Girl, Georgia Stone, who has just finished the most amazing year of self-discovery. Georgia—’ the announcer was gifted at sounding as if he hadn’t used the last song break to go over in detail what they were about to say ‘—what was the highlight of your year?’
She leaned a little more into the microphone and did her best to imagine she was speaking only to her gran, not to three million Londoners. ‘There was a moment, just a heartbeat really, high above Cappadocia in the balloon, when everything in my life just—’ she struggled for the right word, then found it ‘—reconciled.’
‘Reconciled?’ the younger announcer said.
‘Everything just clicked. Into place. And I knew that I’d found what I was looking for.’
‘What were you looking for?’
She forced herself not to even flinch in Zander’s direction. ‘Myself, mostly.’
‘That sounds very Zen.’ The second announcer giggled, dubiously.
Introspection. Broadcasting death, Zander had warned her all those months ago. She closed her eyes and gave in. ‘And spy school was pretty cool, too.’
And they were off...asking with enormous relief how she’d felt firing a gun and what it was about numerical codes that made her such a natural at solving them.
Empowered and no idea were the respective answers.
‘An empowered woman with a gun in her hands, look out!’ the male announcer said.
Georgia didn’t even bother laughing out of courtesy.
The man’s eyes flicked up to the control booth window where the producer was making uninterpretable hand signals.
‘We’re going to take some of your calls now...’ the announcer said. He glanced at his computer monitor. ‘Lucinda from Epping, go ahead.’
Lucinda from Epping wanted to wax lyrical about belly dancing and how much she enjoyed it since starting it on Georgia’s recommendation. She was easy to enthuse with because the belly dancing was something she’d kept up even after the necessity to go had ended. It was somewhere she could escape back to Göreme in her mind. Back to Zander.
And back to the way he’d made her feel when his arms were around her.
Russell from Orpington wanted to complain about his girlfriend and her high standards and how impossible it was for an ordinary man to meet the expectations of empowered women.
‘Just try, Russell,’ she murmured. ‘None of us are looking for perfection. Just a decent effort.’
That even birthed a knowing smirk between the surly producer and her teenaged slave.
‘Alex from Hampstead. You’ve had your own—’ the young announcer stared at his computer screen and did his best to pronounce what was obviously an unfamiliar word ‘—epiphany?’
‘That’s Alek,’ the quiet voice said, and Georgia tightened up like a barrel bolt. ‘With a K.’
The announcer rolled his eyes. ‘Clock’s ticking, mate.’
Could they not hear it? She glanced between them all and none of them seemed to have the vaguest idea that it was their boss on the line. Her chest started to rise and fall. She forced herself not to turn around but her inner eye was focused squarely on the glass of the mirrored studio behind her.
‘I’ve had exactly the same moment,’ Zander murmured down the line. ‘That moment where everything just falls into place and works. Effortless.’
‘It’s a great feeling,’ Georgia pressed past her dry throat. Was he talking about his engagement fifteen years ago?
‘And once you’ve had it and then you lose it it’s...intolerable. Worse than never having it at all.’
Yeah, he was. Her chest tightened up.
‘But once you’ve had it,’ she whispered, ‘then you at least know what to strive for. You know what your bar is.’
‘True.’
And she didn’t meet his bar the way every man out there would struggle to meet Zander’s.
The announcer glanced at his producer for assistance; clearly this wasn’t his idea of riveting radio.
‘What if you fear you’ll never reach it again?’ Zander said, low and personal.
His voice, in her earphones, was like lying on that daybed in Göreme with him. Intimate. Breathless. She closed her eyes, pressed the ear pads harder to her head to keep him close. To keep it private.
‘If you reached it once,’ she whispered, ‘then you know you can reach it again.’
Even though he was talking about his fiancée, she hated the pain she heard in his voice. She loved him; she didn’t want him suffering. The way she was.
‘Is that what you believe?’ he murmured.
‘I have to. Or I’d go crazy wondering if I let the best thing in my world go.’
The announcer suddenly saw an in. ‘And someone else has snapped him up now,’ he said.
Georgia’s eyes flew open and her stomach heaved. Had Zander moved on already? ‘What?’
‘Your ex. He’s spoken for.’
Relief and anger pulsed under her skin in equal measures. Daniel. Not Zander.
The producer’s lips formed a string of swearwords clear enough to be readable even by her. The announcer seemed to remember he wasn’t supposed to mention Dan. He flushed to his roots. And then paled.
She wondered if Zander hadn’t exaggerated how stern a warning he’d given them all.
Silence screamed live on air. She was so conscious that she had to say something. ‘I still adore Dan.’ She picked her way carefully to an answer. ‘But, no, I wasn’t talking about him.’
‘Aren’t you going to ask me where it was?’ Zander murmured down the line.
The announcer circled his finger above his head, signalling his producer to wind up the call. She moved to disconnect the call.
‘No!’ Georgia said out loud and stilled the announcer’s gyro-finger and the producer’s steps.
‘No?’ The husky voice grew amused.
‘Not you, Alek,’ she corrected, matching the warmth. ‘So go ahead. Where did you have this epiphany?’
How could she be alone in the dark with Zander when three million people were listening? Yet she just didn’t care.
‘There’s a tiny town up near the Scottish border. Great for viewing sunsets.’
Her breath caught.
The radio staff threw
