Disappearing Act, Part VII

Later on.

The meal appeased me a little. I needed that. The telephone ring was making me nervous.

I called the number. A woman answered.

- Design Magazine, she said.

I asked to speak to Miss Lane.

- Pardon?

- Miss Lane.

She said, “one moment”. And I knew that this wasn’t the correct number. Usually the receptionist connected me immediately onto Jane’s line.

- Could you repeat the name? She asked again.

- Miss Lane. I must have the wrong number…

- Would you like to speak to Mr. Payne?

- No, no. Excuse me, it’s a mistake.

I hung up in a bad mood. This phantom number that I had looked at I don’t know how many times … it doesn’t make sense.

I thought that I had seen an old directory and I went to consult that one . It was the same.

I will call her house tomorrow night, I can’t do anything else. I want to meet up with her, to be sure that she and I still have plans for Saturday night.

I thought of something. That receptionist. Her voice. I could swear that it was her that I heard the other times.

Funny idea.