My Not So Perfect Life(12)

“But what about your hair dye?”

“It’s fine. You’re done. All I do now is wait and wash it off. Go! Go!”

Oh God. Demeter’s panic is contagious, and as I scurry down the corridor I feel hyper-vigilant. But what if I don’t catch this Alex? What if I don’t recognize him? Who is he, anyway?

I take up a position right outside the lift doors and wait. The first lift disgorges Liz and Rosa, who give me a slightly odd look as they pass by. The second lift whizzes straight past to the ground floor. Then the first lift arrives at our floor again and…Ping. The doors open and out steps a tall, slim guy I haven’t seen before. And Demeter’s right: I instantly know this must be him.

He has brown hair, not mousy brown but proper dark chestnut, springing up from his brow. He looks about thirty and has one of those wide-open, appealing faces that you get when you have good cheekbones and a broad smile. (He’s not smiling, but you can tell: When he does smile it’ll be broad, and I bet he’s got good teeth too.) He’s wearing jeans and a pale-purple shirt, and his arms are full of boxes covered in Chinese characters.



“Alex?” I say.

“Guilty.” He turns to look at me, his face interested. “Who are you?”

“Um…Cat. I’m Cat.”

“Hi, Cat.”

His brown eyes are surveying me as though to extract the most information about me possible in the smallest amount of time. I’d feel uncomfortable, except I’m preoccupied by fulfilling my task.

“I have a message from Demeter,” I announce. “She says, could you possibly come and see her in about half an hour? Or maybe email instead? She’s just a bit…um…tied up.”

Dyed up crosses my mind, and I almost give a little snort of laughter.

He picks up on it at once. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes, it is. You nearly laughed.” His eyes spark at mine. “Tell me the joke.”

“No joke,” I say, flustered. “So, anyway, that’s the message.”

“Wait half an hour, or email.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” He appears to think for a moment. “Trouble is, I don’t want to wait for half an hour. Or email. What’s she doing?” To my horror, he starts striding down the corridor, toward our office. In panic I run after him, dodge right past, and plant myself in his way.



“No! She can’t…You mustn’t…” As he moves to get past me, I take a quick step to obstruct him. He dodges the other way, and I block him again, lifting my hands into a defensive martial-arts pose before I can stop myself.

“We’re seriously doing this?” Alex looks like he might burst into laughter. “What are you, Special Forces?”

My cheeks flame red, but I hold my ground. “My boss doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“You’re a fierce guard dog, aren’t you?” He surveys me with even more interest. “You’re not her assistant, though, are you?”

“No. I’m a research associate.” I say the title with care. Associate. Not intern, associate.

“Good for you.” He nods, as though impressed, and I wonder if he’s an intern.

No. Too old. And, anyway, Demeter wouldn’t get bothered about seeing an intern, would she?

“So, who are you?” I ask.

“Well…” He looks vague. “I do a bit of everything. I’ve been working in the New York office.” He makes a sudden move to get past me, but I’m there, blocking him again.

“You’re good.” He grins, and I feel a dart of anger. This guy is starting to piss me off.

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you need Demeter for,” I say stonily. “But I told you, she doesn’t want to be disturbed. Got it?”

He’s silent for a moment, regarding me, then a smile spreads over his face—and I was right, it’s broad and white and dazzling. He’s actually extremely handsome, I realize, and this belated recognition makes me blush.



“I’m crazy,” he says suddenly, and steps aside with almost a courtly bow. “I don’t need Demeter, and I apologize for being so rude. If it’s any consolation, you win.”

“That’s OK,” I say, a little stiffly.

“I don’t need Demeter,” he continues cheerfully, “because I have you. I want to do some research; you’re a research associate. It’s a perfect fit.”

I blink uncertainly at him. “What?”

“We have work to do.” He brandishes the boxes with Chinese writing at me.

“What?”

“Twenty minutes, max. Luckily, Demeter is obviously so tied up, she won’t even notice you’re gone. Come on.”

“Where?”

“To the roof.”





I shouldn’t be here. Simple as that. There are a million reasons I should not have come up to the roof with a strange man called Alex about whom I know nothing. Especially when I’ve got a stack of surveys still to input. But there are three good reasons that I am here, standing on the top of the building, shivering and gazing around at the rooftops of Chiswick.

1. I reckon I could take him in a fight. You know, if he turned out to be a psychopath.