Thank you for saving me with kind words, a big heart, and a warm hug on Friday night, a day when I was feeling at my lowest.
MJH xxx
Marshall Highlander. And just like that, warmth rose in his cheeks. The welcome surprise melted his pissed-off mood. When he reread the words, pleasure curled in his stomach. Of its own volition, a smile pushed its way to the surface and fixed itself on his face. Looking into space, he fanned himself with the card.
Of course. Chocolate-covered nuts. Nuts for the squirrel. How had he not made the connection? Twisting around, he flushed the toilet and began to stand, wanting to rush to find Beverley and tell her. But when his hand touched the cold lock of the cubicle door, he froze, remembering he had told her nothing. What would she think if he confided now? Besides, what parts could he reveal without betraying Marshall’s trust? Perhaps he could edit out some details. He would have to think of something fast because he needed someone to confide in and, when she saw the display, she would hound him relentlessly until he confessed.
When he got back to his desk there she stood, her face planted in the buds as though searching for something. When she pulled back and turned around, her hands went straight to the golden belt around her hips.
“Been having fun while I’ve been gone?” she asked.
“Not really. While I popped out to get a sandwich, these landed on my desk.”
When she looked again then returned his gaze, her mouth turned down in dismay.
“These had better not be from him,” she said. Firmly on his side after ‘the Blake incident’, she barely tolerated his ex’s presence in the office. Spencer noticed her cheeks appeared a little flushed, and not from too much rouge, he guessed. Even her eyes had the slightly glazed look he knew all too well after she’d had a couple of drinks. “Because if they are, I will stuff them into the bin at his desk and make sure you Instagram the moment. And then I will personally go round to his penthouse flat and ball him out.”
“They’re not from him, Bev,” said Spencer, keeping his voice low. “Calm down. The truth is…well, it’s a little more complicated.”
Spencer looked around to see if one of the small soundproofed cubicles was unoccupied. Fortunately, he spotted one in the centre of the room.
“I have a confession to make,” he said, standing and leading her away. As an afterthought, he grabbed his sandwich and soup, although his appetite had all but evaporated. The moment he had closed the door and they had each taken a seat, she pounced on him.
“Before you say anything, I need you to come to a Halloween party this Saturday as my plus-one. My friend tells me there’ll be some of your people going. And I’m not going alone. So you’d better have a costume in that closet of yours.”
“Parties are banned. Surely you’ve seen the news about social gatherings?”
“This is different, Spence. The house is in the middle of nowhere and provides digs for a bunch of medical students whoall live together. It’s all fine. And more importantly, I need you to accompany me because there’s someone special I need to meet.”
“I’m not sure, Bev—”
“It’s not optional, Squirrel. You can’t stay at home sulking forever. You’re coming, end of story. You are never going to shake off Blake the Flake until you put yourself out there.” Spencer had no reason not to go, but he hadn’t felt sociable for months. “Now, what’s that lovey-dovey delivery all about? I know you didn’t meet someone over the weekend, because you would have called me. Tell me you didn’t send them to yourself to make Blake jealous.”
“No! They’re from a person I met on Friday night. At Muriel’s party.”
He plucked the card from his pocket and showed her. She read the words and smiled to herself but then her expression became understandably baffled. He took a deep breath because he needed to confess to somebody before he exploded. And he knew Bev well enough to know that if he asked her to say nothing, the way he’d done during his clandestine affair with Blake, he could rely on her complete discretion. Closing his eyes for courage, he began to explain.
“While I was waiting for you in Muriel’s rooftop garden, Marshall Highlander—MJH,” he said, tapping the card, “came outside to take a private call. Except he didn’t know I was sitting there. The long and the short of it is that he was not terribly happy with the caller. When he’d finished, he realised I’d been there the whole time. We had a long chat and, in my usual clumsy way, I think I must have helped because he laughed, and then gave me a hug. After that, we shared a glass of bubbly before he left. End of story.”
Not quite the whole story, but enough to sound believable. Bev sat there, waiting, staring at him, her mouth hanging open.
“Marshall Highlander?TheMarshall Highlander?”
“It depends. How many Marshall Highlanders do you know—”
“Spencer!” said Bev.
“Yes, then,” said Spencer. “TheMarshall Highlander. He was there at the event—”
“Iknowhe was there. I opened the door to him. It was me who said hello to him and welcomed him in. Are you telling me he’s sending you flowers?” Right then, she did a very Beverley thing and slapped manicured fingers across her shiny lips before pulling them away and asking. “Tell me you did not try to jump his bones—”
“What? No! We chatted, that’s all. He’s just a really nice man—”
“Who is sending you roses and chocolates. That kind of gift is not a thank you for chatting, Squirrel. That’s so much more than a thank you. How could I think they were from Blake? His idea of a romantic gesture is kissing a mirror. So how did you leave things? With Marshall Highlander, the sex god, whose homosexuality is the world’s worst-kept secret. Let me guess. He’s your fairytailicious ending, isn’t he?”
Spencer put his head in his hands. Bev had coined the phrase after almost meeting Harry Styles at one of Muriel’s charity events. He and his entourage had left five minutes before Bev had arrived. For months afterwards she had stalked him on social media, convinced they would eventually end up together.
“Bev,” he said, looking back up, “please don’t blow this out of proportion. On the night in question, I said a few kind words and I’m sure this is simply Marshall’s grown-up way of saying thank you. Don’t read anything more into it, because I’m not. But you need to help me come up with a plausible story to tell our colleagues. With red roses and chocolates on display, they’re circling like sharks around chum.”
