“Sorry?”
“Wanna get out of here?” Nathan points towards the kitchen. “Hot choc or something?”
I still can’t place his accent. It’s somewhere between German and Scandinavian but with a hint of French. My head hurts. But it hurt even before he came over.
I follow him to the kitchen.
I wondered after the hug, which, though lovely, feels as if it’s bruised a rib or two, whether he’d lead me by the hand but fortunately he’s spared me that. I do think though that I’m really going to enjoy working here for the month. Nathan, Billy, Hazel… and James.
James.
James, James, James, James, James.
And look. Guess who’s in the kitchen when we arrive.
Chapter 21 – Companions
“Hey, Jamie poppet!” Nathan screeches as the two men see each other.
‘Jamie’ laughs but I stand there open-mouthed.
“So you two’ve met then,” James says looking from me to Nathan and back to me.
I can’t speak. My brain has Etcha-Sketched itself clean. Nathan. James. Donna. Phew. Not clean completely. I’m in Hemel Hempstead on a thirty-one dishes in thirty-one days project.
“I know,” James says.
“Sorry?”
“You’re in Hemel Hempstead on a thirty-one dishes in thirty-one days project,” James repeats. “You’re our Veronica for the month.”
I blush. I’d said that aloud? James nods. My mouth isn’t moving yet he understands what I’m saying. He’s a superhero, just like Duncan.
But Nathan returns my sanity. “And isn’t it going to be fun!” He claps. Billy may not be gay but Nathan most definitely is. Oh yes, this really is going to be fun.
I don’t quite know what to say when Hazel joins the ‘party’ and James explains that this rendezvous was planned. That they’ve got something to tell me. My stomach takes an immediate nosedive but they’re all smiling so it sweeps northwards just before impact.
“We couldn’t let you do this all on your own,” Nathan blurts and it’s clear he’s been struggling to keep the secret.
“This?” I ask.
He makes a circling motion with his right index finger as if he’s swiping a bowl full of cake mix and I half expect him to stick his finger in his mouth and lick it. It wouldn’t quite have the same effect than if James had done it and at least I’m spared that embarrassment.
“Your project,” James adds and the room does seem a degree or two warmer all of a sudden. There was I thinking I’d come to my senses.
Hazel takes over… thankfully. “We have a cunning plan. To come with you.”
Ah, Baldrick. “Thank you, but I’m quite happy to do it on my own.” That sounds really ungrateful. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to put any of you out. It’s meals so breakfast–”
Nathan laughs but Hazel ignores him. I’m not sure what James does as neither of us is looking at him.
“Breakfast,” I continue, “and supper… dinner, tea.” I’m still not sure which to use ‘down’ here. “Which is obviously not work time. Company for lunch would be lovely.” I can’t help looking at James but he’s tinkering with something in a cupboard. Hazel jumps when he lets a door slam accidentally.
“Sorry. Was looking for something.” I can’t think what that would be but it goes unremarked.
“Thank you though,” I add. Normally, at home, I’d be telling the truth; I’m more than happy going to the cinema on my own because I know I have Duncan at home, or I’d see him the next day. Friday’s only four days away. I’ll be fine. I smile but she can see straight through me.
“Frank’s wife knows your mum,” Hazel says, “and they’re never at home. All those clubs they belong to, which is why Frank never tends to be in a hurry to leave here. Mad when you’ve got satellite TV showing box sets like Suits. Anyway, yes. We’ve come up with a rota.”
I sit – they’d pulled me up a chair when Hazel said they were taking over – open-mouthed. I really don’t know what to say. They’ve created a rota so I never have to eat any of my dishes alone, not when going out (café, restaurant – the choice is completely mine).
“James,” Hazel continues, now sitting opposite me, “and my Leah will accompany you any lunchtime of your choosing. Not if you want something from the van or bring in your own… unless you want the company, of course.”
We all look at James who shrugs and nods simultaneously.
The only desk I can see from the kitchen is Hazel’s, and Leah’s not there so I’ll speak to her, thanking her in advance, when she is.
