Hot Desk

by Zara Stoneley

But no me, I want to scream. Instead I say, ‘But you can’t just live in Spain.’

  ‘What’s the difference? Cornwall, Spain?’

  I would like to chip in and point out the many differences – like the Atlantic Ocean will be between us for one. Instead, I settle for saying ‘Visa?’

  ‘I can go for up to three months, then decide what to do next. I’m not talking about for ever. I just need to get this sorted, then if it means I have to go out for a few weeks every year to see him, I will.’ He shrugs.

  ‘Maybe you need to chat to your solicitor first, I mean, try and work it out, let’s not rush into anything.’ I sound in a panic even to my own ears. Cornwall is one thing, but Spain? He can’t go to Spain, it is too far, too hot, too different. They eat paella and talk Spanish. I’ll never see him again. I’ll never have sex with him again. Or at least not for months. ‘She might say they can prevent her going?’

  Or I could go as well. Learn Spanish. Babies manage it so I’m sure I can if I have to.

  ‘I won’t do anything daft. But if I’ve got to, then I’ve got to. You get it, don’t you?’ He holds my hands in his. ‘I know you of all people get it.’

  I don’t want to get it at all, if getting it means losing him.

  ‘Of course I do. I know you need to see him, he’s your son.’

  ‘It’s only a tiny bit out of our lives. Look, I better get off, I’m sure you’ve got lots to do.’

  ‘No rush, have a coffee if you like?’ I don’t want him to go. I want to hold on to this moment as long as I can. Who know when I’ll see him, touch him, again. He’ll be sending e-postcards not leaving Post-its. Rodney will frazzle up and die and Mabel will have cold feet for the rest of her life. ‘The only thing I’ve got to do today is take the dress to Dave’s mum’s house.’

  ‘I can give you a lift if you want?’

  ‘Well—’

  ‘It might help your case if he’s there; you’ve got proof that you’re with somebody else.’

  I smile. We both know it’s not necessary. But it’s nice. ‘I’m just going to give it to her straight, nobody can force me into something I don’t want to do. Not even with emotional blackmail.’

  ‘Good.’ He kisses the tip of my nose.

  ‘Though I wouldn’t say no to a bit of company, and it’s a heavy box for little old me to carry.’ I grin at him. I just want to keep him here, with me, for as long as I can.

  ‘Thanks for listening to me, thanks for understanding.’

  I shower slowly while he Googles ‘how long can you stay in Spain’, ‘can you leave the country during a custody battle’ and stuff like that. Then we have a cup of coffee, and I pick up the box. I need to close off the old bit of my life before I start worrying about what comes next, don’t I?

  And I’ve got to get my happy face on before I see Soph and Daz’s campervan tomorrow.

  How the hell am I going to do that when all I can think about is that I’ve just had the most stupendous sex of my life, and the guy responsible is about to bugger off to Spain? If I’d thought the kiss had been an issue, I’ve just made it a hundred times more difficult.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‘Come in, come in, Alice. Oh, I was so pleased to hear you’d got back together again and—’

  ‘We haven’t.’ I feel terrible as the smile on Dave’s mum’s face is replaced with confusion. But that’s not my problem, is it? I can be kind, but I am not going to be weak and wishy-washy. ‘I won’t come in, if that’s okay with you. I’m not stopping,’ I say as firmly as I can.

  ‘But…’ She looks at the bag I am holding out. But doesn’t take it. ‘But why are you getting married if…’

  ‘We’re not getting married.’ I feel like the worst nearly-daughter-in-law ever.

  The smile returns. ‘Ahh! I understand. Oh such a shame you don’t want to, you modern girls are so independent these days, but I suppose there’s nothing wrong with living together.’

  ‘We’re not living together. We’ve not got back together,’ I add to make it clear.

  ‘But the house? He showed me the house, it’s got a conservatory, and en suite.’ I shake my head, and her smile fades. ‘But it’s on a lovely estate and—’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry he didn’t tell you,’ I add, as it’s his fault not mine that this is happening.

  There is a long silence, then she folds her arms. ‘He got carried away again, didn’t he?’ she says flatly.

