Another Cup of Coffee

by Jenny Kane

  ‘You should be proud! I am bloody proud of you. I love telling people that one of my best friends writes erotica. The whole stun factor, you know?’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Kit smiled modestly. ‘And thanks, I’m touched that you’re proud of me, but there’s no need to be.’

  Peggy stared at her friend with incomprehension. ‘Ye gods, woman, you’ve got the lowest self-worth on the planet!’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘And don’t apologise.’

  Kit almost said ‘sorry’ again, but swallowed the word down, ‘What are you talking about?’

  Peggy tugged her ponytail in frustration, ‘It’s damned annoying sometimes, listening to you running yourself down.’

  Kit started to mumble again, ‘That’s more or less what Jack said’

  ‘As much as I hate to agree with him, he was right,’ Peggy poked a finger through the rapidly-depleting bowl of sugar sachets, making a mental note to top them up later. ‘So, a novel then?’

  Kit brightened up, ‘I’ve always wanted to write one, but the time has never been right. Either we haven’t had enough money for me to be able to give up work, or I simply haven’t had the time to get down to writing anything lengthier than a couple of thousand words.’

  ‘But now you have got the time and the money?’

  ‘The time, yes, but I need to talk to Phil about it properly. The money side, I mean.’

  Peggy was curious. ‘So, what’s this magnum opus going to be about?’

  ‘That would be telling.’ Even as she spoke, Kit’s vague literary ideas began forming more solid patterns in her mind. By the time Peggy had crossed the room Kit was writing furiously; scared to slow down in case her ideas leaked out of her brain and were lost to her forever.

  Twenty-three

  October 19th 2006

  Amy typed the words into her phone, before pressing delete for the second time. Maybe she’d text Jack when she got home instead – or perhaps tomorrow morning would be better?

  She had been happy to immerse herself in another day of filling sandwiches, pouring coffee, and gentle banter, before facing the next step in her new life. Now, gathering up her bag, Amy buttoned her coat over her black trousers and white blouse, and set off from the café. Head down and umbrella up, she walked into the rain, oblivious to everyone and everything, until she reached the door of the local newsagent, and reluctantly purchased the local job paper.

  The night before, her new housemate James had told Amy that she could use his computer any time, and he’d also recommended several useful websites for job-hunting. Early that morning she’d done just that, reluctantly acknowledging that she couldn’t survive on a waitress’ pay long-term. The only snag was that she had no idea what she wanted to do. All Amy could be absolutely certain of was that she never wanted to give failing companies marketing advice ever again.

  Kicking off her sensible black shoes with a groan of relief, Amy switched on the kettle. With a cup of sadly inferior instant coffee to hand, she collapsed onto the sofa and reluctantly thumbed her way through the jobs section of her rain-dampened newspaper.

  Ten minutes later, Amy forced herself to recognise the fact that she was almost totally unemployable for anything other than the dreaded ‘business market advisory’ sort of job she’d so recently escaped from. A realisation made even more depressing by the fact that there weren’t even any jobs like that available in the vicinity anyway.

  ‘New job. New home. New life.’ Amy recited her mantra firmly, and started tapping out a text before she could back out. As she did so, she told the phone, quite abruptly, that as the new home was sorted, and the new job was going to take eons to track down, she’d better make a start on the new life section of her ambitions. Amy knew she couldn’t do that until she’d laid a ghost to rest. That ghost’s name, of course, was Jack …

  Hello Jack. It’s Amy. U ok?

  Jack stared at the message, a combination of relief and horror creeping over him. He had to reply, but what should he say? Amy hadn’t said anything much. Testing the water, he supposed. He fumbled over a selection of possible responses. Should he seem cool and off-hand, restrained and vague, or eager and keen? This whole meeting up thing seemed to have had a bigger build-up than the World Cup, and he was no longer sure how he felt about it. He decided on a simple response.

  All well with me. U?

  Amy leapt off the sofa when the mobile beeped. She’d been expecting the sound, or at least hoping for it, but it still made her jump as it echoed around the quiet room. Her heart thumped louder in her chest as she read Jack’s reply. With hasty but clumsy fingers, Amy typed her reply.

