by Jenny Kane
‘Medieval stuff tends to stay the same, you know, even if you leave it unattended for a month!’
‘You know what I mean! Your staff, and the exhibitions, and school visits, and tourists and everything?’
Panic had suddenly gripped Amy, although she couldn’t explain why. Paul being around to help her for much longer than she’d assumed should have been comforting – but now she was feeling even more anxious than before.
Swallowing back the sensation that she was being swamped by life, Amy shared her own news. ‘Looks like we’ve solved the problem of maternity cover for me too.’
‘That’s fantastic.’ Paul started fussing round, pulling off her shoes and plumping up sofa cushions. ‘I can really take care of you now. Do you think I should start my leave before the baby comes, or only once you go into labour?’
‘Paul, did you hear what I said?’ Amy, who had a premonition that if she didn’t stop him fussing around her now she was going to be sick of it by bedtime, let alone by the time their child arrived, spoke firmly. ‘Stop dancing around like a demented Mary Poppins and sit down a minute.’
‘Sorry, love, I’m just so excited!’
‘Me too, but if you wear yourself out now trying to look after me when all I want to do is rest, then you’ll have no energy left for baby duty. That’s when I’m really going to need your help.’
‘Can’t argue with that.’ Paul cuddled up next to his wife. ‘Go on then, how have you solved the maternity cover crisis? Weren’t the interviews supposed to be next week?’
‘The answer was there all the time. Right in the office. It’s insane that Chris and I didn’t see it before.’
‘What answer?’
‘Lauren.’
‘Your PA?’
‘Yes. She’s bright, quick-witted, and although she is a bit shy, that’ll soon change once she’s tackled a few of our more, shall we say, delicate customers. She already knows how Home Hunters runs, is used to Chris’s little ways, and won’t want to hound me out of my job when I go back.’
‘And what about the other people who applied? You’ll still have to interview them.’
‘Yes, but neither of them are up to it on paper. The best candidate of the two could easily do Lauren’s current job for a few months instead, though.’
Paul looked at his wife levelly. ‘And if, when the baby is here you can’t bear the thought of going back to work full-time, you and Lauren might be able to job share?’
‘How did you know I was thinking about that?’
‘Could be because I’m psychic – or it could be because I have a feeling you won’t want to go back at all, not even part-time?’
‘You are marvellous!’ Amy kissed Paul hard. ‘But as we live in London I know that not working at all isn’t an option. Part-time though: I’d love that. Anyway, the only advice Kit has given me so far is to keep a tiny toe-hold on adult life, otherwise parenthood overtakes everything. Which she says is great for a while, but boredom is only an inch away if you aren’t careful.’
‘Kit said that?’
‘Yep.’
‘That isn’t true, is it?’ Paul looked shocked.
Amy couldn’t help but laugh, ‘I expect it is. Nothing but nappies, feeding, and lack of sleep for weeks – it doesn’t sound madly stimulating for the brain, however worthwhile it is. Kit may well have a point.’
‘Suppose so. But I’ll stick to my idea that it will be wonderful from start to finish if that’s OK with you.’
‘Daft man, you ...’ Amy inhaled a sharp breath. ‘Ouch!’
Paul sat up quickly. ‘Are you alright? What is it?’
Amy sat up, and tried to breathe slowly as her stomach briefly went rock solid, and then relaxed again, ‘Bloody hell.’
‘Amy?’
‘Don’t worry.’ Amy exhaled slowly, and then paled as it happened again.
‘God, you’re not in labour now, are you? We don’t start classes until next week!’ Paul had gone nearly as pale as his wife as he held her hand.
Shaking her head firmly, Amy said nothing, but pointed to the pregnancy book on the table.
Picking it up, Paul showed her page after page until she nodded. He read out loud, ‘Braxton Hicks are sometimes called practice contractions. They are sporadic uterine contractions that can start early in pregnancy, but are not usually felt until the third trimester; and mostly occur in the final two months of pregnancy. Hell, you’ve got those?’
