by Jenny Kane
‘Oh?’ Amy looked straight at Paul, wavering between being personally hurt, furious on Jack’s behalf, and excited that he might finally be getting to the point.
Paul seemed to be waiting for her to elaborate, but Amy sat quietly, cradling her cup. She could feel her frustration rising, but bit her tongue and waited.
After a few minute’s peace, which seemed to last hours, Paul banged a frustrated fist onto the table, making Amy jump as he expounded years of suppressed feelings. ‘You shut yourself away. Didn’t answer calls. Didn’t pass on your address. You disappeared.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I explained it all to Rob, and I …’
Paul interrupted her, ‘It’s OK. I know, and I sort of understand.’ He put down his napkin, transferring his attention to twiddling a silver teaspoon between his fingers. ‘But now perhaps … if you are ready, um … having started again, like … to, well, um … ’ Paul dropped the spoon down on the table and stood up abruptly. ‘I’m going to pay the bill, I’ll be right back.’
Amy watched his back with growing exasperation. He’d been so nearly there. She was now convinced of what he wanted to say. Was he worried about ruining their refreshed friendship?
Paul was taking ages at the till, or perhaps it only felt like that. When he did return, a very determined look was etched across his face. Despite the vast supply on the table, he was carrying a folded paper-napkin in his hand. He didn’t sit down, but loomed hesitantly over Amy in her seat.
‘The thing is, I’ve tried, but I keep getting jumbled, and well … anyway, would you read this please? Afterwards, I’ll either order you a cab, or us a cab.’ Paul thrust the cream napkin into Amy’s hands and moved away, turning to stare blankly out of the nearest window.
After a few speechless seconds, Amy unfolded the paper triangle. She found a hastily scribbled note across its centre.
I love you. Sorry!
Fifty-nine
January 23rd 2007
Kit had been expecting the call. Had she got time for a drink? Could she get away?
Jack hadn’t sounded desperate as such, but his voice certainly had an urgent edge, which he hadn’t quite managed to disguise. Kit had a quick discussion with Phil (who’d rolled his eyes), and agreed to meet Jack at the pub.
Jack’s turn at the bar had come and gone once already, and he hadn’t even noticed. Observing Jack’s distracted air, Kit studied his more-than-usually-crumpled appearance carefully, as he eventually purchased two pints of beer, and escaped from the semi-crush of evening drinkers.
‘So?’ Kit looked at Jack expectantly.
‘What?’
Kit positioned her glass on top of the nearest beer mat. ‘You have snapped your fingers and summoned me like the genie of the lamp, because …?’
Jack managed not to appear taken aback, even though he felt it, ‘I fancied seeing you, that’s all.’
‘Really? Without Toby?’ Kit raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘And the fact that Amy is out with Paul tonight is a total coincidence?’
‘Oh, you know.’ Jack had the decency to look at least a little bashful as he sat next to her.
‘Naturally,’ Kit took a mouthful of Worthington’s, ‘so, as I say. How can I help?’
‘Your voice couldn’t be less sympathetic if you tried!’ Jack, suddenly all charm, smiled with his eyes as he spoke, reminding Kit of the man he had been when she first met him.
‘Why on earth should I feel sorry for you?’
‘Well, because Amy is out with Paul. I mean, Paul! He’s supposed to be my friend, and now I find that all this time … for all these years … and not just now, but then too …’
Jack’s words tumbled out at speed, as he pleaded with Kit to understand his feeling of betrayal. It wasn’t until he took in Kit’s face, her eyes wide, her expression so set in disapproval that his sentence trailed off. He exhaled noisily into his pint. ‘You’re about to lecture me on double standards aren’t you?’
‘At least you can see that you’ve got double standards! Damn it, Jack!’ Kit struggled to keep her temper, ‘How dare you!’
‘What do you mean?’ He sounded confused.
‘For fuck’s sake!’ Now Kit did shout, only lowering her voice when she realised she was attracting a small audience from the surrounding tables. ‘You’re jetting off with Toby in a few days’ time. About to declare your relationship to your father, for God’s sake.’
