He stared at the charts and analysis documents. There was no doubt about it. The business was losing money at an alarming rate. If things carried on like that, he would have to shut the entire operation down. He would have to start making people redundant at the office - maybe starting as early as Monday. Sighing, he pushed the chair back and stood at the window, staring out at his garden. What a total mess.
A sudden “beep, beep” shook Nicolas out of his thoughts and he turned back to the desk. His mobile had lit up with a new message. Moodily, he picked it up. Didn't recognise the phone number. Stabbed the read button.
The message flashed up.
“I am free Fri eve is that ok for you? Can get to yours for 730. Mmmm, yummy! Txt me back if OK. Cherry xx”
He'd almost forgotten about his agreement with her after the last few nightmare days trying to save his business. Almost, but not quite.
...
He sat in a chair in his study, by the window, looking out over the front lawn, waiting.
All his working life, Nicolas had hated being late himself, and liked others to be punctual. It's just good business, he would say. 7.30 had come and gone; the hot sun was dropping lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the lawn and driveway which swept round outside his house. It was nearer eight when he heard a scrunching of gravel as a light blue Peugeot 106 turned past the open gate.
Nicolas looked up as the little car swung swiftly round past the entrance and drew to a halt, its nose pointing back out to the gate. As a small cloud of dust and earth settled, the driver's door opened and two long legs, encased in blue jeans, stretched out to the drive.
She had arrived.
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