From The Moment I Saw Him .... (16 page)

Jo was at home when I got in.  I was surprised to
see her.  She was now very happy in a steady relationship with Simon, a lawyer
who was in Chambers in the City, and they usually spent the weekends together.

“Wow!  Who was that I saw you kissing goodbye?” she
demanded, eyes gleaming.  “Don’t tell me you’ve found a replacement for Nick at
last?”

I put my briefcase down with a thump.

“That’s one of my bosses.  It wasn’t much of a kiss,
and it was appropriate in the circumstances, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

“Nice car, too.”   She reflected for a moment.  “You
looked good together, hang on in there, Eithne.”

I shook my head at her, and went to change into
pyjamas and dressing gown, while she made a cup of tea.

“Where’s Simon?” I queried, as she returned with two
mugs and a pack of biscuits.  She made a face.

“His mother’s dog died, so he’s gone up to Norfolk
to provide some consolation.  He’ll be back tomorrow, though.” 

She fidgeted a bit with her mug, and twiddled a lock
of her dark hair.

“Anyway, I’ve been wanting to talk to you, and this
seems a good time.  Would you be awfully upset if I moved out?  Simon is
talking about us living together, there’s the chance of a flat in Belsize Park. 
I feel bad about letting you down, but....”

“For heaven’s sake, I won’t mind.” 

I was pleased for her; I took heart from the fact
that she had found happiness again after a couple of lonely years.

In many ways, I would be happy to have the flat to
myself.  I loved to sit watching the water, there was something uplifting and
moving about the Thames in its changing moods. Sometimes, I would daydream, and
fancy myself back in older times, when the river was the important hub of a
growing city.   After the hustle and bustle of agency life, solitude could be
very restorative.

“Are you sure you won’t be lonely?”

“Well, you know what long hours I work.  If I do
find it’s a problem, I’ll advertise for a flatmate, but I shall quite look
forward to having the kitchen and bathroom just for me.”

She made a face, and we both laughed.

“When were you thinking of leaving?” I said.

“Not until Christmas.  I hope that’s okay.”

“That’s fine by me.”

I thought about Ian Inglis over the weekend.  It was
strange, he reminded me of Nick in small ways, yet in others they were poles
apart.  Was he interested in me, or was I just another new girl to impress?  I
would have to wait to see what his next move was; I was far from convinced that
I should become any more involved with him.

With the planning required for the Warrender pitch,
my workload, never light, took a turn for the heavier.  However, I found it
very stimulating.  Unlike Marsham and Hunter, where the major decisions had
been out of my hands, I was pleased to be consulted and included in every
aspect of our work at Mackerras Mackay.

This was not to say that I was always right - but
no-one made you feel a fool if something went belly up, provided you’d done
your best along the way.  It was a great way to learn.

A small team of us worked on the Warrender
campaign.  We only had a month to prepare our strategies and creative work, so
there were many late meetings and last minute changes to our plans.  Ian made
no further move to invite me out - I was half disappointed about this - but I
was grateful to him for arranging transport at the agency’s expense to take me
back to Wapping if we had been working late.  I really couldn’t have faced the
tube after such long and hectic days.

The pitch to the client was on a Thursday towards
the end of November, when John Warrender and his fellow directors came to the agency
for a marketing and creative presentation.  I had a very peripheral role, but
was delighted when John made a point of talking to me for a long time
afterwards over coffee.  My mother had made some suggestions regarding the
damson formula, and he was interested in what I had to say, almost to the point
of ignoring anybody else. 

When he and his fellow directors were finally
ushered out, I started to collect together the layouts and storyboard we had
used.  Then I heard laughter along the passage, as Ian, Charlie and Rob
Mackerras returned to the board room.

“I see you had a secret weapon all along, Ian,” Rob
said, smiling at me.

“Yes - we won’t need to do much in future, just
stick Eithne in front of them and clients will do anything she wants,” he replied,
with a huge smile.  I blushed, but was pleased all the same.

“When will we know if we’ve got the account?” I
asked, to cover my confusion.

“Next week, probably.  Whatever happens, you did
well.”