Jack placed his glass on the stool-like table next to him, and sat back. The music in the background began to filter into his consciousness. ‘Kit, do you remember our chat at Pickwicks, you know when I …’
Not wanting to revisit that particular scene in detail, Kit cut in, ‘I remember, go on.’
‘I said life for you was like Keane’s “Everybody’s Changing”.’
It was Kit’s turn to sigh, ‘So you did.’
‘It’s playing now. Listen.’
They sat together, silently listening, as Tom Chaplin’s gentle voice jostled with the chatter, laughter and debate all around them. As the lyrics filled her head, Kit took hold of Jack’s hand and placed it lightly over her own. ‘Change is scary, isn’t it?’
‘You’re telling me!’
‘It’ll be all right though. You and Toby will fly off and have some fun. Your dad, who’s probably known that you’re gay all along, will be cool. I’ll write a blockbuster, Rob and Phil will make a huge success of running the shop, and Amy and Paul will live happily ever after and breed you a new generation of godchildren.’
Jack looked at her hopefully, ‘You believe all that?’
‘Sometimes, you have to live in hope.’ Kit spoke lightly and attempted to distract Jack from his unjustified gloom, said, ‘Talking of change. Something quite good has happened on the writing front.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’ve got a deal on an erotica anthology. You remember we talked about it a while back?’
Jack put down his pint and threw his arms around Kit, ‘No way! That’s fantastic. Why didn’t you say before?’
‘I’ve only known a while.’ Kit extracted herself from his hug, ‘I wanted to let it sink in. If I announced it to everyone straight away, it might have evaporated.’
‘Well, I’m so proud of you. Tell me all about it.’
It was only after Kit had told Jack all the details of her new contract, they’d had a second drink, and closing time beckoned, that Jack said, ‘It’s like Del Amitri’s “Always the Last To Know”; Paul liking Amy. I mean, I had no idea, Kit.’
Kit groaned loudly as she grabbed her jacket, ‘No one knew, Jack. Let’s face it, honey, we don’t even know if Amy knows yet, do we?’
Sixty
January 23rd 2007
Oh my God!
Amy’s brain struggled to register the reality of the situation as her fingers traced over the words “I love you.” She hadn’t been prepared for that. An invitation for another meal. A confession of wanting to go out with her. A hidden lust even; but love? He hadn’t seen her for years. It was a shock. It had been a whole day of shocks.
Paul was pretending to study London’s nightlife through the window. As Amy watched him, false light from the multitude of restaurants, pubs, and clubs gave the sky a luminous effect, highlighting the outline of his broad back. He was barely moving. His jeans were creased around the thighs from where he’d been sitting for so long. The closely-cut hair at the nape of his neck showed the first speckles of grey.
Could she do this?
She decided not to think. There’d been too much thinking. Too many years wasted hashing over her past, never bothering to consider a future. It was time to be brave. Time to act instinctively. If this man was in love with her after a gap of so many years, then he must be serious, and if he was mistaken she’d soon find out. Amy stood up rather shakily. Carefully she folded the napkin, and placed it reverently into her jacket pocket, before joining Paul at the window.
Slipping a hand into Paul’s cool firm grasp, Amy said, ‘
It’s all a bit frightening isn’t it?’
‘It certainly is!’ Paul looked down at her, glowing with both relief and joy as he increased the pressure around Amy’s soft skin. ‘A cab for two, then?’
A sensation of contented happiness flooded through Amy as she felt his hand close around hers.
‘Come on,’ she said, ‘take me home.’
January 24th 2007
When Amy turned her mobile back on the following morning, the crescendo of beeps alerted her to the arrival of a barrage of text messages.
‘Good grief!’ Sarah exclaimed as she stuffed a piece of wholemeal bread into the toaster, ‘You’re popular this morning.’
‘More last night, I think,’ Amy said as she scanned down the eight messages, ‘Oh, and yesterday afternoon as well.’
‘You got a secret admirer?’ Sarah teased as she put on her jacket, ready to dash out of the front door as soon as her toast was buttered.
