by Jenny Kane
‘They have?’ Jack frowned. ‘Peggy never said.’
‘Did you tell Peggy you had a restaurant opening soon?’
‘Good point. Go on.’
‘Well, the thing is, they’ve asked me to be the manager for the second branch. I haven’t told them if I’ll do it or not yet, but...’
Jack finished off the sentence left hanging in the air, ‘But she asked first, and you are a very kind and loyal person.’
‘That’s pretty much it, yes.’
‘I need a coffee. Can I get you anything?’
Waiting in the queue, Jack was unable to decide if it would make his opening of a restaurant on Pickwicks’ doorstep more or less acceptable to Peggy and Scott if they had another café elsewhere. He hadn’t yet told Megan where his new venture was based. Once he’d done that, she’d probably stay with Peggy anyway, and yet Jack couldn’t dismiss the feeling that she was more than tempted by his offer.
As he returned to their table, he knew one thing for sure: artistic talent like Megan’s should not be wasted. And he knew someone who would love her style. Someone he knew had the sort of money to pay for her art ... well, maybe he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
Sitting back down, Jack smiled. ‘Tell me about your art.’
Grateful to be able to put off the final moment of decision-making, Megan began to tell him all about her projects at college; about how she’d dreamt of having an exhibition in a gallery one day, and about her trip to help her friend Izzie sort a crisis.
‘I’m not sure I know Izzie?’
‘Sorry, Jack, I forgot you were away. Izzie, or Isadora if her mother is listening, set up her own art and coffee place in an abandoned medieval church in the Cotswolds. It’s so picturesque.’
Detecting a note of wistfulness in her voice, he asked, ‘What was the crisis?’
Megan smiled at the recollection, ‘A tree went through the church roof just before a famous choir were supposed to give their annual Christmas concert there. I ran the centre while Izzie got the place fixed up.’
‘Did it all get sorted in time?’
‘It was a near-run thing, and very eventful!’ She poured herself a cup of tea. ‘Why do you ask, Jack? I hadn’t got you down as being into art.’
‘You’d be astonished by what I like!’ He wiggled his eyebrows at her, playfully flirty.
Megan laughed. ‘No I wouldn’t! Amy and Kit are my friends too, remember!’
The mention of his friends took Jack back to the point of his enquiries. ‘Do you produce bigger pieces, or do you like to work on miniatures like those?’ He gestured towards her sketchbook.
‘Actually, the bigger the better.’ Megan found herself getting more enthusiastic and animated as she told Jack about the huge canvases she’d produced for her end of year project at college. They’d virtually been installations; abstract works of mad bright colours with small areas of intricately worked architectural features. ‘They were totally insane, looking back, but I loved them. I haven’t worked in large scale for a very long time.’
‘But you’d like to? If you had the space, I mean?’
‘I would, but as I said, that isn’t an option. Nick and I can’t even afford to rent a place together, let alone a place with studio space for me to indulge in splashing paint on canvases which I’d probably never sell anyway.’
Jack’s eyes returned to her sketchbook. ‘Would you mind if I had a look through that? You can say no, I understand that it might be private.’
Not quite sure where their conversation was leading, Megan pushed the sketchbook across the wooden surface, and sat uneasily while Jack took his time to study each and every page. Most of the pictures were of tiny details of buildings, tree bark, close-ups of leaves and flowers, and even the corner of the coffee machine at Pickwicks.
Suddenly Jack stopped and looked up. ‘This is Peggy!’
‘Yes. I did a few preliminary sketches. I’m drawing a portrait of her and Scott as a surprise for her birthday in August. You won’t tell her, will you?’
‘Of course not.’ Jack tore his gaze from the pictures. ‘I can’t believe Peggy is going to be fifty-five. She hasn’t changed since I first knew her.’
‘It’s staying busy that does it.’ Megan thought about her boss flitting around the café with twice the energy of her staff, even though they were nowhere near her age. Peggy. Her expression darkened. ‘Jack, I’ll be honest, I would like to take you up on your job offer, but how can I? Peggy’s been so good to me.’
