I've Got Your Number

“OK, I’m sorry,” I say in a rush. “I know I shouldn’t be here, it’s just I’ve never been to the Savoy, and it sounded so amazing, and you didn’t want to go, and—” I break off as he lifts a hand, looking amused.

“It’s no problem. You should have told me you wanted to come. I would have put you on the list.”

“Oh!” The wind is taken out of my sails. “Well … thanks. I’m having a really nice time.”

“Good.” He smiles and takes a glass of red wine from a passing waiter’s tray. “You know what?” He pauses thoughtfully, cradling his glass in his hands. “I have something to say, Poppy Wyatt. I should have said it before. And that’s thank you. You’ve been a great help to me, these past few days.”

“It’s fine, really. No problem.” I hurriedly make a brushing-off motion, but he shakes his head.

“No, listen, I want to say this. I know originally I was doing you the favor—but in the end you’ve done me one. I haven’t had any proper PA support at work. You’ve done a great job, keeping me up-to-date with everything. I appreciate it.”

“Honestly, it’s nothing!” I say, feeling uncomfortable.

“Take the credit!” He laughs, then shrugs off his jacket and loosens his tie. “Jesus, it’s been a long day.” He slings his jacket over his shoulder and takes a gulp of wine. “So, nothing up today? The airwaves have gone very quiet.” He gives another of those devastating little smiles. “Or are all my emails coming through to Jane now?”

My phone contains two hundred and forty-three emails for him. And they’re still coming in.

“Well … ” I take a gulp of cosmo, desperately playing for time. “Funnily enough, you did get a few messages. I thought I wouldn’t disturb you while you were in Germany.”

“Oh yes?” He looks interested. “What?”

“Um … this and that. Or would you rather wait till tomorrow?” I clutch at a last hope.

“No, tell me now.”

I rub my nose. Where do I start?

“Sam! There you are!” A thin guy in glasses is approaching. He’s blinking quite fast and holding a large black portfolio under his arms. “they said you weren’t coming tonight.”

“I wasn’t,” Sam says wryly.

“Great. Great!” The thin guy is twitching with nervous energy. “Well, I brought these along on the off chance.” He thrusts the portfolio at Sam, who takes it, looking bemused. “If you have a moment tonight, I’ll be staying up till two or three, always happy to Skype from home… . A bit radical, some of it, but … Anyway! I think it’s a great thing you’re doing. And if there is a job opportunity behind all this … count me in. Right. Well … I won’t keep you any longer. Thanks, Sam!” He darts away again into the crowd.

For a moment neither of us speaks, Sam because he looks too baffled and me because I’m trying to work out what to say.

“What was all that about?” says Sam at last. “Do you have any idea? Is there something I’ve missed?”

I lick my dry lips nervously. “There was something I meant to tell you about.” I give a high-pitched laugh. “It’s quite funny, actually, if you see it that way—”

“Sam!” A large woman with a booming voice interrupts me. “ So delighted we’ve got you signed up for the Fun Run!” Oh my God. This must be Rachel.

“Fun Run?” Sam echoes the words as though they’re complete anathema to him. “No. Sorry, Rachel. I don’t do Fun Runs. I’m happy to donate, let other people do the running, good for them—”

“But your email!” She stares at him. “We were so thrilled you wanted to take part! No one could believe it! This year we’re all running in superhero costumes,” she adds enthusiastically. “I’ve earmarked a Superman one for you.”

“Email?” Sam looks bewildered. “What email?”

“That lovely email you sent! Friday, was it? Oh, and bless you for the e-card you sent young Chloe.” Rachel lowers her voice and pats Sam on the hand. “She was so touched. Most directors wouldn’t even care if an assistant’s dog had died, so for you to send such a lovely e-card of condolence, with a poem and everything … ” She opens her eyes wide. “Well. We were all amazed, to be honest!”

My face is getting hotter. I’d forgotten about the e-card.

“An e-card of condolence for a dog,” says Sam at last, in a strange voice. “Yes, I’m pretty amazed at myself.”