Oh, the panic on her face has me wanting to make her a coffee. ‘Well, he doesn’t look right. Let’s look after him.’
‘Is he okay? He’s not ill, is he?’
‘No, but I think he could do with a coffee.’ I press, trying my hardest not to lose my patience.
‘Of course.’ She scuttles off, her brown plaid skirt swishing around her court shoes. I couldn’t even hazard a guess at her age. She looks about forty, but intuition tells me she’ll shock me and be nearer my age. I open the box and find all of the material swatches I ordered for The Life Building. I throw the box under my desk. I’ll deal with them on Monday too.
As six o’clock approaches, I pop my head around Patrick’s door. He really doesn’t look right.
‘Patrick, I’m off. Are you okay?’
He looks up from his computer and smiles, but his eyes don’t sparkle like usual. ‘I’m just feeling a little peaky, flower.’
‘You should go home.’ I’m worried.
‘I think I will.’ He heaves his big body up from behind his desk and turns his computer off. ‘Bloody woman’s fed me something dodgy.’ he mutters as he picks up his briefcase.
‘Everything’s been turned off. You just need to set the alarm.’
‘That’s good. Have a good weekend, flower. I’ll see you on Monday.’ He wipes the back of his hand over his sweating brow. There’s definitely something wrong.
‘Okay, see you on Monday.’
***
I stand in my bedroom ready to go. My hair is behaving – happy that it’s been blow dried into tumbling waves, courtesy of Philippe, my hairdresser – and the new dress I picked up from Selfridges was a panic buy to make me feel better but fits perfectly. It’s black, short and very tight. With dramatic, smudged eyes and nude lips, I’m looking pretty sultry.
I walk into the kitchen, finding Kate hanging out of the window having a sneaky fag. What’s she thinking about now? She looks her usual lovely self, in a cream backless dress.
‘Wow!’ she blurts. ‘Someone’s out to impress tonight.’ She jumps down from the worktop, slipping her feet into her gold heels. ‘Short enough?’
I arch an eyebrow at her, running my eyes down her dress. ‘Pot…’
She laughs her carefree laugh that never fails to bring a smile to my own face. ‘Here.’ She hands me a glass of wine. I take it gratefully, pretty much necking it. It’s very welcome. ‘The taxi’s here.’
I dump my empty on the side and follow Kate out to the taxi. I’m looking forward to my recovery night, but ignoring the fact that my recovery night is to recover from a few steamy encounters with a steamy male, and not to recover from the breakdown of my four year relationship with Matt. It’s ironic. I never felt the need to go out and get steaming drunk after my break up with Matt.
We walk into Baroque, spotting Tom and Victoria at the bar immediately.
‘What the hell?’ Tom exclaims, running his eyes up and down my black clad body on a grin. ‘Ava, you look lethal!’
‘Really good, Ava.’ Victoria adds.
It’s just a dress. ‘Thanks,’ I shrug, pulling the hem down.
‘What are you having?’ Kate asks.
Well, I’ve already had a glass of wine, so I guess I should stick. I did say I was going to have a good drink. ‘Rose, but make sure it’s Zinfandel, please.’
Kate orders the drinks, and we make our way to a tall table near the DJ. Tom’s wearing his new coral shirt and too tight jeans – he may as well have gay tattooed on his forehead, and Victoria looks as pretty as always. Everyone’s really made an effort tonight, me included. Why is that?