The Balfour Legacy

I really wish he’d stayed sitting, Sophie thought as she watched him move across the room, looking like the human version of a jungle cat—elegant, dangerous and casually cruel—until he stood framed by the window with the breathtaking panoramic view of the Old City below.

Not that Sophie was looking at the view. Marco had what could be called presence. Unable to dispel the lithe-jungle-cat analogy, she saw herself in the role of the pathetic defenceless animal he swatted just for the hell of it, and her courage wavered.

You’re not defenceless, you’re a Balfour! Show a bit of backbone for once!

Balfours rose to the challenge and it was encouraging that he hadn’t thrown her out yet…possibly just because he enjoyed seeing her squirm, but there was a possibility, outside admittedly, that this wasn’t lost yet.

‘So how would you make this space exceptional?’

‘Well, to begin with,’ she said, banging her hand on the wall behind her, ‘this would go, as well as those windows.’ As she continued to outline the changes she would make, her nervousness receded. She knew what she was talking about and her genuine enthusiasm made it surprisingly easy to articulate her creative ideas to someone who was listening with what seemed like genuine interest. Of course, he might just be waiting to pull her legs from under her with one cutting remark, but with the adrenaline buzz humming through her veins Sophie thought it was a risk worth taking.

What do I have to lose? she asked herself. She pushed past the recognition that at one level she was actually enjoying herself—it was just too bizarre.

Marco watched her as she moved around the room, illustrating her suggestions with gestures, speaking with increasing confidence as the ideas flowed. The change in her demeanour was nothing less than spectacular.

Her entire manner, voice and body language had altered. Gone was the awkward self-conscious hunched-shoulder attitude; her voice was animated, her blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm—an enthusiasm that was so obviously genuine that Marco found himself smiling.

Slick patter and dodgy figures left him cold but he was drawn to the thing that was, in his experience, rare—a mix of genuine enthusiasm, talent and passion.

Sophie Balfour was a revelation.

‘Well, that’s what I think anyway,’ Sophie said, finally drawing breath as she removed her hand from the wall she had just verbally demolished. ‘The glass would make the most of the marvellous light and the sleek modern lines of the furniture…’ Her voice faded as without warning her knees began to shake.

Actually, she was shaking all over.

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