Another Glass of Champagne

by Jenny Kane

  ‘It will.’

  Jack could feel his body moving in towards Rupert, even though every part of his brain was telling him he’d only hurt him, and he shouldn’t really, he really...

  ‘Honestly, Jack! You shouldn’t rob them from the local High School. Especially when you and I have unfinished business!’

  Gareth Kennedy stood in the bistro doorway. ‘You two kids are so cute. You didn’t even hear me knock, did you?’

  Furious, Jack stood up. ‘That’ll be because I’d bet my pension on the fact that you didn’t bloody knock. What the hell do you want, Gareth?’

  ‘What do I want? Quick bunk-up in the kitchen as usual, if you’re offering.’

  Rupert, his face ablaze with humiliated embarrassment, got up, grabbed his jacket, and wordlessly strode to the door.

  ‘Rupert, it isn’t what you think, it’s...’

  Jack’s words fell on empty space.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Tuesday 19thJuly

  Rupert had given up the struggle for sleep by five o’clock that morning, and by seven he was sat at his desk in the corner of Reading Nature.

  Twenty-four hours ago he had dared to hope that perhaps he’d found someone was capable of understanding accepting him for who he was. A close friend, if not a potential partner, who’d already faced many of the hurdles associated with not being straight. Someone to confide in.

  It felt like a lifetime had passed since then.

  Fool.

  The close-ups of leaves he had photographed on his last trip to Kew began to merge together on the screen before him as he faced the fact that Jack’s reputation was true. How could he have been so stupid as to imagine it would be different with him?

  Closing his eyes and counting to ten, Rupert switched the computer off and threw himself into planning the next month’s worth of children’s natural history lessons. No way was he getting suckered into any games, least of all by someone as notorious as Jack Brown.

  Jack couldn’t sleep. His head screamed in time with his fast-growing hangover, and he didn’t know where he was.

  Holding in his cries of self-loathing so he didn’t disturb the man who was fast asleep beside him, Jack kept his firmly eyes shut. Whatever he did seemed to upset people. It didn’t matter that he never meant to; that even when he was trying hard not to, he still did. Oh, what’s the point!

  Yesterday, when he’d been sat on his new sofa with Rupert talking about Megan and websites and commissions, Jack had felt right. Not just right, but braver somehow. He had even contemplated being the better man and passing on Gareth’s contact details to Megan so they could talk potential art projects for Kennedy’s. Feeling guilty because he knew he couldn’t possibly do that now because Gareth would misinterpret the move as affection, Jack wondered how the hell he always managed to mess things up so spectacularly.

  Now, more than ever before, Jack saw that his determination not to have any sort of relationship had been the right thing to do. If he needed proof of that, the last twenty-four hours had given him just that. The instant he’d relaxed with Rupert everything had gone wrong. In a fit of self-pity and frustration, after he’d tried calling Rupert a few times and found his mobile switched off, Jack had chucked in the towel on his recently acquired principles and gone clubbing.

  At first it had been a sobering experience. Walking into Heaven, after an absence of a few years, he found he was much older than the majority. But that hadn’t been a problem for long. Within ten minutes Jack had found himself under the unflinching scrutiny of a twentysomething blond called Andy, who had even more confidence with the boys than he did.

  Than he used to have.

  Now, as Jack lay next to Andy in his uncomfortable double futon, the sheets between them twisted and neglected, Jack found himself face to sleeping face with himself from twenty years ago. The thought made his headache thump twice as hard.

  He’d have to go and apologise to Rupert in person, and fast, before word got back to Kit and Amy via Rob and Phil. Idiot! Jack mentally listed the hundreds of things he ought to do that day to get the bistro ready for its opening. Not to mention the preparations he wanted to make for the job interview he was conducting that afternoon.

  Taking a last look at the sleeping Adonis next to him, Jack, with a stealth developed from years of experience, crept out of bed, scooped up his clothes, dressed, and escaped into early morning London without a backward glance.

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘No one. But Rob called Paul and Paul called me, to tell me that Rupert hasn’t spoken a word all morning and that Phil suspected you had something to do with his black mood.’

  ‘Oh, great!’

  ‘Are you going to let me in, Jack?’ Amy rubbed her back as she stood on the bistro doorstep. ‘Us pregnant women types need a sit down every ten minutes you know, especially after a hard day at work. Time for a chat, perhaps?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to cause trouble, you know. I never do. It just seems to happen.’

  ‘So you keep saying.’ Amy tilted her head to one side and looked at her ex carefully. She had never seen him so defeated. ‘Come on, Mr Brown, tell me all about it.’

  Having thought better of turning up at Reading Nature dressed in the clothes another man had taken off him only a few hours before, Jack had gone straight home. After taking the longest shower ever, he had tried – and failed – to call Rupert twice more.

  Deciding that if Rupert didn’t want to talk to him, and acknowledging that wasting time he didn’t have crossing London to set the record straight wouldn’t change anything, Jack had done the sensible thing. After sending a text saying that he could explain about Gareth – but not mentioning his clubbing experience – Jack had prepared for the front of house manager interview, submitted the first three months’ worth of menus to the printers, and made a start on a press release for the bistro’s grand opening. He’d been about to get himself some coffee before the interview candidate arrived at five o’clock, when Amy had knocked at the door.

