He’d told Walker about the look the two women had exchanged at the ball. Walker had paused for a moment and then asked: ‘You sure you’re all right, mate?’ As if Nick was daft or something; and in some ways that assessment was pretty accurate. Who assumed there was a significant connection between two people who simply held each other’s gaze a moment too long in a public place? And who hired private detectives to investigate their security staff? Hell, he knew that now was the absolute worst time for a distraction; until all the contracts were secured he needed to be on top of his game. But Goodie was a puzzle that for some reason he found impossible to leave unsolved. He rubbed his forehead again and then grabbed his briefcase before storming to his door and slamming it behind him.
‘Where’s Ed?’ he blasted at Bertie, who had jumped up out of his seat at the slam of the door. This was another unwelcome change over the last few weeks: Nick was on edge. Gone was the easy-going charmer, replaced by an uptight, anally retentive pain in the arse.
‘Uh …’
‘Bertie,’ Nick said slowly, his patience hanging by a thread. ‘You did tell Ed about the meeting? Please tell me he’s out in reception.’
‘Oh bollocks,’ muttered Bertie, his red face turning even redder as he flailed around, going through the piles of papers on his desk.
‘Bert!’ Nick blasted, his patience completely gone. ‘One thing …onethingI expressly asked you not fuck up this week. You are the most useless –’
Nick stopped shouting as the door to the external office swung open and Goodie stepped through. She never came into the office unannounced or uninvited. Her eyes were cold and her mouth tight as she came to stand behind Bertie and crossed her arms over her chest.
‘Blast,’ Bertie said in a small voice. ‘I really am a useless bugger, aren’t I? No wonder Clive and the others think I’m just a big joke.’ Goodie stared across at Nick, one eyebrow raised, her stance radiating disapproval, making Nick feel like a complete bastard without uttering a word.
‘Oh buggeration,’ Nick sighed, slumping down in the chair opposite his desk. ‘I’m sorry, Bertie. You’re not useless. You’re just … uh …’ Nick rubbed his neck, wracking his brain for a compliment. ‘Look, you’re a good bloke but maybe organizing and planning aren’t your forte.’
‘Well, what else is left, Nick? I’ve bally well ballsed up everything I’ve done so far.’ His eyes dropped from Nick’s and his voice got quieter. ‘I know Mum begged you to give me a chance. I’m thirty-seven and my own mother had to find me a chuffing job.’ Nick looked down at his shoes, lost for words and feeling increasingly guilty.
‘Er …’ At Bertie’s nervous laugh, he looked up. ‘I don’t mean to be rude to a lady but … um … what are you …?’ Goodie had moved Bertie’s chair aside and was clicking on his mouse. His computer screen changed and instead of his screensaver (a picture of him and a couple of his more Bertie-like mates at a polo match, all with their collars turned up, wearing red trousers, Hunter wellies and wax jackets, and all chugging back their pints of beer), a graphic flashed up onto the screen. Nick blinked.
‘Did the design guys finally come up with something decent?’ he asked. For months they’d been trying to design a graphic to represent cold fusion and the energy company. The one currently moving on Bertie’s screen was way better than anything Nick had seen so far.
‘Oh … um … well, I was just messing about a bit. Thought I’d take the whole preserving-nature thing and … well … water and atoms and make it look somehow …’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Nick breathed. ‘Jesus, Bertie, you didn’t tell anyone you could do stuff like this.’
Bertie flushed and loosened his tie self-consciously. ‘Oh … well … I don’t know about any of that, old chap … just … well … I did that graphic design course at uni.’
‘You’re an artist, Bertie,’ Nick told him, smiling widely. ‘I want this sent over to the design team immediately, we can get you working with them full time once Lisa gets back from maternity leave.’
‘Gosh … I … golly … are you …?’ Bertie had, Nick realized, gone into some sort of meltdown. He’d seen it before and knew that it mainly involved repeating increasingly posh words over and over and getting more and more red in the face. Nick looked up to try and catch Goodie’s eye, but instead, he caught her looking down at Bertie, an almost soft expression crossing her features for a moment. When she did notice Nick looking at her, however, her face closed down again and she stepped back from Bertie’s desk before turning towards the door to the reception.
‘Uh, Goodie,’ Nick called, standing to walk around Bertie’s desk and giving him a congratulatory slap on the back on his way past, ‘it’s Easter this weekend.’ Goodie turned to face him, re-crossing her arms over her chest and nodding. ‘I’ve got to go home to Sussex for it.’
‘Ah, yes!’ Bertie exclaimed, in a much better mood now. ‘Little jaunt down the old family pile, isn’t it. Bit of time spent with Mater and Pater, you know. Can’t wait, old boy.’ Every year either Nick or Bertie’s parents hosted Easter, and this year was Nick’s family’s turn.
‘Address?’ Goodie asked, not revealing whether staying in Sussex over Easter made any difference to her. As per usual not revealing anything at all.
‘So … um, you’ll be coming?’ Nick asked.
‘Youarestill in need of a close protection officer,’ Goodie told him, a hint of exasperation lacing her tone.
‘I mean … you don’t have a family of your own to go to?’ Nick asked, narrowing his eyes.
‘I will send a team to check the location this week,’ Goodie said, ignoring his question as she ignored all personal inquiries. ‘I will have to be relatively close to you but I can maintain a discreet presence. Your family will barely notice I’m there.’ Nick bit his lip. Goodie hadn’t met his family. He thought the likelihood of her ‘maintaining a discreet presence’ with the bunch of nutters that would be at his mum and dad’s over Easter was slim.
Just as he was about to say something to that effect, the outer door of the office flew open again and Ed’s lanky frame burst through. Bizarrely he had on Bermuda shorts, a faded Star Wars sweatshirt, flip-flops, and his laboratory goggles still perched on his forehead. ‘Am I late?’ he asked breathlessly.
Nick sighed. ‘I’ve cancelled the meeting, Ed.’ He couldn’t be bothered to point out that even if Ed had been on time there was no way he could have met a potential client dressed the way he was, and Nick knew from bitter experience that any comments on Ed’s outfits would fall on deaf ears.
‘Is Mr Southern accompanying you for Easter, sir?’ Goodie asked.
‘Hurrah!’ Bertie exclaimed. ‘Capital idea! Eddie, old boy, you’ll come on a jaunt to the country with us, won’t you?’
‘Uh?’
‘It would make security easier, Mr Chambers,’ Goodie put in. ‘We work as a unit with Mr Southern’s team, which is fine when you’re all in London, but if you’re separated by an entire county it would be more difficult.’
