Page 17 of The One That I Want

‘I’m thinking the articles should be anonymous, don’t you?’ he asks. ‘Otherwise, Greta will have to inform her dates. And can you imagine? “Oh, by the way, you don’t mind if I write about the size of your willy in my magazine, do you?”’

I inhale sharply. ‘George, I love you, you know I do, but if you dare say anything like that to Greta, I will slap you upside the head.’

He waves off my (supposed) threat with a flap of his hand. ‘Of course not.’

‘Because from my brief experience with Greta, she’s serious-minded and more than a little reluctant to take on this assignment.’

‘I’ll be gentle with her, I promise.’

‘Good. Remember, the guise is that this is simply a writing assignment, but we only succeed if she gets her happily ever after.’

‘Got it. So, what time is she coming in?’

‘Four-thirty.’

He starts to open his laptop.

‘Your calendar’s free, I’ve already checked.’

‘Right.’

‘And I’ll forward the long list of potentials in a moment,’ I say as I head off towards my desk.

‘Poppy?’ he calls after me.

I turn back around.

‘What were you thinking for the case name?’ he asks.

Sigh – the confounding quest for the perfect case name. My colleagues seem tolovespending time on this, whereas (much to their disappointment) I’d happily refer to cases by the client’s last name or assign them a random set of alpha-numeric characters. Mainly because the name of a case has no bearing on its outcomewhatsoever.

‘Um, how about you decide?’

‘What about “Handsome and Greta”?’ he suggests.

I don’thateit, though I’d better appear more enthusiastic than that.

‘Fab,’ I reply with a smile and he beams. ‘Ursula will love it too,’ I add, referring to our colleague who names all her cases after fairy tales.

‘I’ll love what?’ Speak of the devil. Ursula, who is anywhere between fifty and seventy – a well-kept secret due to the amount of plastic surgery she’s had – sashays into the open-plan office amid a cloud of Chanel N°5.

‘The new case Poppy and I are working on: Handsome and Greta,’ George replies.

‘Oh?’

I leave George to fill Ursula in and return to my desk. Right as I sit, my phone chimes with a message:

Hello darling. The cousins want to see us. Next Sunday work?

He’s talking about Evie and Olivia, Tristan’s first cousins on his dad’s side who are in their mid-twenties. Last year, when he learnt about the terms of his grandad’s will, he reconnected with them after years of little or no contact. And after he received the inheritance, he created generous trusts for each of them.

I met them just before our wedding and absolutely adore them. Having no siblings of my own, they’ve become like younger sisters to me.

I send a quick reply:

Perfect. Invite them for Sunday lunch?

Tristan’s response comes in seconds:

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