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mine before. Not once.
“Here you are.” I reach in my bag and produce a card nonchalantly, as though I do it all
the time. “We’re in Balham. It’s south of the river; you may not know it… .”
“I know Balham well.” He twinkles at me. “My first flat in London was on Bedford
Hill.”
“No way!” My canapé nearly falls out of my mouth. “Well, you’ll definitely have to
come and see us now.”
I can’t believe it. Sir Nicholas Murray, living on Bedford Hill. God, it shows. You start
off in Balham and you end up knighted. It’s quite inspiring, really.
“Sir Nicholas.” The guy with olive skin has materialized from nowhere to join the group.
“Delighted to see you here. Always a pleasure. How are things going at Number Ten? Found the
secret to happiness yet?”
“The wheels turn.” Sir Nicholas gives him an easy smile.
“Well, it’s an honor. Absolute honor. And Sam.” The olive-ski
back. “My main man. Couldn’t do what we do without you.”
I stare at him indignantly. He was calling Sam a “stubborn fuck’ a moment ago.
“Thanks, Justin.” Sam smiles tightly.
It is Justin Cole. I was right. He looks as sneery in real life as he does in his emails.
I’m about to ask Sir Nicholas what the prime minister’s really like, when a young guy
approaches us nervously.
“Sam! Sorry to interrupt. I’m Matt Mitchell. Thanks so much for volunteering. It’s going
to make such a difference to our project to have you on board.”
“Volunteering?” Sam shoots a sharp look at me.
Oh God. I have no idea. My mind is working overtime, trying to recall. Volunteering …
volunteering … what was it again …
“For the expedition to Guatemala! The exchange program!” Matt Mitchell is glowing.
“We’re so excited that you want to sign up!”
My stomach flips over. Guatemala. I’d totally forgotten about Guatemala.
“Guatemala?” echoes Sam, with a kind of rictus smile on his face.
Now I remember. I sent that email quite late at night. I think I’d had a glass of wine or
two. Or … three.
I risk a tiny peek at Sam, and his expression is so thunderous, I want to slink away. But
the thing is, it sounded like an amazing opportunity. And from what I’ve seen of his schedule, he
never takes a holiday. He should go to Guatemala.
“We were all really touched by your email, Sam.” Matt grasps Sam’s hand earnestly with
both of his. “I never knew you felt that way about the developing world. How many orphans do
you sponsor?”
“Sam! Oh my God!” A dark-haired girl, quite drunk, lurches up to the group and elbows
Matt out of the way, making him drop Sam’s hand. She’s looking highly flushed and her mascara
is smudged, and she grabs Sam’s hand herself. “Thank you so much for your e-card about
Scamper. You made my day, you know that?”
“It’s quite all right, Chloe,” Sam says tightly. He darts an incandescent glance of fury at
me, and I flinch.
“Those beautiful things you wrote,” she gulps. “I knew when I read them you must have
lost a dog yourself. Because you understand, don’t you? You understand.” A tear rolls down her
cheek.
“Chloe, do you want to sit down?” says Sam, extricating his hand, but Justin cuts in, a
malicious grin at his lips.
“I’ve heard about this famous e-card. Could I see it?”
“I’ve got a printout.” Wiping her nose, Chloe drags a crumpled piece of paper from her
pocket, and Justin immediately grabs it.
“Oh, now, this is beautiful, Sam,” he says, sca
moving.”
“I’ve shown everybody in the department.” Chloe nods tearfully. “They all think you’re
amazing, Sam.”
Sam’s hand is clenching his glass so hard, it’s turning white. He looks like he wants to
press an ejector button and escape. I’m feeling really, really bad now. I didn’t realize I’d sent
quite so many emails. I’d forgotten about Guatemala. And I shouldn’t have sent the e-card. If I
could go back in time, that’s the moment I’d go up to myself and say, “Poppy! Stop! No e-card!”
“Young Scamper’s joined his friends in heaven, but we are left to weep,” Justin reads
aloud in a stagy voice. “His furry fur, his eyes so bright, his bone upon the seat.” Justin pauses.
“Not sure seat exactly rhymes with weep, Sam. And why is his bone on the seat, anyway? Hardly
hygienic.”
“Give that here.” Sam makes a swipe for it, but Justin dodges, looking delighted.
“His blanket empty in his bed, the silence in the air. If Scamper now is looking down,
he’ll know how much we cared.” Justin winces. “Air? Cared? Do you know what a rhyme is,
Sam?”
“I think it’s very touching,” says Sir Nicholas cheerfully.
“Me too,” I say hurriedly. “I think it’s brilliant.70”
“It’s so true.” Tears are streaming down Chloe’s face. “It’s beautiful because it’s true.”
She’s absolutely plastered. She’s completely fallen out of one of her stilettos and doesn’t
even seem to have noticed.
“Justin,” says Sir Nicholas kindly. “Maybe you could get Chloe a glass of water.”
“Of course!” Justin deftly pockets the sheet. “You don’t mind if I keep this poem of
yours, do you, Sam? It’s just so special. Have you ever thought of working for Hallmark?” He
escorts Chloe away and practically dumps her on a chair. A moment later I see him gleefully
beckoning to the group he was with earlier and pulling the paper out of his pocket.
I almost don’t dare look at Sam, I feel so guilty.
“Well!” says Sir Nicholas, looking amused. “Sam, I had no idea you were such an animal
lover.”
“I’m not.” Sam seems barely able to operate his voice. “I … ”
I’m trying frantically to think of something I can say to redeem the situation. But what
can I do?
“Now, Poppy, please do excuse me.” Sir Nicholas cuts into my thoughts. “Much as I
would prefer to stay here, I must go over and talk to that interminably boring man from Greene
Retail.” He makes such a comical face at me, I can’t help giggling. “Sam, we’ll talk later.” He
presses my hand in his and heads off into the crowd, and I quell an urge to run away with him.
“So!” I turn back to Sam and swallow several times. “Um … sorry about all that.”
Sam says nothing, just holds out his hand, palm up. After five seconds I realize what he
means.
“What?” I feel a swoop of alarm. “No! I mean … can’t I keep it till tomorrow? I’ve got
all my contacts on it now, all my messages—”
“Give it.”
“But I haven’t even been to the phone shop yet! I haven’t got a replacement, this is my
only number, I need it—”
“Give it.”
He’s implacable. In fact, he looks quite scary.
On the other hand … he can’t force it off me, can he? Not without causing a scene, which
I’m sensing is the last thing he wants to do.
“Look, I know you’re angry.” I try to sound as grovelly as possible. “I can understand
that. But wouldn’t you like me to forward all your emails on first? And give it back tomorrow
when I’ve tied up all the loose ends? Please?”
At least that’ll give me a chance to make a note of some of my messages.
Sam is breathing hard through his nose. I can tell he’s realizing he doesn’t have a choice.