After two arduous laps she headed home, checked her phone and laptop again then went upstairs for a shower. Mark had had the bathroom redone at the same time as the kitchen and while it wasn’t huge, it was without a question the most glamorous one she’d ever seen in a private house. All the units – the shower, the bath, the two matching sinks – were sleek and white, the contrast coming from the grey porcelain floor tiles and the dark, almost black, wood whose name he’d told her but she’d forgotten. Was it wenge? She wasn’t sure. With its three beautiful tall orchids and the towels that looked fresh from the White Company every time they came out of the tumble dryer, it might have looked like a hotel bathroom, but because Mark had kept the original features – the architraves and the Victorian patterned glass in the window – he’d avoided that and instead the room looked stylish and luxurious.
As she was towel-drying her hair, her phone rang on top of the chest outside the door. Bending to pick it up, she glanced at the clock by the bed. Eleven: probably too early if he was still in New York. It would be Neesha.
‘Hannah?’
Mark. She felt a wash of intense relief. ‘You’re alive,’ she said, breathing out. ‘Thank God – I was beginning to wonder if you’d left funeral instructions.’ She carried the phone over to the bed and sat down. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’m so sorry I didn’t call last night. God, the whole thing was a disaster – honestly, Han, it was like a farce. First, the guy was stuck in traffic so he was three-quarters of an hour late and I’d pretty much missed the plane before we even started but we’d been trying to set up the meeting for six months so I decided just to suck it up and get on a later flight. In the end, we were at breakfast until almost nine thirty and I got a cab direct to the airport but of course the traffic was terrible and when I finally got there, all the flights were full, totally chocka. I kept trying till nearly three in case any seats came free but then I threw in the towel and came back into the city.’
‘Why didn’t you ring me?’
‘I was going to in the cab but then David called with a problem that took ages to sort out and I thought it’d be better anyway to ring you when I knew what flight I was going to be on. Then, at JFK, I went to get my phone out to call you and I realised I’d left it in the taxi. Didn’t notice the number of the taxi, obviously, so there’s no chance of getting it back – all my contacts, photos, everything.’
‘Bugger.’ With a corner of the towel she mopped away a rivulet of water that was running down the back of her neck. Now she felt a burst of annoyance with him. She’d driven out to Heathrow in the middle of a storm, spent over two hours there – last night she’d been picturing transatlantic air disasters, for God’s sake. ‘Why didn’t you ring me from a pay phone?’ she said, the annoyance not entirely masked.
‘I’m embarrassed to admit it,’ he said, sounding sheepish even at a distance of three thousand miles, ‘but I don’t know your number by heart. Without my phone, I’m stuffed.’
She thought about it. She wasn’t sure of his number either, actually, apart from the 675 at the end. Once she’d programmed it in to her BlackBerry, she’d never had any need to memorise it. ‘You could have emailed.’
‘I was going to, but when I got back to the hotel, the WiFi was down – see what I mean about a farce? Then, I’m ashamed to say, I sat down for a moment and fell asleep in the chair. When I woke up it was already midnight your time and I thought you’d be in bed.’ He sighed. ‘The WiFi’s back up this morning, though – that’s how I’ve got your number now. I remembered you’d put it in that email to Pippa about dinner a few weeks back. God, I’m such an old man. My neck – I was in the chair for about three hours with my head over to one side; I don’t think I even moved.’
Hannah felt her irritation start to subside. He’d been working hard lately, even by his own standards. With the recession, business at DataPro was steady rather than bullish, and Mark was making sure of every client by providing the best customer service possible as well as the industry-leading software design that had made the company what it was. And on top of that, there was the issue of the buy-out. A month ago he and David had been approached by an American company, one of their biggest competitors, and though she’d thought that Mark would dismiss out of hand the idea of selling, he’d been at first intrigued and then excited by it.