to keep your workplace an animal-free zone. But I was just wondering why this rule doesn’t extend to Jane Frenshew in room 1416?”

Ha!

I’ve never heard Jean so squirmy. At first she denies it altogether. Then she tries to say it’s due to special circumstances and doesn’t set any precedent. But it only takes one mention of lawyers and European rights for her to cave in. Shireen can bring Flash to work! It’s going to be put in her contract tomorrow, and they’re throwing in a dog basket! I put down the phone and dial Shireen’s number. She’s going to be so happy! Finally, this job is fun.

And it’s even more fun when Shireen gasps incredulously over the phone.

“I couldn’t imagine anyone at Sturgis Curtis taking the same trouble,” she keeps saying. “This is the difference when you work with a smaller outfit.”

“Boutique,” I correct her. “We have the personal touch. Tell all your friends!”

“I will! I’m so impressed! How did you find out about the other dog, by the way?”

I hesitate briefly.

“Ways and means,” I say finally.

“Well, you’re brilliant!”

At last I put the phone down, glowing, and look up to see Kate gazing at me with avid curiosity.

“How did you find out about the other dog?” she says.

“Instincts.” I shrug.

“Instincts?” echoes Sadie derisively, who has been wandering about the office throughout. “You didn’t have any instincts! It was me! You should say, ‘My marvelous great-aunt Sadie helped me and I’m extremely grateful.’”

“You know, Natalie would never have bothered tracking down a dog,” says Kate suddenly. “Never. Not in a million years.”

“Oh.” My glow dims. Suddenly, looking at the whole thing through Natalie-type business eyes, I feel a little unprofessional. Maybe it was a bit ridiculous, to spend so much time and effort on one dog. “Well, I just wanted to save the situation; it seemed the best way-”

“No, you don’t understand.” Kate cuts me off, pink in the face. “I meant it in a good way.”

I’m so taken aback, I don’t know what to say. No one’s ever compared me favorably to Natalie before.

“I’ll go on a coffee run to celebrate!” Kate says brightly. “Do you want anything?”

“It’s OK.” I smile at her. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Actually…” Kate looks awkward. “I’m a bit ravenous. I haven’t had a lunch break yet.”

“Oh God!” I say, appalled. “Go! Have lunch! You’ll starve!”

Kate leaps up, bashing her head on an open file drawer, and pulls her bag down off a high shelf. The minute she’s closed the door behind her, Sadie comes over to my desk.

“So.” She perches on the edge and regards me expectantly.

“What is it?”

“Are you going to ring him?”

“Who?”

“Him!” She leans right over my computer. “Him!”

“You mean Ed Whatsit? You want me to ring him?” I shoot her a pitying glance. “Do you have no idea how things work? If he wants to ring, he can ring.” Which he won’t in a million years, I silently add.

I delete a few emails and type a reply, then look up again. Sadie is sitting on top of a filing cabinet, staring fixedly at the phone. As she sees me looking, she jumps and quickly looks away.

“Now who’s obsessing over a man?” I can’t help a little dig.

“I’m not obsessing,” she says haughtily.

“If you watch the phone, it doesn’t ring. Don’t you know anything?”

Sadie’s eyes flash angrily at me, but she turns away and starts examining the blinds cord, as though she wants to analyze every fiber. Then she wanders over to the opposite window. Then she looks at the phone again.

I could really do without a lovelorn ghost trailing around my office when I’m trying to work.

“Why don’t you go sightseeing?” I suggest. “You could look at the gherkin building, or go to Harrods…”

“I’ve been to Harrods.” She wrinkles her nose. “It looks very peculiar these days.”

I’m about to suggest that she go for a long, long walk in Hyde Park, when my mobile trills. Like lightning, Sadie is by my side, watching eagerly as I check the display.

“Is it him? Is it him?”

“I don’t know the number.” I shrug. “Could be anyone.”

“It’s him!” She hugs herself. “Tell him we want to go to the Savoy for cocktails.”

“Are you crazy? I’m not saying that!”

“This is my date, and I want to go to the Savoy,” she says mulishly.

“Shut up or I won’t answer!”

We glare at each other as the phone trills again, then Sadie takes a reluctant step backward, her cheeks pouchy.

“Hello?”

“Is this Lara?” It’s a woman I don’t recognize.

“It’s not him, OK?” I hiss at Sadie. I make a shooing-away motion at her, then turn back to the phone.

“Yes, Lara speaking. Who’s this?”

“It’s Nina Martin. You left a message about a necklace? At the old folks’ jumble sale?”

“Oh, yes!” I’m suddenly alert. “Did you buy one?”