Amy did her best to relax back against the sofa. ‘Yes. I’ve had a couple before, but I didn’t want to worry you.’
‘That is so fantastic! Means it won’t be long.’ Paul’s reaction, his face a picture of excitement, sent her into a further mini panic.
‘But I’m not ready! I haven’t got everything I need yet. We haven’t had any antenatal lessons, and that was bloody painful! If I can’t stand a few of those Braxton things, how on earth will I cope with real labour?’
Chapter Twenty-one
Friday 18th July
Guilty for not having been in touch with Amy to check on how she was, Jack’s conscience had finally got the better of him. Determined not to talk about himself – and especially not the bistro – he’d made the call, and was immediately delighted to hear that Amy had managed to reduce her pre-maternity leave working hours.
‘That’s fantastic news.’ He pushed the pile of notes he’d been making away from the edge of the table and rested his bottom against it as he spoke to Amy down the phone. ‘So does that mean you can leave work earlier than you planned?’
‘Sort of.’ Amy gave an encouraging nod across the office to Lauren, who was being shown how to use their database by Chris. ‘I will have to keep coming in every day, but I can finish at two each afternoon.’
‘That sounds far more manageable.’
‘You aren’t kidding. It’s about three o’clock that I start to flag, so being home by then will be a Godsend.’
‘Wasn’t Lauren the one I spoke to when I went looking for you?’
Amy laughed as she turned from watching her secretary come to grips with one of the facets of her job, and switched on her PC. ‘That’s her; the poor girl thought you were hot.’
‘Well, if you’ve got it!’
‘Cocky as ever, Mr Brown.’
‘Cock something anyway, as I was –’
Amy laughed louder. ‘Stop right there, Jack, I’m at work!’
‘Oh alright then, I’ll behave.’ Faking a sulk down the phone, Jack moved away from the table. ‘I’d better let you go and be a mega-successful corporate businesswoman then.’
‘Before you go and rustle up more for that menu of yours, any news on Helena and Rupert?’
Jack felt a cold shiver, ‘How do you mean?’ Surely Rupert hadn’t given into her advances? Helena is lovely, stunning, clever – and female. Jack could see all the potential disasters that faced Rupert lining up inside his head...
Oblivious to the crisis going on in Jack’s mind, Amy said, ‘Has Rupert managed to convince Helena to back off yet? I can’t understand why she won’t take her mother’s word when Kit says Rupert is gay.’
‘Would you have believed anyone if they’d told you I was gay when we were her age?’
Amy was quiet for a second. ‘I suppose not. But why doesn’t Rupert tell her himself? I don’t get it.’
‘Because, my darling ex, he isn’t ready to know it himself. Even if he is sure, he isn’t ready to acknowledge it yet, and that is his prerogative.’ Not wanting to go any further with that particular conversation, sure Amy would detect his over-interest if he did, Jack changed the subject. ‘Right, I’d better go back to hunting for staff.’
‘No luck yet?’
‘To be fair, I haven’t tried very hard yet. I was sort of hoping I’d encounter someone suitable.’
‘You mean you’d pinned all your hopes on Megan and hadn’t considered she’d resist your charms?’
‘How did you know?’ He sighed. ‘To be honest, I think s
he’d have taken the job if Peggy and Scott hadn’t decided to expand their own empire at the same time.’
‘Most inconsiderate of them.’
‘Are you being sarcastic, Mrs Donahue?’
‘Yes. Now go and get some job adverts placed. I really do have to go and make hotshot business decisions.’
Jack hung up, a warm glow inside him. Life might not be perfect now he was back in Richmond, what with Peggy continuing hostilities, and his sexual self-denial wasn’t proving easy, but being able to chat to Amy and Kit again, not to mention Rob, Paul, and Phil, was definitely worth coming home for.
Reading through his advertising plan, Jack called the first of the local newspapers on his list.
