by Jenny Kane
‘Are you nervous about the job?’ Jack drank from a white china cup, more suited to tea than his shockingly strong espresso.
‘You know me, I get nervous about everything. Although I’m not as bad as I used to be I don’t think. I’m more concerned about fitting into an established team, being the new girl, than the actual job itself. You nervous about seeing your Dad and Jane?’
‘A bit, but not as much as I thought I might be. At least my sister won’t be there, I imagine she’ll be the one who’ll be awkward about all this. Having Toby helps. Perhaps we’re growing up at last.’
‘Cheek! I don’t know about you, but I have no intention of growing up. Ever.’ Amy threw a screwed-up serviette at him as if to prove her point, ‘But you’re right in a way. Having someone helps. Just knowing that Paul’s there for me helps.’
Jack’s eyes flashed for a second, but his voice remained unchanged. ‘I’m glad you have someone too, Amy.’
‘And yet,’ she had seen and understood the disquiet in his eyes, ‘you aren’t quite comfortable with the idea of me being with someone other than you, even though you expect me to be fine with you and Toby.’
‘Are you happy?’ Not wanting to admit she was right, Jack looked away as he spoke so Amy couldn’t read his eyes.
‘Yes I am.’
‘Then that’s all right, isn’t it.’
Amy returned his question, ‘And are you happy with Toby?’
‘Oh yes, he’s great.’
Amy peered up through her fringe at him, ‘Then we’re both all right aren’t we.’
His chair creaked as Jack rocked back, ‘I don’t know Amy; it’s just that sometimes I wish …’
‘No Jack, there’ll be no “if onlys,” not now.’ Amy was a bit taken aback by the sound of her own forcefulness, but it had to be said, and time was running out.
She had spent ages thinking about this. Ever since Jack had retuned her tape to Aberdeen. Ever since she’d upped sticks, moved south, and turned her life upside down, Amy had tried to put her emotions into some sort of order, and attempted to make sense of how Jack fitted into her life, and how she fitted into his. Rob, Debbie, Kit and Paul had all played their part in helping her work through her maze of feelings, and at last she felt as if the puzzle pieces were in place.
‘You and I have a friendship that is so close it really isn’t a friendship at all.’ Jack opened his mouth to protest, ‘No, please, Jack, this conversation is well overdue. Listen.’ Amy pushed her empty cup away and clenched her hands together. ‘We aren’t really friends; we’re not even like brother and sister. We have something that hangs between friendship and a relationship. A sort of link, something strong, but without definition. Perhaps, in a parallel universe, we are living happily ever after, with 2.4 children and probably a pet Labrador.’ Amy paused, stretching out a hand for him to take. ‘But we aren’t in a parallel universe, Jack. We’re here. This is now, and we both have the chance to do something with our lives; separately and together. Who else is that lucky, Jack? Don’t you think what we have is incredible?’
Jack said nothing, but he stared into her eyes intently, seeing for the first time how far Amy had travelled emotionally since she’d arrived back into his life, and the expression on his face agreed with her. He seemed to be waiting for her to say more before he was ready to comment, so Amy continued, ‘We can walk around a garden and admire the same plants. I know five minutes before you do that you want a coffee, and you can always tell if I’m in need of a cake-induced sugar rush. We can talk about anything and everything, and then, at the end of the day, we go back to our partners and have fun with them too. I think they call it “having the best of both worlds” and I think that makes us two of the luckiest people in the world. Don’t you think so? Jack?’
Jack continued to watch Amy closely; her greyish-blue eyes were brimming with sentiment. He grabbed the offered hand and held it tightly. ‘Not only are you incredible, you’re right as well. I love you, Amy Crane.’
‘And I love you, Jack Brown. Now let’s walk, it’s absolutely bloody freezing sat here.’
‘So tell me,’ Amy asked once they had strolled enough to get their circulation flowing again, ‘are you and Toby ready for your European adventure?’
‘Sort of, we’re all packed up. Just need to order a cab to Heathrow, make sure our hand baggage meets with the new security regulations, stuff like that.’
