fingers.
'And you've no ties? No children to be picked up from school?'
'I'm not married.'
The other woman raised her eyebrows. 'What difference does that make these days?' She handed Olivia an application form. 'Complete these details for me, please, including a daytime telephone number where you can be contacted, and I'll have a placement for you by the end of the week—or earlier, maybe, if someone calls in sick.' She produced another form. 'And these are the agency's terms and conditions of employment Read them through, and sign at the bottom if you're satisfied.' She paused, and smiled. 'My name's Sandra Wilton. Welcome to Service Group.'
Olivia allowed herself a modest lunchtime celebration of a hot chicken sandwich and a diet drink, then set out to unravel the mysteries of the London Underground system.
By the end of the day she was confident enough to launch herself towards the City on the Central Line.
She found Dirty Dick's quite easily, hesitating for a moment over whether to choose the door straight ahead of her or go downstairs. She opted for street level, pausing just inside the door so that her eyes could readjust to the subdued lighting. It was a big room, with a long bar, a wooden floor, and barrels for tables.
It was already filling up noisily with dark City suits and briefcases, and Olivia paused, staring around her, trying to locate Jeremy.
She saw him at last, waving at her from the side of the room, where a shelf had been built along the wall, and equipped with stools for customers who preferred to sit.
Her heart leapt as she threaded her way through the laughing, chattering groups, but she couldn't help wishing that he'd come to her.
'Darling.' His arms closed round her, hugging her tightly against him. 'This is amazing. God, it's so good to see you. I've missed you so much.'
'I've missed you too.' Now that the moment of truth had come, she felt oddly shy. 'That's why I came.'
'My love.' His eyes caressed her. 'I wish this wasn't such a public place.' His smile was intimate—warming. He paused. 'I ordered dry white wine for you. I hope that's all right.' He handed her a glass, then raised his own. 'And there's only one possible toast To us.'
'To us,' she echoed, filling her eyes with him. He was wearing an immaculate dark blue suit, and his hair had been cut shorter than she'd seen it before. Almost severe. And, she thought fondly, he'd put on a little weight. But she wouldn't tell him that.
'So,' he said. 'Where are you staying and how long are you going to be here?'
'How long?' Olivia repeated uncomprehendingly.
'Well, yes, sweetheart. Have you got a week—two weeks?'
The wine tasted sharp suddenly, leaving bitterness in her throat.
She tried to laugh. 'Jeremy—I'm here for good. I—I thought you realised that.' She took a deep breath. 'I've got a bedsit, and I'm looking for a job.' She paused. 'Didn't Declan Malone tell you?'
'No, of course not. He just said you'd been to the house, asking for me,' Jeremy said slowly. 'Livvy, let me get this straight. You're telling me you've thrown up everything in Bristol and moved here? Without a word to me first?'
'I thought you'd be pleased.' Her voice faltered slightly. 'After all, it's what we always intended.'
'Yes, I know.' His voice held a touch of impatience. 'But not at this particular moment in time. It could cause—problems.'
Olivia stiffened slightly. 'With Declan?'
'He's certainly part of it' He grimaced. 'Thank God you were discreet when you went to the house.'
'What do you mean?' Olivia asked uneasily.
'I mean letting him think that we're old acquaintances from Bristol days, and you simply came round to look me up while you were in town.'
She thought in bewilderment, But I didn't—and he doesn't What's going on? What game is Declan playing?
She said quietly, 'Would it be so terrible if he knew the truth?'
'It could be disastrous.' Jeremy frowned. 'Listen, darling, I want a no-blame, no-hassle divorce, with a
'And you've no ties? No children to be picked up from school?'
'I'm not married.'
The other woman raised her eyebrows. 'What difference does that make these days?' She handed Olivia an application form. 'Complete these details for me, please, including a daytime telephone number where you can be contacted, and I'll have a placement for you by the end of the week—or earlier, maybe, if someone calls in sick.' She produced another form. 'And these are the agency's terms and conditions of employment Read them through, and sign at the bottom if you're satisfied.' She paused, and smiled. 'My name's Sandra Wilton. Welcome to Service Group.'
Olivia allowed herself a modest lunchtime celebration of a hot chicken sandwich and a diet drink, then set out to unravel the mysteries of the London Underground system.
By the end of the day she was confident enough to launch herself towards the City on the Central Line.
She found Dirty Dick's quite easily, hesitating for a moment over whether to choose the door straight ahead of her or go downstairs. She opted for street level, pausing just inside the door so that her eyes could readjust to the subdued lighting. It was a big room, with a long bar, a wooden floor, and barrels for tables.
It was already filling up noisily with dark City suits and briefcases, and Olivia paused, staring around her, trying to locate Jeremy.
She saw him at last, waving at her from the side of the room, where a shelf had been built along the wall, and equipped with stools for customers who preferred to sit.
Her heart leapt as she threaded her way through the laughing, chattering groups, but she couldn't help wishing that he'd come to her.
'Darling.' His arms closed round her, hugging her tightly against him. 'This is amazing. God, it's so good to see you. I've missed you so much.'
'I've missed you too.' Now that the moment of truth had come, she felt oddly shy. 'That's why I came.'
'My love.' His eyes caressed her. 'I wish this wasn't such a public place.' His smile was intimate—warming. He paused. 'I ordered dry white wine for you. I hope that's all right.' He handed her a glass, then raised his own. 'And there's only one possible toast To us.'
'To us,' she echoed, filling her eyes with him. He was wearing an immaculate dark blue suit, and his hair had been cut shorter than she'd seen it before. Almost severe. And, she thought fondly, he'd put on a little weight. But she wouldn't tell him that.
'So,' he said. 'Where are you staying and how long are you going to be here?'
'How long?' Olivia repeated uncomprehendingly.
'Well, yes, sweetheart. Have you got a week—two weeks?'
The wine tasted sharp suddenly, leaving bitterness in her throat.
She tried to laugh. 'Jeremy—I'm here for good. I—I thought you realised that.' She took a deep breath. 'I've got a bedsit, and I'm looking for a job.' She paused. 'Didn't Declan Malone tell you?'
'No, of course not. He just said you'd been to the house, asking for me,' Jeremy said slowly. 'Livvy, let me get this straight. You're telling me you've thrown up everything in Bristol and moved here? Without a word to me first?'
'I thought you'd be pleased.' Her voice faltered slightly. 'After all, it's what we always intended.'
'Yes, I know.' His voice held a touch of impatience. 'But not at this particular moment in time. It could cause—problems.'
Olivia stiffened slightly. 'With Declan?'
'He's certainly part of it' He grimaced. 'Thank God you were discreet when you went to the house.'
'What do you mean?' Olivia asked uneasily.
'I mean letting him think that we're old acquaintances from Bristol days, and you simply came round to look me up while you were in town.'
She thought in bewilderment, But I didn't—and he doesn't What's going on? What game is Declan playing?
She said quietly, 'Would it be so terrible if he knew the truth?'
'It could be disastrous.' Jeremy frowned. 'Listen, darling, I want a no-blame, no-hassle divorce, with a
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