Jules Wake - Peony Place

He pulled a hanky out of his pocket and began rubbing ineffectually at his chest, which made me bite back a quick smile of amusement. Couldn’t he see that his shirt, like mine, was toast? ‘And I’ve got a meeting with the Vice President of Commercial Banking in an hour’s time,’ he snapped back, those unusual eyes flashing with fury.

‘And I’m presenting to the CEO who is coming up from London,’ I retorted as I shook out a tissue to mop up the worst of the liquid, now cooling and pooling with an uncomfortable tickle between my breasts.

‘Good for him. Are you attempting to play my-job-is-bigger-than-yours? Because I can assure you, my meeting is pretty important.’

‘Just like a man to assume his meeting must be more important than a woman’s.’

Oh God, I’ve been down this road so many times.

‘Not at all.’ His eyes narrowed as he said a touch snootily, ‘I’m just observing that my meeting is very important and that I’m now going to be on the backfoot if I go in looking like this.’ With surprisingly expressive hands, he flicked them downward to make his point.

‘I’ve been preparing for this meeting for weeks,’ I snapped back, my heart starting to thud with the realisation that this really was a disaster. This meeting was supposed to show the big wigs that I was the ultimate professional, totally in control, and knew exactly what I was doing. The swan gliding without effort and not the puddle duck swimming for her life.

For a brief moment, we both stood examining ourselves and each other, surveying the damage, horribly aware of the curious looks of the other commuters and then we both carried on our pre-programmed trajectory towards the station, mopping ourselves as we went. He with a large hanky and me with a succession of tissues.

I winced as we fell into step together. At least I’d got off lightly. Only my shirt was ruined, perhaps thanks to the small shelf of my boobs – useful for once – which had taken the brunt of the coffee downpour. Unfortunately for him, there was a stain right down his crotch. That stain wouldn’t be coming out any time soon. That really was a disaster.

‘Where do you work?’ I asked.

‘What?’ he asked shortly with an angry glance my way, as if to ask what the hell did that have to do with anything.

‘Where do you work?’ I asked again, even more irritated. I was trying to be helpful.

‘Beechwood Harrington,’ he snapped out.

‘No,’ I said a little more gently. ‘I meant the location. Is there a shop near where you work, like an M&S or something?’ I nodded to his trousers. ‘You could buy an emergency…’ My voice trailed off as he looked down and his eyes widened in horror. He muttered an epithet under his breath.

‘This is a six-hundred-pound Armani,’ he snarled. ‘Marks & Spencer doesn’t cut it in my line of work.’ He checked his watch and I could see him doing the same rapid calculation I’d just done. Was there time to go home and change?

‘It’s better than nothing,’ I returned. ‘I was trying to help. Find a solution. Have you got time to go back home and change? Or you could phone someone?’

‘Phone someone?’ He didn’t need to look quite so incredulous.

‘Yes, like in your office. I’m going to phone my PA – she comes in later than me – and ask if I can borrow another shirt or something.’ Ros, my fantastically reliable and awesome assistant, lived in the city and absolutely refused point blank to arrive at work a second before she had to – she had school-aged children that had to be dropped off – but was a trojan for every second she was at work.

‘What?’ He looked at me as if I were completely mad.

‘It’s a solution.’ I was big on solutions; in fact, most of the time that was my job.

He gave a short mirthless laugh. ‘Hmm, I can just see myself in Chas’s suit. I’m a thirty-two waist. He’s at least a forty. Oh, let me see, Gav, he’s five foot ten. Half-mast trousers are all the rage in my office.’

I looked down at his legs, and up and up and up. He must have been at least six two. He had long legs, really long legs, a slim waist, broad chest, and wide shoulders. My mouth went a little dry. If he hadn’t been so grumpy, he’d have been seriously hot. Especially with those gorgeous eyes against his dark skin, which were now studying me with a slight hint of amused condescension. I think I might have been ogling. Feeling a blush streak my cheeks, I hurriedly said, ‘Have you got hand driers in the loos? Maybe you could rinse your shirt out… dry it off in the gents.’

With a glower he shook his head. ‘Any more bright suggestions?’

‘I’m only trying to help,’ I said with an indifferent shrug. It was his problem after all.

‘It would have helped a lot more if you’d been looking where you were going.’

God, he was like a dog with a bone. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. You’re being childish. What’s the point of going over old ground? What’s done is done and now you need to find a solution. If you’re not interested in my very sensible suggestions, that’s your loss.’

I was pleased to see my words shut him up rather neatly. As we hit the edge of the park and the familiar station sign loomed into view on the other side of the road, I pulled out my phone.

‘Hi Ros, it’s Claire. Sorry to bother you so early. Yes. I’m on my way. Can I ask a huge favour? I’ve had a bit of disaster. A spillage… yes… coffee everywhere. Please can I borrow a clean shirt? White?’ I asked with more hope than belief. ‘Okay. I didn’t think you would.’ I laughed out loud at the very thought of it. ‘Do you have a colour that anyone might describe as pale?’ Ros favoured patterns and bright colours. ‘I know,’ I responded to Ros’s snort and observation that her impressive double-D accommodating shirts would drown me. I’m a comfortably average thirty-four B. ‘But I’m desperate.’

‘Thank you, I owe you… not that much.’ I laughed at her suggestion that she was given the rest of the week off. Ros was nothing if not forthright and ballsy.

‘Handy to have such an accommodating PA,’ observed the man rolling his eyes.

‘Jealous?’ I asked sweetly, now that salvation was at hand. He ought to be; Ros was worth her weight in gold, and the rest. She was a diamond among PAs and my absolute rock.

‘It’s just a question of hiring the right sort of people.’

The man snorted rudely. I shrugged again. For God’s sake, I’d tried to help him but if he was just going to be sarcastic he could sort himself out.

‘I have an excellent PA,’ he retorted, ‘but I don’t think my legs will do justice to one of her Reiss skirts.’

We flashed our travel passes and headed down to the platform in perfect synchronicity, my quick strides matching those long legs.

As usual at that time, it was crowded. He came to a stop in the one clear area and I was buggered if he was going to have it all to himself, so I stopped there too. There was room for us both despite his scowl at my proximity. Ignoring him, I began to scroll through my messages on my phone.

Damn, my sister wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Don’t give me that I’m working crap. It’s Saturday. Even Wonder Woman gets a day off. Tell me you’ve got something better to do.

My sister Alice was not one for subtlety. I sighed. I was knackered. The last thing I wanted to do was spend a Saturday trimming her sodding hedge. It was horribly overgrown, took up two sides of her garden and I really needed to go into the office. Maybe I could fob her off to the following Saturday. I was so behind, having been given yet another project to sort out. That was the by-product of being good at your job and good at finding those pesky solutions. You ended up with everyone else’s problems and had to solve them when someone else threw in the towel with the deadline imminent. Going into the office at the weekend meant I could get loads done. Gritting my teeth, I wondered if I ought to offer her the money to pay for a man to come in but I’d already paid for my nieces’ school dinners and their summer uniforms this month. Not that I minded, but every now and then Alice would get on her high horse and accuse me of throwing my money around to ‘buy people’.