by Jenny Kane
‘Here you go,’ Jack placed a wine glass on the rickety table in front of Amy, before pushing up next to her.
‘Thanks,’ Amy gulped down the cool liquid. ‘So, how’s tricks work-wise? Christmas trade picking up yet?’
They settled into comfortable chat about the shop, speculated about how much money Phil might get for Home Hunters, what he might do next, how Kit’s novel was progressing, and a wide variety of everything and nothing until about half-past nine, when Jack’s mobile burst into song, announcing the arrival of a text.
‘Oh shit’
‘What is it?’
‘I’m sorry Amy; I’m going to have to shoot off. It’s Nick.’
‘Nick?’ Amy’s brow creased, she was positive he’d never mentioned a Nick before.
‘A clubbing mate. Looks like his boyfriend’s buggered off. Literally. Can’t say I’m surprised. He wants me to go round to his place. Wants someone to whinge to, I suppose.’ Jack placed a hand on her knee. ‘Sorry Amy. I hate to abandon you here, especially after I had to leave early at the cinema last week.’
‘Don’t worry, it can’t be helped.’
‘Thanks Amy. I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s a real drama queen, regular crises, you know? But I should go all the same. Do you want me to take you home first?’
She could tell Jack was itching to leave, ‘No thanks, I’ll finish my drink and get a cab if I can’t face the walk, it’s not far.’
Jack leant forward and kissed her cheek. ‘You’re the best.’ He swigged down his beer and virtually ran for the door.
It was only after he’d gone that Amy remembered she hadn’t asked him about Scott-sitting.
Forty
December 7th 2006
‘Good morning Helena, how are you today sweetie?’
‘Hey Jack, what are you doing here this early?’ Helena crashed down at the table in her Pooh Bear pyjamas, imperiously awaiting her breakfast.
Kit raised her eyes to ceiling, waiting to see how Jack would reply.
‘I stayed over with a friend down the road, thought I’d come and see my favourite godchildren before school.’
‘Yeah right, Jack!’
‘Helena!’ Kit spoke sternly to her daughter, ‘don’t use that sarcastic tone please.’
‘Why doesn’t he just say he spent the night at his boyfriend’s then? You told us we shouldn’t lie!’
Kit couldn’t suppress her grin, ‘Oh, go and clean your teeth, child.’
‘But I haven’t had breakfast yet!’
‘Go and do them anyway. Go on!’
As Helena was hustled from the room, Jack struggled not to laugh, ‘Are you sure she’s only nine?’
‘Don’t!’
‘I still can’t get used to it, you know, you being a mum.’
‘Neither can I. My mum says she isn’t used to being a parent yet, so I guess I still have time to adjust!’ Kit moved around the room, performing the morning tasks on autopilot, ‘I take it you had to get up early as Toby has to cross London to get to work.’
‘You’ve got it.’ Jack’s satisfied face spoke volumes about how he’d spent the previous night.
Kit raised her eyes to the ceiling again. ‘Now you’re here you can make yourself useful. Go and shake your godson awake for me. Then, if you’re a good boy I’ll let you have some toast and jam, and you can help me walk them to school.’
‘Cor, ta Mum,’ Jack dived off his stool, ducking Kit’s attempt to swipe him around the head.
Kit grabbed the sandwich bags with one hand and flicked on the radio with the other, speaking to the DJ sternly, ‘I need you to play something to get my brain in gear this morning.’
She laughed as the DJ’s dulcet tones announced the next record. ‘Thanks, that’s just what I needed.’ Kit sang along as Queen’s ‘I’m Going Slightly Mad’ filled both the nation’s airwaves and her kitchen. Kit’s voice was crescendo-ing to full pelt when her mobile hummed. It was a message from Amy.
Once the children were delivered to school and Kit’s flustered-mother levels had returned to normal, she got round to asking Jack if he fancied spending an evening with Scott. ‘It’ll do them both good to have a break from each other.’
Jack nodded in agreement. ‘Where will you take Peg?’
‘Probably the cinema, she doesn’t really go for restaurant trips, so a drink and a film would seem the sensible alternative. I don’t think any of us are up to clubbing these days.’