Peggy hung up the phone after talking to the marketing girl at the local paper, having placed a small advert for waitressing staff for their new premises. She glanced at the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall: there wasn’t long until the planned opening in August. Suddenly there seemed to be so much to do – including choosing a name for the place, booking a signwriter, and most important of all, finalising the contract. The owner of the café had taken a holiday and, although all was above board and going to plan according to their solicitor, she knew she wouldn’t relax until all the dotted lines had signatures on them.
Looking around her small domain, Peggy felt a familiar rush of contentment. Pickwicks was the love of her life, apart from Scott, and had been for so long now that she couldn’t help feeling as though she was cheating on it by even considering another branch.
‘Silly woman!’ she muttered to herself as she wiped the tables, and cast an eye over the flowers, seeing which required replacing and which were in desperate need of water.
Her anger at Jack had evaporated, but she was sure it would do him good to feel out of favour for a while. He’d always been too full of himself in her opinion, and although she couldn’t deny that he had a kind streak, he could certainly do with being taken down a peg or two.
She knew that what annoyed her most was the fact that Jack didn’t have to open at all during the day – he was wealthy enough not to have to work full stop – but still planned on opening his bistro at three o’clock daily. Rationally, she was sure Megan was right; they wouldn’t affect each other’s trade. They were too different – plus Pickwicks closed at five anyway, so realistically they could share customers, not steal them from each other.
Even so, Jack’s decision to open on their doorstep grated. Thank goodness they’d hung onto Megan. If he’d taken her away, Peggy knew she’d never been able to forgive him.
Putting the phone down, Jack ticked ‘call papers’ off his incredibly long to-do list, and was about to tackle the next task, when his conversation with Amy began to echo around his head.
Kit had asked him to help with the Helena and Rupert situation, but he hadn’t wanted to get involved. Still, he didn’t want his goddaughter’s heartbroken as badly as her mother’s had been – and he certainly didn’t want Rupert to have to go through the guilt he’d been through when he’d walked out on both Amy and Kit.
With a vague feeling he was interfering where he shouldn’t, Jack called Reading Nature. If Rupert answered the phone, then fate was telling him to help. If Rob or Phil answered, fate was telling him it was time he asked his mates if they’d like to go to the pub later.
Looking up from his coffee cup, Jack allowed himself a glance towards the door before telling himself off for acting like a lovestruck teenager. This meeting was not a date. This was a bit of kindly advice for Rupert before his life got out of control. Nonetheless, he felt oddly nervous, and didn’t like how the sensation in his stomach reminded him of when he’d first met Toby...
A voice at the back of his head kept prodding him, telling him Rupert wouldn’t have agreed to come for a coffee if he hadn’t felt something in return. Jack stamped the voice down.
I am not going down that road again. I’m just not.
He had given up watching out of the window of the café near the bookshop, and was reading a newspaper when Rupert finally came through the door, and signalled to the waitress, who knew him from all the take-out coffees he’d ordered for the bookshop, for his usual caramel latte.
‘I’m so sorry I’m late. We had a lunchtime rush.’
Smiling up at the younger man, Jack nodded. ‘That’s good. I remember when we used to go days without any customers at all.’
‘We have the odd day like that, but mostly we have a steady trickle of people, and at lunchtime, and post-school, we tend to be borderline busy.’
‘Sure you’re OK leaving Rob to it then?’
‘It’s my lunch break.’ Rupert, whose insides had been doing backflips ever since Jack had asked if he had time for a quick chat, was determined to keep things casual. The last thing he wanted was any emotional complications. ‘It’s good to see you, Jack, but to what do I owe the pleasure?’
Stirring the remains of his Americano, Jack decided to dive straight in. ‘I’m risking offending you, to be honest. I’m on a mission at the request of Kit, and Amy as well, really. And thinking about it, on my own behalf too. After all, she is my goddaughter...’
Rupert frowned. He suspected he already knew what Jack was about to say, but hoping he was wrong, asked, ‘Who is? And what are you talking about?’
