The Collected Short Stories - Jeffrey Archer [283]
I passed the cabbie a ten-pound note and we dashed through the rain in the direction of a little Portakabin.
I walked up to the counter and read the form taped to it. I took out my wallet, extracted my driver’s license, and began counting.
I only had eighty pounds in cash, and I never carry a checkbook.
Anna grinned, and took the envelope I’d presented to her earlier in the evening from her bag. She tore it open and extracted the two ten-pound notes, added a five-pound note of her own, and handed them over to me.
“Thank you,” I said, once again feeling embarrassed.
“Worth every penny,” she replied with a grin.
The policeman counted the notes slowly, placed them in a tin box, and gave me a receipt.
“It’s right there, in the front row,” he said, pointing out of the window. “And if I may say so, sir, it was perhaps unwise of you to leave your keys in the ignition. If the vehicle had been stolen, your insurance company would not have been liable to cover the claim.” He passed me my keys.
“It was my fault, officer,” said Anna. “I should have sent him back for them, but I didn’t realize what he was up to. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again.”
The officer looked up at me. I shrugged my shoulders and led Anna out of the cabin and across to my car. I opened the door to let her in, then nipped around to the driver’s side as she leant over and pushed my door open. I took my place behind the wheel and turned to face her. “I’m sorry,” I said. “The rain has ruined your dress.” A drop of water fell off the end of her nose. “But, you know, you’re just as beautiful wet or dry.”
“Thank you, Michael,” she smiled. “But if you don’t have any objection, on balance I’d prefer to be dry.”
I laughed. “So, where shall I take you?” I asked, suddenly aware that I didn’t know where she lived.
“Fulham, please; forty-nine Parsons Green Lane. It’s not too far.”
I pushed the key into the ignition, not caring how far it was. I turned the key and took a deep breath. The engine spluttered, but refused to start. Then I realized I had left the sidelights on.
“Don’t do this to me,” I begged, as Anna began laughing again. I turned the key a second time, and the motor caught. I let out a sigh of relief.
“That was a close one,” Anna said. “If it hadn’t started, we might have ended up spending the rest of the night together. Or was that all part of your dastardly plan?”
“Nothing’s gone according to plan so far,” I admitted as I drove out of the pound. I paused before adding, “Still, I suppose things might have turned out differently.”
“You mean if I hadn’t been the sort of girl you were looking for?”
“Something like that.”
“I wonder what those other three men would have thought of mer,” said Anna wistfully.
“Who cares? They’re not going to have the chance to find out.”
“You sound very sure of yourself, Mr. Whitaker.”
“If you only knew,” I said. “But I would like to see you again, Anna. If you’re willing to risk it.”
She seemed to take an eternity to reply. “Yes, I’d like that,” she said eventually. “But only on condition that you pick me up at my place, so I can be certain you park your car legally, and remember to switch your lights off.”
“I accept your terms,” I told her. “And I won’t even add any conditions of my own if we can begin the agreement tomorrow evening.”
Once again Anna didn’t reply immediately. “I’m not sure I know what I’m doing tomorrow evening.”
“Neither do I,” I said. “But I’ll cancel it, whatever it is.”
“Then so will I,” said Anna as I drove into Parsons Green Lane, and began searching