‘No stamina, you youngsters.’
‘True.’ Kit swung her bag over her other shoulder as they walked down Richmond’s main street, ‘but on the other hand none of us are on the pull, and at our age what other reason is there for going?’
‘To have a good time, you sad old thing,’ Jack poked Kit in the ribs, ‘and anyway, Amy could be. Looking for a partner I mean.’
‘Not sure she’s interested right now.’
‘Why not? Has she found someone on the sly and not told me?’ Jack found that although he’d been joking, he didn’t like that idea very much.
‘Don’t be daft. Anyone she was remotely interested in she’d drag around for you to vet.’
‘Yes, she would wouldn’t she.’ Jack felt instantly reassured.
‘God help her.’
‘And what is that supposed to mean?’
Kit ignored him, and abruptly serious asked, ‘Have you introduced Toby to Amy yet?’
‘Um,’ Jack scuffed his feet in the same way that her son did when Kit was telling him off.
‘Christ, Jack, you have told her about him haven’t you?’
‘Well, not exactly. I’ve told Toby all about her though, about all of you actually.’
Kit’s face was a picture of righteous indignation. ‘Don’t you ever learn, Jack Brown? You must tell Amy, or you’ll be hurting her all over again.’
‘I know,’ Jack spoke quietly, ‘but I don’t know how, we’ve been so close again, like … I don’t know, like …’
‘A relationship without sex?’
‘Well, yes. How did …?’
‘Amy has become a friend, Jack, and women talk to each other. I feel like I’m keeping secrets from her, and I don’t like it!’ She relented a fraction. ‘Please, do something before you screw up again, OK?’
‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘I know I’m right.’ Kit linked her arm through his. ‘Did you and Toby enjoy the club last night?’
Jack’s head shot up, his face pale, ‘Club?’
‘Sure, I saw you both at about half ten last night outside Heaven; I was over that way with Phil.’ Kit looked at him suspiciously.
‘Oh right, yes, of course. It was good.’
Arriving at their point of separation, Kit turned to Jack.
‘Remember what I said about telling Amy.’
‘I’ll tell her.’ Jack sounded definite.
‘Good, now in the meantime go to work, Rob must be fed up of carrying that place on his own.’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘Hi,’ Kit hailed Amy as she walked through Pickwicks towards her table.
‘Morning,’ Amy came forward, a mug of already to hand, ‘scone or pastry?’
‘Scone please, got any cheese ones?’
‘Yep, Scott’s just taken some out of the oven. They’ll be lovely and warm.’ Amy disappeared into the kitchen, soon returning with a beautifully aromatic steaming scone and a pile of butter portions.
‘That’s great, thanks!’ Kit arranged her notebooks around the plate. ‘Good evening last night?’
Amy, reluctant to let on that Jack had abandoned her, even if it had been to go on another errand of mercy, simply said, ‘Yeah, it was nice. Quiet, what I needed really.’
‘Phil and I went over to some posh restaurant by the Millennium Bridge, one of his business dinner things. All very suited, booted, and serious.’
‘I didn’t think you went to those things with him?’
‘I don’t usually, but this was a posh-do-with-p
artners thing. Very much the three-line whip, especially in light of the possible sale.’ Kit laughed. ‘I didn’t mind though, my neighbour was free to babysit, and it was great food. We had a moonlit ride on the London Eye.’
‘Sounds lovely.’
‘It was, oh, and I saw Jack.’
Amy’s stomach contracted, ‘Really?’
‘He was queuing with a friend for one of the gay clubs over that way. You guys meet up early then?’
‘Yeah, like I say, I was tired. He must have gone on from me to the club.’ Questions somersaulted around Amy’s head, but she was interrupted in her tacit pondering by the arrival of a customer. She’d have to do her thinking later.
When her late lunch break arrived, Amy took herself outside into the fresh air. It was drizzling and cold, but she needed to get away for a while. She wanted to believe that Nick really existed. She really wanted to believe that Jack had gone to see him, and in an attempt to cheer him up, had taken him clubbing. Amy wanted to believe it very much, but she wasn’t sure that she did.
