Someone Like You (21 page)

‘“Loves children and animals”?’ Angie suggested.

‘That’s it.’

Angie really began to get into the swing of things. She wanted to keep discussing adverts. But Leonie didn’t want everyone in the practice to know about her personal life.

Louise, one of the other nurses, kept going into the operating room to talk to Angie and Leonie didn’t want her to hear.

‘We’ll talk about it later,’ she hissed to Angie.

Operations over, Leonie went back to cleaning out the animals’ cages. As a nurse, she worked mainly at the back of the practice where two walls were lined with animal cages for their patients. At any one time, there could be forty animals looking mournfully out at the nurses and vets as they waited for operations or recovered from them.

Today, there were several animals scheduled for spaying in the afternoon and three in for blood tests to try and figure out what was wrong with them.

Bubble, a pretty white cat with ragged ears, was vomiting constantly and needed a whole range of tests including liver and kidney function. Bubble had already been through the wars vet-wise. White cats were prone to skin cancers on the tips of their ears and Bubble had already had three operations. A seasoned surgery cat, she was very clever at escaping when her cage was opened, so Leonie had put an escape artist sign over her cage. ‘Escape artist’ was better than ‘wild’, which was the sign they put over feral cats people occasionally brought in. These practically wild cats often tested positive for the feline version of HIV, and more often than not were put to sleep. Leonie had received many scars from being scratched by these poor, unloved creatures.

Below Bubble was Lester, a yellow ferret who was looking for a home. Lester was a bit of an escape artist himself and had managed to wriggle out of Louise’s arms earlier and had hidden in the medicine cupboard for ten minutes before he could be recaptured. Leonie carefully took Lester out and tidied his cage. Putting him back with a cuddly toy, she watched him play with it, biting its neck frenziedly. She’d thought of giving Lester a home herself because she could never bear to see animals unloved.

Ferrets could bite but, so far, Lester hadn’t hurt anyone.

Watching him kill the teddy, she reconsidered.

How would Lester describe himself for a personal ad?

Sleek, friendly male with an interest in the life of Houdini seeks loving home with someone who doesn’t mind being nibbled. Prospective females must enjoy romping in the garden and appreciate strong, masculine scent.

Leonie grinned to herself. Put that way, Lester sounded irresistible. She must remember to read between the lines of the adverts. Otherwise, God alone knew what would happen.

The one drawback about being one of the three members of staff who could work the switchboard was that you inevitably had to take over when the receptionist wasn’t available. And Carolyn, the girl who’d been working as the Dwyer, Dwyer & James receptionist for the past two weeks, was never available. Hannah was already regretting hiring her. Carolyn had been off sick once the previous week and today, she’d rung in at ten to nine claiming to have the flu.

‘Gillian, can you do reception today?’ Hannah had asked Gillian, who was still deeply resentful of the fact that Hannah had been brought in as office manager.

Gillian had loved knowing where all the agents were and phoning them to check if they were all right. It gave her power over them.

‘I can until lunch,’ Gillian had snapped. ‘I’m on a half day today.’

Which meant that Hannah didn’t have a chance to get on with her own work and had to spend the afternoon at the front desk, fielding calls in between trying to track down a consignment of office supplies which had gone missing.

Naturally, as soon as anybody walked in, the phones went mad. The woman standing at the reception desk didn’t look impressed by the fact that Hannah had had to answer four calls before dealing with her. The woman was quivering with impatience, but Hannah waited until she could see the red light on her switchboard go off, indicating that Donna Nelson was off the phone.

‘Donna, call for you on line one: a Mr McElhinney about the property in York Road.’

‘Thanks, Hannah.’

Swivelling in her new, very comfortable chair, Hannah finally faced the anxious-looking young woman in front of her reception desk. It was a low desk: it had to be, Hannah had explained to David James when he’d discussed refitting the office with her. ‘People need to be able to see you, not feel they’re queueing up at the post office.’

‘I do apologize for all the interruptions,’ she said in a conciliatory tone, ‘it’s been terribly busy today. Now, how can I help you?’

