He shrugged. "I like to work late."
She looked around the room. It was tidy, extremely so. Quite unlike the last time she'd seen it. "What are you working on right now, apart from the safety review?"
"Oh – I'm just sorting through old papers, getting ready for the next job." Was that a blush? "Makes a change, having time to do that sort of thing."
So he was underemployed. She wondered if it was because of his health or whether the firm itself was short of contracts.
"So – "
"I suppose – "
They'd spoken simultaneously.
"Sorry – you were saying?"
"Please – carry on."
Their words collided again and he grinned. "Ladies first."
"Even one such as I?"
"The most interesting sort there is."
She couldn't hold back a smile. "You've learned the art of fine-sounding nonsense since we last met."
"Oh, I always had it."
Moments ticked past. The smile lingered on her lips, in his eyes. It seemed enough – more than enough – simply to sit, saying nothing.
Eventually, though, he leaned forward. "Mary."
"Yes?" Weary as she was, she hadn't felt this awake for days. Weeks. Months.
"Are you…" He hesitated, trying to frame the sentence just right.
A double-knock on the office door made them both jump.
"Come in," said James, sitting back hastily.
"'Evening, sir." A young, coppery-haired barmaid entered carrying two trays, one stacked on the other. She advanced confidently and set the trays on the desk. "When the order come in for two dinners, I thought it were a mistake," she giggled. Her green eyes flickered momentarily in Mary's direction before returning to James. "I thought, ain't one of Mrs Higgs's portions big enough for a hungry gentleman?"
James's smile was rather sheepish. "Good evening, Nancy."
Nancy?
"And you's early tonight," she chided him, laying a place before James. "I weren't expecting for to come for a couple hours yet." It seemed to Mary that she was leaning forward quite a lot more than necessary, the better to display ample cleavage in a low-necked shirtwaist.
"Er – " James cleared his throat. "Nancy, meet my young associate, Mark Quinn. Mark, this is Nancy of the Bull's Head."
"Charmed, I'm sure," cooed Nancy, flashing her dimples at Mary. Before Mary could reply, she turned back to James. "Double-thick mutton chops, just as you like 'em, with French beans and tatties and all. And your Mr Barker didn't say about a pudding, but I know as you're partial to the fruit crumble so I brung it too, and a jug of cream."
"It smells wonderful. Thank you."
Nancy's swift hands dealt out the dishes. Once she'd distributed the food and drink, she stood back and surveyed the desk with satisfaction. "I s'pose, being as your lad's here, you won't be needing company with your dinner tonight?"
"Er – no, thank you."
She gave a good-natured pout. "I'll come for to clear away in an hour, then, sir."
"Very good."
Tipping them a wink, she tucked the trays under a strong, dimpled arm and sashayed towards the door, skirts swaying in an imaginary breeze. For a full minute after the door closed behind her there was perfect silence. Mary stared hard at the feast laid before her. It looked appetizing and substantial and utterly luxurious, but she suddenly wanted none of it.
James cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well. Smells good," he said.
"You've already said that," she said acidly. Even as she spoke, she knew she was being, childish. What did she care, what James did with pretty barmaids? But she couldn't seem to stop herself. "It's no wonder you like Mrs Higgs's cooking."
There was an expression she didn't like in James's eyes. It looked suspiciously like satisfaction. "The cooking, among other things," he said casually. "I often nip over for a pint in the snug."
She would not rise to the bait. "I'm sure you do," she heard herself say.
"It's a friendly pub," he drawled, brandishing his knife and fork. "Quiet. Select. And very friendly. Or have I said that already too?"
She poked a slender bean with more force than necessary. It was perfectly cooked, and she resented this too. "I'm sure it's very pleasant."
"It is."
"Good."
"Very welcoming."
"I get the point."
They ate in silence for several minutes, and despite her jealousy Mary discovered that she was ravenous. Table manners, she decided, were an affectation invented by those who'd never been hungry.
James took his time, cleaning his plate. It was no small achievement, as Mrs Higgs's portions were indeed enormous. When, at long last, he was done, he sat back with a sigh – a smug sigh, thought Mary – and took a deep draught of beer. "Aren't you glad you came?" he asked, his eyes gleaming over the rim of the tankard.
She pushed aside her lingering resentment. This was no time to behave childishly. "I suppose it depends," she said, "on what we discuss and how we decide to proceed."
He examined his pint with care. His voice was carefully neutral as he said, "Tell me what you're thinking."
She was prepared for this, at least. "It seems to me that we'd do well to share information. Whatever you learn about site safety can be helpful to me, in my attempt to understand life as an errand boy. And in my role as Mark, I've noticed and overheard a few things that may be useful to you."
"Such as?"
"After Harkness stopped Keenan from thrashing me on Monday, Keenan all but threatened him. Said he'd not forget the incident, as though planning to get his own back somehow."