  Again?

  ‘Oh dear, that boy is so impulsive.’ Impulsive is not the word I’d use. Obsessive maybe, but not impulsive. ‘This happened a couple of years ago.’

  ‘It did?’ I am interested, despite myself, and my best intentions to hand the dress over and leave rapidly.

  ‘She was a lovely girl, but she said he was just too intense, he wouldn’t listen, and they were too young.’ She shakes her head. Now she’s got over the shock she’s gone on the defensive. ‘You girls today want it all, don’t you? You’ll regret it when you’re older. You’ll have missed the boat.’

  I stop feeling sorry for her. She won’t listen. It’s obviously a family trait.

  ‘He is very fond of you. Exceedingly.’

  I hold the dress out again.

  ‘You could think it over.’

  I shake my head. Honestly, I can see where he gets it from. ‘We’re not in love with each other.’

  ‘Love isn’t everything.’

  ‘It’s the start though.’ I put the bag down on the step, seeing as she still isn’t making any effort to take it.

  ‘We split up ages ago—’

  ‘You had a break.’

  ‘No, we split up. I’ve found somebody new.’ I gesture towards the car, and Jamie waves. ‘I’m sorry it’s been a shock for you, he really should have told you.’

  As I walk back to the car my step is lighter – and not just because I’m not carrying that wedding dress, which weighed a ton.

  Jamie raises a questioning eyebrow as I get in the car and I give him a discreet thumbs up, and smile.

  Being with Jamie, even if we aren’t dating, is totally different to being with somebody like Dave – whose whole world revolves round himself. I feel like I actually am with somebody who has my back. Who listens. Who will be there for me.

  Except he won’t.

  The light feeling that I felt moments before fades slightly.

  I mustn’t let it though. This isn’t about not having Jamie – this isn’t even really about finally escaping from Dave. It’s about me.

  I don’t look back as we drive away. ‘Thanks for bringing me over.’

  ‘No problem.’

  I feel a twinge of pity for Dave, but it’s only a tiny, tiny twinge. His mum didn’t exactly slam the door, but it was closed pretty forcibly.

  I’m not going to be walked all over or made to feel guilty or apologetic any more though. If I don’t even trust a person enough to share my belongings, my private space, with – how can I even contemplate sharing my life with them?

  We come up to the junction where Jamie will be turning right towards his home, and I will go left towards mine. ‘Drop me here, it’s fine, I can walk.’

  ‘Sure? I can take you, it’s no problem.’

  ‘I’m positive,’ I say firmly. ‘It’s the opposite direction for you.’

  He slows the car, pulls to a halt and we look at each other awkwardly.

  ‘Alice, about last night.’

  ‘It was good,’ I say primly, my hands in my lap.

  ‘It was amazing.’ He covers my hands with one of his and squeezes, so I have to look up and meet his gaze. ‘Well it was for me.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘But—’

  I look down at our hands. ‘Sort your life out, Jamie. Sort your son out, then,’ I shrug, and force the words out in as casual manner as I can, ‘who knows.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Alice, I’d give anything to be able—’

  ‘Jamie.’ I do look him in the eye then. His cl
ear, gorgeous eyes, and know that I trust him. And I know that whatever happens between us, I don’t need him as a crutch like I thought I needed Dave. I can stand on my own two feet. ‘I’ve realized that it’s not good obsessing over the things I can’t change, I’ve got to focus on the things I can. I used to worry about Dave chucking my stuff, but it’s not about him doing that, is it? I was desperately hanging on to everything I valued, to stop it disappearing. But it wasn’t losing my things that really worried me deep down, it was the fact he was replacing mine with his. He was trying to change me into some other girl. It was about me, and I can change what I let people do to me, even if I can’t stop them wanting to do it. If that makes sense?’ It did in my head; I’m not sure now it’s poured out of my mouth. ‘And I can’t change the fact that we can’t date, but what I can do is be a good friend and help you sort things out. If you want me to?’

  ‘Oh, Alice.’ He hugs me, his words muffled in my hair, ‘we must be mad wanting to keep torturing ourselves.’