  Better than ever thanks. Want to meet?

  Jack’s uncertainty vanished. He had to see her. The depth of his need surprised him; perhaps it’s because of how things stand with Kit, he thought. A moment’s doubt flitted through his mind – but Amy was “better than ever thanks”, which was a definite improvement on the “angry and out for revenge thanks,” that he’d been expecting. Of course, he pondered, she could be bluffing?

  No. Not Amy. If she was angry, her text message would have revealed the fact. She couldn’t keep her emotions hidden, which was how he’d known that she loved him. She’d never had the confidence to say she did, but Jack had known. And Amy isn’t Kit. No. Don’t think about that now. He sent his reply.

  Shall we have a coffee stop then?

  Amy fired one back almost immediately.

  No. Can we walk while we talk? U a member of Kew Gardens?

  Amy thought hard. Should I put a kiss at the end of the message? No. Better not. It’s too soon for that.

  Jack swore as his predictive text went weird for a second, before shooting back.

  I am. See u at main gate. Ten am tomorrow?

  Amy’s hands shook as she responded. Should I add a kiss at the end? Oh, why not, what harm could it possibly do now?

  Sure. Tomorrow then. x

  Amy couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow seemed both aeons away and frighteningly close. She couldn’t decide if she was excited or terrified at the prospect of their scheduled walk.

  Jack couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to get himself into another mess.

  Twenty-four

  October 20th 2006

  Amy’s stomach lurched as she saw the distant figure approaching on the opposite side of the road. She knew it was Jack. His walk, his dark hair, even his faded brown leather jacket: they all looked the same. She wondered if he’d spotted her yet. She thought that he probably had by the way he was staring at the pavement, rather than at her or at the gateway to the gardens. In spite of her nerves Amy felt an excited smile settle on her face.

  Jack’s brain was in overdrive as he plodded forward. Do I really want to face this now? Kit was still ‘thinking’, and the idea of coping with another disgruntled female was not an appealing one. Especially this disgruntled female. Still, Amy was only a few yards ahead of him now. Jack had spotted her the minute he turned the corner from the bookshop. Always early then, always early now. Jack couldn’t suppress a grin. Perhaps it would be all right …

  ‘Hello.’

  They spoke in unison; not quite ready to make eye contact yet, they flashed their membership cards at the man on the gate and walked straight into the gardens, bypassing the handful of tourists queuing to pay for a day ticket.

  So much had happened. There was so much to say. The air between them seemed textured with awkwardness, stilted, as if its very essence had filled itself with all the things they had left unsaid. Never one to be able to cope with an uncomfortable silence for long, Amy took a bold step and decided to ignore the mindless chatter option.

  ‘So, when did you come out then?’

  As she had intended, Jack was taken aback by her directness. That wasn’t the Amy he’d known, always so reticent, so reluctant to take the lead; but then recent events had made him question everything he’d believed he knew about the women in his life.

&nbs
p; ‘Eleven years ago.’

  ‘Eleven years!’ Amy turned, facing him head on.

  ‘Don’t shout, Amy,’ Jack put his hand up to calm her down.

  ‘Eleven years, though, Jack! I’d assumed it was a recent thing, you know, seeing as you only just returned the tape. Christ, you could have said something!’

  ‘Didn’t Rob ever say anything about me then?’

  Don’t try and drag Rob into it!’ Amy snapped at him. ‘And no, no he didn’t! He probably thought it was your place to tell me.’ She began to fiddle with her signet ring.

  Jack’s eyes twinkled as he watched her, belying the solemn expression on his face. ‘Still practising displacement then?’

  Amy couldn’t help but laugh. ‘So it would seem.’

  Jack examined his ex more closely as they strolled past the first large greenhouse. Still very much the same. Curvy in all the right places, and almost as tall as he was. Jeans with small holes in each knee, more from over-wear than the requirements of fashion; a chunky maroon jumper that was at least one size too big, and clumpy unflattering boots. She’d made no effort for him whatsoever. Vintage Amy.

  ‘You look great.’