“Then in the evenings we have…” Hazel pulls a note from a pocket in her top. “Mondays – that’s today, isn’t it.” She looks up at Nathan. “Mondays is… are?” She shakes her head. “Whatever. Mondays are Nathan here. Who’s Swiss, in case you were wondering, although he’s lived here so long he’s more of a native.” How did she know?
Nathan smiles but Hazel’s on a roll. “Tuesdays Frank. His wife’s chessing, I think, that night… with your mother, I believe.” Hazel looks up at me. I shrug. She looks down again. “Greta’s Wednesdays. She can’t do Thursdays as she has guitar lessons. Something I’ve always fancied actually so I should have a word.” She pulls a pen from the same pocket and circles Greta’s name. “Thursdays are Billy.”
That should be fun. Other than looking at Nathan when he was mentioned, I’ve not been reacting throughout this list, concentrating on Hazel but I look at James when Billy’s mentioned. Nathan would have been more logical, being Billy’s P.A. but it’s like I’m seeking some kind of reassurance.
“Fridays are Phil – we have a night-time security guard and another for the weekend. Apparently Phil never goes straight home after his final shift of the week – he’s six to six but can leave early if you need to. Very good of him.”
Hazel’s still staring at the piece of paper. I don’t have the heart to say I’ll be going straight home. To Northampton. Phil struck me as very accommodating so I’m sure he won’t mind. I’d be quite happy to spend a lunchtime or two chatting to him in his office, as long as it doesn’t distract him from his work. We’ll sort something out.
“I figure you’ll probably want to do your own thing at the weekend.”
I would so I nod. I definitely feel like the Churchill dog but I’m not complaining as I’m eternally grateful that they – or Hazel at least – came up with the idea of chaperones. Duncan and I have agreed that I’ll go home or he’ll come here most weekends. There are only four because I’ll be going home for good on June first, so we’ll sort of alternate, with me going home or him or Izzy, or both, coming here. I get to see her anyway when I’m back home as Duncan has his surgery. Even if he’s not rostered on, he’s often summoned to work.
Hazel hands me the list.
I take it and murmur a very grateful, “Thank you”.
“So,” Hazel summarises for me, “we have James or Leah for lunch.” James is about to agree but Hazel’s not looking so continues. “Nathan, Frank, Greta, Billy and Phil in the evenings. I’m backup as I’m dog sitting on and off, more on than off – he’s very old, very poorly, injections.” She shudders. “How does all that sound?”
“Wonderful. Apart from your poorly dog, sorry to hear that. But thank you so much for arranging this.” And it does sound wonderful. It sounds glorious.
Nathan’s going to be a hoot. I’ve not met Frank yet but if my mum likes his wife I’m sure I’ll like him. Greta. Not met her either but I’m intrigued. I wonder if she’s Swiss too. Again, I can’t see her desk from the kitchen but imagine her to look like Heidi. Perhaps not in full regalia in the office. Just at the weekends. Wednesday nights, hopefully.
Billy. Oh, Billy. I’ll have to be on my best behaviour but yes, again, very interesting. Another hoot perhaps. Then Phil. I’d like to. Maybe Duncan will miss a Friday on his weekends coming here. No, I shouldn’t think like that. And I’m sure Phil wouldn’t want to play gooseberry. Maybe we could meet for one drink, to sh
ow my gratitude. Yes, that sounds like a plan.
I hear the scraping of a chair and Hazel’s standing. I do likewise. She’s mouthing something and I lean forward to see if she’s only mouthing or whispering.
“Greta,” she says at normal volume and I pull back. “I have to remember to speak to Greta about her guitar lessons.” Hazel points at the piece of paper.
“Ah, yes. Did you…?” I offer her the note but she shakes her head.
“Better get on,” she says and heads back to her office.
“Me too,” Nathan says but that’ll mean either I have to say likewise and jump in front of him or be left in the kitchen with James. Fortunately my heart’s still on its normal rhythm but I don’t want the temptation. No, not want. Yes, not want… and not need.
Although my companions have been sorted in a very Doctor Who orderly fashion, I don’t know exactly where I’m going when. And what if any of them are vegetarian, vegan, or they don’t like the venues I’ve chosen? Maybe I should let them choose, they’re the locals. I could but what if there’s nothing on the menu under 500 calories.
