Page 78 of I Knew You Were Trouble

‘Ah, yep.’

‘And how’s our fish? Still hooked?’

‘Two or three messages a day, and look…’ I quickly unlock my phone to show Ursula the photo Dunn sent this morning. She squints at the screen.

‘Why is he pouting like a little boy?’ she asks with obvious distaste.

‘Because he misses Penny. See?’ I tap on the screen to reveal the message:

You’re all I can think about. Any chance I can lure you back to London?

‘Are they all like that, the messages?’

‘You mean soppy and ridiculous? Yes.’

‘And how are you replying – what sort of things are you saying?’

I show her my reply:

Me too. I hardly got any work done today. And I’d love to but work won’t send me to London any time soon and it’s $$$. *shrug emoji*

‘And check this out.’ I scroll down to reveal the next part of the exchange:

I’ll pay for the flight. I’m desperate to see you. Jon xxx

And my reply:

I wouldn’t feel right about that. And hard to get time off anyway. End of financial year soon – very busy trying to get enough donations to meet our target. *sad face emoji*

Ursula looks up from the screen. ‘You clever clogs,’ she says, clearly impressed.

‘Thanks,’ I say, beaming. ‘No answer yet, but hopefully that will get the wheels turning. If I can get him to offer the money…waybetter than having to ask for it.’

‘Does he know which not-for-profit Penny works for?’ she asks.

‘Nope. He never asked and when I talked about work, I kept it vague.’

She nods appreciatively. ‘Excellent work, Poppy. I had a sense you’d be good at this sort of thing.’ She pats me on the shoulder, then heads towards the kitchen.

‘Uh, thanks,’ I say to her back, unsure how to take that. I’m happy to be called clever – not so happy to be told I’m a good liar.

My job is weird sometimes.

* * *

‘Hey, Kate, it’s Poppy. I have news.’ I do my best to sound upbeat, but it’s difficult when delivering bad news.

‘You said “news”, not “goodnews” – should I be sitting down?’ she asks with a lilt of wry laughter.

‘Probably,’ I reply, dropping the pretence.

‘Okay, hang on a moment.’ There’s the rustle of papers, then murmuring as if she’s pressed her phone to her chest and is talking to someone. ‘Hi again. So, I’m guessing Jonisplanning to propose this weekend?’

‘It seems so. He has a flight booked to Verona for Saturday morning and reservations at a place called Ristorante Il Desco that night.’

‘No doubt expensive,’ she says tartly.

‘Yes, and one of the best restaurants in Verona.’

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