I had enjoyed the pitch, but it was a relief to feel
that life would be less hectic in the run up to Christmas.  Robin was pleased
too, he had been aware that I had been struggling with my day to day work in
recent weeks.  Later that afternoon, Janie hovered in the doorway.

“Mara called, Ian wants to see you in his office.”

“Blast, I’ll never get these minutes finished.”

I put down my pen, and walked the length of the
corridor to the directors’ end.  Ian was writing busily, but looked up when I
hovered at the door.

“Eithne - come in...”

He put the work aside, and smoothed back his thick
hair with one hand.

“Do you have an up-to date passport?”

“Yes, I think so. Why?”

He gave me a conspiratorial grin.

“I wondered whether you might like to spend the
weekend in Paris.”

“Paris?” I echoed stupidly.

“Yes, you know, just over the Channel, they speak
French there.”  

The grin deepened.  I wasn’t quite sure what was
going on.

“For work?” I hazarded.

“No.  For pleasure.  With me.” 

I sat down uninvited on one of the chairs by the
coffee table.  I really didn’t know what to think.

“You mean - basically, a dirty weekend?” I said
hesitantly.

The grin faded.

“Well, I’ve never liked that term.  Why not call it
a romantic weekend?  I always think Paris is the most romantic of cities,
especially before Christmas.  Imagine strolling by the Seine, with the trees
lit up and the reflections shining in the water.”

“It sounds wonderful,” I said.  “I’d love to see
it.  But I don’t know whether I’m ready to get into bed with you just like
that.  We’ve hardly even kissed each other.  It doesn’t work that way for me. 
It was nice of you to ask me, though.”

I stood up to leave.  Ian stared at me, pondering
his next move, I had the feeling he was not accustomed to being rejected.  He
said

“Separate rooms, then?”

I was still very unsure of my ground. 

“What do you want from this weekend, Ian?  Is it to
see Paris again, or to get to know me, or simply to have sex?  I can see you
doing two of those things, but I don’t know if that’s enough for you.”

He rose from the desk, and walked behind me to close
the office door.

“Why must you always over-analyse things?”

He was smiling, but I thought I detected a slight
irritation in his voice.

“Let me be honest.  I really like you, Eithne.  I
haven’t made any moves on you because we’ve all been so occupied with the
Warrender pitch.  Now we have the time to get to know each other properly.”

He reached for my right hand, turned it over and
kissed the palm.  I caught my breath, it was surprisingly erotic.

“I want to take you to nice places, and yes, I would
like to make love to you.  You don’t appear to object to my company, don’t you
think we could have a wonderful time?  But I promise I won’t go any faster or
further than you want.  I’m not some sleaze ball trying it on.”

He put his arms around me - he smelled deliciously
of laundered shirts and men’s cologne.

  “Please say yes,” he murmured into my hair.

I hesitated.  I thought I could hear the ring of
truth in what he said.  And it would be amazing to see Paris.  I was tempted.

“When would we go?” I muttered, very conscious of
his proximity and agency life going on outside the closed door.

“Tomorrow evening, early.  I’ll make all the
arrangements.  Back Sunday night.  Sweet Eithne, do say yes.”

He turned his head, and kissed me properly, a soft,
lingering kiss, and I felt my heartbeat quicken.

“What have I got to lose?” I asked myself.  I found
him very attractive.  I knew about his reputation, but I thought I could handle
a brief affair.  It might be fun, and after all the warnings, I would know not
to let myself get in too deep.  However, if we had a fling, would it be
possible for me to keep working at Mackerras Mackay once it had ended?  I
really liked the agency, and didn’t want to move on again.

“Oh Ian, it’s not that simple.”

I removed myself from his arms, and looked straight
at him.

“Now, let me be honest.  Everyone tells me you pick
girls up and drop them when you’ve had enough.  I can deal with that - but I
don’t want to have a thing with you and then find I have to leave when it’s
over.  I like working here, I don’t want to jeopardise my job.”

“You’re making rather a lot of assumptions,” he
said, surprised.

“Yes - well, I did tell you before, I look before
leaping now.”

