More Than You Know (36 page)

She felt very ambivalent towards Matt. Half the time she thought she hated him, just for putting her through this; then she’d remind herself that he had no idea he was putting her through anything; and then she’d look at him, or he’d say something, and she knew she didn’t hate him at all. God, what a mess.

“Matt, sorry. There’s a hitch on the flat.”

“Oh, God. What?”

“He wants the asking price.”

“Oh, no. I’ve never paid the asking price for anything. It’s against my religion.”

“Well, there’s someone else after it.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“Matt, it’s true. I’m the agent, remember?”

“Ah. Yes. Well … it’s a lot of money. How long have I got?”

“Well, the bloke’s in a hurry. The other one. And the vendor is obviously going to take the higher offer.”

“Bloody hell. Well … well, I think I might take another look at it. I’ll see if I can find something wrong, some bargaining point. OK?”

“Yes, OK, but you need to decide today.”

“All right, all right. I’ll get down there now. Well, this afternoon. That too late? Got to see some moneymen this morning.”

“I’ll say I couldn’t get hold of you.”

“Fine. Thanks, Louise.”

“Jack, if you don’t mind I’m going to leave a bit early today. I’m looking for locations for the haunted-house feature and I think I might have something. I know you wanted to talk about the summer issues, but this is more urgent.”

“Yes, course. Right, see you Monday morning. Good luck.”

If he only knew what he was wishing her good luck for.

She tidied her desk for the weekend, asked Milly if there were any calls.

“Yes, just one, Eliza. From Matt. He wants you to call him.”

“Matt!” That was odd. They’d said good-bye that morning. Somehow she couldn’t face ringing him, telling him yet more lies. She’d be so relieved when this was over. So relieved.

“I can’t speak to him now, Milly. If he calls again, tell him I’ve gone.”

“Yes, of course. Have a good weekend. Hope you find a house. It’s such a good idea.”

She hoped it was. It was another of her overambitious ones: to photograph nightdresses in a supposedly haunted house. The trick would be to double-expose each photograph so that the model would be followed by, or stood beside, or be running away from, what looked like her own ghost. Rick Wilde, the art director, kept saying it was technically very difficult; but Rex said it would be a doddle. She decided it was simply because Rick hadn’t had the idea himself.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Shaw, but Miss Clark has left.”

“Oh, hell, Jenny. Are you sure?”

“Well, that’s what her secretary said.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Yes, Mr. Shaw. Can I do anything?”

“No. Well … maybe. Look, I’m going out now. If she does ring, can
you just tell her to call me in the office? Say I know she’s going to her parents’, but this is really important. At around five. No, six. I’ll still be at the flat at five. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mr. Shaw. I’ve written it down.”

Eliza was just driving out through Wandsworth when she felt a pang of remorse about not ringing Matt. It might be important. His father hadn’t been well. Maybe she should …

She saw a telephone box and pulled in.

Yes, it was worth the asking price. Definitely. So if he was going to have to go that far beyond his principles, he’d really want to be sure Eliza liked it. And that she was up for moving in with him. She might say she wanted to go on a bit longer as they were.

Well, he’d have to call the chap’s bluff. If Eliza couldn’t see it till Monday, that was all there was to it.

“Jenny? It’s Eliza Clark.”

“Oh … hallo, Miss Clark. Yes. Can I help?”

“Mr. Shaw rang me about an hour ago. He wanted to speak to me.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Clark. He’s not here. He said he knew you were going to your parents’, but could you ring him because it was important, and if you did, could you ring again but not at five, because he would still be at the flat at five, but at six here.”

“Right. I see. Well, it’s only half past four, so … what flat, Jenny?”

“The one for his friend in Yorkshire.”

“I’m sorry? What friend in Yorkshire?”

“I really don’t know, Miss Clark. I don’t know any of his friends, and definitely not from Yorkshire. I mean, he doesn’t really have that many friends at all, not really; he’s too busy for that sort of thing—”

“Is Louise there?”

“No, she’s out as well. And so is Mr. Simmonds.”

“Well … you don’t know anything about this flat, do you? Or where it is?”

“Oh, I’ve got the details here. Just a minute. Yes. Flat six, Prince of Wales Mansions, Battersea. ‘Sought-after location overlooking Battersea Park. One reception, three beds, large kitchen, bathroom, freehold—’ Do you need to know the price, because I can’t make out if it’s ten or sixteen thousand—it’s really badly smudged on the Roneo—but that’s a big difference, isn’t it?”

“It is, yes.” A strange sensation was filling Eliza. Very strange. She felt light-headed and her heart was thudding rather hard. The telephone box, which had seemed very unpleasant, filthy dirty and smelling of tramp, suddenly seemed to be rather lovely. “And … you say he’ll still be there at five.”

“That’s what he said, and he said to tell you he’d be back here at six. Which I’m sure he will be, because he’s always very punctual.” She hesitated. This was beyond her brief. But then, the article in
Honey
magazine she’d been reading this morning, about how to get ahead, said you had to use your initiative, and surely since Mr. Shaw was going to meet Eliza at the flat on Monday anyway, he would be pleased to see her there now. “Um … I don’t know where you are, Miss Clark, but if you’re anywhere near Battersea, you might think about popping into the flat.

“And then if you miss him, you could come back here for six and see him then. I’ve got some very nice chocolate digestive biscuits in; they’re his favourite. I hope you like them too.”

“I do, Jenny, very much.” For some reason, Eliza felt her stomach heave. “Right, I think that’s a good idea. Thanks very much indeed.”

Matt was just slightly disconsolately deciding to leave the flat when there was a ring at the front door. Maybe that was the owner—about bloody time too. He didn’t like being kept waiting; time was money. Clearly Mr. Flat Six had too much of both commodities.

“About bloody time—Oh, Eliza. It’s you.”

“You’re so observant, Matt. Yes, it’s me. May I come in?”

“Well … yes, if you like. As a matter of fact I … I did want you to see this anyway.”

“Really? Why?”

“I thought I’d get your view on it. Give me your reaction.”

“Well … let’s have a quick look. Mmm, great view. Wonderful fireplace. Grotty old kitchen. But lots of potential. Wonder if the fridge works … Oh, gosh, there’s a bottle of champagne in it, did you know? Fancy leaving that behind. And two bedrooms—three, really. Yes, it’s … not bad. Not bad at all.”

“Only not bad?”

He was looking as she had hardly ever seen him, anxious, even slightly strained.

“Does it matter what I think of it?”

“Well, yes, actually it does. I thought if you liked it, I might buy it. But it’s terribly overpriced and I’ve got to pay the asking price, which really sticks in my craw, and so if you don’t—”