“If I’d been there, none of that would have happened. I’d have ended up doing Clarissa’s work over lunch as usual and no deadlines would have been missed. For fuck’s sake, I take one day off.One.”
“Spence, I’m so sorry—” began Marshall, who appeared crestfallen.
“No, Marshall. You have nothing to apologise for. This has nothing to do with you. I told you, I’m tired of being treated like the office whipping boy. It’s time I took my mother’s advice and started looking around for another job. Well past time, actually.”
“Which is exactly what I thought you might say, Spence,” said Bev. “But I came because I wanted you to be forewarned. Are you coming back to work tomorrow?”
“I am. And I appreciate the heads-up. At least I won’t be blindsided.”
“And a glass of bubbly can’t do any harm, can it?”
Spencer mugged at her and was about to reply when his front-door buzzer went off again.
“Bloody hell,” said Beverley as Spencer headed for the intercom “It’s like Paddington station in here. Did you invite someone else to the party?”
When he stared at the video, he only saw a pair of beautifully painted Asian eyes poking out from beneath a fur-lined hood, the rest of the face covered by a black scarf like a ninja assassin. The woman peered around herself as though she expected to be attacked at any moment.
“Hello?”
“Good evening. This is Darcy Fraser-Chong. Not sure if I have the right address, but is Marshall Highlander there, by anychance?” came a clipped, flawless British middle-class voice that oozed expensive elocution lessons.
“Marshall,” said Spencer, wanting to make sure. “Can you check before I let her in?”
Marshall came over, peered at the intercom display, and nodded.
“Hang on a moment, Darcy,” said Spencer. “I’ll need to come down and let you in.”
“Hurry up, then. I’m freezing my fucking tits off out here. Much longer and I swear, my nipples will fall off from frostbite.”
“Yes,” said Marshall, grinning at Bev’s shocked face. “That’s definitely Darcy.”
Standing inside, assessing his flat, Darcy Fraser-Chong looked like one of the fashionable side characters in the movieCrazy Rich Asians. Tall, slim, immaculately turned out, and with her Eurasian features and confidence, she could easily have been mistaken for a high fashion model or a refined movie star.
Until she opened her mouth.
“Well, isn’t this fucking cosy? Very cloak and dagger, Marshall, darling,” said Darcy, starting at the device in her hand. “And why the fuck, may I ask, is my phone not working?”
“We’re in a big black hole here,” said Spencer. “No Wi-Fi, no satellite coverage—”
“And no champagne flutes, I see,” she asked, staring at the bottle and the waiting tumblers. “This reminds me of my bastard father recalling his life in the eighties. So what’s the score? Is the lack of facilities by design?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I mean, is this some kind of halfway house for those who wish to stay off the grid? Criminals, spies, terrorists? Fallen-from-grace royalty?”
“This is Spencer’s home, Darcy. He lives here.”
Eventually, Darcy’s full attention came to rest on Spencer.
“Ah, yes. And here he is at last, Marshall’s elusive protector—”
“Darce, be nice,” said Marshall. “Spencer’s been absolutely incredible.”
“If you say so, dear,” she said, then brought her attention back to the kitchenette. “Is anyone going to open that Perrier fucking Jouët? And, if so, what are we celebrating?”
Bev, who had been staring open-mouthed at Darcy, suddenly sprang to life. She dashed over to the counter and put her considerable skills to use popping open the bottle, pouring glasses of bubbly and handing them to Spencer.
“We’re celebrating the fact that I’m probably going to get the sack tomorrow—” began Spencer, handing the first tumbler to Darcy.
