By the time she reached her office, Andy had her strategy all worked out with regard to her gum-shoe report to Emily. She was going to pull out just a few selected photos to show her, none of which would show Miranda in close up, or staring directly at the camera, so she might have been filmed without her knowing. There was a good photo of her dancing with Kerry at one point.
"Come on girl, let's show them how it's done!" and Kerry had swung Miranda off into a jive, which kept the others open-mouthed. Miranda did have good legs, and my, how she could move them.
Kerry could remain anonymous, and as she wouldn't be coming to the offices to join in the photo shoot, Emily would not identify her.
The pictures where Miranda had been quite tipsy and had stuck out her tongue at the photographer were definitely off the table. Likewise so were the ones where she had pulled said photographer in for a wet kiss resulting in a picture being taken of her cleavage at close quarters.
There were plenty too of Miranda looking straight into Andy's eyes with a definite "Come hither" smirk, and some profile ones where Andy had virtually been sitting in her lap.
Andy also wanted to secure a promise from Emily she wouldn't share any of the photos with anyone else. She would only part with the images after a solemn vow. She hoped the ones she had chosen would look sufficiently convincing to persuade Emily that Andy had indeed followed Miranda secretly from Fulton's to the Clubs, and had not been spotted by her or her mystery friends.
The later it got, and the more martinis Miranda had consumed, the more plausible that fairy tale might become. The photos, if carefully chosen, would show Miranda was out on the town with various unidentified ladies. She was having fun. She might or might not be dating any of them. There was nothing to indicate she was likely to bring Runway into disrepute, and what she did in her few free hours was nothing to do with Emily and not her business. Andy hoped this might stop Emily obsessing about it, and they could go back to work as usual.
In real life though, the fictional scenario would not have held water for a moment. Miranda and Andy seemed to have been set in an open psychic corridor, with the channel switched permanently to maximum alert. Andy only had to breathe in for Miranda to be aware of her location and seek her out.
She remembered the unfortunate incident at the French Consulate when Miranda had thought she detected her flirting with various lissom-limbed young men in a corner. She had bodily hauled her out of the reception in a flash and berated her all the way back to Runway. That had led to kissing, handcuffs, illicit chocolate eating and a lot more kissing, an inescapable trail of suspicious behavior leading to where they were now.
"So? What did you find out?"
Emily pounced on her like a cat as soon as she came in.
"Hey! Hold on. Give me a chance."
Andy sat down and opened her computer. She wanted to download the chosen pictures from her phone and send them to Emily. Her Miranda-phone was tucked deep in her pocket and she wasn't going to let Emily get her hands on it.
"Give me five minutes, and then I'll spill the beans"
"So there are beans then?"
"Yes, well, one or two. Just be patient and I'll show you."
Emily fussed and fumed, but Andy ignored her to concentrate on the job in hand She slid thumb-nail pictures from the phone into an album on her desk top, intending to delete them as soon as she had chosen the few to show Emily.
She knew the ones towards the end of the evening were too personal of Miranda to use, so she ignored them. They would make an album of their own for her to enjoy later. She didn't remember taking quite so many as seemed to be on the list, but she presumed she had taken some extras. Her memories were very vague about what had happened in the hour after midnight anyway.
Within a little while she had chosen six photos to show Emily. There was one of Miranda coming through the door of Fulton's smiling at someone slightly to the right of the camera, and one of her back view having a drink at the table with two women, neither of whose face could be clearly seen.
Then from their time in the women's gay bar later on, there was a beautiful middle-distance one of her with her arm round someone's shoulder, wearing a quizzical grin on her face. Andy was returning from the bathroom at that point, and had managed to snap her from behind the coat stand. It looked suitably furtive.
Next there were two of her drinking and talking to some woman, (Sal) whose arm stretched out and gripped her wrist. Andy thought she recalled they'd been arguing about gun-control, or maybe dog-mess in the Park, but anyway it looked quite passionate.
And ultimately, there was the last one, where Miranda had been dancing with Kerry, in the second club, just before Sal and Andy had hauled her out and they piled into a taxi. In all of them Miranda looked relaxed, intimate and beautiful. Andy really did not want to share anything of her Miranda with Emily, but she couldn't avoid showing her something, nor avoid making her basically look gorgeous.