  ‘Yep.’ I disentangle myself, because it’s far too nice being held by him, and I’m trying my hardest to be objective about all this. Even if, deep down, I know I’m just kidding myself. It was hard enough being near him every day and fancying him like mad, when I thought he was just an annoying co-worker. Now I’ve had that glimmer that we could have been good together, now I know that in real life he really is the gorgeous guy I thought he might be all those years ago, I don’t know if I can settle for the role of supportive friend. But I can try. ‘I better get back.’

  He lets me move away, puts his hand back on the steering wheel. ‘See you round then?’

  ‘I’ll be expecting sticky notes to resume soon!’ I smile, but it feels strained.

  ‘You got it!’ His grin is hesitant, as though he wants to say more. But I don’t want him to.

  I open the car door. ‘Good luck with the solicitor on Monday, let me know how it goes?’

  He nods, and then leans over and plants the lightest of kisses on my mouth. ‘I will, my gorgeous festival girl. I will.’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Sunday

  It is really strange, but I’ve come back from lunch at my parents’ house feeling liberated. Feeling like I know exactly what I need to do with my life – with or without Jamie.

  The camper van was dinky, but cool. As I’d known it would be – why else would Sophie agree to the trip? Well apart from the obvious addition of Daz, of course.

  Soph had bounced around like an excited child, opening drawers and cupboards so that we could see everything (not that there was that much).

  There was a dinky fridge, already stocked with beer, and a double burner which she put pans on to demonstrate exactly what it was for. She even jiggled the frying pan to simulate frying eggs – though I’m pretty sure she’s never fried an egg in her life.

  Her enthusiasm brought a lump to my throat. What had happened to my own zest for life? When did I stop having fun and taking pleasure in the little things – like a shell I’d found on the beach – rather than just collecting them as memories?

  She made Daz pull down the rock and roll bed so that she could scatter it with pillows, cushions and rugs, then throw open the back door so we could imagine what it would be like lying on the bed looking out at the rolling waves crashing on the shore. Okay, we were actually looking at cars driving past the house, but we got the vision.

  There were stickers all over the table, the places the camper had already visited without them – and I knew Soph would add to it in her own way.

  She showed us the cupboard where they’d already stashed their rucksacks, the basket she’d got for her undies, the tray for her make-up and toiletries.

  The toilet which… Well, enough said about that.

  ‘You’ve not got much room for your things,’ Mum had said.

  ‘I don’t have much!’ Sophie laughingly replied.

  ‘Because you borrow mine!’ I’d hugged her as I’d said it, and she’d grinned. Then I did a double-take. ‘Bloody hell, Soph, you’ve nicked my denim shorts!’ How the hell did she smuggle those out of my room?

  ‘You were distracted.’ She giggled.

  ‘No.’ I shook my head and wagged a finger at her. ‘It’s not on, Sophie.’

  ‘Please? Pretty please?’ She clutched her hands together, pleading.

  I folded my arms. In the past, I’d have backed down at this point. Not wanted to spoil the moment, cause a scene. After all, they’re only shorts, and I’d get them back one day. But it isn’t the past. It is now. ‘You ask, Soph. Not just help yourself to stuff. It’s selfish, and it’s disrespectful, and how am I supposed to trust even letting you into my room if you just help yourself to things after I’ve said no?’

  She stared at me, open-mouthed. There was silence.

  A silence I wasn’t going to break.

  ‘Oh. Sorry.’ She reached over, grabbed the shorts and held them out. This time she didn’t have a tantrum, she didn’t say it was me, that I was selfish and mean. She just handed them back. ‘I am sorry, Al. I shouldn’t have. It’s cool, honest. You’re right.’

  Lucy laughed. ‘Good move, Alice. They’d be unwearable by the time she gets home; she’d wear them in the sea, in crappy hole-in-the-ground toilets.’

  ‘I won’t actually go in a hole in the ground,’ Soph said sensibly. ‘You stand at the side and take your knickers down first.’

  Lucy glared. ‘Have you never heard of splashback! Anyway, you know what I mean. Alice has kept these for a reason.’

  ‘Jamie!’ Soph’s eyes glinted.

