my excuses and crossed the gallery.
Clare was deep in conversation with Sophie Cole. Mouthing ‘sorry’ to Sophie, I pulled Clare to one side.
‘I have to go,’ I said quickly, glancing at my watch.
‘But we’ve only just got here,’ she said with obvious disappointment. ‘Sophie was just telling me who else she knows in the food world. She reckons she can get Giles Coren along to the opening of Dom’s restaurant.’
‘I’ll make sure she does, but I really do need to go.’
I pulled out my phone and texted Martin:
Colleague here from chambers. Got to leave.
‘Sure you don’t want to stay for the dessert canapés?’ pressed Clare. ‘I just saw some mini éclairs and strawberry tarts doing the rounds.’
She frowned, then followed my gaze towards Martin.
‘Ah, I see,’ she said, lowering her voice. ‘I’m not surprised you want to shoot off for a shag.’
‘For an educated woman, you can be very crude,’ I said, struggling to sound light-hearted. My mobile phone beeped in my hand. Martin.
I’ll come with you. Just let me say my goodbyes.
I glanced around the room but I had lost sight of Tom. Wherever he was, it gave me the opportunity to collect my things from the cloakroom. I handed over my ticket and waited impatiently as the coat-check girl gossiped with her friend, moving at a glacial pace. Come on, come on. My head was beginning to whirl. My throat tightened and I longed for a breath of fresh air.
‘Fran?’
Feeling a tap on my shoulder, I closed my eyes in defeat. Of course he’d seen me. Of course.
‘Tom!’ I said, turning and forcing surprise into my voice. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Don’t sound so surprised – I have an appreciation for the arts,’ he smiled. He was wearing a sharp navy suit with one of those stripy old-school ties you’re supposed to be able to decipher but I never can. Tom gestured to the girl next to him, the same blonde I’d seen him with earlier.
‘Fran, this is Hannah. Francine is my colleague from chambers.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ I said, extending a hand. ‘Unfortunately, I’m just leaving.’
I saw Hannah shoot a look at Tom, the kind that said, I told you we’d be late. Any other time I’d be interested in that nugget of information and what it told me about Tom’s relationship, but I was far too distracted and focused on escape.
‘Sorry to be a bore, shooting off,’ I said, looking over Hannah’s shoulder, convinced I’d see Martin bearing down on us. ‘You must go and speak to the artist, she’s fascinating.’
‘Surely you can stay for one drink,’ said Tom. ‘It is Friday night, after all.’
‘No rest for the wicked,’ I said with a thin smile as I was finally handed my coat and made a bolt for the door.
Clare was standing on the pavement, watching me.
‘Are you OK?’ she asked.
‘Course I am,’ I said, inhaling the cold spring air.
Clare didn’t seem to buy it. ‘Then why the sudden need to leave?’
I couldn’t tell her, couldn’t let on what had spooked me. And now I was out of the stifling, crowded gallery, it didn’t seem so desperate. Would Tom know Martin was my client? Possibly not. I certainly had no idea who he was representing. Would he have asked how I came to be invited? Unlikely, Tom was far too well brought up to ask such a loaded question. But it was possible. And that was far too much of a risk.
‘Do you want me to wait with you until Martin comes?’ asked Clare, her eyes searching mine.
‘No, don’t be daft. You go,’ I said, pointing to the cab which had just pulled up at the kerb. ‘He’ll be out in a minute.’
‘I’m happy for you, Fran,’ said Clare, giving me a kiss on the cheek. ‘Now just let yourself be happy, OK? You do deserve it.’
For a moment we were both lost in the past. Knowing how much she had done for me, I gave her a grateful nod.
‘Thanks,’ I said simply. ‘I’ll try.’
But as her cab pulled away, I looked back towards the gallery, back towards him – and wondered if that would be enough.
I loitered in Hanover Square until Martin directed me to a waiting car. We didn’t speak much on the journey back to Spitalfields.
‘I didn’t drag you away too soon, did I?’ I said as we rode the lift to his apartment.
‘I just had to show my face. It’ll be over soon anyway.’
‘I need a drink,’ I replied, feeling tired and unsettled.
‘There’s a very nice Friday-night Chardonnay in the fridge that needs opening. We can take it up to the roof,’ he said, disappearing into the bedroom and returning with two sweaters.
He threw one over to me.
‘There. You might want to put that on.’
I pulled the sweater over my head, slowly, carefully, inhaling it and feeling heady with his smell. The sleeves fell over my hands and I felt as if I had been zipped inside him.
When I looked up, he was holding a bottle of wine, two tumblers and a blanket. We went outside to the small decking area and up a thin spiral staircase that led to the highest point of the building. I spread the throw on the dusty asphalt and sat down. It was quiet up here. Black velvet sky surrounded us like a cloak. I could see chimney pots and distant lights from office blocks. I smiled to myself that there were people out there who worked harder than I did. I wanted to tell them to get a life.
Martin sat cross-legged next to me, poured wine into the two glasses and handed me one.
‘I would have stayed longer but I saw someone from chambers,’ I said finally.
‘I don’t see why we have to keep sneaking around the shadows. Alex knows. Worked it out even before we went to Ottolenghi. Said I’d been whispering and giggling like a schoolboy in the office, which made me sound incredibly uncool. I don’t want to hide you away,’ he said with an intensity that made me shiver.
‘I don’t want to hide you away either,’ I replied. ‘That’s why I brought Clare – I wanted you to start meeting my friends. But you’re still my client and I’m applying for silk. I have to be careful.’
He tipped his head back for a long slug of Chardonnay.
‘I