Closing the sketchbook, Jack looked at Megan. ‘I know she has, but although Peggy would miss you, she’s not the sort of person who’d hold you back if you wanted to expand your horizons.’
‘Can I think about it a bit longer?’
‘Shall we say I need an answer by next Monday evening? That way, I can advertise if you say no.’ Jack shifted a little in his seat. ‘And of course, you ought to visit the restaurant, to see if you would actually like to work there.’
‘Thanks, Jack, that’s really kind of you. When is good for a look round?’
‘I’ll text you the address and we can sort a visiting time between your shifts at Pickwicks.’
Megan glanced at her watch. ‘Talking of which, I ought to head Richmond way now.’
As she got up, packing her possessions into a shoulder bag, Jack said, ‘Suddenly I find I have two propositions for you instead of one.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, the first – which is not dependent on the second – is if you would consider providing me with six square canvases showing architectural close-ups for the walls of my new bistro. They would look stunning in there. The second, as you already know, is to come and work for me as front of house manageress. I’d also be able to offer you working hours which would provide you with time to paint – as well as some studio space...’
Chapter Thirteen
Sunday 12th June
Helena stroked her short purple skirt into place and taking a step back, examined the tan of her long bare legs in the bathroom mirror, right down to her black beach shoes.
Taking a brush from her shoulder bag, she ran it through her hair, smiling at the purple and black effect that, despite having to pin it back at work, she loved. Then, making sure her small chest was shown off to its best under her figure-hugging black T-shirt, Helena looked herself straight in the heavily kohled eyes and said, ‘Go get him, girl!’
Rupert sat on the warm grass near the café with his young charges. Opening his palms in front of him, he displayed the earthworm he’d temporarily removed from the wormery he’d brought along to Kew.
Laughing along with the children, as they instantly divided into those who recoiled with cries of ‘Yuck,’ and those who crawled nearer with murmurs of ‘Cool!’, Rupert had just begun explaining how useful worms were to gardeners and farmers, and how much fun it was to keep a wormery, when he had the feeling he was being watched – and not just by his young audience.
His heart sank as he saw the vision in black and purple leading against a tree behind where his group were sat. Thinking fast, knowing that escape was not an option, Rupert fixed his fading smile in place, and passed the worm carefully around for those who wanted to touch it. ‘Be very, very gentle. Remember worms are living creatures, they work hard for us, and so we should respect them.’
A young boy put his hand up, ‘Rupert, is it true that worms will turn into two worms if you cut them in half?’
‘An excellent question, Jason. No, that’s a myth, I’m afraid. Sometimes the nerves in their bodies will keep them wriggling for a little while after they’ve been cut in half, but no, they will not survive.’
Wondering how many of his charges had experimented in that area, Rupert asked Jason to pass the wormery nearer. ‘Worms don’t like the heat, and as it is a very warm day, we should return this little chap to the cool earth now.’
Rupert was about to place the creature back in its home, when he suddenly had an idea. He knew
there was no way he was going to get out of there without Helena insisting they spent some time together. Perhaps he should put her on the spot.
‘Unless of course our grown-up observer would like to hold the worm?’
His expression challenging, daring her to say no in front of the children, Rupert offered the worm up towards Helena. ‘May I introduce you all to my boss’s daughter?’ He waved a hand towards the tree against which Helena lounged. ‘Say hello to Helena, everyone.’
Helena cursed inwardly as all the children chorused, ‘Hello, Helena.’ It had been her intention to keep this trip to see Rupert to herself. Now Rupert had introduced her to his class, probably believing he was being kind, she’d have to tell her parents she’d been to Kew.
Smiling back at them, Helena politely declined holding the worm, a species she had never been able to bring herself to touch. Watching Rupert with the children was an education in itself. He was so good with them. She smiled to herself. He was fantastic boyfriend material.
