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stretched, leaning
     back into the sofa. He popped his feet up on the coffee-table, just like that, and
     turned his face to the ceiling. ‘It is entirely self-imposed,’ he
     reflected. ‘But it’s just how I am. There aren’t many people like
     me in business, people who can lead so effectively. I hope that doesn’t sound
     arrogant. I just mean that to be a leader, a role model, a friend to your workforce,
     you have to sacrifice your own life a bit. Well, a lot. You have to be their mum,
     their dad, their brother and their annoying bossy old granddad.’
    I stared at his monstrously expensive
     shoes, tickled by the idea of this extremely attractive man being a bossy old
     granddad. ‘Do you have a private jet?’ I asked, on a whim.
    ‘The company does,’ he
     admitted, ‘and I find it embarrassing, but we basically have to have one, with
     offices in so many places. So I plant more bloody sustainable forests than farmers
     plant carrots. I’m the ultimate guilty capitalist.’ He smiled at me
     suddenly, an intense sort of a smile that made me feel like he could see all of me.
     ‘So
much about my life must look
     ostentatious and gaudy,’ he said, ‘but I reckon that as long as I stay
     nice underneath, it’s okay.’
    ‘I reckon so too,’ I said.
     We were still looking right at each other.
    The moment passed. ‘Right, well,
     I’d better take some money from you,’ I said.
    ‘What time are you back here
     tomorrow?’ He handed me some banknotes and I got up to find him a receipt.
     ‘Will you get a lie-in at all?’
    I explained that I worked all over
     London and was only there two afternoons a week.
    ‘Crikey. No wonder you’re
     tired! Well, I hope someone’s going to make you a lovely dinner and give you a
     nice massage all of your own.’ He pulled on his coat, a wool affair in a grey
     herringbone.
    ‘Um, not tonight.’ I was
     unwilling to tell him that I lived alone.
    ‘No?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Oh dear! Well, Annie Mulholland,
     I demand that you get a very expensive takeaway. The sort that arrives with a bottle
     of Chablis and a bunch of flowers.’
    Stephen looked as if he cared about my
     evening a great deal, possibly more than he cared about his own. And I was impressed
     that he’d not only remembered my name but been brave enough to call me
     Annie.
    I wished for a second that
he
would be there when I got home, serving something wholesome in a nice rustic bowl,
     with that smile and those warm, penetrating eyes. Being all handsome and
     leaderish.
    The reality was
     that I’d arrive at a lonely, dark house and probably eat two chocolate mousses
     before passing out.
    ‘Can’t you just work in one
     clinic?’ he persisted. ‘So you don’t have to spend your life on
     the run?’
    I explained, as briefly as I could, why
     my work situation was as it was.
    ‘You poor thing,’ he said. I
     handed him a receipt and shrugged.
    ‘You’re very talented at
     what you do, Annie. That was the nicest hour I can remember. Although you’re
     sub-standard at the old admin, I’m afraid. You’ve made this receipt out
     for September and, unless I’m much mistaken, it’s March the
     fifteenth.’
    ‘Oh, God, sorry! I do this sort of
     thing all the time – it drives me mad!’ I wrote him a new one, thinking that
     this was probably the longest conversation I’d had in years with a man who
     wasn’t Tim or my dad.
    ‘I’ll have my wellbeing
     people get in touch,’ Stephen said. ‘If you’re interested in
     becoming a supplier of services to the company, they can arrange direct payment, so
     you don’t have to deal with physical money next time I come.’
    ‘Oh! Yes, I’d love to talk
     to them about that!’
    ‘Excellent.’
    ‘Thank you,’ I said
     suddenly. ‘Thank you for being so concerned. It’s very kind.’
    ‘We men aren’t all
     bad,’ Stephen said, as I handed him the new receipt. ‘Some of us are
     actually quite pleasant.’
    I ducked my head,