Twenties Girl (7 page)

“I haven’t,” he says, swigging about half of his champagne down in one gulp.

I stare at him, unnerved. Am I going mad? Did Kate take down the message wrong?

“But I thought—”

“It’s a possibility.” He starts to break up a bread roll. “I’m not happy with my job at the moment, and I’m considering a move. But there are drawbacks to this Leonidas Sports gig too. Sell it to me.”

For a moment I’m too choked with dismay to answer. I’m spending the price of a small car on this man and he might not even be interested in the job? I take a sip of water, then look up, forcing my most professional smile. I can be Natalie. I can sell this to him.

“Clive. You’re not happy in your current post. For a man with your gifts, this is a criminal situation. Look at you! You should be in a place which will
appreciate
you.”

I pause, my heart thumping hard. He’s listening attentively. He hasn’t even buttered his bread roll yet. So far, so good.

“In my opinion, the job at Leonidas Sports would be the perfect career move for you. You’re a former sportsman—it’s a sporting goods company. You love to play golf—Leonidas Sports has a whole golfwear line!”

Clive raises his eyebrows. “You’ve done your research on me, at any rate.”

“I’m interested in people,” I say honestly. “And knowing your profile, it seems to me that Leonidas Sports is exactly what you need at this stage. This is a fantastic, unique opportunity to—”

“Is that man your lover?” A familiar clipped voice interrupts me, and I jump. That sounded just like—

No. Don’t be ridiculous
. I take a deep breath and resume.

“As I was saying, this is a fantastic opportunity to take your career to the next level. I’m sure that we could achieve a very generous package—”

“I said, ‘Is that man your lover?’” The voice is more insistent, and before I can stop myself, I swivel my head.

No.

This can’t be happening. She’s back. It’s Sadie, perched on a nearby cheese trolley.

She’s not in the green dress anymore; she’s wearing a pale pink one with a dropped waistband and a matching coat over the top. There’s a black band around her head, and from one of her wrists dangles a little gray silk bag on a beaded chain. The other hand is resting on a glass cheese dome—apart from her fingertips, which have sunk into it. She suddenly notices and pulls them out sharply, carefully positioning them on top of the glass.

“He’s not terribly handsome, is he? I want some champagne,” she adds imperiously, her eyes lighting on my drink.

Ignore her. It’s a hallucination. It’s all in your head
.

“Lara? Are you OK?”

“Sorry, Clive!” I hastily turn back. “Just got a bit distracted there. By the … cheese trolley! It all looks so delicious!”

Oh God. Clive doesn’t seem amused. I need to get things back on track, quick.

“The real question to ask yourself, Clive, is this.” I lean forward intently. “Will an opportunity like this come along again? It’s a unique chance to work with a great brand, to use all your proven talents and admired leadership skills—”

“I want some
champagne!”
To my horror, Sadie has materialized right in front of me. She reaches for my glass and tries to pick it up, but her hand goes through it. “Drat! I can’t pick it up!” She reaches again, and again, then glares at me crossly. “This is so irritating!”

“Stop it!”
I hiss furiously.

“I’m sorry?” Clive knits his heavy brows.

“Not you, Clive! Just got something caught in my throat…” I grab my glass and take a gulp of water.

“Have you found my necklace yet?” Sadie demands accusingly.

“No!” I mutter from behind my glass. “Go
away.”

“Then why are you sitting here? Why aren’t you looking for it?”

“Clive!” I desperately try to focus back on him. “I’m so sorry about that. What was I saying?”

“Admired leadership skills,” says Clive, without cracking a smile.

“That’s right! Admired leadership skills! Um … so the point is…”

“Haven’t you looked anywhere?” She thrusts her head close to mine. “Don’t you
care
about finding it?”

“So … what I’m trying to say is…” It’s taking every ounce of willpower to ignore Sadie and not bat her away. “In my opinion, this job is a great strategic move; it’s a perfect springboard for your future, and furthermore—”

“You’ve got to find my necklace! It’s important! It’s very, very—”

“Furthermore, I know the generous benefits package will—”

“Stop ignoring me!” Sadie’s face is practically touching mine. “Stop talking! Stop—”

“Shut up and leave me alone!”

Shit.

Did that just come out of my mouth?

