Lessons in Love. Kate Lawson
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to remember the dream that she had had. It was very vivid. Something to do with Steve Burney, and then she had lost her job, and got horribly drunk and her mother said she was coming to stay—and so Jane had opened another bottle of red, and then she froze, while the voice at the far end of the line whispered, ‘Hello? Hello? Are you there?’
Not that Jane was listening. Oh, bugger. Realisation and total recall hit her like a bucket of cold water. It wasn’t a dream at all. All those things were for real. Bugger, bugger, bugger.
‘Hello?’ hissed the voice again. ‘Is that you?’
Jane glared at the phone and then tried to focus on the bedside clock. Had people got no consideration? Jesus, it was only—only—eleven. Eleven? Sweet Jesus, how the hell had that happened? Jane sat bolt upright and instantly regretted it as her brain ricocheted off the inside of her skull like a wrecking ball.
Four hours past getting-up time on a weekday, and well past Gladstone’s breakfast time. She was supposed to be in work by eight today, working up a project for local schools with a horribly tight deadline. She’d be in really big trouble if she hadn’t already been sacked. The phone and the sounds of her stirring summoned the cats from downstairs, who thundered across the landing and sprung onto the duvet with the vigour of trained ninja assassins.
‘Hello?’ said the voice again, still low, still barely audible over the mewling and purring and general feline complaining. ‘Are you there?’
‘Who is this?’ snapped Jane. The voice was husky and low, and for one moment Jane wondered if she’d been woken up by an obscene phone call.
‘It’s me. Are you all right? You sound awful.’
‘Who is this? You’ll have to speak up.’
‘I can’t, I’m phoning from work. I’m not supposed to have my mobile on.’
Comprehension dawned. ‘Lizzie? Are you all right? What on earth is the matter? You sound awful.’
‘We’ve all just come out of a staff meeting. It’s like the week before Christmas on a turkey farm here this morning. I’m out on the fire escape.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Lizzie, don’t jump. A job in the library isn’t worth killing yourself for.’
Lizzie laughed. ‘I’m not sure I want the bloody job anyway. They’ve asked me to work with Lucy on the schools thing. She was already in when I got here this morning, moving her stuff into your office. She’s been going through everything.’
‘What do you mean, everything? There isn’t anything to go through unless she’s fished the bin bags out of the skip.’
‘The way she was going, I wouldn’t put it past her. She wanted to know where all your stuff was.’
‘My stuff? There’s nothing left there that belongs to me. I brought it all home yesterday. Everything else I’ve left is library stuff.’
‘Everything?’
Jane grimaced. ‘Yes, I think so. Well, everything except for a dead fern, a lot of old envelopes and advertising circulars for the recycling bin, some milk and a toffee yoghurt in the fridge.’
‘She’s been on the computer looking for your personal email folder.’
Jane laughed. ‘Lizzie, when the hell did you turn into Secret Squirrel. How do you know?’
‘Because she told me. She said she needed to get up to speed on what you’ve been doing and that she’d sent you loads of ideas and things since you’d started there, and that as she was doing the job now she wanted them back, that they weren’t on file anywhere else so they must be in your personal files. Which, as she’s pointed out several times, is completely against office policy.’ Lizzie mimicked Lucy’s clipped high-pitched Home Counties accent with pointed accuracy.
A hangover and blind fury were not a happy combination. ‘Bloody cow, that’s not true. She didn’t send me any ideas. All she ever sent me were snippy little notes about photocopying. Anyway, I deleted all the personal stuff.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. You’re making me paranoid, Liz. I forwarded all my personal email to my home email address and then binned everything that was on the office machine.’
‘But you’ve still got it?’
‘I just told you. Yes, I’ve still got it. It’s just not on the library computer any more.’
‘Look, I’ve got to go but I’d have a look through it if I were you and see if you can work out what Lucy is really after. She is desperate to get her hands on something. She asked me if I knew your password.’
Jane laughed. ‘That’s nuts.’
‘I know, that’s what I said and I think she tried it, along with “no way” and “bugger off”—but she’s definitely up to something. Look, I’ve got to go before someone misses me. I’m busy tonight but I’ll pop round tomorrow or ring from home. See you soon. Bye.’
Jane sat and stared at the phone. What the hell was Lucy up to now?
But before she could give it too much thought the phone rang again. Looked like it was going to be one of those mornings. At least this time she was awake. Ignoring the cats, Jane picked up the receiver.
‘Hi,’ said a bright warm voice. ‘How are you this morning?’
‘Jayne?’
‘Uh-huh. Well spotted. I was just wondering how you were fixed for lunch today?’
‘Today?’ Jane glanced at the clock and tried to avoid catching sight of herself in the mirror.
‘Yes. If it’s inconvenient it’s not a problem. We can do it another day.’
‘Inconvenient?’
Jayne laughed. ‘And there was me hoping to employ you for your razor-sharp mind; a brain like forked lightning. These are not the cryptic clues.’
This time Jane laughed. ‘Sorry It’s all right, I’m fine. I just overslept and I’m still feeling a little fragile from yesterday. Would you like me to come to your house?’
‘No, I thought we could meet at Lorenzo’s. Do you know it?’
‘The restaurant in Brewer Street?’
‘That’s it. Is one o’clock OK?’
‘Sure.’
‘Great,’ said Jayne. ‘In that case I’ll see you there. Oh, and you can bring my post over, if I’ve got any. I know it sounds like I’m rushing you but I’d really like to sort everything out as soon as possible. And I need to introduce you to my business manager. His name is Ray Jacobson. He’s my second in command; handles all the nitty-gritty for me. You’ll like him. He’s a great guy. See you at one, if that’s OK?’
‘Fine,’ Jane said, as brightly as she could manage, then hung up, groaned and pulled the duvet back up over her head.
Ray Jacobson refilled Jayne’s champagne glass and then lifted his in salute.
‘You know, I think this is such a great idea, a kind of pilgrimage to your past. I’m almost envious. And you don’t have to worry, everything here will be in safe hands.’
‘I know that,’ said Jayne. ‘Just one thing. I’ve asked someone to help mind the store while I’m away.’
‘Really?’ He watched her face for a moment or two to see if she was joking and then laughed. ‘You’re serious?’
‘Yes, yes, I am. I met someone recently.’
‘Really?’ he purred. ‘How recently? I thought you were still seeing Carlo.’
She waved the words away. ‘No, not like that. Her name