There was silence, while we both considered our
positions.

“I can’t predict what might happen between us,” he
said, after a while.  “But I promise you that you would not have to leave the
agency as a result of any relationship with me.”

“Is that right?  I shall hold you to that, so it had
better be true.  Anyway, Ian, any relationship we have - if we have one at all
- must remain secret.  I don’t want people talking about me in connection with
you.  On a daily basis, we must be two colleagues, and nothing else.  That means
you can’t ask Mara to make the bookings for this little trip, you’ll have to do
it yourself, it’ll be all round the place otherwise.”

“You’ll come, then?”  His face lit up.

“Well, it would be lovely to see
Paris..........we’ll just have to see what happens about the other stuff.”

“You’re a monster,” he murmured, but he was smiling
too.  “Now.  Practicalities.  Give me your home number, I’ll call you later
when I’ve booked the flights and hotel.  Bring your case and passport in with
you tomorrow, and tell everyone you’re going home early for the weekend or
something.”  He gave me a smouldering, sexy glance.   “We’ll have a great
time.”

“I know.  I think I deserve a treat.  Now I have
some minutes to finish.”

I assumed that any arrangements Ian made would go
smoothly, and they did.  After an uneventful flight, we enjoyed a quick, late
dinner at our hotel, and retired to our room.

“I’m afraid I could only get one room, the place is
booked solid,” he told me during the flight.  “But you have my word that
nothing will happen unless you want it to.”

We settled down with glasses of cognac on a huge,
squashy sofa, and he took me in his arms and kissed me.  The kissing had
started at the airport, and continued in the plane, the taxi, and the hotel.  He
kissed very nicely - not in the same league as Nick, but I soon felt relaxed
and receptive.  It had been ages since I had fancied anyone so much.  Ian
possessed the same sexual self-confidence which had made Nick so irresistible,
and I could feel it working on me much as it had done in the past.

What with the kissing and the brandy, my resolve to
keep him at a distance began to waver, and when his kisses grew more insistent,
and he unbuttoned my blouse and caressed my breasts, I was so aroused that I
didn’t want him to stop. 

After a while, he literally picked me up and carried
me to the bed, and made love to me with skill and tenderness.  He was a very
experienced lover, and I enjoyed every bit of it.

“I thought you weren’t ready to jump into bed with me,”
he murmured, nuzzling my neck, as we lay in a pleasant post coital glow.    

“Oh well - chalk up another one for the Inglis
Technique,” I responded drowsily.  “The truth is, Ian, I haven’t slept with
anyone for a long time, and I’d forgotten how nice it can be.  I’m afraid that,
once you started, I got carried away.”         

I got carried away again the next morning.

Afterwards, we wandered about the streets, enjoying
the unfamiliar sights and smells of the city.  It was a clear, frosty day, and
as we strolled by the river, the low sun against the trees made me think vividly
of my first encounter with Nick.

“Gosh - this reminds me of my first date with my
boyfriend Nick, when I was at school,” I couldn’t help exclaiming.

“You slept with him on your first date?”  asked Ian,
a little pointedly, I thought.

“No, I don’t mean that, I mean the weather and the
water.  Actually, it wasn’t a proper date.  He didn’t even kiss me,” I replied,
with a return of that sudden ache I still got at times whenever I thought
fondly of Nick. 

I stopped, and looked over at the swirling, grey
waters, and remembered another scene on a bridge over a winter river.  My face
must have grown sad, because Ian pulled me towards him.

“I take it this boy meant a lot to you,” he said,
gently brushing a lock of hair back from my face.

“Yes.  He was everything to me.  It’s taken me a
long time to get over him.  Perhaps it’s a girl thing - feeling an ineradicable
link to the first person you are properly in love with.”

We walked in silence for a while, and I tried to
shake off the feeling of melancholy which had touched me.  I was a little
remorseful at having enjoyed sex with somebody else for the first time since
Nick, though I couldn’t think why.

Over lunch, in a steamy cafe, Ian asked me to tell
him more about Nick. I think he was intrigued by the fact that someone had made
such a lasting impression upon me.  I gave him a brief account, because it was
still painful to recall some of the very good times, but he was amused by the
Sphere
episode.

