Bright Air - Barry Maitland [56]
We found the lifts and went up to the twenty-eighth floor, where Damien was waiting for us, freshly showered and scented. He gave Mary a hug and we shook hands, and he led the way across the lobby to his open front door. Inside we passed through a hallway and into his living room. The furniture was stylish muted browns and creams, and the wall beyond was floor to ceiling glass, through which the lights of other towers glittered against the dark.
‘Pretty stunning apartment, Damien,’ I said.
‘Seidler,’ he murmured, unable to suppress the little smile of pride. ‘One of his last.’ He cocked his head to a side door. ‘Darling?’
Lauren appeared. She was pretty stunning too, a svelte brunette with shrewd eyes and an ironic smile. She kissed us in turn, saying how wonderful it was to meet us finally, Damien having told her so much about us. Mary was clearly captivated. She handed over some chocolates and asked if the evening was meant to celebrate something, perhaps the new flat.
Lauren said, ‘Oh no, we’ve been here six months now.’ Then she turned to Damien and said, ‘Shall I?’
He smiled, shrugged, uncharacteristically sheepish, and she said to us, ‘There is something to celebrate, though. I’m pregnant—we’ve just found out.’ She gave a laugh. ‘We haven’t told anyone yet. You’re the first.’ She went to him, and he put a protective arm around her shoulders, grinning broadly.
‘That’s wonderful,’ I said. ‘Just as well we brought champagne.’ I shook Damien’s hand again and handed him the bottle.
‘I suppose I shouldn’t,’ Lauren giggled. ‘I’ll give up after tonight.’ She looked flushed and excited, and it was impossible not to be touched. ‘I’m sorry, I was going to be so cool about this and not say a word, but the first people we meet I blurt it out. We’ve been trying for a while.’
Mary said, ‘When is it due?’
‘The beginning of May.’ We sat on beautiful Italian leather while Damien brought flutes of champagne, and we drank a toast to the baby. Mary was full of questions. Would Lauren give up work? Certainly not. Were there conveniently available grandparents for baby minding? Lauren raised an incredulous eyebrow and spoke of a nanny agency. She offered to show Mary the rest of the flat, and Damien and I took our glasses out onto the balcony.
We were about a hundred metres off the ground, a couple of pitches up Frenchmans Cap, and gravity yawed at me through the glass balcony front. We were in a canyon of towers, between which we could make out a section of the Harbour Bridge, the lights of a harbour ferry. These peaks glittered with light, and were inhabited not by grey ternlets but by migrating tourists and mum-and-dad investors. Damien leaned on the rail and waved at another couple on a balcony facing us across the dark void. They waved back.
‘How was Suzi?’ he asked.
‘About as expected, I guess. Don’t worry, I behaved.’
He smiled, then reached into his pocket for his wallet, and plucked out a business card, which he handed across to me. ‘Friend of mine,’ he said. ‘Merchant bank.’ He grinned. ‘Thought that would appeal to you. Looking for bright guys like you. If you’re interested, give him a ring. He’s a good bloke. You’ll like him.’
I tapped the card with a finger. ‘Hm, thanks, Damien.’ I pocketed it and said, ‘I met an old girlfriend of