frightened the thin, gawky girl she had been. She was twenty-four now, for goodness' sake, with most of her uncertain edges smoothed away. She was still slender, but had curved out in the right places. And what with her skill as a needlewoman she had a wardrobe that was smart and modern. She even possessed some clothes that could make her look as sophisticated as any of the females she had seen photographed with the man who in a very few moments she would be speaking with.
'Devereux Corporation.'
The voice was clear, just the right hint of warmth, a splendid advert for the big conglomerate that went under the Devereux name. .
'Mr Devereux, please.' She was glad to hear that confident note there. That it was in direct contrast to the way her insides were behaving the telephonist would never know.
'Mr Devereux is not available. Can anyone else help you?'
Perhaps she had been expecting too much to be put straight through to him, Perry thought.
'No,' she said, her voice still managing to sound confident. 'It's—Nash I wish to speak with. We're—er—friends. Close friends,' she added for good measure.
She knew her confident tone had fallen away as she brought out the last two words. The telephonist had noticed it too; she was sure. But before she could retrieve the situation, try to intimate to the girl that she would be in trouble if she didn't put her through, the way she thought any woman truly a close friend of the head of the Devereux Corporation might adopt, the girl was saying, almost purring as she said it, Perry thought:
'I'm sorry,' not sounding all that sorry, 'Mr Devereux must have forgotten to tell you—he flew to the States this morning.'
Feeling about as big as a ten-penny piece, Perry kept her composure only long enough to say, 'Oh dear, I've missed him. Never mind, I'll give him a tinkle when he gets back.'
She stumbled out of the telephone box,, a tinge of red in her cheeks that the girl at the Devereux Corporation must have thought she was chasing Nash. Obviously if she was as close a friend as she's tried to make out, she would have known he had left the country.
She made her way back to work, her mind teeming with things she could have said. She hadn't even asked when he was coming back, though she realised she couldn't have very well, not after having pretended she had forgotten he was leaving for the States that day. A fine fool she'd already made of herself without adding to it by pretending she'd forgotten when he was coming home. The girl on the switchboard had rumbled her anyway, had known she wasn't really a friend of his, would more than likely have fobbed her off saying he didn't say when he would be returning.
Her problem loomed large in her mind throughout the rest of the day. She tried to hide that anything was worrying her, but when Madge looking up from her work suddenly said, 'Something still troubling you, Perry?' her voice for once serious, she realised her face must be very expressive.
'Nothing that can't be resolved,' she said after a moment's thought. If Madge could have helped, she might have told her, for often in the past they had exchanged confidences and she knew her to be the soul of discretion.
'Troubles shared...' Madge suggested, but Perry shook her head.
'Thanks anyway,' she smiled.
'I'll make you a cup of tea,' said Madge, and it sounded so comical the way she said it, just as though she thought that in the absence of a magic wand to dissolve Perry's troubles a cup of tea might do the trick, that they both laughed.
Madge left early, not without receiving a sly comment from Mr Ratcliffe about part-timers, but they both knew he didn't mean it. They had an admirable working arrangement. Mr Ratcliffe, thought of fondly by all his staff, was easy about time off, knowing that any one of them would drop everything and work until midnight if the occasion demanded it.
By the time Trevor's promised call came through, about ten minutes before she was due to go