As Rupert dismissed his class into the waiting arms of their parents, he ignored the hovering spectre of Helena for a moment, and sat down at the nearest table. Pulling a ledger from his rucksack, he made a few notes about the session, including the number of attendees, and the new ideas for future classes that had come to him as he’d led the children on their mini wildlife odyssey. Then he checked his mobile, and was only partly surprised to see a missed call from his mother, as well as a text, asking her son to come and visit soon. Sighing, Rupert left the message unanswered and put his phone away.
When he couldn’t put it off any longer, he looked up. Helena was nowhere to be seen, and for a fleeting second Rupert was swamped with relief. The last thing he wanted was to make small talk with a young woman who, for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom, obviously found him attractive. All he wanted to do was head off in search of more opportunities to take shots for the photography competition he wanted to enter.
His relief was short-lived. A few seconds later Helena pushed open the double swing doors of the café, holding a tray containing two cans of cola and two glasses filled with ice.
Knowing he couldn’t blank her after she’d kindly bought him a drink, and not losing sight of the fact that she was Phil’s daughter (he didn’t want her reporting back to her father that he’d been mean), Rupert stifled a groan and prepared to delay his photographic session for an hour or so.
‘Those kids really love what you do, don’t they?’
Rupert’s face reddened as Helena sat down and made a play of crossing and uncrossing her undeniably attractive legs as she got comfortable on the chair opposite him. ‘Do you think so?’
‘Sure. None of my teachers ever made me laugh or captured my attention like you did with that lot. That’s quite a gift.’
‘Thank you.’ Rupert undid the ring pull of his drink. ‘And thanks for the drink. What I do is a bit different to normal teaching, though. I mean, you have to go to school, and the things you’re required to learn are set in stone. The children who come along to Kew all want to be here, and they all enjoy being outside and learning about nature.’
‘Makes sense.’ Helena looked about her properly for the first time. With the sun shining it was easy to see why her parents and Rupert loved this place so much. She, though, was a city girl through and through, and had never been one for the great outdoors. Maybe she just needed someone to show it to her properly ... ‘You love it here as well, don’t you?’
‘I do.’ Rupert felt relieved; talking about his work was safe ground. ‘I couldn’t believe it when your dad gave me the job. It really is dream-come-true stuff. I’ve adored Kew Gardens since I was a boy. I bet you’ve spent a lot of time here a lot as well.’
‘Mum used to bring us when we were small; Thomas and me, I mean. She liked us to run around and exhaust ourselves as much as possible before talking us home to bed.’
‘Sounds sensible to me.’ Rupert grinned; he could well imagine Helena and her twin brother being a total handful. ‘I might even have seen you guys playing here. Between terms at university I spent a lot of time at Kew trying to work out what I wanted to do when I grew up.’ Pushing his point home about the age gap between them, Rupert added, ‘When I was eighteen or nineteen you were probably six or seven, so it’s possible I witnessed the odd game of catch between you and Thomas.’
Not liking how the conversation had escaped from her, an image of her childhood self not being the one she wanted in Rupert’s head, Helena said, ‘So what do you usually do once your lesson is over?’
‘Oh, I stay.’ Rupert tapped his backpack. ‘I go for a long walk, take photographs, and generally enjoy being on my own for a while out of the madness of London.’
Not missing the mention of him wanting time alone, Helena felt a little awkward. Running a finger down the side of her cold glass, she licked the accumulated moisture off her fingertip. ‘You don’t like London?’
‘It’s OK. Bit too crowded for me. I like open spaces.’ Rupert glanced around him, hoping that the parents who’d lingered with their children to buy refreshments didn’t assume Helena was his girlfriend. He wished she’d cover herself up a bit as well; he thought she was asking for trouble walking around dressed like a gothic Barbie doll.
A glimmer of an idea to escape from his current uncomfortable situation slid into his mind. Fully aware that the real answer to the question was that she was there to see him, Rupert asked, ‘How come you’re not in full shopping mode on Oxford Street this morning then, Helena? You meeting your mates here later for a drink or something?’
