Lady: Impossible by B.D. Fraser Page B

Waitrose, then Sainsbury’s, in half an hour. I can purchase something for you, if you’d like?
    In that case, I’m coming. I don’t know what I want yet.
    He’s going to kill me. I just invited myself on his supermarket run.  
    Where are you?  
    Mural room.  
    I’ll be there in fifteen. Just finishing a task in the library.
    What task could he possibly have to do in the library? Is my mother making him read books so he can relay the condensed, simple English version to her over tea?  
    Impatient and curious, I jump up and head for the door. After checking to ensure the corridor is Mother-free, I stealthily make my way to the end of passageway, where I find the oak doors of the library slightly ajar.  
    I knock, out of politeness, though not too loudly. The last thing I need is to be accused of causing a racket while wearing indecent clothing.  
    ‘Come in,’ he calls.
    The library already exudes magnificence, with its oak panels and shelves of old leather-bound books. Adding Blair to the picture makes me want to faint, all so he can carry me to the fainting room. Yes, really, there’s a fainting room on this floor, near the stairs. It’s a Victorian thing – for treating female hysteria – don’t even get me started on that.
    He’s sitting at the centre table, facing the doorway, and typing away on Alastair’s old desktop computer. His dinner jacket hangs from the back of his chair. He’s rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, showing off his forearms in the best possible way. And then there’s his hair – ever so slightly untidy, like he’s just run a hand through it… It’s as if he knows what gets me going.  
    ‘Desperate, are we?’ he asks, looking up at me with one eyebrow raised.
    ‘Sorry, what?’
    Oh my God. I’ve been caught out. He knows I was fantasising about him.
    He stares at me, firstly with what seems like a look of disbelief, which then quickly becomes one of irritation. ‘For a drink, m’lady?’  
    ‘Oh, right. Yes. That.’
    Instant awkwardness. They should sell my magic at the supermarket for eleven pence a packet. Might as well, as Blair’s probably about to ban me from ever accompanying him to Sainsbury’s. Maybe I can persuade them to take me on while I’m there with him tonight, I’ll suggest the same to Waitrose and hopefully the two supermarket chains will get into a bidding war. Do you know how valuable awkwardness is? It practically guarantees cringeworthy silences and shuffling on the spot. It’s the perfect social weapon.  
    I throw my hands up in the air, at a loss as to how to coexist with him peacefully. ‘You know, I’m just going to lock myself in my room and not come out.’ I feel the onset of hysteria – perhaps there’ll be a need for the fainting room after all. Blair also seems to be sensing this, because now he’s staring at me like I’ve really lost it. ‘When it’s time for my kidnapping, knock on my door three times and at that point I will come out, all in black, ready to mourn the loss of my dignity.’
    He folds his arms across his chest. ‘Actually, now that you’re here, I can show you what your mother has requested me type up for you.’
    I drop my arms. ‘What is it?’
    ‘A list of questions to help you prepare for the matchmaker meeting. All her ideas, of course.’  
    I’m too scared to go over to him. I know the list is only going to infuriate me further. ‘I don’t think I want to read them.’
    ‘Well, you’re not coming to the supermarket unless you read them.’
    I do not react well to people talking to me like that. ‘Are you telling me off?’
    He gives me a pointed look before returning his attention to the screen. ‘I don’t have the authority to do such a thing.’
    ‘Exactly.’
    Blair laughs in disbelief. ‘Unbelievable,’ he mutters.
    I tell myself to chill out and forget about it. He’s not challenging me. He’s frustrated because I’m difficult to deal with.  
    On the other hand, this