“It wasn’t funny for me,” I remonstrated.  “Anyone
who knew him would have recognised I was the girl in question.  My parents were
mortified, you can imagine the comments at the Bridge Club in Beresford.”

“Oh my God, yes.  However, I don’t think you need
worry about
Sphere
any more, I believe it isn’t doing very well.  No
more revelations to come there.”

He gave me a long, intimate glance, as though
recalling something pleasurable.

“What is it?”

“I’m just remembering those little soft kitten noises
you make when we’re in bed together,” he said, smiling.

I blushed, and shifted in my chair.  Much as I had
enjoyed his lovemaking, I was still surprised by my readiness to give in to
him, and his certainty that I would do so.  

After lunch, we went to the Louvre, where I
remembered some of the things which John had taught me - enough to make some
fairly intelligent criticisms, anyway.

Dinner at a delicious restaurant was followed by
another passionate night.  I felt I could get used to this sort of life, and
was almost sad when we arrived back in rainy London.

However, back at the office, I was determined to
maintain normal working relations.  There was an account review on Monday
morning, and Robin and I were due to present the creative plans for a new
development of the “Luna” range. 

“You look very pretty today, Eithne,” Robin
complimented me, as we walked to the board room.

“Do I?” I said innocently.

“Yes - you’ve got a bright eyed and bushy tailed
look about you somehow.”

We walked in and sat down at the round table.  Ian,
in his capacity as group director, looked across and smiled at us.

“Morning Robin, morning Eithne.  Good weekend?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual stuff.” 

I looked down demurely at my paperwork.  I felt I
would be good at keeping secrets.

Ian asked me out for dinner on the Wednesday after
we returned from France.

“Bring an overnight bag - it’s such a trek back to
Wapping,” he instructed me.

I was curious to see his flat.  It was on the first
floor of a Georgian house, and was beautiful, with high, embossed ceilings and
enormous windows, but I didn’t get to inspect very much on that first visit
before he hustled me into his bed with flattering urgency.

“That creative meeting this afternoon was torture,”
he groaned as he pulled me down into the sheets.  “All I could think about was
making love to you, you looked positively edible in that little black suit.  At
this rate, I shall have to get a sofa in my office.”

“If everything I’ve been told about you is true,
Ian, I’m surprised you haven’t got one already,” I replied.

Whatever his usual practice with other women, Ian
did not drop me now that we had slept together.  We met for dinner on several
evenings in the week, and usually spent at least one day every weekend in each
other’s company.  My desire to keep things secret impeded our joint social life
- for instance, Ian could not take me to dinners or parties attended by other
agency staff members, and he much preferred that we spent time at his flat in
Chelsea rather than in Wapping, but on the whole, things were good between us.

I liked him very much, and found his company
stimulating.  Our sex life was always great; he seemed to know instinctively
how to arouse and satisfy me, and I appreciated all the theatres and
restaurants we went to.  But I was not deeply in love with him as I had been
with Nick.

For his part, I think he was piqued by the fact that
I could tease him and demonstrate that I had a will of my own.  He had been
used to women falling at his suave adman’s feet, and the fact that I was
neither needy nor over compliant was a novelty for him, and something which
kept his interest in me alight.  Sometimes I wondered why I had not been able
to do this woman-of-the-world stuff with Nick, it might have had a better
outcome for me where he was concerned.

There was a small celebration just before Christmas,
when it was announced that we had won the John Warrender account.  I was told
that I would work on it as account executive, and this was something of a
feather in my cap.   I looked forward to doing business with John Warrender as
much as anything, as I felt he and I were very much on the same wavelength.

The agency Christmas party was held when we returned
to work in January, due to clashing commitments before the festive season.

Towards the end, Ian asked me to dance, and
immediately folded his arms round me in a very tight embrace.  Unusually for
him, he was a little tipsy.

“Uh - Ian - people are looking,” I muttered,
conscious of some quizzical stares as he caressed my back.

“Let them.  You know we can’t keep this secret for
ever, don’t you?” 

