“The restaurant’s ‘street food’,” Frank informs me as if he’s a regular here too. It wouldn’t surprise me but I hold in the ‘do you come here often’ question.
We look at the food then at each other. “How can we resist?” he asks.
We don’t, and end up waddling to our cars, having even had ice cream and indulgent liqueur coffees at the end.
As I was with Nathan, I’m rather sad that this is my final evening with Frank. I’ll see him in the office over the next three days but it won’t be the same. I’m sure, given how friendly my mum is with his wife, that I’ll see him again.
I soon cheer up though at the thought that it’s now only three days until I see Duncan. We have a long chat on the phone and end with our usual greeting. I wonder if things will be any different when I get home. In a way, I don’t want them to be but I do feel that there does need to be a next step. I’m not going to be the one to say anything though. It’s not that I’m old fashioned. It’s just not a boat I want a rockin’.
Chapter 87 – Coming Back To Stay
Wednesday 30th May
There are a couple of venues on my list I’ve not been to. Although Frank and I went to The Plough at Leverstock Green and had a Tuesday Sunday roast mid-month, I still have the Toby Carvery outstanding.
“Do you mind?” I ask Greta.
“Not at all. I’ve never had a carvery.”
“Never?”
She shakes her head. “Had Sunday roasts of course but not a proper carvery. I’ve been there but only for a drink, which was a bit of a waste but the guy I was with was… a bit of a waste.”
We laugh.
Being a carvery, I can skip on the fattening; like Yorkshire puds, but make up on the protein; the meat.
Greta goes all out and has something of everything. “I’m not supposed to do that,” the man, Elvis, says. He’s big like his namesake in his later years though wearing a white apron over black and white check workwear, rather than a rhinestone-encrusted jumpsuit.
When Greta looks at her heaving plate and my rather bare one, she looks back at him. He sighs, flaps his hand like someone indicating the forward movement of traffic so I return to stand opposite him and he gives me more meat with the instruction, ‘Don’t tell anyone’. I look at the snake of a queue to our right but say nothing.
Greta’s and my entire conversation revolves around music until we finally get to Owen. At the mention of his name, Greta blushes.
“Still going strong?” I ask but then feel bad because it’s none of my business so I add a swift, “You do seem really happy.”
She nods and I ask the ultimate hairdresser question, “Are you going on holiday this year?” but frown as it feels a silly thing to ask with someone so new in a relationship, unless of course she’s already booked to go somewhere.
“Erm…”
I wait.
She nods again.
“Oh really?” I want to ask ‘anywhere nice?’ but remain patient. It’s never been a trait of mine so there are a few seconds’ silence.
“Owen’s parents have a villa in Portugal.”
I still say nothing but smile a Tigger-D smile.
Two days to go before I get to go home and feel her, Tigger D, coming back to stay.
Chapter 88 – Thursday 31st May
There’s no sign of James (or Leah – I’m hoping that’s purely a coincidence) as I head into the office. Although part of me would be glad if he doesn’t reappear, the rest of me hopes he’s back tomorrow as it would be nice to at least say ‘goodbye’ and draw a line underneath this month. With lots to tie up on my final day, I decide to do some of it today and keep an ear out for the food van.
Val, or someone more holy, must have read my mind as I’ve only just sat at my desk with a bottle of sparkling water when the claxon goes. Unsure what I’ll be doing for lunch on my last day, I go for another thick ham salad wrap although I forgo the hazelnut latté and immediately regret it as I watch the van pull away from my office (desk) window.
I decide to opt for the kitchen’s version (Americano no flavourings) but get so engrossed in work that I go the whole day without another drink or even going to the ladies, only being roused by Nathan at gone five when he scuttles to my desk.
“Hiiiii, Donna.” He’s almost doing jazz hands.
“Helloooo, Nathan,” I chirp back.
“Sorreee…” Nathan tilts his head as if delivering bad news, which presumably he is, given the elongated word ‘sorry’. “Billy’s running a tincy bit late.” As Nathan says the word ‘tincy’, he holds up his right hand with his index finger and thumb almost touching.