‘Umm, yeah. That’s right.’ Helena took refuge in her drink.
Rupert clearly wasn’t interested in her yet. She was sure her mum was wrong about him being gay, though. Her mum was just paranoid after going out with Jack last century. The way Rupert had been eyeing her legs earlier, and the way his gaze kept dropping to her cleavage, was enough to tell her that.
Determined to give him the opportunity to get to know her well enough to fall for her properly, she rallied. ‘I’m early, though. Mum is obviously worrying about something again, so I thought I’d let my folks sort out whatever’s wrong without me hanging around.’
‘That was kind.’ Mentally awarding her a point for tactics, Rupert stretched his legs out. Perhaps he could bore her into giving up on him? ‘Would you like to walk with me while you wait, or are you staying here? I was planning to head over to the greenhouses on the other side of the gardens today.’
Hope leaping in her heart, Helena treated him to her best smile. He’d just asked her to walk with him. That sort of made this a date. ‘I’d love to. Thanks, Rupe.’
‘Helena, there is something you should know before we set off.’
Her breath caught in her throat. Was he about to tell her he wasn’t interested, or ask her out, or kiss her, or...
‘I hate being called Rupe. OK?’
She exhaled slowly, partly relieved, partly disappointed. ‘Oh. OK.’
Chapter Fourteen
Monday 13th June
Rupert kept his eyes fixed on the computer screen at the end of the shop counter, trying to decide what to do about Helena.
He had finally shaken her off after an hour of walking around the far recesses of Kew Gardens and listening to a barrage of questions about his family, his life, why he was working for her dad when he could be a rich lawyer, and some none-too-subtle enquiries about his last girlfriend, which he somehow managed to dodge by the strangely well-timed sighting of a (totally mythical) Triple-Tailed Warbler in a hedge to his left.
By the end of their conversation (a conversation which had basically been a monologue by Helena, with only the occasional punctuation of a one- or two-word answer by himself), Rupert had felt thoroughly grilled. Replaying everything that had been said in his head, he reassured himself that he hadn’t said too much, hadn’t led her on, and hadn’t confirmed if he was gay or straight, nor had he given her any reason to expect anything from him. S
till, he couldn’t shift the uneasy feeling that she wasn’t going to give up easily.
Unable to understand what she saw in him, Rupert groaned inwardly. Should he have told Helena that he was gay?
He closed his eyes and stretched his arms out to try and relieve some of the tension building in his limbs. He wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet. Not even when he was the only one there to listen, although deep down he knew there was no doubt. When he’d sat at the table with Jack and their mutual friends the other night, for example, he had been filled with enough excited curiosity about the very attractive openly gay man opposite him to confirm his preferences.
Opening a sales spreadsheet, Rupert failed to focus on the numbers before him, musing instead on the more immediate personal crisis. Should he tell Phil that Helena had been at Kew? Surely it would all blow over if he left it alone? She was merely a teenager with a crush ... although at eighteen, wasn’t she past the silly crush stage? He didn’t want to get Helena into trouble with her parents, but at the same time he didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from his boss. Especially as, after years of not knowing what he wanted to do with his life, he felt he was finally on the right career path.
Trying to distract himself from his thoughts, Rupert found himself tuning into the speculative conversation that was going on between Phil and Rob as they redid the shop’s window display behind him.
‘He hasn’t told you why he’s really back then?’ Phil frowned as he tried to balance a cuddly blue tit on the edge of a book display.
‘Just that he was ready to come back, and that he missed his friends.’
‘Do you buy that?’
‘Yes, but I doubt that’s all there is to it.’ Rob picked up a set of children’s picture books and passed them to his business partner. ‘The fact Jack returned without making a big theatrical fuss, or letting us know he was on his way first, makes me think he’s running away from something.’
‘You mean someone?’