‘It’s all happened so fast hasn’t it?’ Amy knelt to one of the first clumps of snowdrops that had made it through the frosted winter ground.
‘You’re telling me. I’ve only been with Toby since the start of December, and yet at the same time I feel I’ve always known him. Is that silly?’
‘Not at all. I, on the other hand, have known Paul for absolutely years, and it’s like I’ve meet someone new, someone fresh, but with the added comfort of all that’s gone before.’
‘Paul’s looking good. Seeing you obviously agrees with him.’
‘Thanks.’ Amy started to blush. She wanted to keep how little Paul had seen of her private for now. ‘Although I don’t expect I’ll see too much of him over the next couple of weeks.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m starting at Home Hunters, and then Paul starts at the British Museum a week after that.’
Jack was thoughtful, ‘Do you think you’ll live together?’
‘It’s only been a few days, Jack.’
‘He’s the one, though, isn’t he?’
Amy noticed there was a new acceptance to his voice, and she inwardly sighed with relief. ‘Is Toby?’
‘I asked first!’ Jack playfully poked Amy in the ribs as they strolled, a favour she pointedly returned, ‘Oh, all right, I think he probably is, or will be, in time. You?’
‘Possibly. Probably.’ They laughed at their mutual reluctance to say what they truly felt. Putting his arm around Amy’s shoulders Jack steered her back towards the café. ‘Come on, we haven’t had any caffeine for at least half an hour. Let’s go inside this time and warm up a bit.’
FEBRUARY
In which Jack is missed, and things change faster still for Amy…
Sixty-four
February 10th 2007
Amy was exhausted. The gravitational pull of the mattress had her firmly in its padded grasp, and her body didn’t want to leave the soft cocoon of her duvet. Her first week as a Trainee Property Manager at Home Hunters had been exhausting, hectic, and complicated. Her brain physically ached, packed as it was with new information about procedures, company policies and the role each staff member performed.
Amy had shadowed Phil around the office, been introduced to major clients, and taken to view a number of potential properties. Next week she’d be on her own with Chris. Something she wasn’t allowing herself to think about yet.
Mustering all her willpower, Amy poked her toes out into the chill of the room, slowly followed by the rest of her pyjama-clad body. The hands on her alarm clock told her it was already a quarter to ten. It was only the promise of lunch with Paul that spurred Amy towards the bathroom and a hot shower.
Meeting Amy outside the local supermarket, Paul embraced her before they headed to Pickwicks. ‘We could go to a pub down by the river or something instead, if you don’t want to go back to a work-type place today.’
‘Oh, no, I’ve missed it! I know it’s only been a week but, well, I loved working there. Plus I want you to meet Peggy and Scott.’
Paul tugged playfully at the plait that hung down the centre of Amy’s back, noticing affectionately that she hadn’t quite got all her hair through its tie. Wisps of blonde hair stuck out at odd angles around the red circle of elastic. ‘Still prefer coffee stops to pubs then?’
‘Definitely!’ Amy was emphatic as she expounded on the subject, ‘You can go to a café alone or in a group, and neither status is questioned. In a café you can eat something more satisfying than a packet of crisps, and yet less cloying than a gigantic plate of sausage and m
ash and, should you have to sit near the toilets, the smell of stale urine is unlikely to knock you out.’
Paul laughed, ‘All good points.’
Amy paused as her hand rested on the handle of Pickwicks door, ‘You ready to go in and be questioned relentlessly about your intentions?’
‘Yep.’ Paul took her hand firmly in his, ‘come on; introduce me to your friends. I was beginning to think you were ashamed of me.’
Poking him in the ribs, Amy rolled her eyes. ‘Idiot! Come on.’
Amy was only mildly surprised to see Kit sitting at her corner table on a Saturday. She had mentioned to Phil she’d be bringing Paul to Pickwicks today. He must have told his wife, and there was no way Kit’s curiosity would have let her miss out on that.
Introductions were made to her past employers in between customers, and renewed with Kit, who Paul hadn’t seen for years. They both sat with the writer, who hastily piled her notes together, out of the way of prying eyes.
