‘How far out of it, Al?’
‘A long way, I think. Ever since I got the news, I’ve been mulling over what that slimy toad Nigel said to me. He called it an opportunity for a complete change. Although I still think he’s a despicable reptile, or should that be amphibian, I’m coming round to thinking he may be right.’
Sally caught the waiter’s eye and pointed to the empty bottle. It was going to be a long evening. ‘I’ll tell you this, Al, you could do worse. Try living like a normal girl instead of a career woman for a change. Get yourself a social life again. Meet a few nice people, cultivate a selection of eligible bachelors, jump into bed with some of them. That should take your mind off things.’
The waiter returned with another bottle of Pinot Grigio. Sally waited until he had retired before continuing. ‘Sex, my girl, that’s what you need. That’ll take your mind off things.’
Alice looked up, a hint of a smile on her face. ‘Sex, Sally, that’s your answer to everything.’
‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.’
‘Of course I’ve tried it.’ Alice sounded piqued. ‘I had a whole heap of boyfriends at university.’
‘And that was… fifteen, sixteen years ago?’ Sally kept her voice gentle.
‘Seventeen, but who’s counting? Anyway, I’ve been out with men since then. All right, nobody really special, and no long term relationships, but I was working so hard.’
‘That’s the whole point, Alice, it’s time to think of yourself, not just G-and-bloody-B. Isn’t there something you would really like to do? Apart from having sex with some young stud, of course.’
Alice sipped her wine. Alcohol wasn’t going to be the answer. And neither was sex. She allowed herself a moment’s reflection. Sally was right, of course. She really had sacrificed her personal life for her career. Not that she had lived an entirely monastic life. There had been men, admittedly not that many, but her job had always been her first priority. Now she could change all that.
‘Do you know what I’d really like to do?’ Sally looked up with interest, pleased to see a smile on her face. ‘I’m thinking about going back to university.’
‘What, as a postgrad?’ Sally sounded genuinely surprised.
‘Yes, I thought I might try and do a Masters.’
‘Something to do with finance? An MBA, maybe?’
Alice shook her head. ‘Nothing to do with work. No, something very, very different.’
‘Such as?’
Alice gave her a smile. ‘History. Don’t laugh. I’ve always been interested in history.’
Sally looked surprised. ‘So what period of history?’
Alice began to look less sure of herself. ‘I don’t really know. I’ve been reading all sorts. Everything from the Egyptians to the Cold War. There’s got to be something in between that gets my juices flowing.’
‘While on that subject, Al, there is always my original suggestion.’ Sally gave her a wink. ‘And by the sound of it, your experience of the opposite sex is back in the realms of history, so you’d be killing two birds with one stone.’
‘Oh, Sally, there’s more to life than sex.’
‘Certainly in your life.’
‘I’ll find myself a man, don’t you worry.’ She glanced across the table. ‘Maybe a handsome young student with a six pack.’
‘So somebody half your age? You’re almost forty, Al. You could be done for cradle snatching. Anyway, from what I remember of university, the only six packs I came across were the ones containing beer.’
‘Anyway, I’ve got to get there first.’
‘Where’s there? Are you going to stay here in London? Or are you thinking of pastures new? Maybe a little thatched cottage in the country?’ She was joking, but she spotted something on Alice’s face. ‘Really? You want to bury yourself in the country, among the yokels?’
‘I was thinking of Devon, actually. And Exeter is one of the best universities in the country, or so they say.’
‘Wow, that’s radical. So you really fancy abandoning the bright lights of the city? And Devon? They’re still eating the missionaries down there, you know.’
Alice gave her a smile. ‘I’ll take my chances. Anyway, I’ll need to find a house first.’
‘A house in the country?’ Danny was doing his best to sound positive, although he was still reeling at the news that she was leaving London.
‘I think so. I’ve got my eye on Devon. We used to go on holiday down there when I was little. It has happy memories for me.’ She was still holding the envelope that he had brought from the office. Alongside her name and address, there were the words: Strictly Private and Confidential. By hand of courier.
His eyes flicked down to it. ‘Nigel told me to tell you it’s a really good deal.’
‘What would he know about a good deal?’ She allowed herself a snort of derision. ‘I’ve closed more deals than he’s had expense account lunches.’
‘We are all so sorry you have had to leave.’ He decided to take a chance. ‘And I’m very sorry indeed. It won’t be the same without you.’
‘Thanks, Danny. I’m going to miss you, too.’ She failed to spot the flash of disappointment on his face as she added, ‘All of you on the fifteenth floor.’
He rallied himself. ‘So have you found a house yet? And what about this place?’ Her flat was in a lovely old house, halfway up a narrow backstreet in Greenwich. It was the first time he had ever been inside, although he had once walked past and wondered what it was like. When Nigel had asked for a volunteer to deliver the envelope, he hadn’t hesitated.
‘I’ve only just started looking. I’ve been checking out the property websites. Prices in Devon are a lot lower than London prices.’ She nodded towards the envelope. ‘So, depending on what this says, I’ll either sell up and buy or maybe keep this place on and rent it.’ He perked up.
‘Listen, Alice, if you decide to keep it and rent it out, I would be very interested. It’s a gorgeous place and so very close to work. Would that be all right?’
‘That sounds great.’ She hesitated, looking a bit dubious. ‘It isn’t very big, you know. Are you sure you’d have room?’
‘Loads, Alice. There’s just me. Nobody else, no pets, not even a goldfish. And I should be able to afford to pay the rent. G&B are spending a lot on IT at the moment.’
She was on the point of making a rude retort about them having money to spend on computers, rather than on real people like her, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t Danny’s fault, after all. And he was a real person. How funny that he wasn’t married. He was quite good-looking, really.
‘Have you tried looking for property on auction sites?’ His voice interrupted her train of thought.
‘What, online auctions?’
‘Not exactly. These days there are more and more auctions, real auctions, where people can bid over the internet or by telephone, if they can’t be physically present. You can view all the lots from the comfort of your desk and then bid at a distance.’ He glanced around the room. ‘If you’ve got a computer here, I can show you a few if you are interested.’
‘I’d like that, Danny.