From the shell-shocked way Clive’s froggy eyes have widened, I’m guessing the answer is yes. At two neighboring tables, conversations have come to a halt, and I can see our supercilious waiter pausing to watch. The buzz of clashing cutlery and conversation seems to have died away all around. Even the lobsters seem to be lined up at the edge of the tank, watching.

“Clive!” I give a strangled laugh. “I didn’t mean … obviously I wasn’t talking to
you. …
”

“Lara.” Clive fixes me with a hostile gaze. “Please do me the courtesy of telling me the truth.”

I can feel my cheeks staining red. “I was just…” I clear my throat desperately. What can I say?

I was talking to myself
. No.

I was talking to a vision
. No.

“I’m not a fool.” He cuts me off contemptuously. “This isn’t the first time this has happened to me.”

“It isn’t?” I peer at him, bemused.

“I’ve had to put up with it in board meetings, in directors’ lunches … it’s the same everywhere. BlackBerries are bad enough, but these hands-free sets are a bloody menace. You know how many car accidents people like you cause?”

Hands-free—Does he mean…

He thinks I was on the phone!

“I wasn’t—” I begin automatically, then stop myself. Being on the phone is the most sane option available to me. I should go with it.

“But this really is the pits.” He glowers at me, breathing heavily. “Taking a call during a one-to-one lunch. Hoping I might not notice. It’s fucking disrespectful.”

“I’m sorry,” I say humbly. “I’ll … I’ll switch it off now.” With a fumbling hand, I reach up to my ear and pretend to switch off an earpiece.

“Where is it, anyway?” He frowns at me. “I can’t see it.”

“It’s tiny,” I say hastily. “Very discreet.”

“Is it the new Nokia?”

He’s peering more closely at my ear. Shit.

“It’s actually … um … embedded in my earring.” I hope I sound convincing. “New technology. Clive, I’m really sorry I was distracted. I… I misjudged the situation. But I am very sincere about wanting to place you with Leonidas Sports. So if I could maybe just recap on what I was trying to say—”

“You have to be joking.”

“But—”

“You think I’m going to do business with you now?” He gives a short, unamused laugh. “You’re as unprofessional as your partner, and that’s saying something.” To my horror, he pushes back his chair and gets to his feet. “I was going to give you a chance, but forget it.”

“No, wait! Please!” I say in panic, but he’s already striding away, between the tables of gawping diners.

I feel hot and cold as I stare at his empty chair. With a still-shaky hand, I reach for my champagne and take three deep gulps. So that’s that. I’ve fucked up. My best hope is gone.

And, anyway, what did he mean, I’m “as unprofessional as my partner”? Has he heard about Natalie disappearing off to Goa? Does everyone
know?

“Will the gentleman be returning?” My trance is interrupted by the waiter approaching the table. He’s holding a wooden platter bearing a dish with a silver dome on it.

“I don’t think so.” I stare at the table, my face burning with humiliation.

“Shall I return his food to the kitchen?”

“Do I still have to pay for it?”

“Unfortunately, madam, yes.” He gives me a patronizing smile. “Since it has been ordered, and everything is cooked from fresh—”

“Then I’ll have it.”

“
All
of it?” He seems taken aback.

“Yes.” I lift my chin mutinously. “Why not? I’m paying for it; I might as well eat it.”

“Very good.” The waiter inclines his head, deposits the platter in front of me, and removes the silver dome. “Half a dozen fresh oysters on crushed ice.”

I’ve never eaten oysters in my life. I’ve always thought they looked gross. Close up they look even grosser. But I’m not admitting that.

“Thanks,” I say curtly.

The waiter retreats, and I stare fixedly at the six oysters in
front of me. I’m determined to see this stupid lunch out. But there’s a tight pressing feeling behind my cheekbones, and my bottom lip would be trembling if I allowed it.

“Oysters! I
adore
oysters.” To my disbelief, Sadie appears in front of my eyes again. She sinks into Clive’s vacated chair with a languid sideways movement, looks around, and says, “This place is rather fun. Is there a cabaret?”

“I can’t hear you,” I mutter savagely. “I can’t see you. You don’t exist. I’m going to the doctor and getting some drugs and getting rid of you.”

“Where’s your lover gone?”

“He wasn’t my lover,” I snap in low tones. “I was trying to do business with him, and it’s all spoiled because of you. You’ve ruined everything.
Everything.”