Paul dived into conversation as Scott absented himself, apologising as he wheeled himself back to the kitchen to see to some pies, just as Peggy delivered a tray of steaming hot drinks and a mountain of pastries. ‘Any word from Jack and Toby, Kit?’
Kit answered between mouthfuls of scolding coffee. ‘Only that they arrived safely, and that his dad has neither killed Jack nor disinherited him.’
‘That’s great, but I’m not surprised;’ Amy paused to pick a huge Belgian bun off the tray, ‘Jack’s dad is cool, I bet he had a pretty good idea anyway.’
‘Jack’s not mentioned anything about taking Toby to meet his folks yet then?’ Selecting his own pastry, Paul settled back against his chair, mutely observing the women relax around the table together.
‘Not as far as I know, but he’s not been in touch much, and I haven’t wanted to interfere.’
‘I guess we’ll hear soon enough,’ Peggy chipped in as she took a rare opportunity to sit down, ‘God, I’m exhausted. Boy, we don’t half miss you, Amy!’
Habitual guilt shot through Amy, who was about to apologise for abandoning them yet again, when Paul stopped her. ‘Peggy was paying you a compliment, silly. Not working here anymore isn’t something you should feel bad about.’
‘Quite right!’ Peggy looked at Paul approvingly, ‘You listen to him. I’d soon be complaining if business was slack!’
Kit, whose mind had been elsewhere during this exchange asked, ‘Haven’t you heard from Jack then, Amy?’
‘No,’ Amy, who’d been trying not to feel abandoned by Jack’s lack of contact, regardless of a couple of “good luck” texts she’d sent, shook her head, ‘no, I’ve heard nothing.’
It was unseasonably mild. Hand-in-hand, Paul and Amy left Pickwicks, and trudged down the now-familiar pavement towards Princes Road. Paul hadn’t asked Amy about her contact with Jack, but he’d sensed her disappointment when she’d found Kit had heard from him, and she hadn’t. ‘You OK?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Amy looked at him brightly, ‘why?’
‘I thought you might be missing him.’
There was no need to say who the “him” in question was. ‘A bit, but he has new things in his life now’, she gripped Paul’s palm as she spoke, ‘and so do I.’
Paul said nothing as the usual frisson of sexual tension swept over him. He badly wanted to make love to Amy, but the longer they waited the harder it seemed to be to bring the subject up. Never in his life had he felt so awkward about making a move. Hung up on getting it exactly right, he found himself tongue-tied and frustrated. He simply had to do something before he exploded with an overload of testosterone.
‘Amy?’ Paul began as they walked through the narrow doorway into the dining area, ‘Amy, are the others out at the moment?’
Amy’s pulse quickened, her eyes began to twinkle, and a hopeful flirty smile played over her inviting lips. ‘No, they’re at James’ mother’s place. All weekend.’ Is he about to take me to bed at last? His inaction had been driving her neglected body insane; after all, erotic literature was one thing, but a real flesh-and-blood man – now that was something else entirely.
Paul hesitated, uncertain if she wanted him to act, when suddenly Amy heard the echo of Kit’s advice at the back of her head, and knew it was time for her to take charge. ‘So,’ she said, tilting her head to one side as she unbuttoned his massive coat for him, ‘are you ever going to take me to bed, or what?’
Wrapped in Paul’s arms in her warm bed an hour later, Amy, in a pleasant state of bodily shock, mewed as Paul’s fingers began to circle her right nipple. Her relief at being able to remember what to do had been equalled by sheer pleasure at Paul’s palpable joy as he revelled in the sight and texture of her naked form, enhancing their mutual and total satisfaction.
‘Tell me,’ he asked as Amy wriggled closer to his touch and placed a hand flat against his fast-recovering dick, ‘if I opened your bedside drawer, would I find anything more interesting than neatly-balled socks?’
Amy hid her smirk in the crook of Paul’s neck, ‘Maybe, why don’t you take a peek?’
Twisting away from her, but not so far as to dislodge her hand, Paul slid open the drawer, ‘Well, well, Amy Crane. Right up until now, I always believed you were a good girl, and then I got to thinking, seeing as you are such a good friend of Kit’s …’ He held up a handful of tellingly crumpled erotic short stories she’d printed off the web, and her dildo.