She pasted the pictures across to Emily, and started her fictional narrative account of the previous evening.
"I did as you said, and hid by the coats at Fulton's. Miranda came in and met some women. They left after an hour or so, and I managed to follow them to the next bar you can see. It's the Pink Geranium."
"Uh, how did you manage to do that?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did Miranda say, "Oh Hi Andy, come and join us in our taxi. We're off to the Pink Geranium"
Andy had a momentary panic. "Oh, they all walked. I kept 50 yards behind and followed them."
"Miranda walk? She must have been well tanked up to set foot on the street!"
"Miranda has strong legs. It was too hot for taxis."
Well, it had been, but they had still hailed one. Sal had glimpsed one of her male colleagues enter the Sports bar, so they had hastily exited out through the opposite door.
Emily stared at the images. She seemed a little wistful. "She looks so . . . she looks so happy, so different from the way she is here. We don't know who it is, do we, who her date was, but do you think she's in love?"
Andy couldn't find it in her heart to lie. "Yes, I believe she is."
Then she paused. "And if last night taught me anything Em, it's made me realise we really should drop this snooping about. I won't do it again, not for you or anybody. Please let's get on with our work and leave Miranda's private life as just that, her own business.
She pulled her phone from its connection to the computer, and put it back in her pocket.
Emily looked a little ashamed, and went rather quiet, but them she bounced up again.
"O.K. but what about Provincetown? We need to get to the bottom of that as well. If she is going to retire and just walk up and down the beach collecting sea-shells for the rest of her life, I need to know. "
"Perhaps it was for a photo-shoot. The photographers love it up there."
"Well, maybe, but I need to find out. I'll ask Nigel if anything is planned." Emily fidgeted for a few moments, then jumped up and ran out.
In doing this, she missed Miranda's actual arrival at the office. She came in looking cool, immaculate and regal. She stood by Andy's desk and passed her over her Michael Kors bag, very softly and very quietly. Andy took it and equally gently stowed it away in the cupboard. They exchanged glances.
"So?"
"I think she bought it. I chose just a few images, trying not to make you look as gorgeous as you are, but she's now started going on about P-town. She's gone to ask Nigel if we're expecting a photo shoot up there. Are we?"
"Oh, that wouldn't be a bad idea in fact.
"But, no, I just had a fancy to walk with you along a beach and make love to you next to the sound of waves, and I know too many people in the Hamptons. I wondered if we might drive up that way tomorrow, make a detour on the way to the twins' camp and have a night on Cape Cod. Would you like that? We could take tomorrow over it, and enjoy the weekend."
"Aw Miss," Andy gave her an imitation of Eliza Doolittle," and there was me telling the boys from Adventure Monthly about 'ow you never gave us any free toime up 'ere." For someone born with Ohio vowels it wasn't too bad an impression. Miranda, though, didn't pay much attention to the accent. Her antennae started to flash at the content.
"Boys? What boys?"
"No, don't worry. They drink their own pee down there. At least we have coffee on demand here."
"Well hadn't you better get on then and fetch me some!"
Andrea obeyed her, and Miranda tried very hard not to go to her window to watch her cross the street but it was no good. She waited five minutes then went over and looked down. Maybe she should order an expresso machine. Sending her assistants out for coffee had somehow stopped being the fun it used to be. She picked up her phone. "I saw you. Use the crossing by the lights. I won't tell you again!"
" . . . . . "
"All right. I'm sure it would be quieter in Provincetown. I'll get Emily to book us a room."
" . . . . !"
"No, it will be fine. She won't suspect a thing I'm sure. Don't worry."
The business of the day continued. All three women worked very hard, and Andy concentrated on the various subtle differences of perfumes, for day, night, seduction and pure aphrodisiac use. As always since she had started to work at Runway, she became far more interested in the subject than she had expected. She learned fast, and absorbed knowledge like a sponge.
