by Jenny Kane
‘You wish to rent the property?’
‘We do.’ Scott took his wife’s hand, ‘However, we’d like you to ask the landlord if he is open to a reduction in the monthly rent. The café is lovely, but it isn’t as big as stated on paper, and it won’t accommodate as many customers as we’d imagined.’
Making a note on his tablet, the agent said, ‘I can certainly enquire about that for you, Mr and Mrs McIntyre. As space equals income in a place like this, which of course translates into your ability to pay the rent, I can’t see there being a problem with it.’
Out in the bright sunlight of Mortlake’s main street ten minutes later, Peggy felt optimistic. ‘We really are going to have a second branch, aren’t we?’
Kissing the top of her long black hair affectionately, Scott said, ‘There’s only one question now.’
‘Only one? I can think of thousands!’
‘OK, so can I. But the main question is obvious: what shall we call it?’
‘I have no idea! “Pickwicks 2” isn’t exactly catchy, is it?’ Peggy held her husband’s arm tighter. ‘Oh, hell, this is so grown up!’
‘You aren’t kidding.’ Scott was about to add that it would also be worth the risk and all the extra hard work they’d have to put in, when his mobile rang.
‘Blimey, that was quick. Are you sure...’
Peggy made impatient what’s happened? gestures at Scott, who gave her a thumbs-up as he carried on listening, before saying, ‘Would Monday afternoon be convenient? About four o’clock ... Fine ... We’ll see you then. Thank you for acting so promptly, Mr Baxter.’
Standing as he saw Kit weaving through the tables, Jack pointed to the two large Americanos and heavily sugared Danish pastries he’d purchased in anticipation of her arrival. He was pleased to see she didn’t look as tired or drawn as she had the evening before.
‘I wasn’t sure this place would still be here.’ He gestured around the department store café, which had been their regular haunt for years before he had gone on his travels. ‘Thankfully it seems to have ridden out the recession, although I’m not sure how.’
‘I can’t remember the last time they changed the awful art on the walls!’
‘Does anyone ever buy this stuff?’
Kit smiled affectionately at her friend’s expression as he studied the tacky paintings that were hanging optimistically for sale on the cream walls, contrasting sharply with the garish carpet and dark wooden furniture. Then, returning to the matter in hand, she studied his face carefully, ‘Are my instincts correct, then?’
Jack, who hadn’t slept much at all, his head full of the night before, nodded as he took a sustaining draught of coffee. ‘Oh yes. Spot on.’
‘Damn!’ Kit, who’d been convinced she was right but had genuinely hoped her instincts were wrong this time, groaned. She didn’t want her own romantic history to repeat itself – especially not for her only daughter.
The previous evening, Jack had been surprised when Helena had joined him, her parents, and Rupert for dinner. But his surprise hadn’t lasted long. It was soon painfully obvious that his goddaughter had a serious crush on her father’s new colleague.
The fact that Helena had, while Phil had gone to fetch the takeaway, taken a shower, washed her striking new hairdo so that it looked attractively soft, and dressed in a miniskirt – which could possibly have doubled as a belt – and a suggestively low-cut top, before returning to the table that had been set for four and adding a fifth set of cutlery, had spoken volumes. Her parents, who’d assumed Helena would help herself to a portion of food and then promptly disappear into the living room to consume it in front of the television as usual, had worn expressions of amazement that had almost embarrassing.
Rupert hadn’t known where to look, but not for the reasons that Helena evidently hoped for. Jack had instantly understood precisely which question Kit had been about to ask him. He also saw that Helena’s gaydar was as appalling as her mother’s had been.
Throughout the evening, Helena had more or less ignored everyone else at the table, keeping her smiles and blatantly suggestive fork-fiddling for Rupert’s eyes only. It had been painful to watch. Jack had wondered if she was aware of how obvious she was being. Knowing Helena, he suspected she did.