Relieved Billy’s not cancelling, I blow a breath to which Nathan gets into agony aunt mode – a position which I believe is still vacant and he’d be perfect for. “Tell Uncle Nathan.”
“Seeing as we have a few minutes,” I say, but then don’t know what it is I want to impart.
He leans forward, as if anticipating my woes.
“Erm…”
He tilts his head to one side. “Oh dear.”
Now I feel as if I have to come up with something but again I’m saved from the moment by Billy who, I’m hoping, has come to collect me.
“Ready?”
“As I’ll ever…” but he’s already turned and is heading round the corner towards Nathan’s then his own desk. So Nathan and I follow, me a couple of seconds later, having sent my computer to sleep and retrieved my bag.
The other restaurant on my wish list is back at The Marlowes, the Opuz Kitchen with an average 4.6 rating from 145 reviews on Google. Fortunately for me, Billy loves Turkish as much as Frank loves Indian and Billy actually mentions the Opuz as one of his favourites before asking me if there was anywhere I wanted to go, as if I could have said anything else.
It could be another night ‘off’, because all my articles are done but to end with another wrap does feel a little weak so I make mental – and if Billy goes to the gents, not that he’d mind, paper notes as we go along. I start with Sigara Boregi, a ‘cigar shaped crisp filo pastry filled with halloumi cheese, spinach and fresh herbs’, because I love halloumi. Billy goes for the other one I fancy, though not quite as much, but how I keep a straight face at its name; Sucuk, a grilled lightly spiced Turkish beef sausage, I really don’t know.
Although I love my choice, I must admit that Billy’s sausage does look inviting. The thought of it however reminds me of Charles so I’m glad I went with the Boregi.
Mains were a meat moussaka for me (I didn’t need to look any further down the menu) and an Iskender, a house special of lamb or chicken doner on a bed of bread, layered with a topping of fresh tomato and butter sauce, served with creamy yogurt and rice, for Billy. And yes, he went for the optional ‘spicy hot’.
I’m sad, again, as the evening draws to a close.
“I can’t thank you enough, Billy, for not only making me feel welcome but also so special.”
I timed that with him taking a large mouthful of food so he can’t reply. Although Billy strikes me as someone who can be rough and tough, I know there’s a softer side.
“Even if Hazel,” I continue, who’s been out of the office more than she’s been around, “had organised the rota, I know it would have only happened with your approval, and I can’t imagine every boss, or personnel human resources manager, for that matter, going to that much trouble.”
Billy finally swallows and takes a sip of water. I can’t tell whether he’s going red through embarrassment or whether he can’t actually handle the level of ‘spicy hot’ he’s been given. A little cough before he speaks doesn’t give me an answer. “You’re very welcome, Donna. William did say to look after you.”
I tilt my head in Nathan fashion. “He did?”
Billy grimaces as if it’s a secret he shouldn’t have shared. Maybe he’s not so special agent after all. He shrugs as if it’s no big thing and he’d help anyone.
I am, however, honoured. William’s dating my best
friend but even so, this was work. He and Izzy are perfect for each other: both marshmallow on the inside.
As I tuck into my food, I think that saying ‘goodbye’ to Billy and his underlings will be harder than I thought. They’re all, almost all, lovely and have been so kind.
I feel special. Yes, so so special.
Chapter 89 – Mission Accomplished
Friday 1st June
My last day is here. I know being the beginning of the month that some people are going to be crazy busy, others catching up from the end of the month if they didn’t get everything finished off yesterday. It’s like that in our office. It’s not like everyone’s in accounts so you wouldn’t think there would be that cut-off but I guess it’s a mental thing.
I feel a little sad when I drive into the car park for the last time, walk past Phil’s box for the second from last time, or fourth if I go out for lunch, the last morning anyway. Then the same for Owen who’s on the phone but looks up and smiles. The office is as busy as I had anticipated so I go straight to my desk, via the kitchen for a glass of squash.