She began to muse about Ambergris, and how it was weirdly one of the most expensive commodities in the world. Maybe she and Miranda might one day find some on a beach, washed up at high tide on a summer's evening. Sperm whales did swim up the coast near to Cape Cod after all.
She finished the research paper for the editorial team, and then surreptitiously began a new document to start her article on policing. Taking a day's leave to extend the weekend would have one disadvantage in that it would cut down the available time to get her article written, but she certainly wasn't going to complain.
She wrote steadily, concentrating on her writing, while Emily was called into Miranda's office and received a long list of things to do, including booking a room "in a suitable 5 star inn with a private hot-tub, and a king-sized bed in or near Provincetown. For Friday evening."
Emily gulped.
"Anything else?"
"No, that's all."
She ran back to Andrea and wanted to share this next revelation, but Andy's head was deep in her work and she was wearing headphones. It would have to wait. She went online, and found Miranda a perfect location. The place looked wonderful. The booking form asked how many occupants the room would have. Should she go back and ask Miranda about that? The very thought made her temperature rise. She hesitated, and then bravely pressed 2.
Her mind then drifted to Serena. Wouldn't it be lovely if one day they too could go away up there for a similar romantic break? Not for the first time, Emily genuinely envied Miranda and wished she was in her employer's hand crafted shoes.
Now, several unexpected things happened in Emily's life that afternoon, rising in extraordinariness as time went on.
Firstly, Miranda called her in and thanked her for making the booking at the Inn in Provincetown.
"It looks very acceptable. Thank you."
Emily nearly fell over, and almost purred.
"I see you put down 2 as the number of guests."
Emily's mouth made various shapes like an Italian vocal coach. "Ah –oh – ee –Aye . . ."
"Yes, that was sensible. You didn't know whether I am going with anyone or not."
"No, it . . . seemed wise to . . . "
"Of course." Miranda purred at her like a contented Persian cat." You did the right thing."
She was teasing. Emily knew she wouldn't divulge any more details, but Miranda was actually teasing her. She was treating her like a person, not a robot.
The next amazing thing was that Miranda then asked her, Emily, to take charge of the Book over the weekend, to read it carefully, and make any editorial suggestions necessary. "I won't have time. You're more than capable. Ask Nigel about anything if you need to, but I am sure you can manage perfectly well on your own. You need more to do in your job. You've obviously been getting bored recently."
Emily squeaked. "Thanks Miranda. Of course, I'll take care of it."
"You can start tonight. I'm out of the office all tomorrow, so I'm relying on you."
"Yes, of course. Rely on me. Sure."
She wobbled back to her desk, the few photos she'd seen showing Miranda having fun, laughing, still etched on her retinas.
But there was an even more extraordinary revelation which hit Emily fair and square between the eyes later and it did not come from Miranda. Andy had been quiet all afternoon, and had then mentioned she had a headache and asked if it was OK with Emily if she went home earlier than usual?
Emily said it was fine. "I'm editing the Book, you know, tonight, and again over the weekend. Miranda's asked me specially. You wouldn't understand, but when she looks into your eyes, it is kind of wonderful. She asked me specially. You know, me, specially."
Andy felt like a worm for any double deception, but Miranda had told her to say she was to leave early and then might take a rest day on Friday. They'd be setting out together early for Massachusetts. Even though Andy had not had a single day's leave since she had started at Runway, she still felt extremely guilty. The Protestant work ethic ran deep.
"Don't you worry, darling," Miranda had reassured her over a quick lunchtime conversation. "I'll still give you plenty of assisting to do."
So Andy left around 5pm, putting her desk-top and screen on to sleep mode, and a few minutes later Miranda followed her out of the door. Emily looked forward to a long quiet evening waiting for the Book. After an hour or so of feeling special, however, she began to be bored, and her mind turned to Andy's detective activities. She knew there were more pictures on the computer than she had showed her.
Would it be so terrible if she looked through them? She moved round the desk, sat down in Andy's chair and cautiously rebooted the computer. As before, the password was just too easy to forget. She pressed the shift for Capital C. and looked forward to enjoying some more nice pictures of Miranda out having fun. She saw the folder of pictures transferred from Andy's phone still sitting on her desktop, and quietly clicked on the icon.
