Mark was still staring at her. ‘Maggie Summers,’ he said. ‘Why do I know that name?’
‘I used to be at Brownlows,’ she said. ‘I was a partner in the commercial property department.’
‘So, what the hell are you doing as my receptionist?’ he asked.
Maggie shrugged. ‘I just fancied a change.’
‘I’ve just spent all morning arguing with that bunch of idiots about a whole range of crap and all the time I had you, just sitting there watching,’ he said.
Maggie worried that he was about to explode at her, but he seemed to think it was funny.
‘Do you know how much I pay our solicitor?’ he asked.
‘I could hazard a guess,’ replied Maggie wryly.
‘And you have been more help in five minutes than he has been all morning. All he’s done is block my ideas and come up with reasons why we couldn’t do things.’
‘Then might I suggest you have the wrong solicitor,’ Maggie replied.
‘Yes! You might very well suggest that,’ said Mark. ‘Right. Well, if you can let me have that number, I’ll get on to Professor . . . ?’
‘Professor Quinn,’ offered Maggie.
‘Professor Quinn. Unless, of course, you fancied making the call for me. There’s a lunch in it for you,’ he added. ‘And then we could talk about how someone like you has ended up working at my reception desk.’
Maggie had no intention of sharing her personal history with him, but she was happy to make the call. ‘That’s fine. Can I ring her now?’ she asked, conscious that to do so would take her away from her reception duties.
‘Please do,’ said Mark with a sweep of his arm. ‘And thank you, Maggie.’
He walked across to the lifts, shaking his head as if the whole experience had been slightly too surreal for him.
Maggie dug her mobile from her bag, retrieved Vanessa’s number and made the call.
50
Later, when she had made her dinner and rung Leon to tell him about her minor triumph at work, Maggie settled down with her laptop and began to scroll through the jobs pages. It was something she hadn’t done for a while. At the beginning, it had been too painful to even look at the details of job after job when her dream role had only just been snatched from her. Then, as the months and now years had gone by, she had gradually stopped looking. She was too long out of the game, she assumed. Things, people, the world in general had all moved on and, run fast as she might, she was never going to be able to catch up.
Today, though, when she had dipped her toe back in, in the most haphazard and impromptu manner, the water had felt surprisingly warm and welcoming. She had forgotten the pleasure she got from suggesting a solution that would help the client solve their problem. Today’s had hardly been a legal question, just a case of knowing the right person for the job; but she knew of Vanessa Quinn because of her years of experience, and Vanessa had been happy to take her call because of the mutually appreciative relationship that she had built with her over the years when their paths had crossed more regularly.
It all served to remind Maggie of an important fact. Not only did she come alive when she was solving legal problems but also, and possibly more importantly, she was good at it. She should start looking for a job again in earnest, she thought. It wasn’t too late. She didn’t need a partnership position again – in fact she wasn’t even sure she wanted one. She was happy to be a safe pair of hands in a decent commercial property department somewhere with a strong list of clients who liked and trusted her. That would be perfect.
As she scrolled down the legal recruitment sites, her mobile rang. She picked it up and looked at the screen. It was Tiger. A tiny frisson of excitement bubbled up on seeing his name, a subconscious response that it seemed would never leave her, and she answered the call. Tiger never rang. She wasn’t even sure he had a working phone a lot of the time; it seemed to be generally turned off or out of charge. Something must be wrong. Her mind leapt to Romany.
‘Tiger,’ she said. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he drawled. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
There was no point Maggie explaining, but she relaxed a little. ‘So,’ she said instead, ‘what can I do for you?’
‘Strange thing,’ he said, ‘but you remember when we went out on Christmas Day?’
Of course Maggie remembered, although she would have to admit that the tail end of the afternoon was a little bit hazy.
‘Yes,’ she said.