I’ve got a few loose ends to tie up so I’ll be busy too but will definitely make sure that I get to speak to everyone, thank them for how helpful they’ve been, especially my lunchtime and evening companions.
James. I must sort things out with James. There’s been an ‘air’ all month and while it’s not got worse since our trip to Jarman Park, it’s not really got better either, when he’s been around. It’s a shame because we could have had some lovely lunchtimes but at least when I’ve gone that’ll be it. I don’t like leaving things unresolved though so I’ll make the first move, so to speak, apologise and everything will be fine.
Now, I’ll do it now.
I head for his desk and am just as pleased to see he’s there, not on the phone, and doesn’t look particularly busy. “Morning, James,” I say with my biggest genuine smile.
“Morning, Donna.” He’s smiling too and not in any kind of ‘way’.
Would you… no, don’t give him a choice. “I’d very much like to take you out for lunch today, as a ‘thank you’ for how kind you’ve been this month.” I’m hoping that comes across how it’s meant and it won’t read anything more into it. Nothing will, can, happen after today. He may well never see me again.
It seems to be taken as I intended, judging by his reaction. He bows slightly, his right shoulder dipping towards his desk before he rights it. “I would equally like that.”
I spend the morning tying most of the loose ends so I’ll have little to do after lunch, which may mean I can escape early.
James comes to collect me at twelve thirty. It seems that something’s shifted. There’s an ease I’d not felt before and I don’t know how he feels but he looks comfortable in my company. We’re back to where we were at the start, just colleagues with no added pressure.
“Ready, madam?” he asks and sways the air to his right in a gesture that I should go first.
“I am, my lord,” I reply and after grabbing my bag, I walk past him and through the office. No one’s paying us any attention, for which I’m grateful, and Owen’s on the phone again, to be expected, but gives us a cursory nod. Everything feels really normal which is lovely.
“Anywhere in particular for your last lunch?” James asks, pointing in the general direction of the town centre.
“Finish where we started?”
His smile turns into a grin and we head for The Marlowes shopping centre and the venue we had our first lunch in: Subway. Not the most salubrious but it’s lunch not supper, dinner, tea, evening whatever, and I’m going to have something special. No salad for this girl, oh no. I might even go for something hot. No, not James. Hash browns or nachos or maybe both. I’m no longer on the 500 max so I can splash out all round.
According to Subway’s website, a portion of six hash browns are 169 calories but the intro says, ‘Default nutritional values are based on the standard six-inch sub recipe’ so I’m taking it at face value. They’re probably 169 calories per piece. An average sweet is fifty, an apple eighty or satsuma thirty, ish, a hundred in a standard sweet potato but that’s before it goes near a fryer.
James and I go for the hash browns and nachos to share, a Pepsi Max for James, a bottle of water for me, and a wrap each: me chicken, him steak. He insists on paying, saying there’s still plenty of Billy’s budget left. There are several free tables so I let James lead and pick one.
I congratulate myself that my eyes don’t wander to his bum then realise I had no inkling to do so until after he’d sat and I found I was self-congratulating. Duncan’s I look at all the time, especially when he’s in his scrubs, which he sometimes wears at home just for me. The thought makes me smile.
“Penny for them,” I hear in the distance that is across the table.
My mind scrambles. “Sorry, just a joke I heard on the radio on the way in.”
“Ooh, I love jokes. Do tell.”
Oops. “Sorry, forgotten the punchline but I remember it being funny.”
“Okay,” he says nonchalantly as he takes one of the hash browns. There are six, just like the picture, all perfectly symmetrical. They must have a machine and part of me wants to ask the manager but I resist. I’ve been geeky enough for one month. A month and a day.
James and I chat about the state of the UK and US governments and swap ideas for how they can be improved. It’s really nice to have a normal conversation, albeit about politics, and before we know it, our food’s gone and it’s time to get back to the office. We’ve not been an hour but the sooner we get back, the sooner I can hit the M1. Oh the joy. Commuterville on a Friday afternoon.
