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‘Who are you ringing now?’
‘Jonathan Moorhouse. He’s still technically the director until the paperwork goes through, so I need to make sure I have everything I need for my meeting with the accountants tomorrow. I don’t want to give them any excuse to brush me off.’
Thankfully Jonathan is free and, after I’ve explained the situation, he explains that he’s hoping to submit the paperwork to transfer the directorship of the café later today, so he should be able to provide suitable documentation for me to take to the accountants either late this afternoon or tomorrow morning.
‘Daisy?’ Katie ventures, as I put the phone down.
‘Yes?’
‘Aren’t you supposed to be going down to the coast tomorrow, to spend the rest of the week with Paul?’
9
Damn. I have to confess that I haven’t given Paul a single thought since receiving the letter. Hurriedly, I pull out my mobile and compose a quick WhatsApp to him.
Hi, really sorry but something big has come up that I need to deal with. Are you OK if I don’t come down this week? Xx
I’m not expecting a reply, as he likes to lie in when he’s on holiday, but he’s obviously awake, as the two ticks turn blue almost immediately and I can see that he’s typing. Sure enough, a few seconds later, his reply arrives.
R U OK?
Yes, fine. I’ll explain everything when I see you next. Sorry about this. Hope you’re having a nice time.
NP. CUL8R
Paul’s never been exactly verbose, either in speech or text, but his responses are even shorter than usual. Normally, I’d start worrying about why this might be and whether I’ve upset him in some way, but I don’t have mental space for that today. I put my mug and plate in the dishwasher and head off to the bathroom. I wash and condition my hair in the shower, before meticulously blow-drying it and brushing it until it falls in soft waves down my back. I pay similar attention to my make-up, before giving myself a spritz of scent and putting on my smartest work suit.
Katie is still sitting at the kitchen table in her pyjamas chatting to Nan when I walk in.
‘Is that what you’re wearing?’ she asks.
‘Yes, why?’
‘Nothing, it’s just a bit…’
‘A bit what?’
‘Well, we’re only going to a café. You look like you’re dressed for a convention.’
‘Too much, you mean?’
‘It’s up to you, but we’re supposed to be going in there undercover to begin with, aren’t we? I think you might stand out a little in that.’
‘Fair point. I was power dressing to give myself a bit of confidence, but you’re right. It’s way over the top for a greasy spoon café. I’ll be back.’
Katie follows me to my bedroom, where I spend nearly half an hour rummaging through my wardrobe trying to find a combination that says ‘don’t mess with me’, but which also looks casual enough that it won’t stand out during our undercover visit. She sits on the bed and offers comments on each one.
‘That’s the one!’ she exclaims, as I’m standing in front of the mirror in a red and white checked shirt and a pair of figure-hugging blue jeans.
‘Are you sure?’ I reply. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bitCalamity Jane?’
‘No, it’s perfect. You look casual but also confident. I’ll help you put your hair up, if you like.’
‘But I’ve just washed and blow-dried it!’
‘Okay, it’s up to you, but I was just thinking it would look more professional up. I could do you a nice chignon.’
I look in the mirror again, and I have to agree. Despite the fact that my hair is looking as good as I can make it, it probably would look better up. When did my seventeen-year-old sister get so wise, I wonder? Obediently, I sit down and let her get to work.
