‘Are you okay?’ Ava’s managed to sneak upstairs and is standing in the kitchenette with me now.
‘Me? Yeah, just—’ I pull my tongue back in my mouth and drop my phone into my handbag ‘—just a client.’
‘It’s like that, isn’t it?’ she says in a show of solidarity. ‘And I’ve just spoken to my client, who is happy to run with a short-term lease.’
‘They are?’ I squeak.
She smiles like this is a relief for her, too. ‘Better to make some money than have it sit here empty, he tells me. Actually, I told him that but, you know, men. He was also very keen on the idea of someone other than him painting the place, strangely enough. So, if you’d like to come back to the office, I’ll get some paperwork sorted.’
‘Absolutely yes.’
My brain is furry at the sides, a horse with blinkers on as I follow her downstairs and out the door. I don’t even register that she’s locking the place up because all I can think is: I did it. I bloody well did it, and I want to shake and scream and jump up and down, but that might not come off as one hundred per cent professional businesswoman, so I smile demurely and tell her I’ll meet her at her office in twenty minutes.
‘You’ve got a lawyer, haven’t you?’ she asks, holding her car door open. ‘Just to get them to look through the paperwork?’
‘I might know one or two,’ I say.
‘Excellent. See you soon.’ She slips into her Vauxhall, and I wait for her car melt into the traffic before I scream with delight and dance around on the spot.
An elderly lady gives me a look and scuttles across the street to avoid me.
Chapter 9
I race back to London, calling Dad from the motorway, my brain already a New Year’s Eve of firing synapses and bursts of ideas. There’s so much to do I can scarcely sit still, and my bladder has me stopping at more services than I’d like. I’m strangely appreciative of finding myself in the gridlock of Wednesday afternoon London traffic, relying on tooting horns and emergency sirens to sweep the noise inside my head away.
‘Dad said to keep my eyes peeled.’ Adam smiles. I’ve bypassed home in favour of his office. His and John’s secretary, Natalie, lets me straight through without the charade of checking if he has time. ‘So, what’s the deal?’
‘Are you alone?’ I take a cautious step into the office, craning my neck towards John’s desk. I’d rather talk to him about this in private, not through some third-wheel discussion I might be having with my brother.
‘For now.’ Adam waves me in. ‘Come in, come in. Tell me what’s going on.’
Their office is starkly neutral and modern and not at all what I think of when I imagine a lawyer’s office. My mind automatically goes to rich green leather and mahogany furniture, Don Draper and aged whisky, but this is all bright beech and monochrome that looks like it belongs in an IKEA catalogue.
Even the building looks like a Lloyd’s of London afterbirth. Adam’s on the third floor, civil law. It’s vastly quieter than criminal on the ground floor or family on the second floor.
‘Well?’
I bounce on the spot. ‘I’m going to do it. I’m doing it. It’s mine. They agreed I can rent; I can paint the walls. I can open my gallery.’
Adam rests back in his oversized leather chair, forearms hoisted up on the armrests. He looks relieved at my news. ‘That’s so great! You sounded set on it even at the weekend. Congratulations.’
Managing to trip over my step, I take a seat on the other side of his desk and toss my contract down in front of him. My leg jiggles again. ‘Can you check this?’
He leans forward and presses his glasses up his nose. ‘You know I won’t represent you, right? If anything goes wrong, I don’t want to get caught in the middle. I can read it, give you my opinion and then get someone else to read through it. Might take a day or two.’
‘That’s fine.’ I flail out into the seat. ‘Oh, but I want to do it now!’
‘And not your boyfriend, either.’ Adam looks at me, brows raised. ‘But, do me a favour?’
‘Sure.’
He nods his head in the direction of the other side of the room. ‘Tell him before you sign anything.’
I scowl. ‘My career isn’t dependent on him.’
‘I know that,’ he says, exasperated. ‘And I know I’m not his biggest fan, but I think you should at least tell him what you’re doing before you pack up and move away.’
‘It’s not that far,’ I say. Now I’ve stopped moving, I can feel exhaustion seeping into my limbs. I need a nap. ‘But I was definitely planning on telling him.’
‘It will be too far for a relationship,’ Adam says. ‘Especially where he’s concerned. You know the hours he keeps. I know we used to fly up the motorway on weekends, but do you think he’s going to do that on the regular while you’re busy getting established, or vice versa?’
As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point. Still not changing my mind about the gallery though. I pull my phone out and dial John’s number. Adam pokes his tongue out at me.
‘Hello, you,’ John answers. ‘Just letting you know I have to be quick. I’m about to walk into a meeting.’
‘Where are you?’ I ask.
‘Heading into a coffee shop,’ he says. ‘I’m talking a client through a contract.’
I hear the cry of a door hinge in the background. ‘Right. Listen, are you still free tonight? Remember we talked about catching up? I need to talk to you about something.’
‘Tonight?’ he asks. ‘How important is it?’
‘It’s fairly important,’ I drawl. Adam shakes his head. ‘I have news. Big news.’
Silence stretches out long enough for me to make out the chatter of a queue and the shout of a coffee order. My heart freezes and, immediately, I wish I hadn’t rung.
‘John?’ I ask. ‘Are you there?’
‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ he asks.
‘What? No.’ I draw back and pull at face at the receiver.
‘What is it, then? Is it something we can talk about over the phone?’ he tries. ‘I can give you a ring when I get in tonight.’
‘I’d rather not,’ I say, watching my brother leave the office. ‘Can we meet for supper?’
‘Not really, no,’ he says. ‘I’ll probably be here for another hour, then back to the office until about nine or ten.’
My shoulders slip. ‘Okay. All right.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m flat out this week,’ he scrambles. ‘I know I said midweek would be good, but it’s just not.’
‘We’re all busy,’ I grumble.
‘Listen, we’ve got a work dinner Friday night. Why don’t you come to that?’
‘You mean those things I’ve not otherwise been invited to?’ I ask, surprised at the sudden turn of conversation. ‘This is a new one.’
‘Yeah, well, everyone knows now. So, may as well.’
‘My, don’t dial up the romance too much,’ I say.