  ‘Thanks. You too. You haven’t changed; you still have the same gorgeous jacket.’ Even as she spoke, Amy could vividly picture herself snuggled up against him, inhaling its battered leather aroma.

  The hush that fell between them lasted long enough to get uncomfortable, before Amy jumped in with a new line of conversation. This time she headed for safer ground. ‘So, your parents OK?’

  ‘Dad’s fine. He’s actually Grandad now!’

  ‘No way! So is Susan married with all the ticks in the right boxes?’

  ‘Yep, my sister has done things properly. Married a steady bloke with a steady career, and produced two children. A boy and a girl, naturally.’

  ‘Naturally. Always the one for getting things exactly right, your Susan.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Jack’s eyes lowered for a split second, but it was enough of a pause for Amy to be able to read his thoughts.

  ‘Christ, Jack! They don’t know, do they?’ Jack said nothing, scuffing his feet through the leaves. ‘Do you think they have any idea? Or have they spent the last decade sat at home waiting for their only son to turn up with a brand-new wife and heir? I mean, bloody hell Jack, where do they think you are every night? Sat in front of the television tatting?’

  ‘Will you calm down? Why are you taking my not telling them so personally? And what the fuck is tatting?’

  Amy wasn’t listening, her arms waved around as she walked faster and faster. ‘I bet your mum knows. I bet she does.’

  ‘Amy!’ Jack shouted through her rant, ‘Will you please slow down! Just stand still a minute and stop talking.’

  ‘But Jack...’

  ‘Listen a minute,’ Jack cut in, ‘come on.’ He grabbed Amy’s hand to pull her into the Pavilion café, but dropped it the instant he felt her skin beneath his. They looked at each other in shock for a split second, and then simultaneously thrust their hands deep into their pockets. Neither of them had expected the old electricity to be there. And as tactfully as possible, neither of them mentioned it.

  Quietly sitting on a seat, under the shelter of a large and totally un-seasonal parasol, Jack tried to focus on what he was going to say. ‘Mum died, Amy. Mum died five years ago.’

  ‘No!’ Amy blanched, ‘Oh Jack, I’m so sorry. I just blundered on. Oh hell, I’m so sorry, she was lovely. Your mum, I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Cancer. It was very quick, mercifully. No one had any idea that anything was wrong until the doctor announced she only had weeks left. She’d only gone to see him about a mild pain in her chest.’

  ‘Jack, I … I don’t know what to say.’ Amy brought her chair closer and, given their apparent electricity, risked being singed by putting her hand on his shoulder. ‘Your mum was great.’

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. Mum was very fond of you. Back then, well … she had hopes, I suppose.’

  ‘Well, I liked her too,’ Amy paused while a waitress deposited two hot chocolates on their table, ‘Is that why your dad doesn’t know about you? Too much, now he’s on his own?’

  ‘Actually, he’s not on his own anymore, but yes, that was it really. At least it was at first.’

  Jack began to explain.

  ‘In fact, I had got all geared up to tell them one particular weekend. I rehearsed what I was going to say over and over and over again. I can’t begin to tell you how terrified I was. But as soon as I arrived at the house it was clear that something wasn’t right. Mum and Dad sat me down and Mum told me about her visit to the doctor. I instantly ditched the idea of my confession. How could I possibly add to their burden then? And I’ve pretty much clung onto that excuse ever since.’

  Amy was quiet for a moment, before asking, ‘Do you like your dad’s new girlfriend? It is a girlfriend, I take it?’

  Jack laughed, ‘Yes, there’s only the one poof in the family!’

  Amy winced, ‘Please Jack, don’t call yourself that. I hate that word.’

  ‘Surely I should be the one who hates it?’

  ‘I just hate it, OK. Christ, it makes you sound like a squashy foot stool!’

  Jack shrugged, and ploughed on. ‘Anyway, things picked up for Dad a bit when Grandad died.’

  ‘I take it that’s not as dreadful as it sounds.’ Amy sipped at her drink, feeling its thick warmth glide creamily down her throat.