While I’m Walter Mittying, James mouths a ‘see you later’ – I think that’s what it was – and takes himself out of the picture… literally.
My brain continues whirring while I walk back to my desk. I’ve gone past James’s – his back to me, thankfully, Greta – on the phone, Frank – ditto, Billy’s office – empty, and Nathan – another back, facing his open filing cabinet.
While I was hesitant at first about the whole project, and being in Hemel Hempstead wouldn’t be my first choice – no offence, Hemel, I’m really looking forward to it now. If nothing else, I get to meet most of the regular colleagues for more than a chat at the kettle.
Fun with a capital F. Yes, I’m up for that.
Chapter 22 – None So Queer As Me
I spend the rest of the Monday afternoon preparing my first article. I start, exactly as Izzy did, explaining that I’ve been given this project and what it entails. I assume my colleagues won’t mind being mentioned but this is only a draft so I figure it doesn’t matter. I can check or Billy will pick it up when he goes through it with me, which he’ll want to before it goes anywhere near a printer; my desk’s or the ‘final’ one. It’ll be funny seeing my picture on a different sheet. Or will they use Veronica’s? For a month, it doesn’t matter. Probably better if I’m incognito if I’m going to test out these establishments’ food. A Beyoncé lookalike, I am not.
I sense someone standing by my desk so look up. A very sweet twenty-something with trendy-black chunky glasses is smiling back.
“Hello,” she says and offers her hand. I take it and shake it. “I’m Greta.”
I go to stand but she shakes her head and points to a visitor chair her side of my desk. I nod a little too vigorously.
“Hi, Greta. I’m–”
“Donna, yes.”
I laugh. “Of course you know who I am. Thank you so much for offering to be my chaperone on…” I desperately paddle swanlike trying to remember which day she was mine.
“Wednesdays,” we say in unison.
“It wasn’t really an offer but I’m happy to do it.”
Oh great. My first subject and an unwilling one.
“It’s a great idea!” She smiles and I’m relieved. If she’s unwilling under the surface it certainly doesn’t appear that way on top. “Drink?” she suggests and points in the vague direction of the kitchen. My desk is tucked in a corner with a vortex behind me above the main entrance. It’s the same at our offices and I’ve always thought a complete waste of space but I suppose it saved on the cost of extra bricks, carpet, walls, wallpaper, extra desk, chair, and all that stationery for the person they can obviously do without. I think too much.
We chat as we walk, and Greta’s delightful. She’s like a younger version of me; Tigger G. That reminds me of Honey G, that really weird rapper on… what was it…? X-Factor? Britain’s Got Talent? One of those. It doesn’t matter and it’s not important enough to look it up, especially as my desk is several feet behind me, the space growing.
Frank smiles and mouths a ‘hello’ as we go past. I feel a bit rude for not stopping but Greta’s on a mission so I smile and mouth back. I wave my hand around in what’s supposed to be ‘see you upon my return’ and it obviously does the trick as he nods. Or he’s just being polite.
Greta’s already at the kettle and I can hear it rousing. She’s got out two mugs and is spooning coffee into one of them. She tilts the jar as if to offer me the same. I shake my head. “Hot chocolate please.” I’m fortunate they have the same low-calorie version, about a third of normal, as we have in Northampton – the same suppliers presumably – and I’m in hot chocolate mode. It’s the end of April and really warm yet here I am wanting chocolate. None so queer as me.
Greta soon has me in stitches. She’s reeling off loads of jokes and could give Jeremy Vine a run for his money. No, not Jeremy, his brother, the funny one… obviously. Tim. Something about a vacuum cleaner unused yet still gathering dust. I chuckle.
“So, how are you finding day one?” Greta asks, getting back on topic.
Is it really only day one? And not even day one proper. “It’s been fantastic,” I answer honestly. It really has. “Everyone’s been so nice and if those I haven’t spoken to yet are half as nice I’m going to have a… er… fantastic month. And I get paid to eat. What’s not to like?”
“I know. I heard that. I can’t complain though. I get sent more DVDs and books than I can handle. I read and watch movies, and TV boxsets, for a living. Everyone has to eat but who gets to do all the rest of it and get paid?”