He brushed his lips over my hair.

“Umm.  We’ve managed so far.”  I tried to
disentangle myself a little, and he kissed my neck.

“It isn’t really anything to do with anyone else,”
he said.  “I do want you to reconsider, darling, I can’t keep telling people
I’m unattached when they ask me to a dinner party.  I want to be able to take
you out with me.  To hell with everyone here, you know that someone will see us
together sooner or later.”

We had experienced a few difficult moments in recent
mornings, when Ian had dropped me off a block away from the office to avoid
arriving at the same time, and I had been forced to duck and dive to ensure
other staff members did not see me getting out of his car.

“Well, we can talk about it, but I don’t think this
is the occasion to go public.”

I smiled bravely at another couple drifting past, as
if to say, fancy having to put up with the directors when they’re “tired and
emotional”.  Ian kissed the other side of my neck.

“At this rate, I shall have to slap you and storm
off the dance floor,” I hissed.  He laughed loudly, and a few other heads
turned. 

“Please, Ian ....”

Something in my tone must have got through, because
he released his grip slightly, and stopped the smooching.  The dance ended soon
after, and I went to walk away, but he caught me by the hand. 

“We don’t have to stay much longer.  I’ll give you a
nod when we can go,” he whispered.

“That’s fine by me.”

I slunk away to find a quiet spot, but I had not
gone far when Robin approached.

“Are you okay, Eithne?  Ian Inglis is a real wanker,
I saw him all over you like an octopus during that dance.”

He looked very annoyed on my behalf.  My heart
pounded, the last thing I wanted was attention.

“I’m fine, it was nothing - please, Robin, just
ignore it?” I pleaded

“Well, if you’re sure...”  He looked unconvinced but
I think he sensed my embarrassment, and backed off.  “Dance with me then?”

“Yes, of course.”

 We walked to the floor.  A slow song came on, and
he put his arms round me.  It felt funny given our day to day relationship.

After a while, he asked me,

“Do you ever hear anything of your old boyfriend,
Eithne?”

My heart beat a little harder.

“No, nothing at all.  But I haven’t exactly sought
him out,” I replied.

“It’s none of my business - but you’ve seemed a bit
distracted at times recently, and I wondered....”

“It isn’t Nick, I can assure you.  I think I’ve just
been a bit tired,” I said diplomatically.

I saw Ian by the door, carrying his coat.  I would
need to slip away myself soon.

“In fact - I think I’m going to go home now, Robin. 
Thanks for the dance.”

I ducked out of his arms and walked purposefully to
the door, leaving him frowning after me.  I wished that agency life could
sometimes be a bit less complicated.

After the Christmas party, Ian and I had a serious
talk about our relationship.  I was happy for it to stay a secret, Ian was all
for letting the world know.  January shivered into February, and still no
compromise was reached.

St Valentine’s Day fell on a Saturday for once, and
Ian booked dinner at a new restaurant in Kensington, which was attracting rave
reviews.  It was going to be a special occasion, and I treated myself to a
rather daring new dress from Miss Selfridge and had my hair piled up on my head
by Sandro.  I still patronised him as he was so good at managing my curls.

Ian goggled a bit when he saw me, but I felt I
looked sophisticated and grown up, and enjoyed the admiring glances I attracted
as we were shown to our table.

After we had ordered our food, and the champagne had
been poured, we sat back and smiled at one another.  I felt relaxed.  I was
very appreciative of the good things Ian was able to share with me.

“I was expecting Eithne - what have you done with my
girlfriend?” Ian asked, gazing at my upswept hair.

“I thought you’d like it,” I said.

“I do, but I’m so used to you with a head of
curls.....mind you, I think everyone here appreciates your décolletage,” he
added, with a meaningful look at my chest.  I blushed slightly.

“Is it too much?  I wasn’t sure.”

“No, you look absolutely gorgeous.  I can’t wait for
bedtime.”

He seemed very upbeat and smiley.  I sipped my
champagne and gazed around the room, savouring the aura of enjoyment all around
us.

Then I looked down at my plate.  A little box stood
on it.  I felt my heart begin to pound.