Another Cup of Coffee

by Jenny Kane

  Thirty

  October 24th 2006

  Amy jumped as she heard the knock on her front door. James and Sarah were both out at an early Hallowe’en party, and, anyway, no one ever knocked on their front door. Especially not after eight o’clock at night.

  Fresh from her bath, wrapped in her baby blue towel, Amy called from the safety of the hall towards the unopened door. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It’s me, Jack. Can I come in?’

  Amy instantly panicked as she fumbled with the door’s catch. As she threw it open she was already asking, ‘What’s happened? Is it Scott?’

  ‘No, I’ve not heard anything new. I need a word, if it’s OK. I mean … um …’ Jack looked over Amy’s head into the vacant hallway, ‘I’m not interrupting something am I?’

  ‘What?’ Amy was momentarily nonplussed, ‘Oh, the towel. No, I’ve just had a bath that’s all. I was in the middle of deciding if it is too early to flop out in pyjamas, or if I should be less sluttish and put my clothes back on.’

  Jack winked as he entered the hall, ‘Well, I think I prefer the towel, it’s very you.’

  Privately pleased with his remark, Amy shouted back at him as she ran upstairs, ‘Idiot! I’ll go and put my PJs on. Stick the kettle on, will you, it’s through the archway there.’

  ‘No problem.’ Jack ambled through to the kitchen, listening to the sounds of Amy rushing about upstairs. She wouldn’t be long. There’d be no frantic brushing of her hair or hurried application of lipstick or mascara. Jack smiled; she really hadn’t changed much at all.

  ‘You all right down there?’ Amy called down only a minute after she’d disappeared into her room.

  ‘I’m hunting down the coffee.’ Jack was randomly opening and closing cupboard doors.

  ‘Left corner cupboard, bottom shelf.’

  Jack had found his quarry and was putting a teaspoon into the jar when it dawned on him that, but for a small nagging doubt and a heavy dose of commitment phobia all those years ago, this could be his daily life. Amy flapping about, not caring what she wore, throwing together weird mixtures of food for dinner, and failing to clean the stains out of their cups. Jack exhaled noisily, he knew he’d made the right decision, the flirting idea of Toby that entered his head with increasing regularity confirmed that, but even so, it would have been nice. It would have been…? He abruptly shook himself; there was no point in continuing with that line of thought. No point at all.

  Jack poured the boiling water into their mugs as Amy’s elephant-like footsteps hammered down the stairs. ‘Cool pyjamas!’

  Amy bounced into the kitchen in a red top and black fleece trousers, her heart pounding more than it would have been if Rob had come to visit, but not beyond hope. She wasn’t stupid, but despite his preferences Amy accepted that it was bizarrely important to her that he noticed her a little bit.

  She beamed at Jack, ‘Hey, I had a thought in the bath. A song that sums things up for us now?’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep. “Days”, the Kirsty McColl version of course.’

  ‘Of course!’ Jack looked at her curiously. ‘Which bit?’

  ‘Oh, you know, the bits about remembering things forever. Nice things.’

  ‘Thanks Amy, that’s very flattering.’ Jack grinned at her as he ran the rest of the song through his head, and thought it was probably the bit about knowing that your lover was always going to abandon you that she really associated with him, not that she’d ever say so.

  ‘Like I say, it came to me as I hid under the bubbles.’ Amy stared out of the window as she spoke, momentarily unsure if she should’ve shared her musical whim. ‘So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’ Steering Jack through to the living room, Amy curled into the corner of one of the sofas as her ex sat on the other.

  ‘I wanted to apologise for Kit’s behaviour this afternoon.’

  ‘That’s not your job. Anyway, she’s under a lot of pressure with Peggy and everything.’

  ‘I thought perhaps I should explain.’ Jack balanced his mug on a pile of magazines and crossed over to join Amy on her sofa. ‘It wasn’t just because of Scott. I’ve known Kit ages. I knew her after I knew you.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Yes. Ah.’

  ‘I wasn’t the last girl then?’ Amy realised she was disappointed, but then she reasoned, she should never have assumed she had been.

  ‘No. You were the only one I loved though, if that helps?’

  ‘It shouldn’t,’ Amy said as she snuggled into his side, ‘but it does. Thank you.’

