and didn’t look back, even if she was a little tempted.
She half-jogged her way to the bus stop and tried not to feel uptight about the upcoming events. With a PDA in her hand and a clear agenda, this didn’t have to feel all that different from a day in the office.
And what if it took a week, or two weeks, or a month, or three months, before she could safely draw back? All that time at her boss’s side—days, weekends, evenings—to make it really hard to remember he was her boss and she was his PA, and nothing else could possibly be…
Nonsense.
Nonsense, the idea of them being anything else to each other, and to this taking three months. The rumour issue would be resolved fast and that was that!
In celebration of this utter certainty, that was no certainty at all but what she so wanted to believe, Molly slumped into a seat on the bus, drew her phone from her bag and sent a text message to her mother.
Do you think Faye would have a pair of sandals I could wear with a burgundy evening-dress? I have to go out on business with my boss tonight.
There. See? All about business. A few moments later Molly opened her mum’s return message.
I checked with Faye. She has a pair of sandals with glass beading all over them. Three-inch heel. They’d go with anything. How exciting, Molly. A chance to do something grand for the night!
Yeah. Great. And glass-beaded sandals with a no-doubt uncomfortable heel would do nicely. The pumpkin coach could drop her and her broken toes off at her flat at midnight.
The phone rang in her hand. Molly jumped, and then answered. ‘I don’t know about glass-beaded sandals, Mum. Maybe something a bit more sensible would be better. Personally I don’t see why people don’t just stick to shoes with a thick strap and a decent tread, like I do for work and weekends.’
A long pause of silence ensued and she realised she might have sounded a bit ungrateful. Molly drew a breath. ‘Mum?’
‘I take it you made your bus on time?’ Her boss’s voice poured into her ear.
And he was definitely smiling this time. She didn’t need to see him to know it.
‘Yes. Yes, I did make the bus on time.’ Molly sat up straighter in her seat, not that he could see her. Jarrod had her number for emergencies. She’d put it into his mobile phone herself. Why hadn’t she checked the display before answering? He had never called before, and she’d made a right goose of herself, hadn’t she, blathering on about shoes?
In the background she heard a clattering sound—the underground roller-door of their building going up?
Molly pictured him driving his car one-handed, mobile phone in the other. ‘You’re not allowed to drive and talk on your mobile phone. You could have an accident.’ Great. Now she sounded like a mother hen.
‘I know. We bought Bluetooth, remember?’ Oh, yes. He definitely sounded amused.
Enough to make her hopes of regaining control of her changed circumstances, of riding it out with barely a ripple in the usual fabric of her work for him, threaten to crumble. Things were changing already, and she hadn’t even sorted out her shoes.
He went on. ‘The phone is on hands-free. I always use the technology we buy.’
‘Oh. Good, then.’ It was silly to feel so gratified by his words. No, her heart simply stuttered in shock that she had forgotten about the purchase even for a moment. In her defence, she’d had a long and trying day, and it wasn’t over yet.
‘I wanted to tell you to eat something before tonight.’ His voice returned to a more usual tone. ‘It’s only drinks and nibbles, and I don’t want you to be hungry.’
‘Thank you. That was thoughtful.’ If Molly knew her family, either Faye or Izzy or both would be ready for her when she arrived at the group of three flats they rented. They would have sandwiches in hand, and be ready to throw open their wardrobes so she could pick a pair of shoes and any other accessories she might deem necessary for the evening.
And her mother would be waiting to hear about it by phone as she went about her evening cleaning-job in a building full of offices not so different from the one Molly had just left.
Generous. They were generous…to a fault.
‘I’ll be sure to eat.’ If she could push anything down over the knot of unease currently lodged halfway up her oesophagus.
‘Then I’ll see you soon. We’ll take care of this, Molly. Between us, we’ll do it.’
‘I’ll do my best to help you.’ Not to embarrass him in front of his peers. Not to embarrass herself. Molly’s tummy contorted into fifty different balloon-shaped animals, and stayed bunched in all those multicoloured knots.
‘See you soon.’ Jarrod ended the call.
Molly put her phone away and peeked into the bag at her hastily purchased dress. So there would be an art exhibition. She’d attended some free ones at Turbine Hall and other places. No difference, really—other than the whole glitterati, buckets of money; nothing like her lifestyle.
And so her boss had phoned when he never had before. Things had changed; she had to expect he might ring, or whatever. They both needed to adapt. Molly simply needed to control her responses to him as she had always done, no matter the surroundings or circumstances at the time, and everything would be fine.
* * *
Izzy and Faye went one better than throwing open their wardrobes. They were waiting on her doorstep, arms full of all sorts of offerings, sandwiches included. Well, they did only have to walk from the flats either side of Molly’s to be there. Guilt rose in Molly’s chest, because they were wonderful, and giving, and always had been, and she shouldn’t resent them…
Where had that thought come from? The two women started to talk at once, and Molly ushered them inside.
At six twenty-five, Izzy leaned close to adjust the necklace around Molly’s neck for about the fifth time.
‘You look beautiful, Molly.’ Strands of frizzled red hair brushed Molly’s face as her aunt hugged her. ‘I’m so glad you chose to wear this pendant. It really suits the dress.’
A fine gold chain held a large Broome pearl in the shape of a squished piece of confectionery. Izzy had bought it two years ago with a work bonus from the courier company that employed her. Money she could have socked away into savings. Her pleasure now in lending the thing made Molly’s tummy knot all over again.
Faye stepped closer and glanced at Molly’s feet. ‘It’s worth a whole week of selling electric fryingpans over the phone just to see you in those lovely shoes. I always mean to wear them when I buy them.’
‘There are worse things than a shoe addiction.’ The pronouncement came over the speakerphone into Molly’s small living room.
Her mum’s voice, and Molly knew what would be next, because she’d heard it before.
Faye leaned close to the phone. ‘You don’t buy all that much Swiss chocolate