Amy hung her head in mock humility, ‘Have I disappointed you?’
‘Christ no,’ He grunted with increased desire. ‘Come here!’ Dropping the papers, and grabbing the dildo firmly in one hand and her left hip in the other, Paul disappeared under the bedclothes, not emerging until Amy was in the throes of an erotic bliss Kit could never have confined to the world of literature.
Kit re-read her anthologies blurb. She had written it and re-written it more times than she cared to remember. She’d probably worked more on that one short piece of prose than on anything she’d ever written in her life.
‘Well,’ Kit sat staring at the computer screen in her study, her hand hovering over the mouse, ‘here goes nothing.’ Clicking Send, Kit sent the blurb into the technological ether, heading magically into her new editor’s email inbox. She felt strange. Bereft even. The anthology had been sorted into a suitable order for publication, the various last minute pieces of paperwork were in place and the book’s jacket had been chosen. Unless the publisher hated what she’d sent, that was it. Now Kit could return to her novel properly, rather than merely pick at it when the time allowed.
Switching off the laptop, she grabbed her coat and bag, and called to the twins, who were playing Doctor Who noisily in their bedroom. On an impulse Kit decided to take them to see how their dad was coping on his first Saturday afternoon at the bookshop, before heading into Kew Gardens to run off
some of their ever-excessive energy.
MAY
In which Jack chooses his lyrics with unusual care and things are resolved … well, almost …
Sixty-five
May 25th 2007
As Amy logged off from her computer, she leaned back into the comfort of her soft black leather chair, and inhaled a lingering lungful of air before exhaling it slowly. It had been one hell of a working week. She and Chris had each acquired a new property for the company’s books and, more importantly, that very day she had secured her first new corporate client. There had been other individual client gains over the past six weeks at Home Hunters, but this was the big one, and somehow Amy believed her right to work there had been tied up with her ability to win the commission. Now, after nearly four months of calling herself a Property Manager, Amy felt she had as much right as Chris to the title.
Chris was delighted; his enthusiasm was infectious as he congratulated her success. Normally Amy would have agreed to go out with him for the celebratory drink he suggested, but tonight she was busy. Chris had gone home an hour ago, leaving Amy to tie up several loose ends and enjoy a precious moment
of peace and quiet before facing the insanity of Clapham Junction at half-past six on a Friday night.
It wasn’t the prospect of a crowded and uncomfortable journey home that kept Amy where she was, however. The evening ahead of her loomed very large.
She was looking forward to it, but at the same time the tense knot in her stomach reminded her how apprehensive she was about going. Silly really. The whole point was to be a group celebration, and now she could add to their collective achievements (having already sworn Chris to secrecy), and tell Phil and Kit about her new American contract. Yet Amy stayed sat where she was.
Paul would be waiting for her at home. He had probably already changed after a day in his dusty old office, hidden at the back of the museum.
Number 8 Princes Road had officially become their home, rather than just her home, almost a month ago. A situation that crept up on them unannounced, rather than being a conscious decision. Paul had spent nearly all his time in Richmond with Amy anyway, so when James and Sarah, who had finally got it together themselves, had decided to get engaged and find a flat they could afford to rent nearer the city centre, it had seemed natural for Paul to move in properly.
In less than a year Amy had gone from being a shy, lonely girl in Scotland, obsessed with an old relationship and avoiding new ones, to a marginally-less shy businesswoman, with a new group of friends and a live-in partner. Sometimes the ride seemed so fast and intense, that Amy wanted to slow it all down for a minute, not to get off, but to stop for a second and admire the view.
If she didn’t hurry up then she’d never make it home in time to change for eight o’clock. Amy stood up decisively, thinking about Paul as she made her way out of the office and into the busy street.
He had told her he loved her. He frequently told her, and she always replied that she loved him too. But do I? Or do I only love the fact that it isn’t just me against the world anymore? The thought frequently nagged at Amy, and did so again as she negotiated her way towards the station. Maybe I’ll know after tonight. Perhaps I need to get this over with to find out how I really feel.
