There. If he wanted to challenge her on exactly what she had found so interesting, or which issues had been clarified, he could. She could always go back to her old job.

But P.J. only smiled his appreciation of the vagueness of her answer, and Eve visibly relaxed.

‘We’ll be in touch as soon as we’ve drawn up a list of potential candidates,’ she promised as she began to get to her feet.

‘Perhaps it might be useful if you both met some of the other senior members of the team?’ P.J. suggested, standing as well. ‘As you may know, Sygma are sponsoring an exhibition of contemporary British art at the Westruther Gallery, and there’s a reception to mark the opening this evening at six-thirty. We’ll all be there, and it might be a good opportunity for you to meet them socially and get a feel for the kind of organisation we are. What do you think, Lester?’

‘It sounds an excellent idea,’ said Lester predictably, and Eve, equally predictably, was delighted.

‘We’d love to come, wouldn’t we, Nell?’

No, she would not love to come, Nell wanted to shout. She had other things to do this evening, as P.J. knew, and she hated modern art, which he also knew perfectly well. They had spent a weekend in Paris once arguing heatedly about what they had seen in the Beaubourg, and then made up over coffee and calvados in a tiny little café in Montmartre. He had only issued the invitation to throw out her evening.

But she couldn’t say that, could she? Eve’s lips were thinning dangerously, and the look she sent Nell was so steely that she might as well have observed in a loud voice that Nell’s job was on the line. Nell had no option but to force a smile.

‘That sounds lovely,’ she said through clenched teeth, and P.J.’s smile broadened at her obvious reluctance.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘I’ll get your names put on the guest list. You never know, you might even enjoy it!’

‘I’m sure we will,’ said Eve warmly, with another warning glance at Nell, but by now Nell was too fed up to care. She had had enough of today.

She put her notepad and pen away in her briefcase and pointedly said nothing as Eve turned back to say goodbye to Lester.

‘Please, do keep my pen, Ms Shea,’ P.J. murmured over Nell’s shoulder, and she actually slapped her forehead with an exclamation of frustration.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said stiffly, making to open her briefcase. ‘I wasn’t intending to steal it. I wasn’t thinking.’

P.J.’s voice changed. ‘Nell, it’s only a pen,’ he said in an undertone so that Eve and Lester couldn’t hear. ‘I was just teasing. Of course, it doesn’t matter.’

‘I think it does.’ Nell extracted the pen and handed it back to him, very much on her dignity. ‘Thank you so much, Mr Smith.’

If she’d hoped to disconcert him, she failed miserably. P.J. only grinned and twirled the pen between his fingers as he stood back to let her past, her briefcase clutched defensively to her chest.

‘I’ll see you later then, after all,’ he said.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘HE MADE me look an absolute fool,’ Nell stormed, slamming the lid onto the kettle and banging it back onto its element.

‘I don’t see how,’ said Thea, who was babysitting Clara and had heard all about the meeting over their first cup of tea. ‘It wasn’t P.J.’s fault that you stubbed your toe, or that your pen ran out, was it?’

It had felt like his fault, Nell thought darkly, but she didn’t know how to explain that to Thea.

‘And he only insisted that we go to that stupid reception tonight because he knew I had a date,’ she went on, opting to ignore her sister’s reasonable comments.

Thea reached for another biscuit. ‘He’s obviously keen to see you again,’ she said with satisfaction.

‘Well, I’m not keen to see him! If Janey asks you for my number, I utterly forbid you to give it to her!’

‘He won’t need your number,’ Thea pointed out through a mouthful of biscuit. ‘He knows where you work now.’

That was true. Nell dropped down into a chair with a gusty sigh. ‘There’ll be fat chance of getting my calls screened either. Eve would make me marry P.J. if she thought it would get her a long-term contract with Sygma!’

‘Well, you could do worse,’ her sister said thoughtfully, and Nell glowered at her.

‘Make up your mind! I thought I was supposed to be falling for this guy I’m meeting tonight?’

‘You know, I really do think you might,’ said Thea with a conspiratorial smile. ‘Still, there’s no harm in having P.J. as a fall-back position, is there?’

‘I think you should get back together with P.J.,’ said Clara, leaning over Nell’s shoulder to pinch another biscuit from the tin. ‘I thought he was really nice.’

‘You hardly met him,’ objected Nell. Why was everyone so determined to push her into P.J.’s arms?

‘He had smiley eyes,’ Clara said simply.