‘Well, yes actually! Although it’s not a secret anymore.’ Amy’s eyes sparkled as she spoke, making Sarah very sorry that she was already late for work, and couldn’t stay to fish for juicy details. ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’
The first three messages had been sent yesterday, and were all from Jack. Initially asking if she was free for coffee, and then wondering where she was, and lastly, whether she was OK?
The next was from Kit, asking if she’d had a nice evening, and ditto from that lying bastard Rob, who in the light of things, Amy had decided to forgive for pretending to be ill.
The remaining three were from Paul, and had all been fired off, one after another, between seven and eight o’clock that morning.
Hope you slept well, little one. xxx
You working today? Might come in to say hi? xxxx
Do you like chilli? Thought I’d make one tonight, fancy sharing it? xxxxx
Amy smiled at the increasing number of kisses with each text. He can’t have slept much at all. But then, neither had she. Strange that she didn’t feel tired, just kind of high. She replied.
What’s sleep?! Am working, but u better not come, u’ll distract me!! Love chilli - looking forward to it, v much xxxxx
Amy and Paul had arrived back at Princes Road a little after midnight. Carrying on their suddenly endless supply of chatter, they’d sat opposite each other at Amy’s dining table, arms stretched across its white painted surface, holding hands as they filled in some of the blanks in each other’s lives, until it was almost three o’clock in the morning. After many ‘I should really be goings,’ Paul had finally made a convincing effort to make a move towards home, when Amy asked the question she desperately needed an answer to. She’d played what she wanted to ask around her head as they’d talked, contemplating putting what needed saying off until tomorrow, but found she couldn’t. ‘Before you go, there’s something I have to know.’
‘Yes?’ Noting the uncertain edge to her voice, Paul perched back on the edge of his seat and listened.
Amy wasn’t quite brave enough to look at Paul as she spoke, ‘Love. It’s a big word. Are you sure?’
‘I’m positive.’ He spoke with such firmness that Amy wasn’t sure whether to press the subject or not, but this was important.
‘But when? When did you first start feeling like this?’
Paul sat down properly and took a deep breath, ‘It started that day when Rob and I took you out of the excavation in Wales for a coffee stop in Caldicot. Do you remember?’
‘Oh yes,’ her brother’s tape flashed through Amy’s mind, ‘my birthday. That has got to be the best coffee stop I’ve had. Ever.’
Paul grinned as he recalled that day, ‘The expression on your face when the café owner stuck candles into those cupcakes. I remember thinking how amazing it could be to have the look of love you gave Rob and I all to myself.’
‘But you didn’t say anything?’ Amy watched him intently now.
‘I wasn’t ready. There was too much fun to be had, and too many temptations. I didn’t recognise my feelings for what they were until later. Sorry.’
‘No need to be,’ Amy lay a hand lightly on his arm, ‘we were so young.’
‘The idea of you sort of nagged away at the back of my head after that, but then you met Jack and I dismissed it. You were my friend, and that was enough. Until he started hurting you. Then, watching you cry, seeing you withdraw into yourself. I knew how I felt then, and I’ve never felt so fucking helpless in my life.’
‘But you said nothing.’ Speaking steadily, Amy squeezed Paul’s hand in her soft grip, ‘You should have said.’
‘You were a mess, Amy.’ He spoke gently. ‘You wouldn’t have heard me if I had told you. You wouldn’t have noticed if I’d written it in neon pen across my forehead. Don’t you remember how you were?’
Amy cringed at the image of her pathetic former self. Ashamed of her inability to cope, her lack of pride.
‘I held you so many times as you cried into my shoulder.’
‘Your jumper always smelt of lanolin and cheap conditioner.’ Amy felt like sobbing into his shoulder all over again.
‘Did it?’ Paul was surprised, he’d never noticed.
‘Yes. The blue one. It was all chunky, and stretched out of shape.’
Touched that she’d remembered such a tiny detail about him, Paul continued. ‘It wouldn’t have worked back then, however much I would have loved it to.’
‘It wouldn’t?’
‘I didn’t want you on the rebound, Amy. I wanted you to be with me because you wanted to be, not as some sort of conciliation prize.’
Amy recoiled at the idea that he should think her capable of that, but in her heart she knew he was right. ‘But things are different now.’
