Customer Services Helpline Manager
We’re looking for an enthusiastic and proactive Helpline
Manager to guide and develop our Contact Centre Team
Supervisors and the wider Helpline team. You’ll ensure that KPIs
and productivity targets…
KPIs? Well, she could find out. Grace was clicking on the link when the phone rang. Probably Verity wanting to know if they’d heard any more from the Drakes. Now there was some sort of problem with the chain, the sale was moving slower than anticipated and tempers were fraying.
‘Hello?’
‘Is that Grace?’
A man’s voice. Local accent.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Richie Prescott here. You remember? The surveyor.’
‘Oh, yes, Mr Prescott. Is there a problem?’ The survey had been damning but it hadn’t seemed to put the Drakes off – they’d stuck at their initial offer.
‘No, no problem. Actually I was ringing about something quite different. I hope you won’t find it too cheeky but I was wondering if you fancied dinner some time?’
Was this a joke? Grace said nothing.
‘Hello? Are you still there?’
‘Yes, yes, I…’
‘I mean, if you’re too busy, I quite understand. Or…’
Grace laughed. ‘I’m not too busy.’
‘So you’d like it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Good! I was thinking Friday night, if you’re free. The Chichester Arms in Hyddleton? Seven thirty suit?’
‘Lovely.’
‘Good! See you then. ‘Bye.’
‘’Bye,’ Grace said. She stood for a long time, holding the silent phone. Shackleton nudged her leg inquisitively.
‘Shacky,’ she said, kneeling down. ‘I’m going out to dinner with a man.’
Shackleton buffed her ankle with his domed head. Grace took it as a sign of approval. She was shocked. Women like her didn’t get asked out; that was the kind of thing that happened to normal women, women like her students and Verity. So Richie Prescott must consider her normal. Must have seen through the layers of padding to the good heart that Grace knew lay at her core. They would have dinner. She would have to diet all week in preparation, but they would have dinner. And then… A bubble of happiness swelled in Grace’s chest. Who knew what might happen next?
16
After her evening out with Cass, Lucinda was too furious to sleep. Furious with her friend for being such a wimp, and also furious for herself. She’d been looking forward to their weekend in Brighton. And it wasn’t just that: now Cass and Tim were back together she’d have no one to hang out with. The loneliness that had accompanied her first few months in London was back again and it made Lucinda feel cold inside. Young, attractive, rich, high-flying women weren’t meant to be lonely. It was an embarrassment, like suffering from piles. ‘Get a grip,’ she told herself, rolling over and taking a sip from her glass of water. She wasn’t in London to make friends, she was here to do a good job and win Daddy’s approval.
But rattled by her friend’s desertion, she took more care dressing for dinner with Anton Beleek than she would have admitted to. Joseph wool trousers, a black T-shirt, a black velvet jacket. Nothing provocative or revealing, but definitely not frumpy either. After all, she had work to get through first and she didn’t want to frighten the clients.
Terrified of the others discovering her date, she lingered late in the office. One by one they put on their coats and left, until finally only she and Gareth remained.
‘You’re very industrious today. As ever.’
‘Mmm. A lot on.’ Lucinda stared fixedly at her screen.
‘Fancy a drink when you’ve finished?’ He sounded casual enough.
‘I’d love to.’ Lucinda’s reply was heartfelt. ‘But I’m meeting a friend.’
‘Never mind.’ Gareth seemed unbothered by her perpetual rejections. ‘We’ll have to go out some time soon, though.’
‘That would be great!’ She thought wistfully of a night with Gareth, gossiping in the Fox & Anchor, as opposed to what lay ahead of her. Oh well, better get it over with.
‘Need me to escort you anywhere?’
‘Uh, no! I’m fine, thanks. Just meeting my friend near the Tube.’
‘Have fun. See you tomorrow.’
‘See you tomorrow.’
Heart thudding, she left the office. The Bleeding Heart was in a tiny courtyard just off Hatton Garden. She walked there slowly. She’d be ten minutes late, not rude, just fashionable.