“Oh.” She arches her eyebrows unrepentantly. “I don’t see how I could do that if I don’t exist.”

“Well, you did. And now I’m stuck with these stupid oysters that I don’t want and can’t afford, and I don’t even know how to eat them. …”

“It’s easy to eat an oyster!”

“No, it isn’t.”

I suddenly notice a blond woman in a print dress at the next table nudging the perfectly groomed woman next to her and pointing at me. I’m talking to thin air. I look like a lunatic. Hastily I reach for a bread roll and start to butter it, avoiding Sadie’s eye.

“Excuse me.” The woman leans over and smiles at me. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. I don’t mean to interrupt, but did you just say your phone is embedded in your earring?”

I stare back at her, my mind scrabbling for an answer other than “yes.”

“Yes,” I say at last.

The woman claps a hand to her mouth. “That’s amazing. How does it work?”

“It has a special… chip. Very new. Japanese.”

“I have to get one.” She’s gazing at my Claire’s Accessories £5.99 earring, awestruck. “Where do they sell them?”

“Actually, this is a prototype,” I say hurriedly. “They’ll be available in a year or so.”

“Well, how did
you
get one, then?” She gives me an aggressive look.

“I… um … know Japanese people. Sorry.”

“Could I see?” She holds out her hand. “Could you take it out of your ear for a moment? Would you mind?”

“A call’s just coming in,” I say hastily. “It’s vibrating.”

“I can’t see anything.” She’s peering incredulously at my ear.

“It’s very subtle,” I say desperately. “They’re microvibrations. Er, Hello, Matt? Yes, I can talk.”

I mime apologies to the woman and reluctantly she returns to her meal. I can see her pointing me out to all her friends.

“What are you talking about?” Sadie’s eyeing me disdainfully. “How can a telephone be in an earring? It sounds like a riddle.”

“I don’t know. Don’t you start quizzing me too.” I prod an oyster with little enthusiasm.

“Do you really not know how to eat an oyster?”

“Never eaten one before in my life.”

Sadie shakes her head disapprovingly. “Pick up your fork. The shellfish fork. Go on!” Casting her a suspicious look, I do as she says. “Ease it around, make sure it’s detached from the shell. … Now give it a squeeze of lemon and pick it up. Like this.” She mimes picking up an oyster, and I copy. “Head back and swallow the whole thing. Bottoms up!”

It’s like swallowing a piece of jellified sea. Somehow I manage to slurp down the whole thing, grab my glass, and take a swig of champagne.

“You see?” Sadie is watching me greedily. “Isn’t that too delicious?”

“’s OK,” I say reluctantly. I put my glass down and survey her silently for a moment. She’s reclining on the chair as though she
owns the place, one arm flung to the side, her beaded bag dangling down.

She’s all in my head, I tell myself. My subconscious has invented her.

Except… my subconscious doesn’t know how to eat an oyster. Does it?

“What is it?” She juts out her chin. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

My brain is edging very slowly to a conclusion. To the only possible conclusion.

“You’re a ghost, aren’t you?” I say at last. “You’re not a hallucination. You’re a proper, real-live ghost.”

Sadie gives a remote shrug, as though she’s really not interested in this conversation.

“Aren’t
you?”

Again, Sadie doesn’t reply. Her head is tilted and she’s examining her fingernails. Maybe she doesn’t want to be a ghost. Well, too bad. She is.

“You are a ghost. I know you are. So, what, am I
psychic?”

My head is prickling all over as this revelation hits me. I feel a bit shivery. I can talk to the dead. Me, Lara Lington. I always
knew
there was something different about me.

Think of the implications. Think what this means! Maybe I’ll start talking to more ghosts. Lots of ghosts. Oh my God, I could have my own TV show. I could go around the world. I could be famous! I have a sudden vision of myself on a stage, channeling spirits while an audience watches avidly. With a surge of excitement, I lean across the table.

“Do you know any other dead people you could introduce me to?”

“No.” Sadie folds her arms crossly. “I don’t.”

“Have you met Marilyn Monroe? Or Elvis? Or … or Princess Diana? What’s she like? Or Mozart!” I feel almost dizzy as possibilities pile into my head. “This is mind-blowing. You have to describe it! You have to tell me what it’s like
… there.”

“Where?” Sadie tosses her chin.

“There
. You know …”