The Night That Changed Everything Read Online Free PDF Page A

– the tallest building in London as recently as the sixties – and I love the eighty-seven-storey Shard. I love the twinkling windows of The Gherkin (though I hate that name).
    I love the wind on my cheeks and the freedom of not being governed by timetables and specific routes – I can leave whenever I want and take any path, no matter how narrow. And I love the fact that for forty minutes I don’t have to think about anything else. My mind is focused on the road ahead, and the traffic around me, and the judging of time and distance as I weave in and out of the gaps between cars, buses and pedestrians.
    And most of all, if I’m totally honest, I love that it’s not the Tube, because the temptation to punch slow walkers in the back of the head is just too overwhelming at 8 a.m.
    As I’m finding out today. I had to leave my bike at home because I’m getting the train straight to Dad’s at lunchtime with Ben.
    â€˜Good morning!’ A blonde girl I don’t recognize greets me in a Scottish accent when I arrive at Goode Architecture Associates on a commuter-rage comedown. ‘I’m Jemma.’
    Shit, I forgot the new receptionist has her induction day today. Not everyone was a fan of Mandy, our last one, but I liked her. She mightn’t have been the happiest soul, or indeed the most welcoming by nature, but she was organized and efficient, and that’s really all I wanted from her.
    This girl’s round, pretty face is smiley and friendly. Double shit.
    â€˜Morning,’ I reply, hoping she won’t take offence if I don’t stop and chat.
    At the top of the stairs I keep my head down, not slowing my pace or giving anyone the chance to engage me in conversation – I want to get my shit together before my meeting. But right before I sit down, the boss’s door swings open and I hear my name being called. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to channel the me from yesterday. The me who hadn’t done the maths yet. The me who was entirely focused on the job at hand, and not preoccupied with the realization that Ben and I might have accidentally made a tiny human.
    â€˜Rebecca, perfect timing,’ Jake is saying. ‘This is Adam Larsson from Bensons. You’ll be working together on the cinema.’
    Ah ha, the infamous Adam Larsson. I’ve never met him but I’ve heard Eddie’s tales of their debaucherous nights out, which inevitably end up with Adam going home with someone. He’s fit, but if his smug smile is anything to go by, my gosh doesn’t he know it.
    â€˜And this,’ Jake tells Adam, a little proudly I’m touched to note, ‘is Rebecca Giamboni, head architect on the project.’
    â€˜Er, hi,’ says Adam, his smile faltering as his eyes flick from me to Jake. ‘I assumed I’d be working with Eddie.’ Then, remembering himself, he holds out his hand. ‘Good to meet you, Rebecca.’
    â€˜And you,’ I say, gripping his hand firmly despite my risen heckles at his evident disappointment that I’m infiltrating his boys’ club. And I always got the impression from Eddie that this guy was smooth.
    â€˜Rebecca’s one of our rising stars,’ Jake adds.
    â€˜Looking forward to working with you,’ Adam tells me with smirk.
    â€˜Likewise,’ I lie, looking forward to wiping the smirk off his face.
    Not by punching him or anything – by designing a really frickin’ impressive cinema.
    I can’t tell how on board Adam is with my initial ideas as he responds to everything I say in our meeting with a non-committal nod. So when it’s his turn to talk, I do the same, even though his ideas are pretty good. Jake’s enthusiasm makes up for it, though, and by the time we draw the meeting to a close, I’m feeling excited.
    If I’m pregnant it really is the worst timing in the history of procreation, I note as I finally sink into my chair