There was a silence. She thought: damn, I shouldn’t have said that. He’ll think I’m angling for a date. And now he’s trying to let me down lightly. Ouch!
She went into delete mode. ‘From your office, maybe? I mean, we don’t have to meet in person. I could just drop in, if you left it with Reception. If you have a reception desk, that is. Or you could have it couriered to me here. I’d pay, of course. Can you tell them to collect the cost from me …’ Oh, God, she was burbling.
But he interrupted. ‘Do you jog?’
‘What?’
‘Jog. Run. Exercise.’
‘Oh, jog. No.’
‘Ah.’ He seemed to be thinking. ‘Look, do you know Battersea Park?’
‘I suppose so,’ she said, puzzled.
‘I’ll be running there tomorrow morning. Meet me on the bridge over the lake at … let’s say, ten to eight.’
‘Bridge over the lake. Right.’ Bella couldn’t remember a bridge and had only the haziest recollection of a lake. But there had to be a map somewhere that showed it.
‘I’ve got a really full schedule tomorrow. I may not be able to wait, if you’re not there.’
Bella stiffened. ‘Wouldn’t it be simpler just to put the phone in the post?’ she said frostily.
‘But then I wouldn’t get to see you again,’ he said, redeeming himself a bit. ‘No, let’s try to meet up tomorrow. If we don’t manage to meet, then I’ll have it sent round. Give me the address.’
She did and he rang off. Bella took the phone back to Lottie.
‘Thanks.’
‘Asked your address this time, did he?’
‘I thought you weren’t listening.’
Lottie gave a naughty grin. ‘Didn’t need to. Dream Girl.’
‘What?’
‘That’s what he called me when he thought I was you.’
Bella could feel herself blush, and glared at her friend. But Lottie was unrepentant. She looked knowing. ‘So where’s he taking you?’
‘He isn’t,’ snapped Bella, and banged off to call her mother, without telling Lottie one single thing more.
Lottie wasn’t a morning person. She still hadn’t surfaced by the time Bella let herself out of the flat the next day. So she didn’t have to lie about where she was going. She wasn’t sure that she would have lied, if Lottie had been up and feeling nosy. But she was really glad that she didn’t have to decide.
It was a crisp morning, with a heavy dew making the grass sparkle in the garden squares. But when the sun came up, it was dazzling, hitting her straight between the eyes again. After yesterday, though, she had come prepared. She fished sunglasses out of the pocket of her borrowed coat and marched stoutly over Chelsea Bridge.
It took her longer to get to the park than she had expected and the bridge wasn’t easy to find once she got there. It turned out to be reached via a smallish path, overhung by evergreens. By the time she finally found it, her watch said it was after eight. So maybe he wouldn’t still be there, she thought, remembering his warning. Her first instinct was to break into a run.
Then she thought of another of Georgia’s maxims: a lady may be late but she is never rushed. Bella laughed out loud and slowed down, thinking: what the hell? He’s probably gone. And if he hasn’t – well, given the disasters when we met, I’m not rushing up all pink and panting the second time he sees me. Granny Georgia, she felt, would be proud.
But still she strode out briskly. And when she arrived, he was there.
Or, at least, she thought it was him. Bella couldn’t be absolutely sure. Tall man, running on the spot, navy blue jogging pants and hooded sweatshirt, wearing wrap-around shades. She frowned, trying to impose a silk shirt and wicked laughter on that lithe figure in the early morning sun. Was it? Wasn’t it?
And then he saw her and she had her answer. He broke into a great grin and jogged down the path to meet her.
‘You made it!’
‘Hi,’ said Bella. Now they were face to face she found she felt awkward. Did they shake hands? Kiss on the cheek? High five?
He had no such hesitation. He gave her a big hug.
‘Nrrgh,’ said Bella, winded. Though it wasn’t just the bear hug that was making her breathless.
He steadied her – for which she was grateful; her head was definitely swimming a bit – and let her go.
It didn’t make any difference. Even through Lottie’s coat and