He did have nice eyes. Nell couldn’t dispute that. Their warmth and humour was very hard to resist, and she wasn’t that surprised that her daughter had fallen for their charm, too.

‘I could tell he was pleased to see you, too, Mum,’ Clara went on. ‘Why were you so unfriendly to him?’

Good question. Nell couldn’t explain to Clara that P.J. was much more than a charming smile and an engaging manner. If that was all there was to him, there would be no problem. She would just be able to think of him as an old friend and a nice man, the way everyone else seemed to do.

But old friends didn’t make you churn with desire, did they? They didn’t set your nerves a-jangle, or make you feel restless and breathless with something that was more fear than pleasure, as if the earth had shifted beneath your feet and sent your life and everything you thought you were, everything you thought you wanted, spinning out of your control?

Steeling herself against the way P.J. made her feel was the only way Nell could keep a grip on reality, but how could she explain that to Clara?

‘I was just a bit…thrown,’ she said after a moment. ‘It’s an odd feeling coming face to face with your past without warning like that.’

Nell wanted to go back to the way she had been yesterday. Yes, it had been lonely sometimes, but she had Clara, who made everything worthwhile. So life wasn’t very exciting? At least it was safe, and she was content. Surely that was better than this twitchy, jittery, scarily alive feeling she had had ever since P.J. had crashed back into her life that morning?

‘You’re supposed to be thinking about the future, not the past,’ said Thea, who had been watching her sister’s face. Draining her tea, she got to her feet and brushed the biscuit crumbs from her fingers in a determined manner. ‘Let’s go and make you beautiful for John.’

Between them, Thea and Clara bullied Nell into putting on the dress she had bought in a burst of extravagance to celebrate Thea’s wedding the previous Christmas. At first glance it seemed quite plain, just a dress that clung to her figure and whose smoky grey echoed her eyes, but there was a sheen to the material that added a subtle glamour to the subdued colour, and the effect was softened by the chiffon sleeves and overskirt that fluttered and floated as she moved.

Something about the fabric and the cut made Nell feel wonderful whenever she put it on. Even now, when she was churning with anxiety, she was conscious of a frisson of pleasure as the soft material shimmered around her.

Maybe Thea was right. She should be thinking about the future, not the past. Her life was too small at the moment. There seemed no room for anything except Clara and work. No wonder P.J.’s reappearance had had such an effect on her, Nell thought ruefully. He had made her realise just how limited her life had become. If she had been involved in another relationship, she wouldn’t be this unsettled by him.

Well, that could change. She would make an effort tonight. This John might be just what she needed, Nell told herself. He might be nice. Thea liked him, which was a good sign, but it was hard to imagine him at the moment. Whenever she tried to conjure up a possible picture, all she could see was P.J. smiling at her.

She pushed the image aside once more and concentrated fiercely on imagining a future with a man she loved. Maybe in years to come, she and John would look back on this evening as the first night they met, and they would remember the bar, and how they had felt and this dress…

‘You don’t think it’s too revealing?’ she asked, regarding herself dubiously in the mirror.

‘That’s the whole point,’ said Thea patiently. ‘It’s supposed to be sexy.’

‘But I’ve got to go to this reception first.’ And P.J. would see her wearing it. What if he thought she had made all this effort for him? ‘It’s not really appropriate for a work do.’

Thea waved work aside. ‘If they want you to turn up in a suit, they should keep work to office hours,’ she said. ‘You’ve got a heavy date tonight, and it’s more important that you look nice for that. Now, where are those shoes…? Ah!’

‘Thea, I can’t possibly walk in those,’ Nell protested as her sister pulled a pair of exquisitely delicate sandals from the bottom of her cupboard.

‘Who said anything about walking? You can get taxis this evening,’ said Thea. ‘I’ve already ordered you a cab to get to the gallery. You spent a fortune on these shoes, Nell, and you never wear them. Anything else will spoil the dress, anyway-unless you were thinking of going in your trainers?’ she added sarcastically.

‘I could put them in a bag and change when I get there, the way I do for work,’ Nell pointed out, but Thea wasn’t having any of it.

‘You are not going to ruin everything by hulking a carrier bag along with you,’ she said. Rummaging some more in Nell’s wardrobe, she emerged after a few moments with a tiny sequinned bag, which she pushed into her sister’s hand. ‘Perfect! That is all you’re allowed to carry, and I can tell you now the trainers just won’t fit.’