The restaurant was surprisingly adorable, in a cellar consisting of several rooms running off each other like a warren. All candlelit. Very cosy. Very atmospheric. Dared she think it, very romantic. The waiter led her into one of the smaller rooms. Anton was waiting, of course. He stood up as soon as he saw her, his swarthy features contorted in a nervous smile.
‘Howzit! I was a little concerned.’
‘Sorry. I was just running late at work.’
‘Right, right, of course.’ There was the traditional awkward moment when they decided whether or not to kiss. Lucinda dealt with it by stepping backwards. Anton gestured to the chair.
‘Sit. Please.’ She obeyed, like a well-trained dog. ‘I’ve ordered champagne,’ he said. ‘Moët. I do hope that’s agreeable to you. I’m sure you know that the “t” at the end of Moët is not silent, as so many seem to think.’
‘Of course. And it’s pronounced Chan-don, not Shawn-don.’
‘Well done.’ He grinned. Suddenly he looked sweet, almost vulnerable. Lucinda realized this evening might not be such a dead loss after all.
She drank the first glass quickly, the second a bit more slowly. She dithered a bit over her order. First the gazpacho, then…
‘I think I’ll have the chateaubriand. Oh! No, never mind.’
He’d been watching her attentively. ‘Why not?’
‘I think I’d just rather have the salmon…’ She couldn’t bring herself to say the real reason. But he’d sussed her.
‘Because the steak’s for two? I’ll share it with you.’
That seemed cringingly intimate. ‘No, no, honestly, the salmon looks so delicious and…’
‘Really. It would make me so happy. The steak here is superb. It’s why I chose this restaurant. I’m a big carnivore.’
‘More used to giraffe and hippo, aren’t you?’
Anton laughed. ‘Are you judging me on national stereotypes? How cruel. But fair as well.’ He ran the last two words together, so they sounded like ‘aswell’. ‘I have eaten giraffe, though I can’t say it’s a favourite.’
‘Mmm. It’s a bit stringy.’
‘You’ve eaten it too?’
‘In Kenya. My father – er…’ Lucinda didn’t want to get into who her father was. ‘My family went on holiday there a few years ago and we went to this restaurant called…’
‘Carnivores. I know it well. Did you like Kenya?’
‘I loved it…’ She hadn’t actually particularly enjoyed that holiday. Daddy was constantly announcing he was going to stay in the hotel because he had to work and then Mummy cried a lot and got drunk at dinner. But that wasn’t Kenya’s fault.
‘There’s nothing like it, is there? Actually seeing animals in the wild.’
And suddenly the conversation was flowing as they discussed which of the Big Five they’d seen. The waiter had to clear his throat several times before he was heard.
‘I’m sorry!’ Anton exclaimed eventually. His eyes were shining; he looked like a teenage version of himself. ‘Let’s order.’ So they did, with him asking for a fantastic bottle of Gigondas. Lucinda had to say, she was enjoying this. It was almost like being with Daddy, drinking good wine, eating good food, talking. She’d thought they’d have a turgid conversation about the housing market, but instead they gabbled on about fine wines, then the conversation somehow moved on to movies.
‘I really love the old black-and-white weepies but now I
work I don’t get time to watch them any more. It’s an afternoon indulgence, isn’t it?’
‘Is it? I don’t know. I’ve always worked pretty hard. Not much room for indulgence in my life. Though I am partial to the odd session with a pile of Star Trek DVDs.’
‘Oh. Right…’ Lucinda had known there would be a catch. Anton was a Trekkie. It figured. She’d never watched an episode in her life but she knew it was for socially challenged people. Her phone rang. Surprised, she checked the caller ID. Shit. Cass. She’d forgotten she was her get-out clause. Lucinda thought about not answering, but she knew that then she’d pester her all evening, so she said, ‘I’m so sorry. Urgent work thing. Do you mind if I deal with it quickly?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Hello?’
‘How’s it going?’ Cass giggled.
‘Fine, thanks.’
‘Really? He – llo! So you’re not running away?’
‘Everything is fine,’ Lucinda said tightly. ‘May I call you in the morning and give you more details?’
‘Are you going to shag him?’
‘No. But I’ll call you in the morning. Thank you. Goodbye.’ Lucinda thought she’d hit the off button, but in her confusion she pressed speaker instead.