‘Number 73 Shandown Terrace, is it gone yet?’ the woman said, voice rising with each word, pale freckled face distraught. ‘We only realized it was for sale this instant. We’ve always loved that road and we so wanted to live there. Don’t tell me it’s sold.’

‘Hold on one moment,’ Hannah said soothingly. She scanned through her computer files and found the house.

Steve Shaw, the agency’s obnoxious young agent, was handling the sale. He’d brought two people to view it but nobody had put in an offer.

‘Needs twenty thou spent on it before rats would live in it!’ Steve had snorted when he came back from his first visit to the property.

‘I’ve good news,’ Hannah said, ‘it’s still on the market.

Would you like to speak to the agent who’s handling it?’

A few minutes later, Steve was sitting on the reception area’s oatmeal couch with the woman - sitting far too close to her, in Hannah’s opinion. That was Steve’s technique for selling property - invading women’s personal space and flirting with them as if they were the most beautiful creatures he’d ever set eyes on.

He’d tried it on with Hannah the moment he’d met her.

Just back from his honeymoon and with a mocha Bahamian tan, he thought he was gorgeous. He thought she was gorgeous too and kept calling her that.

‘Why’d you join this company, Gorgeous, if you’re only going to break my heart?’ he’d said the first time she refused his invitation to lunch. This was only five minutes after they’d met. Even peering at him severely from behind her Reverend Mother specs hadn’t worked.

‘You’re very sexy when you glare at me like that,’ Steve had said cheekily.

He’d kept up this line of banter for the past three weeks and so far Hannah had resisted the temptation to knock him down to size. So far.

From her position behind the reception desk, she watched him put his hand on the client’s knee. Completely out of order, Hannah thought. The woman was clearly so relieved that her beloved house hadn’t been sold that she didn’t appear to notice the inappropriate gesture and beamed back at him.

It was a busy afternoon. Since David James had taken over the office, the entire place had been buzzing. Fliers about the company had been circulated around the area, two new agents had been hired, and the office itself had been redecorated one weekend. Gone were the coffee coloured walls and the brown partitions. In their place was a facsimile of the Dawson Street branch, complete with elegant prints, discreet lighting and marvellous furniture.

Hannah had been in charge of the transformation and it had been a joy. The reception desk was a curved swathe of bleached maple and the fresh flowers that sat beside the new state-of-the-art computer were replaced every three days. Even the faulty air ventilator in the ladies’ had been

fixed. David James said he wanted the transformation to be very thorough.

Not a man for small talk, he nevertheless noticed every detail. He and Hannah understood each other perfectly.

They had a meeting twice a week to discuss the business and Hannah found that she looked forward to these hourlong sessions. In private, David wasn’t the tough, silent type he appeared to be. When they’d finished discussing office improvements, he’d order Gillian to bring in coffee and the chocolate-chip biscuits he loved.

‘Shouldn’t be eating these,’ he’d said guiltily at their meeting that morning as he dunked his third biscuit into coffee, ‘but I love them.’

‘I thought only women were supposed to have a sweet tooth,’ Hannah teased. She’d discovered that he had a good sense of humour and enjoyed a bit of banter.

‘We can’t all be lean fighting machines like you,’ he retorted, casting an approving eye over her slim figure neatly dressed in a burgundy silk twinset and grey tailored trousers.

If anyone else had made such a remark, Hannah would have bridled in case it was a sexual innuendo. But she felt relaxed with David James. Despite their close working relationship, she never sensed even a hint of impropriety in his attitude to her. They were colleagues, nothing more.

‘If Gillian wasn’t so deeply in love with you, you wouldn’t be getting those chocolate-chip biscuits,’ Hannah said slyly.

‘She’s not!’ He looked up in horror.

Hannah couldn’t resist laughing. ‘I’m sorry, David, she does have a bit of a penchant for you.’

Not wishing to reveal too much, she clammed up.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Hannah lied. ‘Only kidding. I better go and do some work, David.’

She left the office, inwardly amused at how someone as observant as David could totally fail to see that Gillian was obsessed with him. For a brilliant man capable of detecting the slightest nuance in a business conversation, he was clueless when it came to people. Gillian looked at her fiercely when Hannah sat back at her tidy desk.

