Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [7]
‘I’m sorry, I have no idea.’
Lorna didn’t respond immediately to any of the messages. Instead, she raised invoices until she stopped for an early break at 10.30 a.m.. She closed the door between herself and reception, had two cups of coffee and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, then composed a two-word text on her mobile. ‘Miss you.’
Her phone bleeped twice almost immediately. ‘Where are you?’
‘Here.’
She put her mobile to one side and positioned herself with her fingers poised over the keyboard and an alert gaze fixed to the centre of her screen. She estimated he’d be in before she’d counted to thirty. She’d reached twenty-seven when she heard the office door opening.
She didn’t turn, but she could imagine he still looked as stressed as he had earlier from her bedroom window. ‘Good morning,’ she said brightly.
‘Where were you?’ His words were clipped, tight with the anger he was trying to keep screwed up in a ball of reason.
‘Sorry I was late in.’ She spun slowly in her seat and gave him an easy smile. ‘I overslept.’
‘I called by your flat this morning and you weren’t there.’
She kept the smile going, warming her face with it and letting her eyes glow. ‘Today?’ she queried. She saw stubbornness in his gaze. ‘I just told you, I overslept.’
‘You would have heard me,’ he insisted.
‘I didn’t. Perhaps I was in the shower?’ She tilted her head to one side and stayed patient.
‘You weren’t there,’ he insisted.
‘Where was I then?’ She suddenly glared at him.
He glared back. ‘That’s what I want to know, Lorna.’
‘Where are you accusing me of being? Are you saying I was off screwing another man?’
‘Keep your voice down.’
‘Are you?’
‘Just tell me where you were.’
‘And if I was with a friend? Isn’t that OK? Do you suddenly have a right to dictate what I do in my own time?’
‘Of course not.’
‘So you think I was with someone else?’
‘Lorna.’ He reached out to grab her arm, but she squirmed away from him. Finally, she heard the first note of defeat in his voice. ‘Please stop.’
‘OK, I’ll tell you. I was there when you called and I saw you from my window.’
He looked doubtful.
‘You parked at the end of the road and the postman walked by just before you drove away.’
‘Then why—’
‘Because you were checking up on me again. I was at home. Alone. And I’m not going to keep pandering to your jealousy.’ She reached forward and took his hand, then whispered, ‘I love you, Richard, but I won’t go on like this.’
At twelve, Lorna took lunch, glad to have a break from looking through her post tray. It reminded her of the mail scattered on her front door mat; she was desperate to rush home and open it. She needed to know if she would find a note inside. Or a threat, even. She pressed her tongue against the gap in her teeth for luck, and slipped out past the receptionist.
THREE
The previous week’s bank holiday had motivated a surge of tourists to descend on the city, and now, although busier than in April, the streets were comparatively quiet again. The shops bustled, but the tills were slow.
Alice Moran was just over five feet eight, and slender; at thirty-nine she possessed a mix of maturity and girlishness. Her skin was tinted with a hint of winter tan and she wore well-polished sunglasses.
She held a large paper carrier from one of the better dress shops; it contained a pair of size-ten suede trousers and a coordinating rust-coloured blouse. The fact that they were almost identical to the ones which she was wearing hadn’t deterred her. Trousers suited her they were practical and sat better on her narrow and slightly angular frame.
She had used the morning in a deliberately unproductive fashion, having decided she had been pushing herself a little too hard lately. She knew, from experience, that it didn’t take a great deal of effort to achieve results, and continuing to spend time perfecting the filing would do nothing more than turn her into another Richard. God forbid.
Besides, when she became too fussy, she knew it took the fun out of working alongside her brother.