services have been moderately satisfactory, thus far.’
‘Satisfactory?’ Had I heard right? Had he just uttered praise? Praise, moreover, which in Mr Ambrose’s limited complimentary vocabulary equalled heavenly trumpets announcing a triumphal procession in honour of my utter perfection?
‘Relatively speaking, of course, Mr Linton. You are still no match for a real man, of course.’
For some reason, this didn’t make me want to bash his brains in. Instead, my lips twitched. ‘Of course.’
‘But for a member of the unmasculine persuasion, you showed considerable lack of fear, down in the mine.’
‘Courage, you mean, Sir?’ I inquired sweetly.
‘Courage would be too strong a word. I would be more inclined to attribute your actions to an impetuous nature and a tendency to rash behaviour. However, whatever the reasons might be, you exhibited a considerable lack of fear and weakness.’
‘You mean I was resilient, Sir? Strong, even?’
‘Those words are not the ones I would have chosen. It is more likely-’
‘-that my actions originated from some irrational part of my inferior mind, which simply didn’t grasp the danger, than from any real strength of character?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Why, thank you, Sir.’
‘You’re welcome, Mr Linton.’
Why was there a smile on my face? His compliments were badly disguised insults! He still was just as abominable a chauvinist as on the first day I met him. I should be shouting at him, demanding recognition of my work and my loyalty. I definitely should not be moving my right hand across the table towards where his left rested on the tablecloth.
And why was his hand suddenly starting to move, too, sliding over the table until his fingers touched mine? His fingertips brushed the back of my hand, and a little gasp escaped me. Suddenly, my mind felt very irrational indeed.
‘Will you pay me my wages?’ I asked softly. ‘Will you let me stay on?’
He seemed to weigh my words for an eternity.
‘I shouldn’t pay you a penny,’ he said, finally. ‘I should get rid of you as quickly as I can.’
It was I who remained silent now, for once. It hadn’t escaped my notice that he had told me what he thought he should do, not what he would do. So I waited in silence.
Without knowing why, I squeezed his hand. For some reason, it felt good to hold his hand, as if I were a ship in a storm, and he the line holding me in my safe harbour. Ridiculous, but there it was. The feeling wouldn’t go away.
‘Why?’ I asked, still in this soft tone of voice that was so totally unlike me. How had I managed to suddenly come up with it, without practising? Why was I even using it? ‘Why would you want to get rid of me? I was helpful, wasn’t I? We got your secret file back. Soon, you’ll be the unchallenged master of world trade. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’
His fingers grasped mine more tightly.
‘But the danger…’
‘Well, there was a danger of not getting the file back. But it’s passed. So why worry?’
His eyes flashed with sharp shards of ice.
‘I was not talking about the file, Mr Linton!’ His fingers closed even more tightly around mine. It was as if they were squeezing my heart. I suddenly found I couldn’t speak.
‘What were you talking about, Sir?’
His dark eyes bored into mine, answering my question without words.
‘You remember how I told you to be careful?’ he asked, his gaze keeping mine prisoner. I nodded.
‘Down in the mine you were not careful. You never are!’
I swallowed, dislodging the lump in my throat that had kept me from speaking, and attempted a smile.
‘It would take all the fun out of life.’
His hand clenched around mine, almost breaking my fingers. Why the heck did feel good anyway?
‘You could have died!’
‘So… that’s why you want to get rid of me?’
‘I want to dismiss you from your job all right.’ He leaned forward, his chiselled face not betraying a hint of what he thought or felt. His eyes, though… His eyes were another matter. ‘That’s not the same as getting rid of you.’
Another one of those lumps had appeared in my throat. I swallowed, hard, but it was a stubborn lump that didn’t like attempts to dislodge it. ‘What other reason could I have for staying around, Sir?’
‘What if it’s not up to you, Mr Linton? What if I don’t want to let you go?’
I felt the floor under my feet sway in a way that had nothing whatsoever to do with swell.
‘W-what do you mean?’ I asked.
He opened his mouth