‘They certainly are. If you’d told me back then that Jack would turn out to be gay, I’d never have believed you.’ Not wanting to go down that particular road yet again, Paul returned to the matter in hand, ‘It’s OK Amy. I know you don’t love me. But do you think, perhaps, you might learn to?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ Amy leaned forward and kissed him. A kiss which spoke of future kisses to come, and not once did Amy compare the moment to another kiss many years ago.
At that point Paul had declared that his self-control had reached a low ebb, and he’d better return to the student flat he was renting, or he’d have to make love to her right there, and he didn’t think she was ready for that yet.
She hadn’t been, but Amy thought, as she threw her toast crusts away, that if he’d made a move she wouldn’t have stopped him. She felt an unfamiliar glow spread throughout her body. It was nice to have something to look forward to.
Kit was already installed at her usual table by the time Amy reached Pickwicks front door. Seeing the expression on Kit’s face, Amy realised that she had already been told about her date with Paul, and was waiting for details. Amy was surprised to find that she didn’t mind. Somehow it wasn’t the same as being the last to know about the job.
Peggy also looked knowing as Amy hung up her coat, ‘Good evening last night then?’
Amy turned from one friend to another, ‘OK, let’s get this over with.’ She tried to be stern, but somehow seemed unable to prevent her mouth turning up at the corners. ‘Come on Peggy, let’s sit with Kit while it’s quiet, then I’ll only have to go through it once!’
Talking quietly, Amy filled her friends in on the events of the day before.
‘So, Paul gave you the napkin, which is a dead sweet thing to do by the way, then what? I mean, has he told you how this all happened?’ Kit had a shine in her eyes which betrayed her hunt for good story fodder. ‘Why didn’t he say anything years ago?’
Peggy, who knew the signs of Kit being desperate to pick up a pen to capture the moment, stepped in, ‘Kit, I hope you’re not going to exploit my waitress’ new-found happiness for writing gain!’
Kit’s eyes flashed playfully, ‘As if I would!’
‘Actually, if you wrote it all down,’ Amy laughed w
ith them, ‘it might help me make sense of it all!’
Amy had reached the part of her account were she reported the arrival of the morning’s texts when work intervened, in the shape of a group of hats, shopping trolleys, and their assorted elderly owners, coming in for morning tea.
Kit watched Amy as she attended to the customers, laughing and joking with them as she took their orders. Pickwicks was going to be a very different place without her. Phil had asked her to suggest the fifth of February to Amy as a good start date at Home Hunters. She felt a bit uneasy about the circumstances with Paul though. Could someone really be in love with a woman they hadn’t seen for years? How could Amy go from having no idea that someone liked her – or, indeed, loved her – to embracing the idea so wholeheartedly, so fast?
It might have been eons since Amy and Jack had split, but Kit feared she might find the word rebound flashing beneath Amy’s new bubbly persona if she looked hard enough. But then, Kit considered, as a new train of thought wove itself from the current situation into the fabric of her novel, wasn’t that how it had been for her and Phil? Hadn’t he rescued her from Jack-induced delusions? It had worked for her, was still working. Why not for Amy and Paul? Might he not be the perfect person for her? After all, Paul knew the score with Jack. There were no hidden feelings, no secret skeletons to burst out of the cupboard in twenty years’ time.
‘What’s he like these days?’ Kit managed to collar Amy in a lull an hour later.
Amy habitually straightened the serviette holder on Kit’s table as she spoke, ‘When did you last see him?’
‘Not since I was with Jack. He’s always here so briefly between digs.’
‘Well,’ Amy sank down on a free seat, considering where to start. ‘He’s kind, quiet, tall, has sapphire-blue eyes, short dark hair, broad shoulders, oh and he’s got a job at the British Museum, isn’t that fantastic!’
‘Amy?’ Kit’s voice oozed caution, ‘this is all a bit quick isn’t it? I mean, you can’t love him already, can you?’
Amy dragged a chair closer and spoke reassuringly. ‘Of course not! But I do like him loads. He’s my friend; we have a comfortable history together. I just know he’ll never hurt me. He’ll never let me down. If that’s not a good start for a relationship, I don’t know what is!’