“I bought two. Black pearls and a red one. Good condition. I can sell them both to you if you like; I was planning to put them on eBay-”

“No.” I deflate. “They’re not what I’m looking for. Thanks, anyway.”

I take out the list and scribble off Nina Martin’s name while Sadie watches critically.

“Why haven’t you tried all the names?” she demands.

“I’ll phone some more this evening. I have to work now,” I add at her look. “Sorry, but I do.”

Sadie heaves a huge sigh. “All this waiting is unbearable.” She swishes over to my desk and stares at the phone. Then she swishes to the window, then back to the phone.

There’s no way I can sit here all afternoon with her swishing and sighing. I’m going to have to be brutally honest.

“Look, Sadie.” I wait until she turns. “About Ed. You should know the truth. He won’t call.”

“What do you mean, he won’t call?” Sadie retorts. “Of course he will.”

“He won’t.” I shake my head. “There’s no way on earth he’s going to call some loony girl who blagged her way into his meeting. He’s going to throw my card away and forget all about it. Sorry.”

Sadie is staring at me with reproach, as though I’ve deliberately set out to dash all her hopes.

“It’s not my fault!” I say defensively. “I’m just trying to let you down lightly.”

“He’s going to call,” she says with slow determination. “And we’re going to go on a date.”

“Fine. Whatever you think.” I turn to my computer and start typing. When I glance up, she’s gone, and I can’t help breathing out in relief. Finally. Some space. Some silence!

I’m in the middle of typing a confirmation email to Jean about Flash when the phone rings. I pick it up absently and cradle the receiver under my chin. “Hello, Lara speaking.”

“Hi there.” An awkward-sounding male voice comes over the phone. “This is Ed Harrison.”

I freeze. Ed Harrison?

“Um… hi!” I look wildly around the office for Sadie, but she’s nowhere.

“So… I guess we’re going on a date,” says Ed stiffly.

“I… guess we are.”

We sound like a pair of people who’ve won an outing in a raffle and don’t know how to get out of it.

“There’s a bar in St. Christopher’s Place,” he says. “The Crowe Bar. You want to have a drink there?”

I can read his mind instantly. He’s suggesting a drink because that’s about the quickest date you can have. He really doesn’t want to do this. So why did he call? Is he so old-fashioned and polite that he felt he couldn’t blow me off, even though for all he knows I could be a serial killer?

“Good idea,” I say brightly.

“Saturday night, seven-thirty?”

“See you there.”

As I put the phone down, I feel surreal. I’m actually going on a date with Mr. American Frown. And Sadie has no idea.

“Sadie.” I look around. “Sa-die! Can you hear me? You won’t believe it! He called!”

“I know,” comes Sadie’s voice from behind me, and I swivel around to see her sitting on the windowsill, looking totally unruffled.

“You missed it!” I say in excitement. “Your guy called! We’re going on a-” I break off as it hits me. “Oh my God. You did this, didn’t you? You went and shouted at him.”

“Of course I did!” she says proudly. “It was simply too dreary waiting for him to call, so I decided to give him a little nudge.” Her eyebrows lower disapprovingly. “You were right, by the way. He had thrown the card away. It was in his bin, all crumpled up. He wasn’t planning to call you at all!”

She looks so outraged, I have to bite back a laugh.

“Welcome to twenty-first-century dating. So how did you change his mind?”

“It was terribly hard work!” Sadie looks affronted. “First I just told him to call you, but he absolutely ignored me. He kept turning away from me and typing more quickly. Then I got really close and told him if he didn’t call you and fix a date at once, he’d be cursed with illness by the god Ahab.”

“Who’s the god Ahab?” I ask incredulously.

“He was in a penny novelette I once read.” Sadie looks pleased with herself. “I said he’d lose the use of his limbs and be covered with grotesque warts. I could see him waver, but he was still trying to ignore me. So then I looked at his typewriter-”

“Computer?” I interject.

“Whatever it is,” she says impatiently. “I told him it would break down and he would lose his job unless he called you.” Her mouth curves into a reminiscent smile. “He moved quite quickly after that. Although, you know, even when he was picking up the card he kept clutching his head and saying to himself, ‘Why am I calling this girl? Why am I doing this?’ So I yelled in his ear, ‘You want to call her! She’s very pretty!’” Sadie tosses her hair back triumphantly. “And so he telephoned you. Aren’t you impressed?”

I gaze back at her, speechless. She’s blackmailed this guy into going on a date with me. She’s messed with his mind. She’s forced him into a romance that he had no intention of pursuing.

She is the only woman I’ve ever known who could make a man call. Ever.

OK, it took supernatural powers, but she did it.

“Great-Aunt Sadie,” I say slowly, “you’re brilliant.”