“Thank you,” I say to James as we reach the top of the stairs between Phil and Owen’s ‘offices’. I want to touch James on the arm, only as a show of gratitude, but I don’t want to risk spoiling the level we’ve left things.
We’re side by side and he goes to lean in but clearly thinks better of it and steps back to compensate. “You’re very welcome, my lady,” he says and makes a sweeping gesture.
I laugh and beckon him through the door first.
“Oh contraire, my lady, beauty before age.” James has the upper hand on both of those but I don’t complain. I bow slightly and go ahead, nodding and smiling to Owen as I pass his cubicle. He’s on the phone, chatting to someone, and I swear he’s blushing so I’m hoping it’s Greta. I pick up speed and almost run down the corridor, bypassing the kitchen although I could do with a cold drink, so I can get to Greta’s desk before Owen’s call finishes. Sure enough, she’s on the phone giggling and blushing. I don’t know for sure but hope that two and two only equals four on this occasion.
Back at my desk, wearing a grin I can’t help, I type up my final report. It doesn’t mention food as that’s all done but is a ‘how my month went’ summary. And it went very well. Of course I’m not going to mention my ups and downs with James, that’s only for him and me to know, but it’s certainly been a learning curve, as life usually is.
And I return to my shopping list. If there’s one thing this month has taught me, it’s not only about how healthy we keep our bodies, it’s mostly so we live longer and are happier doing it, but our mental health is just as important if not more so. What’s the point in having a trim body if we’re unhappy? The whole James – I want to use the word ‘affair’ but that would be misleading – it was never going to be that. The whole James matter has taught me to value what I have. Not that I didn’t before but love, life, goes deeper than skin. James does have beautiful skin, but the head and heart are what matter and given the choice of the two, who wouldn’t pick the latter.
So, my shopping list consists of just three things: loving someone who can love you back unconditionally; a rewarding career where you work to live not live to work; a body and mind as healthy as you can make it without punishing yourself if you slip up. Tomorrow is another day, as Scarlett O’Hara so eloquently said, while lying on the stairs, eyes still wet from cryi
ng.
As are mine a few minutes later after Billy’s gathered everyone around my desk and Hazel’s presented me with a card. It’s huge and has a variety of scrawled farewells, including one from a name I don’t recognise (Sam) and I feel bad that I didn’t get to meet him or her. Hazel also gives me a beautiful plant. It looks like the red Christmas one whose name I can never remember… Poinsetta? Poinsettia… something like that, but pinker and more ‘flowery’.
“It’s a Monet Twilight,” Hazel explains.
“It’s beautiful,” I gush. I then get a round of applause at which I go bright red. Someone at the back shouts “Speech!” and I go even redder. I’m not one for being the centre of attention but I’m so grateful that I don’t mind on this occasion, stunned though I am. I remain seated and say, “I don’t know what to say, which is not like me.” Someone to my right laughs. “But I will just say a huge ‘thank you’ to you all. I’m sorry if I didn’t get to know you as much as I’d like to have done but I would like to say a special thanks to everyone who helped me with this project. In day order: James and Leah, the lunches.”
I search them out, conveniently stood next to each other, and they nod. “Nathan, Monday evenings.” He grins. “Frank, Tuesday nights… er evenings!” Frank blushes. “Greta Wednesdays.” She, I’m delighted to see, is holding hands with Owen. They both blush. “Billy Thursdays.”
“Sorry about the first one,” he says, to which I shake my head. Ancient history and I got Lussmanns in exchange. I look around and don’t see Phil so don’t need to mention the Fridays that didn’t happen. I’m not sure how he would have reacted anyway because things seem to have gone a little frosty again but I’ll make sure I at least say ‘goodbye’ on my way out. Someone will need to let me out of the car park as I’ll have handed back my passes. “And everyone else for being so lovely.”
My colleagues murmur then filter back to their desks, leaving Leah hovering. “Hello,” I say and wait for her to speak.
The Serial Dieter (The Serial Series Book 2) Page 40