  He put his arm around her, marvelling at how comfortable he felt. ‘We were together for about six months, Kit and I. It was very much a convenience thing for me to tell the truth. I assumed it was for her. She said it was. I have recently had cause to find out that that wasn’t in fact the case.’

  ‘She was in love with you.’

  ‘I had no idea. Until about three weeks ago.’

  ‘What happened three weeks ago?’

  ‘You came.’

  Amy cradled her mug, ‘What’s my arrival got to do with anything?’

  ‘I never told her about you.’

  ‘Oh.’ Amy looked puzzled. Her ‘why not?’ lay unspoken.

  ‘You were then. You were special. I didn’t discuss you with anyone, not even Rob.’

  A happy glow fluttered inside Amy’s chest. She had been special to him after all. ‘I didn’t talk about you either.’

  Jack wasn’t sure if he liked that. His inherent vanity had always been easily bruised. ‘You’ve never told other boyfriends about me then?’

  ‘What other boyfriends?’ Amy moved away, her coffee in hand, and stood before him. ‘There were no other men, Jack, there are no others.’

  ‘Not one? In all that time?’ Jack was openly shocked.

  ‘Not one.’

  ‘Why?’

  Amy looked at Jack’s crumpled brow and decided against answering that question in favour of asking one of her own, ‘Why is Kit angry at me? It isn’t my fault you loved me when you couldn’t love her. If she’d met you first, and then me, it could easily have been the other way around, but it wasn’t, and that’s not my responsibility.’

  ‘She isn’t angry with you. She’s angry with me and herself, so she says. Although I don’t really get that bit.’

  Amy laughed ‘Stick to men, Jack, you’ll never get the hang of us girlies.’

  He grinned as Amy sat back down next to, but no longer touching, him. ‘I think that’s the best advice I’ve had all day.’

  ‘That’s why you’re here then is it? To tell me that Kit hates me, but doesn’t really hate me, because of something you and I had over a hundred years ago?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Well, I guess it makes as much sense as anything else you’ve ever said to me.’ Amy grabbed a handful of take away menus from off the table, ‘So, I’ve been told. Your duty is done. Biscuit with your coffee, or shall we dial a pizza and watch a crap DVD?’

  Glad of Amy’s unquestioning acceptance, Jack relaxed into his seat, ‘Pizza and a film.’

  ‘Extra anchovies as usual?’

  ‘Bloody hell, don’t you forget anything.’

  ‘Nothing. Not ever. Oh, and by the way,’ Amy pointed towards the dining area as she reached for the phone, ‘there’s a copy of The Bodyguard on the bookshelf through there.’

  Thirty-one

  October 24th 2006

  Phil came off the telephone and sank down next to his wife, making the sofa creak under his weight as he turned the television’s sound down with the remote.

  Kit cuddled up to his side as Phil slipped his arm behind her head. ‘So?’

  ‘Peggy sounds shattered. Her in-laws are taking her back to their place tonight for some mutual T.L.C.’

  ‘Good. Best thing. And Scott?’

  ‘No change. The results of the scan will be in tomorrow.’

  Anxious, Kit said, ‘I guess no change is good at this stage. No oth
er news.’

  ‘He’s mumbling a bit, but not much. Peggy says he doesn’t seem to remember anything about the accident, and he’s so drugged his words are slurred. Mostly he sleeps.’

  ‘I’m glad he can’t remember.’ Kit shuffled closer to Phil, her conscience pricking after her appalling behaviour in Pickwicks, ‘Can I talk to you a minute?’

  ‘You are.’ Phil’s eyes flickered towards the television.

  ‘No. I mean about something else.’

  ‘Sure, what’s up?’

  Kit wasn’t absolutely sure if she should discuss this, but something drove her on. ‘The waitress, Amy?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is she the girl you took to the house in Richmond?’

  Phil frowned, ‘You know she is.’

  ‘She’s really pretty isn’t she, and kind.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose she is. Well, she seems friendly, Peggy’s lucky to have her just now.’

  Kit closed her eyes as she spoke, ‘She’s Jack’s ex.’

  ‘Oh.’ Phil felt a haze of gloom blanket the room.