  ‘Oh no, Grandad was very old, and went peacefully and everything. He sold off his business about two years before he died, and left a fortune. Some to Dad, some to me, and the remainder to Susan.’

  Amy looked worried. ‘She’s not a gold digger is she?’

  ‘Susan?’

  ‘No, your dad’s partner, silly!’

  ‘Jane?’ Jack laughed. ‘No way! It just meant that the inheritance has allowed him to retire early. They travel a lot. If I did pluck up the courage to tell Dad, I’d have to track him down first.’

  Amy toasted her hands around her mug, ‘What about you? Your fortune?’

  ‘My house, some money to keep me comfortable and safe from the unforeseen, and the bookshop.’

  ‘Of course. That was pretty obvious. Sorry.’ Amy felt silly. It had been such a stupid question.

  ‘Don’t apologise.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Amy!’

  The corners of Amy’s mouth twitched with amusement, ‘Just seeing if I could still annoy the hell out of you.’

  ‘Cow!’

  ‘Moo.’

  ‘And tatting is?’

  ‘A form of lace crocheting.’

  ‘You’re insane!’

  ‘True.’

  Twenty-five

  October 20th 2006

  Without really seeing them, they had circumnavigated the entire gardens, talking non-stop. Amy had told Jack about her new home, her housemates, how pleased her parents were that she’d moved back to England, and her quest to find a new career. The fact she was surviving on her fast-disappearing savings and a stop-gap job, and about her Sunday lunch with Rob and Debbie. Jack chattered about how he’d come to London to do a year-long business course after university, that he’d not really known what to do with it until he found his bookshop; of the thrill he’d felt at finding and buying his terraced house in Mortlake, and how he’d designed his back garden.

  ‘If I hadn’t opened the shop, I would probably have gone back to college to train as a landscape gardener.’

  ‘Why didn’t you then? I would have thought a life outside would be more attractive to you than a life in a shop. More flexibility and all that?’

  ‘My hours are pretty flexible. Rob’s my nine-to-five man. Anyway, I didn’t want to leave London.’ For the first time since they’d left the café, traces of unease returned to Jack’s voice. If he answered the question “why,” that Amy was bound to ask next, then they would have to abandon their happy chat in favour
of the underlying reason for their meeting. Could she possibly understand his need to be close to the gay scene he was now so much a part of?

  Amy asked the question. ‘Why not? There is life outside the big city, you know.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’ Jack stopped walking, and turned to study Amy intently for the first time in years, before echoing what he’d written in the note he’d sent to her in the summer. ‘I am sorry, Amy. So sorry I hurt you.’

  Amy felt her insides contract. Things had been so relaxed ten seconds ago; she’d almost forgotten they were supposed to having a serious discussion. There was no doubt he was sincere, but for a minute she couldn’t respond. She feared that all the years of pent up waiting and wondering about what she did wrong would explode out of her mouth in a fit of either tears or incomprehensible babble. It was way too late for any of that to be worthwhile now, but Amy needed Jack to understand her point of view. Somehow it was necessary, so she could finally let the scar heal.

  ‘It’s just …’ Amy faltered, unsure how to continue. ‘It was all so confusing, Jack. There are so many questions, you know? And I’m not sure I know how to ask you any of them.’

  ‘Try?’

  Amy looked at Jack for reassurance as they started to stroll again. His expression was attentive and serious as she launched into what needed to be said. ‘It’s like, when we were together, we’d be fine, then maybe we’d have a particularly good day and the next minute you’d disappear. I wouldn’t see you for days. Nothing would be said. You wouldn’t take calls. Your housemates made excuses for you as you struggled to cope with each fresh wave of Amy-induced panic. Then, when we did meet up, everything would be fine again. Until the next time a day went particularly well, and the whole damn cycle would start again.’

  Amy shook her head as she spoke, in disbelief at her stupidity at putting up with his behaviour as much as at Jack’s treatment of her. She risked a glance in his direction. He was looking away from her, but she knew he was listening.

  ‘Other times, of course, you ended it properly. But never for long. Never for a real reason. So when it did end because, as you told me, “it was going too well,” I didn’t really believe you. I assumed it would be all right again.’