The Mersey Girls by Katie Flynn

Author:Katie Flynn [Flynn, Katie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Sagas
ISBN: 9780749316280
Google: eAfXJnj-KOUC
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 3303501
Publisher: Arrow
Published: 1994-10-31T00:00:00+00:00

Linnet had been in a happy frame of mind when she got on the tram and arriving at the office to find their small room full of sunshine and flower-scents lifted her spirits even further. She was first in and hung her jacket on the peg behind the door, then turned to take the covers off the typewriters – and simply stared.

On her desk, laid carefully across her machine, was the source of the lovely scent. It was a positive sheaf of pink and red roses – there must have been a couple of dozen lying there, their stems wrapped in the pale pink and silver paper used, Linnet knew, by a very superior flower shop indeed.

A passing messenger boy, peering in through the doorway, whistled. ‘Cor, ’oo’s gerrin’ wed, then, eh? If that’s Miss Beasley’s feller ’e’s splashin’ out ain’t ’e? That little lot cost a bob or three!’

‘I don’t think it can be Mr Cartwright, since he sent Miss Beasley a bouquet of pinks and cornflowers only yesterday,’ Linnet said cautiously. She approached the flowers as though they might bite her, touching the nearest head with one forefinger. ‘And they’re on my typewriter; it must be a mistake.’

‘Well, I didn’t deliver ’em,’ the messenger boy said positively. ‘Ain’t there a card, Miss M?’

‘No, I don’t think . . . oh yes, there is,’ Linnet said, considerably relieved. The nightmare of having to lug the flowers around three floors, each one of which contained countless rooms, had just occurred to her. ‘Let me see . . .’

It wasn’t a card, in fact, but a tiny white envelope. It had no name on, which made her hesitate for a moment, but she slit it open and pulled out the card, turning it over to read the carefully scripted note on the other side.

Miss Murphy; would you do me the honour of lunching with me today? she read, though not out loud. I should be most grateful for your company and also for some advice. Yours sincerely, A. Cowan.

’Oo’s it from, then?’ the messenger boy asked. He was still standing in the doorway but so curious was he that his neck had stretched out like a giraffe and his eyes, apparently on stalks, seemed to start from their sockets. ‘Come on, gel, are they for you?’

‘Yes, they’re mine. From a – a gentleman friend,’ Linnet said, picking the bouquet up and burying her nose thankfully in the scented blossoms. She had no intention of telling anyone – anyone at all – that the flowers came from Mr Cowan! ‘Do go away, Frankie, and shut my door!’

‘Some gentleman! Guess ’e’s rollin’ in the readies,’ Frankie said enviously. ‘Bet ’e’s old as the ’ills an’ ugly, too. Fellers wi’ that much money always is.’

‘Go away,’ Linnet said nervously. Suppose Mr Cowan had come out of his office up the corridor and heard that unflattering view! ‘I would like to do some work this morning if it’s all the same to you, young man.’

Frankie shrugged and began to withdraw.

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