  ‘Yes.’ Kit pulled out a cushion from behind her back and began to fiddle with its corners.

  Not sure he was going to like where this conversation was heading, Phil growled, ‘And?’

  Kit felt more and more awkward, ‘I will be working with her at Pickwicks. It feels odd.’

  ‘Why odd?’

  ‘Well, it’s difficult to explain.’ Kit swivelled out of her comfortable position to look at Phil properly, ‘When I got back to the café today I was exhausted, and well, it’s difficult to admit, but I expected to see the place in chaos. I hoped to if I’m honest. I didn’t want her to be able to cope.’

  ‘Because …?’

  Kit got up and paced as she attempted to explain, exasperation at herself seeping into her voice, ‘because I’m horrible, and well, I’m sort of, well … I’m jealous. It’s nuts, I don’t even know her.’

  ‘Jealous. Oh, thank you very much!’ Phil’s face went dark.

  Kit hurried on, holding her hands out beseechingly, ‘No! Not like that. I wouldn’t have Jack back for anything, you know that. Even if he woke up one morning straighter than a beanpole. We’ve been through that more times than I care to mention. I love you. It’s just …’

  Only the knowledge of his sleeping children upstairs made Phil hiss his response instead of shouting it. ‘What? What is it? Tell me! For Christ’s sake Kit, you’re a writer. Find the words, will you?’

  Kit sat back down, scrunching her eyes shut again. She really hadn’t banked on a fight, but the guilt that riddled at her made her desperate to confess. But confess to what exactly? She attempted to grapple her fractured concentration and tried again, ‘Jack was there, at Pickwicks with Amy, running the café. They did a fantastic job. They did Peggy and Scott proud.’

  Phil’s voice sounded dangerously close to the edge. ‘So, that’s good. The man obviously has a decent streak in him somewhere.’

  ‘He’s going to help tomorrow too.’

  ‘Good. Peggy needs all the help she can get right now.’

  ‘But I’m not ready to forgive him yet.’ Kit pleaded, willing Phil to understand.

  ‘Forgive him for what, exactly? For loving her more than you? Is that it? For Amy moving on when you can’t?’ Exasperation gripped Phil; this was bloody ridiculous; he’d thought they’d long gotten past all this Jack stuff.

  ‘Both, I guess,’ Kit lowered her eyes, she felt helpless and defeated. She really hadn’t intended to upset Phil, and right now she hated herself more than anyone in the world.

  ‘I can’t help you with that.’ Phil spoke remarkably coolly as he got up, ‘Why can’t you ever be happy with what you have. With what we have?’ He headed for the door without looking back, leaving Kit sitting alone on the sofa, listening to the sickeningly empty echo that came after he slammed the front door.

  Thirty-two

  October 25th 2006

  Walking slowly through the damp early morning air towards Pickwicks, Kit tried to focus on the day ahead. Not on the silent bed she had failed to sleep in last night. Not on the fact that Phil had left for work before anyone else had got up. Not on the reason why she was about to spend the day working with Jack and Amy.

  It was already a quarter-to-nine when Kit reached Pickwicks. Pleased to find that she’d arrived first, Kit turned the key in the door, dealt with the burglar alarm as per Peggy’s instructions, and headed for the kitchen.

  She wasn’t sure how any of this had happened. For years she hadn’t let Jack know how she’d felt. No one had known, and that had been fine. And now it was out, and her life felt like it had been tilted on its axis. All because of … what? Amy? The tape? Or was it all bound to have exploded at some point anyway?

  Picking up her mobile, Kit typed in Phil’s number, and then hung up. What was the point; she had no idea what to say? She’d explained herself so badly last night. All she’d wanted to do was share her confusion with him; include him in her thinking. To admit her faults. To tell Phil how rocked her confidence felt.

  She hadn’t imagined Phil would take it personally. None of this was a reflection on him. The gut-wrenching terror that had consumed her all night began to rise again. How on earth could she sort this? What if he’d had enough of her illogical neurosis and left her? What about the twins? Kit’s galloping thoughts were interrupted by opening of the café door. Amy had arrived.

  As she walked to work Amy had resolved to try extra hard to get on with Kit. She was under pressure, worried about Scott, and was evidently having her own personal crisis Jack-wise. If she was involved in creating that, then Amy was sorry, but it wasn’t her fault. Amy was determined to prove to Kit that she was a nice person.

