‘He hasn’t done anything,’ laughed Lizzie. ‘People can send flowers for other reasons, you know.’ Noticing that there was a card attached with twirly yellow ribbon, she ripped open the envelope, eager to read the romantic message inside. Instead, it simply said: Lizzie, I’m in town. Please can we talk? Alex x
A burst of adrenaline shot through her body. Has he been here? She looked around the office furtively, as if half expecting him to pop out from behind the photocopier, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Glancing back down, she saw that underneath the message was a sprawled mobile number, the last two digits of which were smudged. Lizzie dropped the card and leapt from her chair, chasing after Bob like a champion sprinter.
‘Bob! BOB! Where exactly did these come from?’
He spun around to face her, looking puzzled. ‘A bloke just dropped them off not long ago. I brought them straight up. Why?’
‘What did he look like?’
‘Hard to say, miss – tall, about your age. Nice chap. Could have been a courier, I suppose. Is something wrong?’
Lizzie ran past him down the corridor, almost knocking over Phoebe as she returned with the drinks, and hammered on the lift button as though her life depended on it. ‘Come on!’ she yelled, causing the mousy intern on her right to jump. The lift was being stubborn now, its green arrow flashing upwards in defiance.
She would have to take the fire exit.
Her heels clacked against the cheap lino as she raced down the dingy stairs, her palms sweating so much that she struggled to grip the chipped banister. Finally, after four hellishly long storeys, she burst through the door and out into the cobbled side street.
‘Alex!’
A startled pigeon flew past her, but otherwise the alley was deserted. She strode round the corner to the main entrance, half hoping that he would be waiting; half afraid of what would happen if he was.
‘Alex, are you there?’
Only the whistle of the wind came back at her, and she knew that once again he had slipped away without saying a word.
After sending a quick text to request an emergency summit, Lizzie rushed straight round to Megan’s flat after work, which proved easier said than done with a giant bouquet on the Tube. Not only did she have to squeeze into the crowded carriage, but the bald man standing beside her seemed to have severe hayfever, and proceeded to sneeze in her direction all the way to Shepherd’s Bush.
‘Need … wine … now,’ she gasped, as the front door finally swung open.
‘What’s going on?’ said Megan. She peered at the huge arrangement. ‘You look like you’ve raided the Chelsea Flower Show. Are these for me?’
‘They are now. Alex sent them.’
‘What the fu …?’
‘I know,’ Lizzie interrupted. ‘Have you got wine?’
Megan stared at her, highlighting the sheer stupidity of the question. ‘Red, white or rosé?’
‘I don’t mind, as long as you make mine a large.’
‘Coming right up. Then you have to tell me everything.’ She eyed the flowers again. ‘I suppose we’d better get these in water, if they even fit through the hallway.’
Lizzie stepped inside the bijoux apartment, noticing that it was pretty tidy these days, or at least a lot better than when the two of them moved in after uni. ‘The old place is looking good,’ she murmured, her mind still boggling from the afternoon’s events.
‘Thanks,’ replied Megan. ‘Lily’s a neat freak, so she’s been spring cleaning again.’ Megan’s cousin, a leggy model, had been renting the other bedroom since Lizzie moved in with Josh. The girl had a wardrobe to die for and was hardly ever around, so most of the time the deal suited Megan perfectly. ‘Sit down and make yourself comfy,’ she continued, taking the flowers through to the compact kitchen. ‘I’ll be with you in a sec. Wine is on the way!’
Lizzie collapsed into the soft, threadbare couch, now tastefully adorned with a scattering of gold cushions. A few seconds later, Megan returned with a bottle of Pinot Grigio and two glasses, and settled down beside her. ‘Right, have some of this and start from the beginning,’ she said, pouring a couple of sizeable servings. ‘When did the flowers turn up?’
‘Today.’
‘What, at home? Did Josh see?’ Her voice began to climb higher and higher.
‘No, at work. But obviously I can’t take them home. Not that I’d want to,’ Lizzie added hastily. She took a large gulp of Pinot, hoping the cool wine would soothe her frazzled nerves.
‘Did you talk to him?’
‘Who, Josh?’
‘No, Alex!’ Megan was dangerously close to soprano territory now.
‘No.’ Lizzie tried to adopt a nonchalant expression, omitting to mention that she had nearly set a new land-speed record trying to sprint down the fire exit.
‘Then how do you know they’re from him?’
‘Because he left a note.’
Megan’s eyes widened. ‘Saying?’
Lizzie put down her glass, retrieved the card from her purse and handed it over. Megan’s mouth flapped about like a fish deprived of water. ‘But … what …’ she paused. ‘He’s got some balls.’
‘I know.’
‘As if you’d want to talk to him!’
‘Exactly.’ Lizzie picked up her wine and necked another large mouthful. Megan sipped hers more slowly, looking deep in thought.
‘I wonder how he knew where you’d be,’ she mused.
‘What?’
‘Well, if he sent flowers to your office, how did he find out where you work?’ She wrinkled her nose suspiciously.
‘I’ve no idea. Maybe someone told him, or he looked me up online or something. You’re the one who’s always telling me you can find anything on the internet.’
Megan mulled this over for a moment. ‘It’s possible, I guess. But he doesn’t seem too into the whole social media thing. He’s not even on Facebook! My 90-year-old gran’s on there poking people, no problem. But Alex? Nothing.’
‘You tried to look him up?’ Now it was Lizzie’s turn to be surprised.
‘Only when I heard he was back. I was just going to check out his pictures, do a bit of harmless reconnaissance.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never tried to do that?’
Lizzie ducked her gaze. ‘Maybe once or twice,’ she muttered. Not that she’d ever found anything. Alex was very good at going under the radar. In another life, he’d have made an excellent secret agent.
‘If you say so,’ scoffed Megan. ‘Anyway, you’re missing the point. The important thing is what you do next.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Please tell me you didn’t phone him already?’
‘Course not,’ Lizzie spluttered. ‘I can’t read the number anyway. The last two digits are smudged.’
Megan peered at the card, then threw it down on the coffee table. ‘I think it’s a 6 and a 0. Might be an 8. Not that it matters, though. You definitely shouldn’t call.’
‘I won’t.’
‘In that case, I think we should get rid of it,’ she said. ‘Just so you don’t feel tempted to ring him later. You know, once we’ve polished