squeezing the tea bag against the side of the cup to extract al the rich darkness. Then she carried both cups – mugs would have been so much more satisfactory but Margaret didn’t like them – back to her desk, and held out the coffee to Margaret.
‘Thank you, dear,’ Margaret said absently.
Glenda sat down. This tea would be about her sixth cup of the day and she’d have had six more by bedtime. Nothing tasted quite as good as the first mouthful of the first brew – loose tea, in a pot – she made at six in the morning, before Barry was awake. She took a thankful swal ow of tea, and put the cup back in its saucer.
Then, greatly daring, she said, ‘So what did happen last night?’
Margaret turned her head to look out of the window. She said, ‘Bernie Harrison asked me to go into partnership with him.’
She didn’t sound very pleased. Glenda risked a long look at her averted face. Bernie Harrison agented three times the number of people that Margaret did, as wel as handling a lot of Canadian and American and Australian business. Bernie Harrison had offices near Eldon Square, and a staff of five, some of whom were al owed their own – strictly regulated – expense accounts. Bernie Harrison drove a Jaguar and lived in a palace in Gosforth and had an overcoat – Glenda had hung it up for him several times when he came to see Margaret – that had to be cashmere. Why would someone like Margaret Rossiter not leap at the chance to go into partnership with Bernie Harrison, especial y at her age? Then a chil ing little thought struck her.
‘Would there be stil a job for me?’ Glenda said.
Margaret glanced back from the window.
‘I turned him down.’
‘Oh dear,’ Glenda said.
Margaret got off the desk and stood looking down at her.
‘My heart wasn’t in it.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘When he made his proposal,’ Margaret said, ‘I waited to feel thril ed, excited, ful of ideas. I waited to feel like I’ve felt al my working life when there was a new chal enge. But I didn’t feel any of it. I just thought, It’s too late, you stupid man, I’m too old, I’m too tired, I haven’t got the bounce any more. And then,’ Margaret said, walking to the window, ‘I spent half the night awake worrying about why I didn’t leap at the chance, and in a right old temper with myself for losing my oomph.’
Glenda leaned back in her chair.
‘You aren’t that old, you know.’
‘I do know,’ Margaret said. ‘I’m behaving as if I’m fifteen years older than I am. And the thing that’s real y getting to me is that I
Glenda drank her tea. This was a profoundly unsettling conversation.
‘What,’ she said nervously, ‘
Margaret turned.
‘Don’t know,’ she said. ‘Simply don’t know. Stuck. That’s the trouble. Restless and stuck. What a state to be in at sixty-six. Al very wel at thirty, but sixty-six!’ She peered at Glenda. ‘Was I a bit sharp with you this morning?’
* * *
Scott had arranged to meet Margaret in the pub close to the Clavering Building. It was more a hotel than a pub proper, with panel ing inside, and a dignified air, and was not, therefore, a place Scott frequented much. When he got there – late, having run some of the way up the hil from work, after yet another bruising and unwanted encounter with Donna – Margaret was sitting with a gin and tonic in front of her, and a pint for him on the opposite side of the table, jabbing in a haphazard sort of way at her mobile phone. Scott bent to kiss her. He was aware of being breathless and sweaty, and his tie fel forward clumsily and got entangled with her reading glasses.
Margaret said, extricating herself, ‘What’s the dash, pet?’ She put her phone down.
‘I’m late—’
‘You’re always late,’ Margaret said. ‘I al ow for you being late. Have you been running?’
Scott nodded. He col apsed into a chair and took a thirsty gulp of his beer.
‘Magic—’
‘The beer?’
‘The beer.’
‘You should have rung. There was no need to half kil yourself, running.’
‘I needed to work something off,’ Scott said.
‘Oh?’
‘A work thing.’ He pul ed a face. ‘The consequence of me being wet and indecisive. A work thing.’
‘I can’t decide either,’ Margaret said. She twisted her glass round in her fingers. ‘That’s why I wanted to see you.’
Scott grinned at her.
‘This work thing,’ he said, ‘I