Phil and Rupert had talked about the bookshop, the new natural history lessons, and the nature trail sessions Reading Nature ran in conjunction with Kew Gardens. Jack was fascinated to learn about the association Rob and Phil had built up with the world-famous gardens. Helena, he noted, had listened especially carefully to the list of future dates when Rupert would be teaching, alone, away from the watchful eye of her father.
To compound the problem, Jack, who had been wondering about the man in the gardens more than he would have liked to admit, had a suspicion that Rupert was not yet entirely comfortable with his sexuality. He was certainly giving out mixed signals. Jack couldn’t help feeling sorry for Helena, but he felt even sorrier for Rupert. It would be no easy task fending off Helena Lambert if she was on a mission to get her man. And if Rupert was at the stage where he’d much rather be straight, just to make it easier to deal with his family and life in general, then he might very well give in to Helena’s persuasions. Something, Jack knew, from far too much experience, he’d live to regret.
Kit took a bite of her Danish, sending icing sugar clouds into the air between them. ‘So, what should I do?’
‘What can you do?’
Shrugging, she drank her coffee. ‘I don’t want her to have to go through what ...’ She coloured, deciding against finishing her sentence.
‘It’s OK, I understand. You don’t want Helena to go through with Rupert what you went through with me. To be frank, neither do I. It would ultimately be awful for both of them, and no offence, Kit, but I can’t see Helena being as forgiving or understanding as you were.’
‘Neither can I.’
Jack experienced a small hit of guilt at the thought of what else he was going to have to ask Kit to forgive him once she knew he was opening his restaurant so near to Pickwicks, but for now he stuck to the subject of Rupert.
‘What sort of background does he come from? He comes across as a bit public school.’
‘You got it in one. Wealthy parents. Daunting father by all accounts. Apart from that he hasn’t said much about his life. Keeps himself to himself. Phil and Rob haven’t been able to find out about his home life; apart from the fact he’s single.’
Keeping the flutter of hope he felt inside his chest at the news that Rupert was unattached to himself, Jack said, ‘I got the impression he was a private person. All he talked about last night – alongside his polite non-answers to Helena’s barrage of personal questions – was work. I must say, I take my hat off to the man for dodging all her skilful enquiries. Has your daughter considered a career in MI5?’
Kit snorted a laugh. ‘She wants to be a teacher.’
‘She’ll be bloody good at it. Bet she’ll terrify the kids into working hard.’ Jack caught the look on Kit’s face. ‘Sorry, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean to be rude about Helena.’
‘I sometimes wish I was more like her. I have no idea where her assertive side comes from. Not Phil or me, that’s for sure! And Thomas is as laid-back as they come.’
‘Mix-up at the hospital maybe?’ Jack winked, ‘Except, of course, that purple hair apart, she is so like you it’s startling. She’s a very beautiful young woman.’
‘Flattery will get you a refill. More coffee?’
‘Please.’
Watching Kit queue up for the drinks, Jack’s mind returned to Rupert. He knew he could be reading things wrong, but the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that Rupert was stuck in the not-wanting-to-disappoint-his-parents trap. If he came from a wealthy, traditional family, then he probably didn’t want to let them down by not giving them grandchildren. Remembering his own struggles with such feelings, Jack had the urge to help. But how can I help? I always mess things up when
I try to make things better, especially as I find Rupert attractive. Damn. I wish I’d never seen him teaching those kids. I might not have fancied him at all then.
Jack knew he was in denial. In the quiet of the night before he had daydreamed about going on long walks with Rupert, hand in hand, talking about nature, taking photos, planning restaurant menus together ... It had disturbed him how romanticised his thoughts had been. Somehow, the happy pictures Jack’s imagination created while he was awake were far more disturbing than his usual night time visions of lustful bedroom encounters.
Sighing to himself, a whole nightmare of potential emotional turmoil spreading out ahead of him in his mind, Jack thanked Kit as she put a brimming coffee cup in front of him.
‘So, what should I do about Helena?’
‘Does she know you suspect Rupert’s gay?’
