Suddenly I stop dead in the street. I’ve given her the number of Luke’s flat in London. But didn’t he say something a while ago about putting in new phone lines?
What if I’ve left an obsolete number?
Quickly I retrace my steps and burst into the shop again.
“Hi!” I say breathlessly. “I just thought I’d give you another set of contact details, in case you can’t get through.” I rummage about in my bag and pull out one of Luke’s cards. “This is my husband’s office.”
“Very well,” Silvia says a little wearily.
“Only… come to think of it, if you speak to him, I wouldn’t mention the actual bag.” I lower my voice a little. “Say ‘the Angel has landed.’ ”
“The Angel has landed,” echoes Silvia, writing it down as though she makes coded phone calls all the time.
Which, now that I think about it, maybe she does.
“The person to ask for is Luke Brandon,” I explain, handing over the card. “At Brandon Communications. He’s my husband.”
Across the shop, I’m aware of Mr. Cashmere looking up from a selection of leather gloves.
“Luke Brandon,” repeats Silvia. “Very well.” She puts the card away and gives me a final nod.
“So, have you phoned anyone on the list yet?” I can’t resist asking.
“Signora Brandon,” snaps Silvia in exasperation. “You will have to wait your turn! I cannot do any better than that!”
“Are you so sure about that?” a raspy voice cuts in and we both look up to see Mr. Cashmere approaching us from across the shop.
What’s he doing?
“Excuse me?” Silvia says haughtily, and he winks at me.
“Don’t let them palm you off, girl.” He turns to Silvia. “If you wanted to, you could sell her this bag.” He jerks his stubby thumb at the Angel bag on the pedestal and puffs on his cigar.
“Signor—”
“I’ve been listening. If you haven’t called anyone on the waiting list, they don’t know this has come in. They don’t even know it exists.” He pauses meaningfully. “And you’ve got this young lady here, wants to buy it.”
“That is not the point, signore.” Silvia smiles tightly at him. “There is a strict protocol…”
“You have discretion. Don’t tell me you don’t. Oy, Roberto!” he suddenly calls. The man in the black glasses hurries over from somewhere in the back.
“Signor Temple?” he says smoothly, his eyes darting at me. “Everything is all right?”
“If I wanted this bag for my lady friend, would you sell it to me?” The man blows out a cloud of smoke and raises his eyebrows at me. He looks like he’s enjoying this.
Roberto glances at Silvia, who jerks her head at me and rolls her eyes. I can see Roberto taking in the situation, his brain working hard.
“Signor Temple.” He turns to the man with a charming smile. “You are a very valued customer. It is a very different matter…”
“Would you?”
“Yes,” Roberto says, after a pause.
“Well then.” The man looks at Roberto expectantly.
There’s silence. I hold my breath.
“Silvia,” Roberto says at last. “Wrap up the bag for the signorina.”
Oh my GOD!
“It’s my pleasure,” says Silvia, shooting me a dirty look.
I can’t believe this has happened.
“I–I don’t know how to thank you!” I stutter. “That’s the most wonderful thing anyone’s ever done for me, ever!”
“My pleasure.” The man inclines his head and extends his hand. “Nathan Temple.”
“Becky Bloomwood,” I say, shaking it. “I mean, Brandon.”
“You really wanted that bag.” He raises his eyebrows appreciatively. “Never seen anything like it.”
“I was desperate for it!” I admit with a laugh. “I’m so grateful to you!”
Nathan Temple waves his hand in a “don’t mention it” gesture, then takes out a lighter and lights his cigar, which has gone out. When he’s puffing away again he looks up.
“Brandon… as in Luke Brandon.”
“You know Luke?” I’m amazed. “What a coincidence!”
“By reputation.” He blows out a cloud of cigar smoke. “He has quite a name, your husband. He’s coming back to the company after his year off, I understand?”
“Well… yes,” I say in surprise. “How did you know that?”