prove that Jasper had ever been there at all, nothing to say he wasn’t merely a figment of the city’s imagination.
When I woke the next morning, it took me a while to recollect all that had happened since Tuesday. For a few merciful seconds, it seemed as substanceless and evanescent as a dream. Of course, by the time I’d levered myself out of bed, reached for my dressing gown and meandered, bleary eyed and tousle haired, toward the kitchen, everything had come scrambling back and I groaned aloud at the memory.
To my delight, Abbey was already up and sitting on the sofa in her pajamas. My landlady was the kind of woman who looked sexiest when at her least groomed and at her most irresistible freshly out of bed, unkempt, disheveled and smelling faintly of sleep.
“Morning,” she said.
“Good morning.” Although I pined for our meetings, when it came to them, I always found myself a little embarrassed, stutteringly short of words.
“Are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Been a weird few days.”
“I know.”
I swallowed hard. “I could tell you about it tonight, if you want.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
I noticed something different about her. “Where’s your nose stud?”
“Oh, I got rid of it. Never really me, was it?”
It was probably my imagination but I was sure I saw her blush.
When I got into work, Barbara was standing over my desk, diligently placing all of my possessions into a cardboard box. Stapler, potted plant, box of tissues, an ancient photo of my dad.
“Morning,” I said. “What are you doing?”
“Henry.” The girl’s face turned white. “Haven’t you heard?”
Before I could ask what she meant, the phone on my desk clamored for my attention.
I picked it up. “Henry Lamb speaking.”
“It’s Peter. I want a word. Pronto.”
I put down the phone and turned curiously to Barbara, who gave me a sympathetic shrug in reply.
“I’d better go, I said, and walked into Hickey-Brown’s office without bothering to knock.
A familiar figure stood next to my manager.
“You remember Mr. Jasper?” Peter asked.
“Good morning, Henry,” said the well-exfoliated man.
“Morning,” I said.
Mr. Jasper smiled. “I’ll see you outside.”
He left, taking care to close the door behind him.
Hickey-Brown sighed, settled himself down behind his desk and waved a hand to indicate that I should sit opposite.
“Sorry if this seems a bit overwhelming,” he said. “I realize you’ve had a hell of a week.”
“What on earth’s going on?”
Peter looked at me blankly, whether from discretion or ignorance I couldn’t quite be sure. “Mr. Jasper will answer all your questions.”
“Oh, really? Who is this Jasper anyway?”
“I told you. He’s from a special department. Don’t look so worried. It’s part of the Service.”
“He came to my grandfather’s house. He said he was above the police.”
Hickey-Brown couldn’t meet my eye. “He must have been joking.”
“Joking? Why’s Barbara packing up my stuff? Are you getting rid of me?”
“You’re being transferred.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You’ve made it, Henry. Your filing days are over.”
“What?”
“Promotion time, Henry.”
“I don’t—”
“Better run along now. He’s waiting for you.”
Hickey-Brown got to his feet and strode past me to open the door, making it palpably clear that our conversation was at an end.
I walked outside, where Jasper was leaning against what had been my desk, talking animatedly to Barbara. She was giggling in reply, stroking her hair, placing her fingertip in the side of her mouth and generally playing the coquette.
Jasper grinned at the sight of me. “There you are!”
Barbara, curiosity emboldened, kissed me on the cheek. “Good luck, Henry.”
I stood mute and motionless as a shop-window dummy as Jasper thrust the box into my hands. “There you go. We’d better get a
When I woke the next morning, it took me a while to recollect all that had happened since Tuesday. For a few merciful seconds, it seemed as substanceless and evanescent as a dream. Of course, by the time I’d levered myself out of bed, reached for my dressing gown and meandered, bleary eyed and tousle haired, toward the kitchen, everything had come scrambling back and I groaned aloud at the memory.
To my delight, Abbey was already up and sitting on the sofa in her pajamas. My landlady was the kind of woman who looked sexiest when at her least groomed and at her most irresistible freshly out of bed, unkempt, disheveled and smelling faintly of sleep.
“Morning,” she said.
“Good morning.” Although I pined for our meetings, when it came to them, I always found myself a little embarrassed, stutteringly short of words.
“Are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Been a weird few days.”
“I know.”
I swallowed hard. “I could tell you about it tonight, if you want.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
I noticed something different about her. “Where’s your nose stud?”
“Oh, I got rid of it. Never really me, was it?”
It was probably my imagination but I was sure I saw her blush.
When I got into work, Barbara was standing over my desk, diligently placing all of my possessions into a cardboard box. Stapler, potted plant, box of tissues, an ancient photo of my dad.
“Morning,” I said. “What are you doing?”
“Henry.” The girl’s face turned white. “Haven’t you heard?”
Before I could ask what she meant, the phone on my desk clamored for my attention.
I picked it up. “Henry Lamb speaking.”
“It’s Peter. I want a word. Pronto.”
I put down the phone and turned curiously to Barbara, who gave me a sympathetic shrug in reply.
“I’d better go, I said, and walked into Hickey-Brown’s office without bothering to knock.
A familiar figure stood next to my manager.
“You remember Mr. Jasper?” Peter asked.
“Good morning, Henry,” said the well-exfoliated man.
“Morning,” I said.
Mr. Jasper smiled. “I’ll see you outside.”
He left, taking care to close the door behind him.
Hickey-Brown sighed, settled himself down behind his desk and waved a hand to indicate that I should sit opposite.
“Sorry if this seems a bit overwhelming,” he said. “I realize you’ve had a hell of a week.”
“What on earth’s going on?”
Peter looked at me blankly, whether from discretion or ignorance I couldn’t quite be sure. “Mr. Jasper will answer all your questions.”
“Oh, really? Who is this Jasper anyway?”
“I told you. He’s from a special department. Don’t look so worried. It’s part of the Service.”
“He came to my grandfather’s house. He said he was above the police.”
Hickey-Brown couldn’t meet my eye. “He must have been joking.”
“Joking? Why’s Barbara packing up my stuff? Are you getting rid of me?”
“You’re being transferred.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You’ve made it, Henry. Your filing days are over.”
“What?”
“Promotion time, Henry.”
“I don’t—”
“Better run along now. He’s waiting for you.”
Hickey-Brown got to his feet and strode past me to open the door, making it palpably clear that our conversation was at an end.
I walked outside, where Jasper was leaning against what had been my desk, talking animatedly to Barbara. She was giggling in reply, stroking her hair, placing her fingertip in the side of her mouth and generally playing the coquette.
Jasper grinned at the sight of me. “There you are!”
Barbara, curiosity emboldened, kissed me on the cheek. “Good luck, Henry.”
I stood mute and motionless as a shop-window dummy as Jasper thrust the box into my hands. “There you go. We’d better get a
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