I've Got Your Number

I've Got Your Number Page 122

So why does my stomach lurch every time he opens his mouth to speak? What on earth am I expecting him to say ?

“Coffee would be great, thanks. Do you have decaf?” I watch as Sam fiddles with the Nespresso machine on a counter at the side of his office, trying to get the milk frother to work. I think it’s a welcome distraction for both of us.

“Don’t worry,” I say at last, as he jiggles the frother, looking frustrated. “I can have it black.”

“You hate black coffee.”

“How do you know that?” I laugh in surprise.

“You told Lucinda once in an email.” He turns, his mouth twisting. “You think you were the only one who did a little spying?”

“You have a good memory.” I shrug. “What else do you remember?”

There’s silence. As his gaze meets mine, my heart starts a little drumbeat. His eyes are so rich and dark and serious. The more I stare at them, the more I want to stare at them. If he’s thinking what I’m thinking, then—

No. Stop it, Poppy. Of course he’s not. And I don’t even know what I’m thinking, not exactly …

“Actually, don’t worry about the coffee.” I get to my feet abruptly. “I’ll head out for a bit.”

“You sure?” Sam sounds taken aback.

“Yes, I don’t want to get in your way.” I avoid his eyes as I pass him. “I’ve got errands to run. See you in an hour.”

I don’t run any errands. I don’t have the impetus. My future’s been derailed, and I know I’m going to have to take some action—but at the moment I can’t face dealing with it. From Sam’s office I wander as far as St. Paul’s Cathedral. I sit on the steps in a shaft of sunshine, watching the tourists, pretending I’m on holiday from my own life. Then, at last, I make my way back.

Sam is on a call as I’m shown in to his office, and he nods at me, gesturing apologetically at the phone.

“Knock knock!” Ted’s head appears around the door, and I start. “All done. We had three operatives on it.” He comes into the room, holding a massive sheaf of A4 paper. “Only trouble is, we’ve had to print each text on a separate piece of paper. It’s like ruddy War and Peace. ”

“Wow.” I can’t believe how many pieces of paper he’s holding. I surely can’t have sent that many texts and emails? I mean, I’ve only had the phone for a matter of days.

“So.” Ted puts the sheets down on the table with a businesslike air and separates them into three bundles. “One of the lads has been sorting them as we’ve gone along. These are all Sam’s. Business emails, so forth. In-box, out-box, drafts, everything. Sam, here you go.” He holds them out as Sam gets up from his desk.

“Great, thanks,” says Sam, flipping through them.

“We’ve printed out the attachments as well. They should all be on your computer too, Sam, but just in case… . And these are yours, Poppy.” He pats a second bundle. “Everything should be there.”

“Right. Thanks.” I leaf through the papers.

“Then there’s this third pile.” Ted wrinkles his brow as though in puzzlement. “We weren’t sure what to do about this. It’s … it’s both of yours.”

“What do you mean?” Sam looks up.

“It’s your correspondence to each other. All the texts and emails and whatnot that you sent backward and forward. In chronological order.” Ted shrugs. “I don’t know which of you wants it or whether we should chuck them—are they important at all?”

He puts the pile of papers down, and I stare at the top sheet in disbelief. It’s a grainy photograph of me in a mirror, holding the phone and making the Brownie sign. I’d forgotten I ever did that. I turn to the next page to find a single printed text from Sam:

I could send this to the police and have you arrested.

Then, on the following page, is my answer:

I really, really appreciate it. Thx    

That feels like a million years ago now. When Sam was just a stranger at the other end of a phone line. When I’d never met him, had no idea what he was like.… I sense a movement at my shoulder. Sam has come over to look too.

“Strange, seeing it all printed out,” he says.

“I know.” I nod.

I come to a picture of manky teeth and we simultaneously snort with laughter.

“Quite a few pictures of teeth, aren’t there?” says Ted, eyeing us curiously. “We wondered what that was all about. In dental care, are you, Poppy?”