‘Luce fancies the old South African! Luce fancies the old South African!’ Cass’s voice chanted.
Heads turned. A woman tutted. Scarlet, Lucinda managed to turn off the phone and shoved it in her bag. She looked up at Anton.
‘Oh my God, I am so sorry.’
But he was laughing. ‘The old South African, eh? Is that what you call me?’
‘No, of course not!’
‘Ach, shame. It’s OK. I am South African. And I guess, to you, I do seem old. Forty-six. Bloody ancient, izzit?’
‘No, no…’
‘How old are you, Lucinda?’
‘I’m twenty-four,’ she said, defiantly.
‘So young,’ he said, looking wistful. Patronizing arse, Lucinda thought. ‘So much to learn. So much to do.’
‘I don’t feel that young.’ After all, she wasn’t the one enamoured of an ancient series involving men with pointy ears, in a galaxy far, far away.
‘Oh but you are. Believe me. Enjoy it while you can, Lucinda.’
‘You don’t strike me as ever having been young.’ Embarrassment combined with the wine was talking now. She threw her hands up. ‘Sorry! That sounded awful.’
‘It’s OK.’ He smiled again, but more ruefully this time. ‘I know. I give off a very serious impression. I’ve not had an easy time of it these past few years. My parents both died, pretty long, horrible lingering deaths. It took it out of me.’
‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’ He held up a hand in acknowledgement.
She was intrigued now. ‘And have you ever been married?’
‘Never. I was engaged. A long time ago. She ran off with a good friend of mine.’ His tone was deadpan. ‘Broke my heart.’
Lucinda’s heart tugged. Poor man.
‘But maybe that’s changing now,’ he continued with a big wink.
Oh, shit. Being with Anton was like playing snakes and ladders. Every time he rose in her estimation, he stepped on some metaphorical serpent and plummeted back to the bottom. Lucinda smiled weakly.
‘Lucinda,’ he said, a sudden urgent tone in his voice. ‘Why did you send me that Valentine?’
OK. Now they were definitely back at square one. She squirmed in her chair. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘No, don’t be! I’m so happy you did. How else would we have got to know each other?’
‘I was just being silly,’ Lucinda mumbled, suddenly understanding what Anton had meant about her being very young. And stupid, she told herself furiously. ‘It was a sort of joke.’
He looked pained. ‘A joke?’
‘Yeah. I had a spare Valentine and… you looked so unhappy and… I thought it would be funny.’ Lucinda looked at her watch miserably. ‘Listen, I’m sorry, Anton. I’ve had a lovely evening but I’d better get going. You know, early start and all that!’
Another pained expression. ‘You won’t stay for some dessert? Cheese? Coffee?’
She considered performing Cass’s burp trick. ‘No, honestly, I’m stuffed. Couldn’t eat another thing. I have to get going.’
‘All right.’ He made a cheesy scribbling ‘bill, please’ gesture. Lucinda scrambled in her bag.
‘Please,’ she said as the bill was put in front of him. ‘Let’s go halves.’
He looked as if she’d just suggested they had a quick freebasing session in the loos. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said sharply.
‘Please.’
‘I won’t be hearing of it.’ He placed his black Amex on the tray. ‘Can I offer you a lift?’
Lucinda cringed at the thought of him expecting to be invited in for coffee. ‘No thank you, I’m fine. I’m miles away. South Kensington. I’ll get the Tube.’
‘At this time of night? I won’t hear of it.’
‘OK, I’ll get a taxi.’
‘I’ll ask them to order one.’
Bollocks. Now Lucinda would have to pay for a cab, when the Tube would have cost £1.60. She could afford it, of course, but that wasn’t really the point. Lucinda had been brought up to be frugal. Daddy said people who wasted money wasted fortunes.
Waiters helped them into their coats. Outside two black BMWs sat one in front of the other. Lucinda turned to Anton.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’
‘The pleasure’ – plizhir – ‘was all mine. Perhaps we could do it again some time?’
Really, she should have said no. But she didn’t know how to.
‘Yes, that would be lovely.’ Lucinda stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. He smelt musky, rather nice. She felt a brush of stubble against her face.
‘I’ll be in touch.’
