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“I’m leaving.” She huffs out and I shrug. “Wow, you really don’t like taking orders.”
“What are you talking about?” She seems on edge, and I point to the seat before my desk.
“Sit.”
“I’m not your dog and I already told you I’m leaving.”
“Because I asked you to be my assistant? That’s ridiculous.”
She looks momentarily surprised and then shakes her head and rasps, “It has nothing to do with that, you self-obsessed nincompoop.”
“What did you call me?”
She growls, “Never mind. Anyway, if you let me get a word in edgeways, I’m leaving for the day. Family emergency.”
“Can I help?”
“No.”
She makes to stand, and I say quickly, “I’ll come with you.”
“You will not.”
“I will if you don’t tell me what it is.”
I fix her with a frown, and she sighs. “If you must know, my sister called and is indisposed and needs her offspring picking up from school. I’m sure you will consider that a P45 situation but as you don’t actually employ me, tough.”
“But you don’t drive.”
“There are things called trains you know, cabs too and even a bus if it comes down to it.”
She makes for the door and grabbing my jacket, I say hurriedly, “I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll drive you.”
She makes to argue, and I add slyly, “I mean, all the time I’m with you, you are technically still at work. This way you can’t be considered as failing on the job and who knows, the postman could be stalking me as we speak. It’s your duty and you know it.”
For a second, she stares at me with an expression I can’t place before nodding in defeat. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you, OK?”
As we head out of the store to my underground garage, it strikes me that I can’t remember the last time I left early. It seems wrong somehow and slightly misguided, but there is something about Jessica Taylor that has me doing things I wouldn’t have dreamed of even last week.
Giving lifts to strangers, inviting someone to my home to stay and lunches at bistros in the middle of day and now this. Knocking off early to do the school run.
Jessica appears caught up in her own thoughts and I wonder what has happened to divert her attention so easily and as I ease the car into the London traffic, I say quickly, “I’ll leave it to you to program the sat nav.”
“Oh, yes, fine.” Once again, she is distracted and as soon as she punches in the location, she falls on her phone and quickly dashes off a couple of texts.
“Anything you can use help with.” I’m a tad concerned because Jessica isn’t normally this quiet, and she looks up and I hate the worry lines appearing around her eyes as she says, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I said, can you use my help?”
“No, of course not, but well…” She sighs and then a flicker of a grateful smile ghosts her lips as she says gently, “Just thank you. The lift is more than enough.”
As I steer through the traffic, I note we are forty minutes away from our destination and I say conversationally, “So, how old are your sister’s children?”
“Five and seven.”
“They’re young then.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
