She paused, shifting her weight from foot to foot. I was her boss. How long would she defy me? How long would my self-control last? Eventually she sighed and closed the door on her way out.
Fourteen
Sofia
Buried deep in research about a company Andrew asked me to report on, I physically jumped at the gentle tap on the office door. Before I could answer, it creaked open and a lady with a silver-gray bob stuck her head around the door.
“Sofia?” She grinned at me.
I stood and opened the door wide. “Yes, can I help you?”
“I’m Joanna.”
We shook hands and she glanced over her shoulder. “Hang on a minute.” She hunched up her shoulders like we were in the midst of a big conspiracy, her bright smile never dimming.
She scurried away and came back holding a small cake, frosted white with “Happy Birthday” in purple icing. “I put it in the fridge while I was catching up with Douglas. How is he?” she asked, nodding at Andrew’s door.
Was this Andrew’s mom?
I glanced at the clock affixed to the back wall and smiled. “He’s fine. Did you want to—”
Before I had a chance to finish my sentence, Andrew swung open his door, ignored me completely, and almost smiled when he saw who was waiting for him.
“Joanna.” His tone was entirely neutral, which was as close to “warm” as I was ever likely to hear in the office. But at least the address told me Joanna wasn’t his mother.
“Andrew!” She beamed at him. “Happy birthday!”
It was his birthday?
He swept his hand into his office, inviting Joanna inside. Who was this woman who could come by unannounced and solicit such a welcome? I would have expected any unannounced guests would be seen off with a bazooka or at the very least, a cricket bat.
“What shall I tell anyone who—”
He closed the door before I had a chance to finish my sentence.
Jesus, he could be a prick.
My curiosity was more than piqued. I couldn’t make out anything other than a mumble of voices behind Andrew’s closed door, hard as I tried to listen in. Who was this woman? A family friend? But he didn’t do personal in the office. Who would dare bring him a birthday cake?
I stepped a little closer. Still couldn’t make out what they were saying. I glanced over my shoulder, just to make sure the door to my office was closed, and pressed my ear against the door. All I had managed to make out was Joanna’s laugh when a sharp knock at the outer door made me jump eleven feet in the air.
“Douglas,” I said, pulling my sleeve over my hand to rub at a nonexistent mark on the door jamb to Andrew’s office. “Perfect,” I said, as if removing a mark was all I’d been doing, and I hadn’t been eavesdropping at all.
“Can you give this to Andrew when Joanna leaves, please?” He put a file on my desk and I sat back down.
“No problem. Do you know if she’ll be in there long?”
Douglas shrugged and left.
The mumbled voices moved closer and the door opened slightly. “It was very kind of you to remember,” Andrew said. “And if you change your mind, you only have to say the word.”
“Wonderful to see you,” Joanna replied. She slipped out of Andrew’s office, closing the door behind her. Even ten minutes with Andrew hadn’t managed to dim her smile. She was an angel sent by Jesus himself.
Now would be a good time to give Andrew the file Douglas had left, but there was no way I was passing up an opportunity to make more sense of who the hell Andrew Blake was.
“Did he like his cake?” I asked.
She laughed. “I don’t suppose he did. How are you getting on? Andrew tells me you’re new.”
He was talking about me? “It has its ups and downs.”
“Doesn’t it just? I did this job for nearly seven years before I retired.”
I shot up from my chair. “You did my job?”
“Absolutely. Loved every moment. He’s such a wonderful man.”
Everything about Andrew Blake was confusing. His moods. His mode of transport. His tantric masturbation from six until twelve every day. And now here was Joanna, my predecessor, telling me what a wonderful man he was.
“He’s . . . a conundrum at times,” I said. “But I like a challenge.”
“I hope you’re still using the info pack I made for him. I called it the Andrew Manual. Did it when I went on holiday the first time after starting.” She laughed. “I was pretty sure the temp thought I was joking when I handed it to her.”
“The Andrew Manual? If only there was such a thing.”
For the first time, Joanna’s smile dropped. “You don’t have it?” She glanced at the shelves above the cabinet. “Hmmm. Let me check . . .”
She peered behind the cabinet and then the tiny mouse of a woman heaved the whole thing away from the wall.
“Can I help you—”
“Here!” she said, holding up a lever arch file covered in dust. “Oh good grief, you poor girl, you haven’t had this to work with? You must think you’re dealing with some sort of eccentric monster.” She laughed. “He likes to do things in a certain way. If you look in here, I think I covered most topics.” She set the file on my desk and checked her watch. “I’m meeting my husband so I have to go, but if you need anything, do give me a call.” She opened the file, grabbed a pen from the pot on my desk, and carefully wrote her phone number on the top right-hand corner of the first page. “It was so lovely to meet you. I’m sorry we can’t chat more.”
“Thank you. Nice to meet you too,” I called after her as she shut the door.
A manual for my enigmatic boss? That had to be worth a perusal. I wondered if it mentioned how many of his assistants he found very attractive.
Fifteen
Sofia
I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t sitting at the bar at Noble Rot, hoping Andrew—or rather, James—was going to walk through that door, sit down next to me and tell me again how attractive he thought I was.
How attractive exactly? Very. Never before had four letters sent so many tingles down my spine.
Getting to read Joanna’s Andrew Manual this afternoon had been enlightening and intriguing. It confirmed that he didn’t like to be disturbed before noon, but didn’t say why. It noted that he didn’t take cars in London but preferred to walk or take public transport. It detailed lots of things I already knew and plenty of things I didn’t, like airline preferences, or when he liked things in hard copy versus when he liked email. It would have been a revelation when I first started, and it was still going to be useful. But it didn’t tell me any of the stuff I really wanted to know. It didn’t tell me why the barman called him James. It didn’t say why he lost it when he got a piece of personal mail at the office. It didn’t reveal why the man at the bar seemed so different to the man in the office.
He wouldn’t come here again. Last night, after he’d given me the best compliment I’d ever had in my life, he’d rushed off like he’d made a huge mistake. Sure, I’d had guys say more gushing things. A few had even dropped the L-bomb. But there was something about Andrew telling me I was “very attractive.” He didn’t say what he didn’t mean, or waste words on things that weren’t necessary. Last night, it had felt like he had to tell me what he thought. And he thought I was very attractive.