Forty-one
December 7th 2006
‘Are you free tonight, Amy?’ Jack’s voice echoed down the line, ‘I want to make up it up to you for leaving you in the pub last night.’
Immediately on her guard, Amy replied, ‘Are you free tonight then?’
Completely missing the undercurrent, Jack continued, ‘Yes of course, that’s why I called. Fancy a pizza out? My treat. I could come and pick you up, about eight?’
‘I don’t think so, Jack.’
Jack was thrown off balance, Amy never said no, not to him anyway. Perhaps she had a date? After a second’s silence, he rallied, ‘You busy this evening then?’
‘No.’
‘Why not come then?’
Fiddling with the objects on the kitchen side as she paced the floor, the cordless phone pressed to her ear, Amy delivered the speech she’d been rehearsing in her head all afternoon. ‘It was bad enough being continually stood up, or simply forgotten about, when we were a couple, Jack. I’m not putting up with it again. Not anymore. I’m supposed to be a friend, for heaven’s sake. I deserve better.’
Jack’s voice became wary, ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, how long into the evening before a mate rings to cry on your shoulder? How much time do we have before someone becomes ill, and you need to go mop their brow? Or,’ Amy paused for a lungful of air before she powered on, ‘how many minutes before you get itchy feet and decide you’d prefer to be out clubbing like a teenager? Or how long before you find the desperate desire to go and find some bloke to shag too overwhelming to stay for pudding, or coffee, or the end of the film?’
The phone line cracked with static silence. Amy knew Jack was still there, possibly he was considering if there was any point in denying what she’d said.
‘How did you know?’ When he did speak, his voice was quiet, contrite even.
‘At first I didn’t. I thought – more fool me- what a nice chap you were, going to the aid of your friends. Then, well, it happened too often, and alarm bells began to ring. I ignored them at first, persuaded myself that I was being paranoid, but then Kit saw you last night outside a club with some mates.’
‘Kit?’
Jack spoke flatly, a feeling of betrayal rising in his gullet. Sensing this was the case, Amy continued. ‘She wasn’t grassing you up, so don’t get all precious with her. Kit wondered if I was all right. I think she assumed I called our pub trip off because I was ill or something.’
‘Oh.’
Amy let the silence last for a little while before she went on. ‘Jack, I don’t expect to see you all the time. If you’re planning on going clubbing or something, then go. Just don’t piss me about, all right?’
‘Sorry, Amy.’
‘Right. So,’ Amy was suddenly business-like, ‘if we go for a pizza, will you be staying for the completion of the meal?’
‘You mean you’ll come?’ Jack was both relieved and surprised, and sounded it.
‘On one condition.’
‘Which is?’
‘Your mobile is turned off and you stay for pudding. Then, if you go clubbing afterwards, you’ll have something in your system to soak up the alcohol.’
‘That’s two conditions.’
‘True, and there may well be more later!’
Jack couldn’t disguise his relief, ‘I don’t deserve you, Amy Crane.’
‘No, you don’t. I’ll see you outside the pizzeria on the High Street, and we’ll make it seven-thirty rather than eight. Do not be late.’
Amy hung up. She felt lightheaded, she’d been gripping her mobile far tighter than she’d realised, and her fingers ached. Yet she’d been the strong one for once. The one in control, and it felt good.
Trapped in thought, Jack cradled mobile in between his fingers. He should have told her about Toby; it had been the ideal opportunity. Maybe he’d tell her tonight. No. Tonight was about Amy. He’d do it soon though, before she found out on her own and went ballistic.
Forty-two
December 11th 2006
‘How’s it going, then?’ Jack collapsed into the chair next to Kit and, pinching up her notebook, started flicking through it.
Kit snatched it straight back and closed the pages, keeping her hands firmly on the cover. ‘Slowly, but I’m fairly pleased with what I’ve done so far.’
‘What’s it about then?’
‘You’ll see when it’s finished.’
‘And the erotica, oh mysterious one?’
‘I emailed Pearls, explained the reason for the delay, and filled them in about Scott and my brief holiday from reason.’
‘They understood?’
