sick, sour feeling in his mouth that he didn't like.
‘Ah well, sod it,’ he said, ‘We were going for a drink but it looks like she changed her mind. No worries, Tommy.’
He turned to leave but then decided to clutch at a final straw. Was he that desperate, he asked himself? He didn’t want to give himself the answer to that.
‘Tommy,’ he said turning back once more whilst reaching into his jacket pocket for his wallet. ‘Do you mind doing me a favour? If on the off chance she does come back, which I don’t for a minute think she will, but if she does, would you mind giving her this? It’s got my mobile number on it.’ He handed over a business card.
‘No problem, Dan,’ said Tommy putting the card under the rubber band that was stretched around his daybook forming a bookmark, ‘You can wait if you want?’ he pointed at the sofa and chairs on the far side of the lobby, ‘I’ll even make you a coffee. Free of charge and better than Starbucks!’
‘Ah it’s OK Tommy, thanks but I really had better go. I’ve made enough of a fool of myself already. Bye.’
Dan could feel Tommy’s puzzled gaze burning his back as he left.
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Chapter Five
Thursday Afternoon
Dan grabbed a sandwich from Sainsbury’s on the way back into the office, intending to have lunch at his desk. He found that he kept checking his phone for texts and was rather irritated by himself for doing it.
He got into the office just before one and started to write up his report. For a change he had plenty of time to collate the evidence. It was an odd experience, always in London the pressure was such that you were always juggling three or four jobs at the same time, and not doing any of them very well. This should feel better but it didn’t; it lacked any buzz, it was tedious and just felt wrong. He found his mind wandering, not doing anything for minutes at a time and had to try to tell himself to concentrate.
Hannah came back at about 1.30, looking hot and weary. She dumped her files and her Dictaphone on the desk and slumped into her seat.
‘Thank God that’s done,’ she said, ‘The traffic’s murder. Doesn’t anyone know there’s a recession?’ She read the post-it notes on her desk, ‘Our lord and master in?’ she asked in Dan's general direction.
‘Not seen him,’ said Dan.
‘OK, well if you do see him tell him I’m taking a late lunch. You know Jen don’t you?’
It was only then that Dan realised that there was someone stood in the doorway to the office. He only vaguely knew Jenny; he knew she had been at university with Hannah and that she worked at the city council. She was quite good looking though, with her long blonde hair and a full, but nicely proportioned figure and tended to get noticed wherever she went. .
‘Oh, Hi Jen, sorry didn’t see you there,’ he said, ‘How’s life in Albert Square?’
‘Oh same old shit, you know?’ Dan noticed she spoke with a slight Welsh lilt to her voice. Jenny Jones; of course, the Welsh connection – Jones the baker, Jones the butcher and Jones the looker.
God he was at it again! Letching. He was disgusted with himself.
But her welsh accent did add even more interest; he was a sucker for accents.
There was lusting and there was over-optimism and Jenny fell quite firmly into both categories. Still, he reflected, at least he had not lost himself so much that he had lost interest in attractive women, even if they were out of his league.
‘Fancy joining us for lunch? You can leave Ian a note,’ Hannah said as she headed for the door.
‘Thanks but I’ve just had a prawn mayo,’ said Dan.
‘Come for a drink then?’
‘Another time maybe. I just want to get this done.’
‘Oh OK, no problem. See you later.’
There was no malice in Hannah’s voice but Dan thought that she looked and sounded a bit disappointed. It was only after they had gone that he started to wonder if she had engineered that, that she wanted Dan to meet Jenny again. Was she playing matchmaker? Surely not. Well, he wouldn’t mind too much if she was but no, he was just