‘Look forward to it,’ she said, before she realized how that might sound. As the cab pulled off, she exhaled loudly. It had been much more enjoyable than she’d expected, but still she was glad it was over. And after Cass’s call there was no way they’d be seeing each other again. He’d suggested it, yes. But he was only being polite.
Since that unexpected call from Richie Prescott, Grace had forgotten her job hunt and concentrated all her energies on a crash diet. For breakfast a glass of hot water and lemon juice. For lunch a plate of undressed lettuce, tomato and cucumber. For dinner, because she recognized the need for protein, a plain grilled chicken breast or salmon fillet and a side plate of steamed vegetables and lemon. Even though she thought of food constantly, she managed to resist temptation. She took the dogs for long walks. And it had worked. All right, she had only lost four pounds but that still enabled her to squeeze into the pink Monsoon dress she’d bought for her graduation ball.
Grace drove to the Chichester Arms, leaving behind two somewhat indignant dogs. All the way her stomach growled beneath her ruched waistband and she wondered what she would eat. She’d been so good, she deserved a bit of a night off. She’d have a bread roll, but no butter. A starter if Richie did, ditto pudding. And a main course of… she felt weak at the knees just wondering what low-calorie options the menu might offer. Sea bass maybe. With plain boiled potatoes and plain spinach. Nothing naughty. But still a bit of a treat.
Her destination was a thatched pub with low ceilings. Richie was waiting at the bar, wearing a suit and tie, a glass of what she took to be gin and tonic in front of him. At the sight of her, he jumped up.
‘Grace! How very wonderful that you came. I was worried you’d change your mind.’
‘Oh no. Why would I do that?’ She simpered as he squeezed her hand. His fingers were like sausages, she thought uncharitably. She was a fine one to talk.
He looked her up and down. ‘You look lovely.’
‘Thank you.’ Her ears tingled with delight.
‘How about a swift one here? Before we sit down.’
‘Gosh! I’m driving, so I can only hav
e a glass.’ And alcohol had tons of calories.
‘I’m driving too. But a drink now, and then a bottle of wine between us should be perfectly fine. Gin and tonic all right with you?’ Grace nodded, too embarrassed to ask for tonic lite. He turned to the barmaid. ‘Two G&Ts, gorgeous.’ He downed the glass in front of him. ‘By the way, that was Perrier,’ he said, turning back to Grace. A beat, then he added, ‘Try it if you don’t believe me.’
‘No, no, of course I believe you.’
They had their gins and tonics. The alcohol went straight to Grace’s starved head. By the time they sat down she was so hungry she feared she might snatch one of the daffodils out of the vase and gobble it. Normally she ate at six, because that was what Mummy had liked – and because it was the best way of filling a lonely evening. How dull she had become. How institutionalized.
‘Red or white?’
‘Whichever you prefer,’ said Grace. ‘I really shouldn’t have any.’
‘A drop won’t hurt!’ He ordered a bottle of Macon something or other. ‘And a bottle of sparkling water,’ he continued with a wink at Grace. ‘Or would you prefer still?’
‘Sparkling’s fine.’
There were a few awkward moments while they puzzled over the menu. Grace’s head swam, her stomach performed a drum solo. Fortunately, the piped Charles Aznavour drowned it out. Honey-marinated chicken skewers on a bed of leaves, she read. Lovely, were it not for the honey. Farmhouse bread, thick cut, served with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. The prospect of biting into a wodge of carbohydrate, feeling the tang of oil on her tongue, almost made her swoon.
‘It’s got to be the chicken liver terrine,’ said Richie. ‘Love a good pâté, me.’
Oh help. A terrine was pure fat. But everything else was just as bad. And it would be rude to sit and watch him. And the creaminess of pâté on her tongue…
‘I’ll have the same.’
‘And then I fancy chicken with bacon, shallots, and rich red wine sauce.’
Sea bass. She would have the sea bass. All right, it came on a bed of buttery spinach and mashed potato, but she’d toy with those. They ordered. Silence fell. Grace smiled shyly at Richie, while trying to avert her eyes from the groaning bread basket. He downed his glass of wine and poured himself another. She floundered around for safe topics of conversation.
Love Nest Page 16