‘Yes. She told me I was being ridiculous, and gave me the whole, “you don’t want me to be happy” routine. You remember the one; I’m sure every teenager uses that against their parents at some point.’
Jack, who could remember almost that exact sentence flying from his own youthful mouth on several occasions, nodded bleakly. ‘Then all I can suggest is you let it run its course.’
‘But what if...’
Jack raised his hand, ‘Kit, Helena isn’t you, and Rupert isn’t me. Helena is far more self-aware than you ever were, and I get the impression that Rupert has far more common sense, and is a much nicer man, than I have ever been. I don’t think he’ll lead her on. I suspect he finds the whole thing a bit embarrassing.’
‘And if the gay thing wasn’t enough of a problem, he is way too old for her.’
‘How old is he then?’
‘Thirty. Twelve years older than Helena. I know that isn’t really a massive gap at our age, but it is at hers – if that makes any sense.’
Keeping quiet the thought that the age gap between Rupert and himself was a similar one, Jack said, ‘It makes sense. We all change a lot between eighteen and thirty.’
Kit ran a hand through her short red hair. ‘I don’t want her to get hurt.’
‘I don’t think there’s any way you can prevent that. I wish there was.’ He sighed before changing the subject, ‘But there is something we can tackle, isn’t there.’
She frowned. ‘There is?’
‘Your writer’s block. You were about to tell me last night, before the arrival of the takeaway, about how the kids leaving home is affecting your work.’
Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Kit cradled her coffee. ‘It is silly, isn’t it? I knew they were leaving, I’ve known for ages, but now it all seems so real. What am I going to do with my time? What am I for if I’m not there for the twins?’
‘And Amy is having a baby.’ Jack left the sentence hanging in the air for a second before saying, ‘I take it the fact that one of your closest friends is starting a family when you feel as if you are about to lose yours hasn’t helped.’
Kit gaped at him. ‘How the hell did you work that out?’ She coloured, feeling ashamed, ‘I am an awful human being.’
‘No you aren’t. And if you are, then so am I!’
‘You are? Why?’
‘Let’s just say that it was a bit of a shock when I found out that Amy was pregnant. Not that I resent her and Paul their happiness one bit, but, well ...’ Jack flicked his gaze at Kit’s to make sure she wasn’t looking at him with disgust before he carried on, ‘I’ve made many mistakes over the years, but on the whole I don’t regret my life – but if I’m honest I would have loved children. Seeing the woman I thought I might have children with one day expecting someone else’s...’
He shook his head abruptly. ‘I can’t even finish that sentence. I never deserved her, and some things aren’t meant to be. I mean, can you imagine me as a father! Poor child would be scarred for life.’
Kit moved around the table, and sat next to him, putting her hand on his knee. ‘Oh, Jack, we’re a right pair, aren’t we.’
‘We sure are.’ Jack knocked back the remains of his coffee. ‘And now I have to head into the wilds of the city. I have a potential restaurant to view. You want walking to Pickwicks? I may pop in and say hello to everyone on the way.’
‘Thanks, but I’m off home. I need to phone my publisher. I have some explaining to do.’
Peering through the doorway of Pickwicks, Jack was surprised to find it was relatively quiet, with no sign of either Peggy or Scott. Helena, her hair pinned neatly back, was serving a group in the far corner of the café, and Megan was wiping tables near the door.
‘Hi, Megan, how you doing?’
‘Hello, Jack, I heard you were back. Long time no see. I’m good. You?’
‘Great, thanks.’ Jack, still in two minds if he was doing the right thing or not, said, ‘Actually, Megan, could I have a word in private sometime soon?’ He passed her a card with his phone number on it. ‘Can you give me a quick ring? I might have a job for you. Keep it under your hat for now, I don’t want to upset Peggy or cause you any trouble.’
Chapter Twelve
Saturday 11th June
Sitting in the opulent café of the Victoria and Albert Museum, Megan was trying to distract her troubled conscience by sketching some of the abstract patterns from the nineteenth-century architecture around her.