  I heated up like a chestnut in the embers. My cheeks were positively crackling. And I glared at Soph in a ‘don’t you dare say another word’ way. She did a zipped mouth gesture, grinning all the time.

  ‘Actually,’ I slipped my hand through the crook of Lucy’s arm. ‘It’s fine.’ And it is. I don’t need the shorts to remember Reading Festival. Maybe they need a new adventure. I hold the shorts out.

  ‘Really?’ Sophie hesitated, looked surprised.

  ‘Really.’ I nod decisively. I don’t need the shorts, I just needed to be asked, not taken for granted.

  ‘If you’re really sure?’

  ‘Honestly, am I going to have to force them on you now?’ I shake my head, exasperated.

  ‘I don’t want to take advantage; I know I should have asked.’

  ‘You should.’ She took the shorts, we hugged, and I tried to stop the hot prickling of tears. ‘They might bring you luck!’

  Soph pulled back and winked in a very dirty way. ‘Now that kind of luck I won’t turn down.’

  ‘Sophie!’ chorused my mum and sisters, but we were all laughing.

  I had my adventure, I fell for a gorgeous guy – our eyes didn’t meet across a crowded room, our lips met in a crowded space, and I’m glad. But I think I’m learning how to let go. Some stuff needs hanging on to, some stuff doesn’t.

  We’d popped the top of the camper, switched on the fairy lights, spun the captain’s seat, and then we’d all sat in the garden eating, drinking and swapping holiday stories.

  I’d given Soph a big hug as I left. ‘You’re crazy you know, leaving everything behind!’

  She’d hugged me harder back.

  ‘And brave,’ I whispered in her ear.

  ‘I’m not leaving much, apart from you. I’ve got shit jobs, still live at home, wear my sister’s clothes.’ She’d grinned. ‘I’m a complete dead loss at a dead end. Nothing’s ever going to change if I carry on doing the same thing, is it?’

  I shook my head. ‘Nope, if you carry on doing the same thing you carry on getting the same result, as they say.’

  ‘Some things I can’t do anything about, so I’m ditching them. I’m in a rut, Al, and Daz has made me see that I can do stuff. I can explore the world if I want. Anything is possible! He’s so bloody positive you know, he always looks at what he can do, where he can go, not where he can’t.’

  ‘You’re made for e
ach other.’ I held her tight. Whatever she thinks, she’s never been in a rut, never been a dead loss. And she has always managed to look on the bright side despite the fact that holding down a decent job isn’t one of her skills. Soph just needs a different type of life, and I know she’ll find it. She’s brave, like Darcie.

  And when I headed home, I felt strangely happy, as well as sad.

  I’ll be sad not to have Soph around borrowing stuff, and lending stuff. Because she would always offer – I just didn’t take her up on it. I guess I was scared of taking, because I’d got scared of becoming somebody else. A person someone else wanted me to be.

  But now I’m not.

  It’s not what you’ve got, is it? It’s who you are inside – and not letting anybody change that.

  Sophie hasn’t got room for much, but the look of happiness on her face today says it all. She’s being her; she’s doing what she wants. She is with who she wants to be with.

  I’ve hung on to all my stuff so fiercely because I was trying to gain back control. But I have got it now. And so none of it really matters. Well, some of it does, obviously. Some of my stuff means a lot, it’s about my life, memories. It is important. But I think I need to think in camper van terms. I need to decide what is important, what adds to my life, what helps me be creative at work – and I need to store away the stuff that doesn’t. I don’t have to chuck it. I just need to move it to one side. Because my bedroom really isn’t big enough for things that don’t really matter, and I’ve just realized that hanging on to it so tightly has actually been making me more stressed. Not less.

  Like Sophie said, if you carry on doing the same thing, nothing is ever going to change. I need to start doing things differently.

  I’ve hung on to absolutely everything, because it has connected me to the times when I felt really happy. The pre-Dave times. And now I need to start finding room for new memories. For the things that matter to me today.

  In the camper van it felt freeing, in Jamie’s house it felt relaxing and safe. And you know what? Neither of those places are crammed with ‘stuff’.