The Gin O'Clock Club - Rosie Blake Page 0,44

more. I felt a small glimmer of triumph as Luke looked up at me. ‘Right, where do you want to go? Southbank Centre?’ he said, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. ‘Sundowners there while we make a plan, see what’s on?’

He was still talking to me as we moved past Storm towards the lift, as she called out, ‘Well, bye then.’

As Luke waved distractedly behind him, asking me about my day, about my case. As I made him laugh.

The lift doors shut, her face still staring over at us, eyebrows drawn together in a small frown.

I met her eyes. Haha. Storm: 0. Lottie: 1.

The river was choppy and steel grey, as we walked hand in hand over Lambeth Bridge, the sun disappearing momentarily in the clouds. I loved the Thames, pleasure boats and working boats moving through the water, the London Eye glinting ahead of us, the intricate architecture of the Houses of Parliament opposite. I always felt that we were at the heart of everything. So many people clustered together, walking, in cars, on phones, street performers, shoppers, sitting outside restaurants, heading to the theatre. Luke clearly felt the same, enjoying the meandering pace of our walk, stopping to run his hands along the vinyl records and books under Hungerford Bridge. After a short while we found ourselves heading up the steps to the Southbank Centre, able to find a table on the terrace looking across the river, the pedestrians moving below.

‘Perfect,’ Luke said, taking both our bags and dumping them on the spare seat.

‘My treat,’ I said, leaping away so he didn’t have time to argue.

I returned with two glasses clinking with ice and lime. Luke was sitting at the table looking out over the water, his phone nowhere in sight, just staring and looking relaxed. I needed to take a leaf out of his book. I was always too busy tapping on my phone or flicking through the paper or a brief to really sit still and be in the moment. Luke had always moved at a more languid pace and I could see now that this was one of the things that had drawn me to him.

‘Gin?’

‘Of course,’ I said, passing one to him. ‘It’s got thyme in it!’

‘All right then.’

‘So,’ I said, after a moment, ‘is everything good? At work, I mean . . . ’

Luke frowned at me. ‘Yes, Lottie.’

‘Great,’ I said in a faux bright voice.

This would surely be the perfect moment for him to tell me about his new role. He must be proud if Mike had promoted him. I picked up my glass, spilling a little liquid down my chin, my eyes wide, expectant: I was ready for the big reveal.

‘Any big case coming up?’ Luke asked.

‘No, so, youooooo,’ I said, placing the glass back on the table so I could lean forward. ‘Good, good, as in something, anything, different happening, with work?’

Luke’s eyebrows drew together. He rubbed one hand along his chin. ‘Not especially. Well, the campaign I showed you earlier, that should take up some time, and Mike’s pleased with the progress, he’s wanted to work with them for ages.’

‘Really,’ I said in a slightly too-loud voice, ‘so he must be so happy, happy enough to, you know . . . reward you.’

Luke started to look increasingly confused, ‘Are you all right, Lottie?’

My shoulders drooped, this wasn’t getting me anywhere. Clearly I was being too cryptic. ‘Yes,’ I muttered. ‘Just thought you might tell me about your new role.’

‘What, you mean becoming a senior designer?’

‘Are you? That’s fabulous.’ A couple passing both jumped at my exuberance.

Luke, however, simply continued to look confused. ‘Yes, you remember, I told you last week.’

‘You didn’t—’ Then I saw his face. ‘You did. You . . . did! You just didn’t stress the . . . the importance . . . of the new role.’ I was floundering and Luke could sense it.

‘You didn’t remember, did you?’

I wanted to lie. I wanted to say of course I remembered. I wanted to not be that shit girlfriend, but as I looked at his open face, his trusting eyes, I couldn’t do it. Shaking my head miserably from side to side I stared at the water rings on the surface of the table.

‘Hey,’ Luke said, ‘that’s OK, Lottie, it’s no big deal, not exactly the Nobel Prize or anything. It’s not like I’ve made art director . . . yet.’

I shook my head more fervently now, looking back at him. ‘No, it is important and I’m

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