“You must see things you don’t really want to see, read things not of your genre.”
Greta pulls a face. “Ooh. You know your stuff, Donna.”
“I love reading. Don’t get much time but I like a chapter or three before lights out.”
We spend the next few minutes comparing reads – Alan Bennett’s The Uncommon Reader a mutual love, Arthur from Julian Barnes’s Arthur and George is another matter.
“It’s fascinating how made-up people, the characters,” Greta says, “can endear themselves… George… or not. I found Arthur fascinating but not likeable, but I don’t think he was supposed to be, although he was helping George.”
I struggle to recall what, or rather why, I didn’t like Arthur. “I was listening to the audiobook so maybe if I’d had the words in front of me.”
“Maybe, but the fact that neither of us warmed to him must say something.”
I could talk about books all day, although way less read than Greta, but I am there for a reason… and that reason’s going to start with Nathan in… eek, a couple of hours.
“Sorry. You’re busy,” Greta says when I look at my watch.
“Just settling in, finding my feet, you know.”
“I do. This is month two.” She points to her chest.
“You’re a newbie too?” To use James’s word.
Greta and I smile like mirror images. Yes, I’m definitely going to like it here.
I never did ask what nationality she is.
Chapter 23 – A Million Miles Away
I’m ready when Nathan calls for me at five. I did have the Wetherspoon in mind but I’m hoping he’s going to suggest somewhere as he’s a native, and he doesn’t disappoint.
I don’t know whether he’s a car driver or lives near enough to walk but I know from Hazel that my car’s okay for the duration. Like Northampton, the Hemel Hempstead office has twenty-four hour CCTV security, only one guard but the police station isn’t a million miles away; the other end of the shopping area rather than on the same road as our building but near enough to come to our rescue.
Oh God. Why do I keep thinking of James?
“Hello?” a voice says from a million miles away.
We’re walking, yet I can’t remember leaving the office. “Sorry.” I shake my head as if to clear everything except what we�
�re doing right now.
“It’s just up ahead. I’m sure you’re going to like it. It’s a popular place so I booked a table but if it’s not your cup of tea…”
I can’t imagine anywhere not being my cup of tea. If he took me to whatever Hemel’s equivalent of Northampton’s Boston gay bar would be, it wouldn’t matter. I remember what a good time Izzy had. And that’s putting it mildly. An explosion in a Dulux factory, I think she called it. She certainly had the hangover to show for it.
I feel a little nostalgic as I think of my best friend. I should be seeing her at the weekend but I miss having her around. I wonder if Greta will mind being my Izzy for the five weeks. Greta doesn’t give me the impression of minding much. Health and beauty may not be her thing but we both have the best jobs in the world. I see how much my suggestions can transform people’s lives – I only have to look at my Instagram feed to see that. Yes, Izzy’s the techno nut but I’m not far behind. Okay, maybe a few hundred kilometres but we both need technology for what we do.
We’re here and I can’t help laughing as we stand outside the restaurant. Ristorante Alberto again. It’s still Monday so it’s still closed. Nathan had said he’d booked a table yet how can he have done.
“This isn’t where we’re eating, obviously, but I brought you here so you know it. I only have you Monday evenings, you should get one of the others to take you.”
I smile a broad warm smile and want to give him a hug.
He points over the road. “Chiangmai Cottage is our destination of choice. We’re…” He looks down at his watch. “Right on time.” As he speaks, a little Chinese lady comes to the door, turns the ‘sorry, were closed’ sign to ‘welcome’. Nice touch. The missing apostrophe from ‘were’ doesn’t escape my attention but I don’t mention it to Nathan or the lady. She looks far too sweet and I don’t want to hurt their feelings by starting with a criticism.
“Best Thai Restaurant. Unique. Has no equal. That’s what Chingmai is to customers who are over-whelmed by the ever-evolving cuisine, according to Google,” Nathan whispers to me as we follow the lady to a secluded table near the back of the restaurant. Being so early – half past five – there’s no one else waiting to come in so we have the pick of the place, but the table she gives us is lovely. It’s quiet so we can chat.
The Serial Dieter (The Serial Series Book 2) Page 8