‘Of course they didn’t! They’re kind and everything, but they have a website to run. It’s sexy stories they want, not sob stories. It is a business after all.’
‘Ah.’ Jack waved hello to Peggy as she moved across from the counter to serve some customers with tea and cake.
Kit continued, ‘After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing, we’ve come to an agreement. I’m going to do three more short stories and another two bits of flash fiction for them; just to keep them ticking over while they find a new regular contributor, and then I’m quitting. I’m more than ready to have a go at a few novels, some of which I hope will be erotic. In fact,’ Kit picked up her coffee cup, ‘I’ve already approached a couple of publishers to see if they’d be interested in compiling all the other stories I wrote for Pearls into one big anthology.’
Jack was impressed, ‘You’re clearly not as stupid as you look.’
Kit doffed an imaginary cap, ‘Why thank you, kind sir!’
‘You could call it Confessions of an Over-Imaginative Thirty-Something’
‘Gee, thanks Jack, but I think I might work on that title a bit.’
Pickwicks’ door creaked opened and Amy came in. As she crossed the room,
Kit urgently whispered to Jack, ‘Does she know about Toby yet?’
‘No,’ Jack hissed backed, earning himself a black look from Kit as Amy slumped down unceremoniously next to him.
Amy hadn’t expected Jack to be there, but after he’d managed to stay put throughout their entire meal the other evening without seeming even remotely fidgety, Amy had given up being cross with him. It was pointless anyway, somehow she’d always forgive him whatever he did, and they both knew it.
‘What’s the matter with you? You’ve got a face like the proverbial wet weekend.’ Kit moved her collection of editing pens out of the way, so Amy had room on the table in front of her for some much needed caffeine.
Amy yanked off her rain spattered coat. ‘I guessed you might be here. I fancied some company.’
‘Here? On your day off? Looks like an emergency coffee stop to me. I’ll fetch it, save Peggy’s legs.’
Quickly returning, laden with three steaming mugs, Kit said, ‘So?’
‘I can’t find a job.’
‘Nothing?’ Jack was surprised. After w
hat she’d said a few weeks ago about not searching for work until Peggy was sorted, he hadn’t realised Amy had started looking; but then he thought, he hadn’t asked her about jobs since Scott had left hospital, ‘but you’ve got so much experience.’
‘Oh, I can be a waitress or sweet-talk folk in pubs or shops no problem. I can be an unappreciated temp, scooting around various London offices, getting hopelessly lost in between appointments, or I can go back to being a junior version of what I did before, but I don’t want to do that. It was so boring, and most of the advice I gave got ignored anyway, and then the idiot businessmen blamed me when they still went bust.’ Amy sighed ‘But I know I can’t afford to be picky, not if I want to stay around here.’
‘Do you want to move?’ Jack surprised himself with the realisation that, despite his initial panic at the prospect of having Amy back in his life, now she was, he didn’t want her to leave again.
‘Not really. Not now I’ve found somewhere I seem to fit in.’ Amy blushed as she waved her arms around in frustration. ‘New job, new home, new life, that was the plan, but it’s hopeless. I’ve got the new home; I’ve got friends, although I’ve totally given up on the new relationship part of my new life, but I feel clueless about a career.’
‘You’re happy working here though, aren’t you?’
‘I love it, Kit, but Peggy can’t afford to pay me full-time, and although I’d work for her for nothing, that won’t pay the bills, will it.’
‘I didn’t mean that really,’ Kit felt the stirrings of an idea come to her, but she decided to keep it to herself for now. ‘I meant you like working with people, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but it’s also nice not to have to all the time. Sometimes it’s lovely to be able to hide behind a computer screen and not have to plaster on a happy face, especially when you have chronic P.M.T, or feel as sick as a dog, and all you want to do is scowl through the day and eat chocolate.’
‘That’s true,’ Kit agreed, ‘I don’t know how Peggy does the constantly-smiling thing, I really don’t.’
Jack laid a hand over Amy’s, ‘Something will turn up, don’t worry.’
Amy sighed again, trying to dispel the image of her dwindling bank account. ‘Let’s change the subject. How’s Rob doing?’
