I thought your name was David.”
“No. No it’s never been that, as far as I can remember.”
“I must admit, Mr. Pearson, you probably could have not picked a worse day to call. Things are rather chaotic here today. I’ll ring her extension and see if she’s free. Hang on a second…Hello, is Gemma there? No. Oh, I see.”
Rose, who for some strange reason now feels like an old friend, turns back to me.
“Well, you’re in luck. Gemma’s on her way down here as we speak. She should be the next person out of the lift.”
Instantly, there is a cocktail of emotions swilling around inside me: excitement, fear, embarrassment, anticipation. I turn to stare at the lift doors. The illuminated floor numbers show that she is one floor away. I hold my breath as the lift doors open and Gemma Barrow walks out. She is an extremely attractive black woman, slim, petite, vivacious. But she is not Gemma Barrow. She…she is…who the hell is she?
“Oh, Gemma,” Rose says. “This gentleman, Mr. Pearson, has been waiting to see you.”
My feet won’t move.
“Go on, then.” Rose’s whispered instruction means she has mistaken my inactive legs for some other problem.
Gemma is slightly less perplexed than I. In other words, she is totally confused, but at least she has the use of her legs as she walks over to me, stretching out her hand.
“Mr Pearson, how can I help you?”
I need to think quickly, but I can’t.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Pearson. In what way can I be of assistance?” She asked that question because I have not uttered a word. Gemma turns to look at Rose. Should they be calling security? Rose looks more bemused than worried, which helps the situation. I start to try and put my thoughts together.
“Gosh, I’m not sure where to start. If I explain everything in too much of a rush, I’m going to come across as a nutter. Can you give me a few seconds to collect my thoughts?”
Gemma obviously has better things to do with her life than listen to my mumblings.
“To be honest, this is not the best of days. Would it be better if you called back tomorrow?”
“No, no. I’ll try and be brief.” In for a penny, in for a pound. “Okay. Six months ago I was out shopping—”
Gemma puts up her hand to stop me talking.
“Sorry, hang on, Mr. Pearson. My boss is coming down and I need to just have a word. Ah, JB, can you give me two minutes?”
And suddenly there she is. Ella Chamberlain, Gertrude who never had a middle name, Gemma Barrow, all rolled into one. Her name is JB. But do you know what is really very special about the moment our eyes meet? She recognises me, and her eyes smile with that recognition.
Chapter Nineteen
Jessica Bethan Roberts was born and raised as an only child. Theirs was a wealthy family and had been for four generations and more. Her childhood lacked for nothing but parental love, and by the time Jessica was seven years old, she was fully aware that her father craved a son and her mother wanted nothing more than a bit of peace and quiet. Her parents’ announcement that Jessica was being sent to boarding school, as soon as she turned eleven, was greeted with an inner joy by the young child.
There were four other girls named Jessica in her class and by the third year, to avoid any further confusion, she was known universally as JB. At school, it was obvious she was destined for greater things and the announcement that she was to be head girl in her final year was greeted with muted approval by her family. She was wanted by both Oxford and Cambridge, but to everyone’s amazement, she chose Bristol University. Jessica was becoming her own person. She resisted the easy routes in life available through her family connections, but she still remained in touch with her father, who frequently offered her an open position in one of his companies when her university course was over.
However, a chance meeting at the university Debating Society