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  “Can you put me through to Miss Glover, please?”

  “Which department does she work in?”

  “I don’t know,” said Townsend.

  “Is it an emergency?”

  “No, it’s a personal call.”

  “Are you a relative?”

  “No, I’m not,” he said, puzzled by the question.

  “Then I’m sorry, but I can’t help. It’s against company policy for staff to take private calls during office hours.” The line went dead.

  Townsend replaced the phone, rose from his chair and walked into Bunty’s office. “I’ll be away for about an hour, maybe a little longer, Bunty. I’ve got to pick up a birthday present for my mother.”

  Miss Bunting was surprised, as she knew his mother’s birthday was four months away. But at least he was an improvement on his father, she thought. She’d always had to remind Sir Graham the day before.

  When Townsend stepped out of the building it was such a warm day that he told his driver, Sam, he would walk the dozen or so blocks to Moore’s, which would give him a chance to check all the paper stands on the way. He was not pleased to find that the first one he came across, on the corner of King William Street, had already sold out of the Gazette, and it was only a few minutes past ten. He made a note to speak to the distribution manager as soon as he returned to the office.

  As he approached the massive department store on Rundle Street, he wondered just how long it would take him to find Susan. He pushed his way through the revolving door and walked up and down between the counters on the ground floor: jewelry, gloves, perfume. But he could see no sign of her. He took the escalator to the second floor, where he repeated the process: crockery, bedding, kitchenware. Still no success. The third floor turned out to be menswear, which reminded him that he needed a new suit. If she worked there he could order one immediately, but there wasn’t a woman in sight.

  As he stepped onto the escalator to take him up to the fourth floor, Townsend thought he recognized the smartly dressed man standing on the step above him.

  When he turned round and saw Townsend, he said, “How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” replied Townsend, trying desperately to place him.

  “Ed Scott,” the man said, solving the problem. “I was a couple of years below you at St. Andrew’s, and still remember your editorials in the school magazine.”

  “I’m flattered,” said Townsend. “So, what are you up to now?”

  “I’m the assistant manager.”

  “You’ve done well then,” said Townsend, looking round at the huge store.

  “Hardly,” said Ed. “My father’s the managing director. But then, that’s something I don’t have to explain to you.”

  Townsend scowled.

  “Were you looking for anything in particular?” asked Ed as they stepped off the escalator.

  “Yes,” replied Townsend. “A present for my mother. She’s already chosen something, and I’ve just come to pick it up. I can’t remember which floor it’s on, but I do have the name of the assistant who served her.”

  “Tell me the name, and I’ll find out the department.”

  “Susan Glover,” said Townsend, trying not to blush.

  Ed stood to one side, dialed a number on his intercom and repeated the name. A few moments later a look of surprise crossed his face. “It seems she’s in the toy department,” he said. “Are you certain you’ve been given the right name?”

  “Oh yes,” said Townsend. “Puzzles.”

  “Puzzles?”

  “Yes, my mother can’t resist jigsaw puzzles. But none of the family is allowed to choose them for her, because whenever we do, it always turns out to be one she already has.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Ed. “Well, take the escalator back down to the basement. You’ll find the toy department on your right-hand side.” Townsend thanked him, and the assistant manager disappeared off in the direction of luggage and travel.

  Townsend took the escalator all the way down to “The World of Toys.” He looked round the counters, but there was no sign of Susan, and he started to wonder if it might be her day off. He wandered slowly around the department, and decided against asking a rather officious-looking woman, who wore a badge on her ample chest declaring she was the “Senior Sales Assistant,” if a Susan Glover worked there.

  He thought he would have to come back the following day, and was about to leave when a door behind one of the counters opened and Susan came through it, carrying a large Meccano set. She went over to a customer who was leaning on the counter.

  Townsend stood transfixed on the spot. She was even more captivating than he had remembered.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  Townsend jumped, turned round and came face to face with the officious-looking woman.

  “No, thank you,” he said nervously. “I’m just looking for a present for … for my … nephew.” The woman glared at him, and Townsend moved away and selected a spot where he could be hidden from her view but still keep Susan in his sights.

  The customer she was serving took an inordinate amount of time making up her mind if she wanted the Meccano set. Susan was made to open up the box to prove that the contents fulfilled the promise on the lid. She picked up some of the red and yellow pieces and tried to put them together, but the customer left a few minutes later, empty-handed.

  Townsend waited until the officious woman began to serve another customer before he strolled over to the counter. Susan looked up and smiled. This time it was a smile of recognition.

  “How may I help you, Mr. Townsend?” she asked.

  “Will you have dinner with me tonight?” he replied. “Or is it still against company policy?”

  She smiled and said, “Yes, it is Mr. Townsend, but…”

  The senior sales assistant reappeared at Susan’s side, looking more suspicious than ever.

  “It must be over a thousand pieces,” said Townsend. “My mother needs the sort of puzzle that will keep her going for at least a week.”

  “Of course, sir,” said Susan, and led him over to a table which displayed several different jigsaw puzzles.

  He began picking them up and studying them closely, without looking at her. “How about Pilligrini’s at eight o’clock?” he whispered, just as the officious woman was approaching.

  “That’s perfect. I’ve never been there, but I’ve always wanted to,” she said, taking the puzzle of Sydney Harbor from his hands. She walked back to the counter, rang up the bill and dropped the large box into a Moore’s bag. “That will be £2 10s. please, sir.”

  Townsend paid for his purchase, and would have confirmed their date if the officious lady hadn’t stuck close to Susan and said, “I do hope your nephew enjoys the puzzle.”

  Two sets of eyes followed his progress out of the store.

  When he returned to the office, Bunty was a little surprised to discover the contents of the shopping bag. In the thirty-two years she had worked for Sir Graham, she couldn’t once remember him giving his wife a jigsaw puzzle.

  Townsend ignored her inquiring look, and said, “Bunty, I want to see the circulation manager immediately. The news stand on the corner of King William Street had run out of the Gazette by ten o’clock.” As she turned to leave he added, “Oh, and could you book me a table for two tonight at Pilligrini’s?”

  * * *

  As Susan entered the restaurant, several men in the room turned to watch her walk across to the corner table. She was wearing a pink suit that emphasized her slim figure, and although her skirt fell an inch below the knee, Townsend’s eyes were still looking down when she arrived at the table. When she took the seat opposite him, some of his fellow-diners’ looks turned to envy.

  One voice, which was intended to carry, said, “That bloody man gets everything he wants.”

  They both laughed, and Townsend poured her a glass of champagne. He soon found how easy it was to be in her company. They began to swap stories of what they had both been doi