Lessons in Love. Kate Lawson

      Ray set his glass down and sighed. ‘Jayne, darling, how long have we known each other? How many years have we worked together? “All I need are the bright ideas and a man with an abacus and an eye for detail and I’m set”—isn’t that what you used to say? I don’t want to tell you how to run your business or your life, Jaynie, but do you really think—’

      ‘Don’t lecture me,’ Jayne said lightly. ‘I’m not stupid. I haven’t just picked someone at random off the street. She’s in her late twenties, working as a manager in the public sector, a very bright girl, funny, clever—in lots of ways she reminds me of me at that age. She seemed—no, she felt like—the last piece in the jigsaw. She’s been working in community outreach development for the library services.’

      ‘How terribly worthy.’

      ‘Stop it, Ray. She’s joining us for lunch. I’d really like you to show her the ropes, guide her through the business. I know it’ll take some time but my gut feeling is that she could turn out to be a real asset.’

      ‘You could have mentioned it earlier,’ Ray said grumpily.

      Jayne stroked his arm. ‘I know, but the idea only really came to me yesterday, and you know what I’m like.’

      ‘An unpredictable pain in the arse.’

      ‘Ouch, that is so cruel. I prefer spirited.’

      He snorted and refilled her glass.

      Lunch at Lorenzo’s. Faultless service, fabulous food, wonderful wine and a hum of conversation that implied intrigue, intimacy and money. It had been Ray’s idea that they should use it for their regular out-of-office business meetings. It was a good choice.

      ‘And what is your protégée’s role supposed to be exactly?

      ‘I’m not sure. How about management trainee?’

      ‘Trainee? I thought you said—’

      ‘OK, OK, not trainee. Maybe assistant manager—managerial assistant—assistant development manager. Come on, this is not a bolt out of the blue, Ray. We’ve both talked about taking someone on before.’

      ‘Hypothetically. A hypothetical assistant. And to be honest I had rather assumed I would be involved in the selection process.’ He looked round. ‘Can you still smoke in here?’

      ‘Ray, you know very well you can’t smoke anywhere.’

      ‘Bloody nanny state. The thing is, we’ve got several good people on the staff who could just step into the role—people who already know the ropes.’

      ‘Please don’t sulk, Ray. If she doesn’t work out then that’s fine, but it seemed like an omen.’

      ‘Because her name is Jane Mills?’

      ‘It’s an instinct, a hunch.’

      ‘It’s a whim.’

      Jayne picked up the menu and avoided meeting his eyes. ‘I thought she could start off by helping with the product selection, buying, as well as some of the day-to-day stuff. It just felt right. We need to find the right title for her.’

      ‘How about lucky mascot?’

      ‘Don’t be spiteful.’

      Ray, unable to light up a cigarette, grunted and took a canapé from the tray proffered by a passing waitress. ‘So where is your lucky managerial rabbit’s foot now then?’

      ‘I told her to meet us here at one so that you and I could have a chance to talk first. I’d really like to get everything organised and leave as soon as possible. We need to go through my diary. To be honest I don’t think there’s that much on for the next few weeks.’

      She pulled her organiser out from her bag and ran a finger down the entries.

      ‘Damn, I’m supposed to be giving a speech at the Cassar’s dinner. I’d forgotten all about that…’

      Ray waved her anxiety away. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out,’ he said between mouthfuls of shrimp. ‘When is it? I’ll make sure it’s covered.’

      ‘So you’ll do it for me?’

      Ray just stared at her.

      ‘OK, OK,’ she said, ‘I know, I can’t delegate—and I also know everything will be fine and you can manage perfectly well without me. Speeches and all.’

      ‘Is there anything else?’

      ‘I’ve also arranged to see several new suppliers—’

      ‘Your new managerial puppy can do that. It’ll give her something to cut her teeth on. Don’t worry, I’ll walk her through it. Just relax. Have you got any idea where you’re going yet?’

      Jayne shook her head. ‘Nope, I thought I might just turn up at an airport and see what they’ve got on offer.’ She looked up from the diary.

      ‘Seriously?’

      ‘That was how I did it last time. I just need to get going before it’s too late.’

      Ray smiled. ‘I understand that, but trust me, it’s not too late. And, Jayne?’ There was a little pause as their eyes met, and then he leaned across the table and caught hold of her hand. ‘It’s going to be fine. This thing you’ve been looking for—I truly hope that you find it.’

      Jayne touched her glass to his. ‘Me too.’

      Out in the High Street, and still around five minutes’ walk away from Lorenzo’s, Jane took a quick look in the window of a bookshop, which was the only one on the street with a window display dark enough to let her see her reflection. What the hell did you wear to a potential dot com job with a self-made woman and her right-hand man?

      The suit Jane had bought in Next was great for the library but for Lorenzo’s? Nope. After Jayne’s phone call she’d spent what remained of the morning soaking away her hangover in a warm bath, plucking her eyebrows, rootling through her wardrobe, pressing things, lifting cat hairs off other things with masking tape, trying on endless combinations, knowing full well that whatever she chose it would feel wrong the minute she stepped out of the door.

      And Gladstone—having missed his breakfast—was nowhere in sight, which also felt like a bad omen. And despite Lizzie’s phone call there was no time to go through the folder of email she had forwarded from the library—not that Jane thought there was anything in there, whatever Lucy or Lizzie thought.

      As the day was warm and sunny, the sky Wedgwood blue with not a hint of a cloud, Jane had settled on a blue and cream linen skirt, T-shirt, short fitted cardigan, straw bag, and ballet pumps as her final choice. It had looked perfect when she left the house. She stared into the shop window and tried to get a real sense of whether it worked or not. Did it make her look ditsy? Too Doris Day, too Amelie? Too young? Too casual? Maybe she should have worn heels. Did heels say sexy and confident, or did flats say sensible and reliable? Horribly aware that she was running late, Jane tried standing on tiptoe to gauge the effect—maybe there was still time to nip into Stead and Simpson and buy a pair of high-heeled sandals—while forcing herself to calm down as she reminded herself for the umpteenth time that Jayne had already offered her a job.

      She didn’t have to impress anyone, except she felt she had to make Jayne feel she had made a good choice and make Ray feel…feel…what was it she had to make Ray feel? Jane grimaced. God, this was awful.

      Jane turned left and then right to check her profile, and her bum, then sucked in her stomach and fluffed up her hair. Behind her two Chinese people watched intently—presumably they thought she was some kind of provincial street theatre. It was nearly one o’clock already.

      Lorenzo’s was set halfway along Brewer Street, up a flight of well-scrubbed steps, the front door flanked by two cone-shaped bay trees in terracotta pots, which made Jane wonder if the chef popped out first thing to pick a few leaves for the