Nobody resented David and Hannah’s coffee-fuelled meetings more than Gillian.

It was just before closing time when David rang Hannah from his car phone. ‘I’ve got a client coming in to see me but I’m running twenty minutes late. Tell him that and give him a cup of coffee, will you, Hannah? I hope you don’t mind staying late, but it’s important. He’s an old friend. His name’s Felix Andretti.’

How exotic, she thought, writing the name down. At six, the staff who weren’t showing houses or meeting clients packed up and left the office.

‘Staying late?’ asked Donna, passing the reception desk with Janice, one of the two new agents.

‘Not really,’ Hannah replied. ‘I’m just doing something for David.’

‘Would you like to go for a drink in McCormack’s afterwards?

Myself and Janice have just decided we need a pick-me-up drink. I never normally have the time, but I can stay out a bit tonight.’

‘I’d love to but I can’t,’ Hannah said with regret. ‘I’m already going out.’

‘Never mind. Next time, OK?’

Tonight was the Egypt reunion. She, Leonie and Emma were going to Sachs Hotel for a drink, then out for dinner, and Leonie kept insisting that they were going to a nightclub afterwards.

‘I never get the chance of going clubbing,’ Leonie had said wistfully on the phone.

Hannah had grinned at the thought of the three of them dancing around their handbags but hadn’t made any promises. However, she’d brought her sexy amethyst slip dress to change into, just in case.

By half six, she had let her hair down, put on more make-up, including the glossy pink lipstick that went well with the dress, and had sprayed herself liberally with Coco.

She had to leave in the next few minutes if she was to be in time to meet the girls in Sachs Hotel and she still hadn’t changed.

Damn David and his bloody client. When another five minutes had passed and there was still no sign of either of them, she grabbed her dress, stood behind the big filing cabinet so she could still see the door without being seen herself, and undressed. Luckily, she was just wrenching the dress down over her hips when she heard the big solid glass door open slowly.

Struggling to pull the dress down properly, she was about to move forward when she realized that a sexy, tight evening dress wasn’t quite the outfit in which to greet the boss’s favoured friend, so she dragged her navy nylon raincoat on and was attempting to button it when she first caught sight of Felix Andretti.

It was lucky that it was after-hours, she thought blindly, because she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to give anyone else her complete attention and stare at the vision in front of her at the same time. He was breathtaking: not dark, as his Italian name suggested, but all pale golds, like autumn leaves.

His skin was a honey shade, his hair the colour of corn, a mane of silky strands that fell over his dazzling brown eyes and that face … Handsome wasn’t the word. Wide jaw, long aristocratic nose and cheekbones you could hang your hat on. He’d have given a young Robert Redford a run for his money anytime, she thought in shock. Leonie would have died if she’d seen him. In his cream linen suit, he was as lean and rangy as any cowboy. Hannah could only stare.

‘Nice outfit,’ he said in a treacly voice, the liquid brown eyes roaming over her opened raincoat, short, short skirt and legs encased in shiny ten-deniers which miraculously hadn’t snagged during the day.

For once, Hannah’s sang-froid deserted her. She laughed nervously. ‘I’m going out and had to change. David’s late and he asked me to stay behind for you.’

‘I don’t know how to thank him,’ growled Felix.

She couldn’t quite place his accent. It wasn’t Irish or British, was it? He sounded posh, as her mother would have said. After years cleaning up after wealthy guests in the Dromartin Castle Hotel, Mrs Campbell was very anti posh people.

‘Can I get you a coffee?’ Hannah suggested, keen to get the conversation back on an even keel. This man was a friend of David’s - flirting with him was not an option.

‘Can I have something else?’ he asked, arching one golden eyebrow wickedly.

‘Er … yes, of course.’

‘I’ll have you, then.’

She blinked at him. ‘I’m not on the menu,’ she quipped, enjoying the repartee.

‘You mean, you were offering me tea?’ he asked, eyes glinting.

She glinted back. ‘Sadly, only tea. We’re out of orange juice.’

He sat on the edge of the reception desk and looked up at her with obvious interest. ‘Did David say how long he’d be?’ he asked. ‘Only … it’d suit me if he didn’t turn up at all.’