She half-wished that she’d already agreed to the new job Peggy had offered her before Jack had made his offer. She felt torn between what she felt she ought to do, and what her dwindling bank balance told her she should do.
How could she possibly choose? Peggy and Scott still hadn’t told their friends that they were investing in another branch, let alone that they wanted her to run it for them. Scott hadn’t wanted to jinx things by announcing anything before the contract had been agreed.
If she did agree to the job at ‘Pickwicks 2’, then she would be the manager, responsible for everything that went on at the new café. Jack, on the other hand, had offered Megan the post of head of staff and floor manager of a classy restaurant, with greater responsibility, a far larger wage, and fresh challenges. It wasn’t that she no longer enjoyed her waitressing job, but a nagging feeling that she could be doing more with her life had planted itself in her head, and she hadn’t been able to shift it.
Trying to weigh up her options, Megan ran everything through her mind one more time as she drew soothing strokes of charcoal across her paper. She critically examined the picture she was creating. It was good, but she knew she’d been capable of better when she was an art student. If only she could make her art pay ... but until she and Nick had a place of their own there was nowhere with enough space for her to create the large-scale pieces she used to work on. Besides, she thought with a sigh, the chances of them being able to rent anywhere big enough to swing a cat, let alone squeeze an easel into, were slim – and renting studio space in London cost enough to make your hair curl...
When she’d been out with Nick yesterday evening, he’d advised her that she had nothing to lose by listening to what Jack had to say. She could always say no to whatever he was proposing.
She had never been very good at saying no...
Laying down the charcoal pencil she was using to shade the section of window she was reproducing on paper, Megan sighed again. Jack was due to join her at any minute, and she still had absolutely no idea what her answer was going to be. Although Jack had made his employment proposal sound glittering and un-refusable, she had a feeling she hadn’t got the full story from him yet, and until she had all the facts she wasn’t going to agree to anything at all.
Jack could see Megan sitting on a bench at the edge of the café. He watched her for a while. Unlike Kit or Amy always did, she did not have a steaming cup of coffee before her, but some sort of notebook, which she was staring at intently, before looking up at the high-windowed ceiling.
‘I’m impressed.’ He had walked quietly through the packed tables of tea drinkers. He spoke softly, not wanting to make Megan jump and therefore rui
n the exquisite detail she was adding to the drawing. ‘I had no idea you could draw.’
‘Oh hello, Jack. Sorry, I didn’t hear you arrive.’
‘That is beautiful. Where did you learn to do that?’
‘I went to art college, and it’s always been a hobby. Do you really like it?’
‘Yes.’ Jack sat and marvelled at the softness of the strokes before him. Somehow, Megan had captured the very essence of the tiny portion of window mullion she’d been sketching. It was almost tangible, as if he touched the picture he’d feel the real stonework. ‘You could make a living from pictures like this, you know. Ever considered making art your career?’
‘There’s nothing I’d like more, but artists in London are ten a penny. It isn’t that simple. You have to know the right people to be in with a shot, and I don’t.’
He inclined his head silently, as if he was about to say something else, but then turned to the matter in hand instead. ‘Have you thought about my offer? It was entirely genuine, and as of last night, the premises I’ve been after are mine, all but for the exchange of the final piece of paperwork.’
Megan kept her eyes on her charcoal smudged fingers. ‘The thing is, Jack, I would like to, but...’
‘You don’t want to let Peggy down.’
‘Exactly. She and Scott have been very good to me.’
‘Which is why I asked you confidentially. I didn’t want to put you on the spot in front of your colleagues. They were wonderful when Amy gave up her waitressing job for pastures new, weren’t they. I’m sure Peggy would understand that you’d welcome the opportunity for promotion. I can’t imagine she thought you’d stay a waitress for ever.’
Megan looked uncomfortable; not wanting to break her word to Peggy, but not sure how else she could explain her quandary.
‘Jack, I am going to have to break a confidence here. I am asking you to respect that.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Peggy and Scott have taken on a new branch. A second Pickwicks coffee house.’