  As she approached the café door Amy noticed that the kitchen light was already on. Kit must be here. ‘Here we go,’ Amy mumbled into her scarf as she crossed the café’s threshold.

  Stepping off the train, Jack reflected on the evening he’d shared with Amy. They’d overindulged on spicy chicken pizza with anchovies, drunk too much wine and watched The Bodyguard, laughing and groaning at its sheer corniness in turn. It had been so comfortable, he’d been reminded of the apt, but wholly unflattering, ‘pair of old slippers’ metaphor. Now it was morning. Time to work with Kit and Amy in the same space. He desperately hoped that it would be frantically busy, so that they wouldn’t have time to talk to each other. The last thing Jack wanted was for Kit to find out about their cosy night in. There was nothing wrong with it, but he didn’t think Kit knowing about it would help right now.

  Although the initial greetings between herself, Amy, and Jack had been rather stilted, Kit had to admit that the day was going well. Morning coffee had come and gone without a hitch, and now the last lunchtime customers were tucking into her sandwiches. Amy was wiping over the tables as each one emptied, and Jack was charming the customers at the till. Kit had barely had time to think, which she considered, was probably a good thing.

  Jack encroached on her thoughts. ‘Is this a good time to call the hospital?’

  ‘Could be, I’ll give them a try.’ A new wave of guilt washed over Kit. She’d been so consumed with feeling bad about upsetting Phil, that she’d almost forgotten why she had been making sandwiches in the first place.

  The phone rang for ages before it was answered. The nurse sounded even sleepier than Kit as she reported that there is no change in Mr McIntyre’s condition. Kit bit back her frustration. She wanted proper news.

  ‘Would you tell Mrs McIntyre that Mrs Lambert will be in to see them both later?’

  ‘Of course, I’m heading that way soon anyway.’

  ‘Thank you nurse.’ Kit hung up, and went back into the now much quieter café.

  ‘What news?’ Amy paused in her labours.

  ‘Nothing really. He’s the same.’

  Amy felt awkward, not sure what to say. It all sounded like platitudes, but the gap in conversation made her speak anyway. ‘Well, that�
��s good, isn’t it? Better than being worse.’

  ‘I’m going to head to the hospital later. I’m sure Peggy could do with some company.’ Kit spoke quietly, her eyes cast to the floor.

  Jack came over and took hold of Kit’s hands as they hung limply at her sides. ‘What else is up? Apart from Scott.’

  ‘Else?’ Kit rubbed her forehead, ‘Well, I’ve got a splitting headache for a start.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. You’ve probably got severe caffeine withdrawal. Comes from serving it, and not drinking it,’ Jack poured her a mug brimming with coffee, ‘but I didn’t mean that. You’ve hardly said a word all day.’

  Jack gestured to Amy to see if she would deal with two customers that had were steering laden shopping bags towards a table, and lead Kit back into the privacy of the kitchen. ‘This is silly, Kit. Let’s call a truce. You and I have a great friendship. Why are you so determined to ruin it?’

  ‘Me? You’re the one. Why didn’t you tell me about her?’ Kit pointed an accusing finger towards the main café.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake! Change the bloody record. I told you,’ Jack’s expression reminded Kit of Phil when he was trying to keep his temper, ‘Amy was the past. My business. My guilt. Something that I have to deal with. And I will deal with it. On my own.’

  After a brief pause Kit spoke, so quietly that Jack had to strain to hear her. ‘I tried to explain how I felt to Phil last night, about all this.’

  ‘And?’

  Kit stared at the floor, shame filling her, ‘I didn’t put things very well and he stormed out.’

  ‘What!’ Jack couldn’t believe it. Phil was such a level-headed guy.

  ‘He came back about midnight and slept on the sofa. When I got up this morning, he’d already gone out.’

  ‘What on earth did you say to him?’

  ‘I’m not that sure anymore. I think I told him I was jealous of Amy.’

  ‘Well, I think we’ve established that. Why did that upset Phil?’

  ‘He got it into his head that I’m in love with you.’ Kit mumbled the words, unable to meet Jack’s gaze.