‘Helena.’ Jack pushed the cold coffee dregs away, ‘Look, Rupert, I know it is absolutely none of my business, but you are going to have to tell her. I know you aren’t ready, I know it won’t be easy, and I know you’ll hate it because it’ll mean upsetting someone – worse, it will mean upsetting your boss’s daughter. But if you don’t tell her it is going to get one hell of a lot worse.’
Feeling defensive, Rupert’s expression clouded. ‘And what makes you such an expert?’
‘I think I need another cup of coffee before I answer that.’
Rupert watched Jack get up and order, trying not to feel annoyed. He wasn’t sure if he was angry that his personal life was being interfered with, or because his choice of when to come out was being taken away from him by events beyond his control.
Sitting back down, Jack sighed. ‘Look, I know you’re cross. I would be as well, but if you don’t come out, at least to Helena, you are going to have to live with one hell of a lot of guilt for a very long time. Especially, if you decide that maybe you’ll give it a go with her just because it would be easier than saying no, on the faint chance that you might be straight after all.’
Rupert’s voice was barely a murmur. ‘How the hell did you know that I was considering that?’
‘I think it’s time I told you a story. The story of my friends Amy and Kit, and me. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin...’
Chapter Twenty-two
Saturday 9th July
With Jack’s words of warning from the previous day ringing in his ears, Rupert had found he was unable to relax during his morning class at Kew in case Helena popped up again. Now, having been blissfully uninterrupted by any purple-haired young women, he was enjoying an off duty walk around Kew Gardens with his camera.
Skirting the Princess of Wales Conservatory, he decided to take up position and sit quietly where he was until a bird worth photographing came along. And if one didn’t come by, then at least he was out of view of anyone who might, possibly, be searching for him.
With his back resting against the trunk of an oak tree, his ears soaking up the chatter of unseen birds, Rupert mulled over everything Jack had told him. At first the story had seemed unbelievable, and yet he knew it was all true – the conversations he’d overheard between Rob and Phil were enough to confirm the truth of the dramas Jack described. There was no doubt that in telling Rupert he needed to come clean with Helena, the man knew what he was talking about.
Rupert had felt increasingly awkward as he’d listened to Jack revealing his personal history. Not just because he always found it difficult to listen to other people’s confidences, but because he knew he’d been dangerously c
lose to heading down the same road himself.
The problem, apart from not finding women attractive, was that he was pretty sure he wouldn’t fancy Helena even if he was straight. She was too confident for him; too full of herself. And yet, the idea that he should try and go out with her, just to see if it could work, had persisted – right up until Jack had met him yesterday.
Suddenly, the thought of being with Helena made him shudder against the tree trunk in a way that made Rupert ashamed of himself. Jack had talked a lot of sense, and although the idea scared him to the bone, it was time for him to man up. Time to be proud of who he was.
Closing his eyes against the ray of sunshine that flickered through the canopy of leaves above, Rupert knew he was lucky. He wouldn’t have to explain himself to his workmates or his new friends. In fact, as Jack had already informed him that they’d assumed he was gay from day one, there was no big announcement to make. All Rupert had to do was carry on being himself – except for the problem of Helena. That had to be addressed. And so did the other problem...
He fished his mobile out of his pocket. His mother had called again. Deciding to deal with the Helena issue first, he hesitantly stuffed the phone away again.
Making up his mind to go to Pickwicks on his next day off to talk to her, he allowed himself time to ignore the unpleasant task of upsetting someone, and began to indulge in a Jack-fuelled daydream.
‘Hello, you.’
Rupert sat up with a start, embarrassingly aware that his daydream had begun to develop definite fantasy qualities, and the way he was sitting could well be showing off this fact far too clearly for his liking. His face bright red, he asked, ‘How did you know I was here?’
Leaning against a nearby tree, giving Rupert an excellent view of her legs, Helena said, ‘Dad mentioned you were taking more photographs today. I’d love to see them sometime.’
‘But this place is huge! You must have been searching for me for absolutely ages.’
‘Only a little while. I was sure you’d be tucked away hunting out potential pictures.’