  Herbal tea now to hand, Amy stretched her legs out on the reception sofa, and having listened to all the gory details of Jack’s most recent adventure said, ‘What does this Gareth guy actually want, then?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ Jack shrugged. ‘To stir things up for me. Make trouble. He said something about looking for art, but I don’t buy that for a minute.’

  ‘Could he be worried about the competition? Work-wise I mean, not personally?’

  ‘I can’t see why. Kennedy’s is in another part of the country, for goodness’ sake. Anyway, his restaurant is excellent; it has a great reputation, plus the food he serves is quite different from what I intend to do. And arrogant though I can be, I honestly don’t think he has come all this way because he can’t get enough of my body.’

  ‘You’re growing up at last, aren’t you.’

  ‘Cheeky!’ Jack smiled for a second before the gloom re-descended.

  ‘So ... Rupert then?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘OK, no need to be so defensive! I’ve heard nice things about him.’

  ‘Even from Helena?’

  ‘That’s a rather different situation.’

  ‘He was very grateful to you and Kit. I heard all about it via Phil. Helena hardly gave Rupert the chance to speak. He couldn’t get a word in edgeways to explain her misunderstanding.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Amy put her empty cup down and swung her legs off the sofa. ‘What are you going to do then, Jack?’

  Jack looked at his watch, ‘I have an interview with a bloke called Mike in half an hour for the front of house job, and then I need to make a list of all the last minute things I have to sort before I open. I can’t believe how close that is now!’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ Amy patted her bump, and immediately wished she hadn’t as it tightened uncomfortably. ‘Actually, I meant what are you going to do about Gareth and Rupert?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Jack knocked his cup back onto its saucer.
‘Until Gareth tells me what he’s up to I shall ignore him. I’m not interested in playing games with him. As to Rupert, well ... I’ve thought about it, and he’s better off without me. He’s a lovely guy. He deserves better than someone who shags anyone that happens to be passing whenever the going gets tough.’

  Amy tilted her head to one side. ‘I’m never seen you so ashamed of your actions before. Not like this. You’re seriously cross with yourself about last night, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Picking up her bag, Amy said, ‘I’d better let you get ready for Mike to arrive. Fingers crossed he’s the perfect chap for the job. I want to pop in and see how Peggy and Scott are getting on with their own plans for world domination before I run out of steam.’

  Jack hugged her. ‘Thanks for coming over. Can I ask you something before you go?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘How’s Megan doing setting up Pickwicks 2?’

  ‘OK, I think. It’s not long until that opens either.’

  ‘Do they have a name for it yet, or is it really going to be called Pickwicks 2?’

  ‘Not that I know of. Have you got a name for this place yet?’

  ‘Yep, but for now I’m keeping my lips sealed.’

  ‘Fair enough! Right then, I must go, or I’ll end up being on your interview panel.’

  ‘One more question?’ Jack spoke quietly, and Amy instantly worried about what he was going to say.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Do you still want me to be godfather? I would totally understand if you’d changed your mind. I’m hardly good example material, am I?’

  Amy stared at Jack and shook her head. ‘Oh, you silly little gay person!’ She kissed him hard on his designer-stubbled cheek. ‘You were top of the list from the start. Now, get on with doing what needs doing today, then text Rupert again. Invite him for a taster meal session like you discussed with him yesterday. Ignore this Gareth guy, and get this place ready for my baby’s naming party at the start of September. Yes?’

  Jack couldn’t speak, but his expression flooded with gratitude.

  ‘Now, I have a question for you before I go.’

  ‘Anything, Amy. Anything.’

  ‘Please can I use your bathroom?’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Tuesday 19th July

  Amy arrived at Pickwicks in time to let the last customer out of the door. She found Peggy behind the counter packing supplies for the new café.

  ‘Hi, Amy, great timing! Could you be an angel and close up for me?’ Peggy gestured to the unaccustomed muddle in front of her. ‘As you can see I’m a bit up to my eyes in it.’

  Flipping the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’ and bolting the door, Amy asked, ‘Can I help? I’m no good at heavy lifting right now, but I can do everything else. Tables need a wipe?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Megan’s about to do that. She’s stacking the dishwasher. Kit’s in the kitchen, she’ll be out in a minute. You could help me wrap these spare plates in bubble wrap so they don’t break on the way to the new place.’

  ‘No problem. How come they weren’t delivered straight there?’

  ‘These are just extras we don’t need here. Saving a few pennies here and there.’

  ‘Sounds sensible. So, is it all systems go with Pickwicks 2 now? Is that its name, by the way?’

  ‘The new cook has been chosen. Scott is in the kitchen with Kit. He’s getting her to read through the formal job offer letter he’s written, checking for spelling mistakes and such.’ ‘Fantastic. And the name?’

  ‘We’re torn between Little Nell’s Café and Fezziwig’s.’

  Amy nodded approvingly. ‘Keeping up the Dickensian theme then.’

  ‘Yep, which do you prefer?’

  ‘Little Nell’s, I think. When do you need to decide by?’

  ‘Soon-ish, as we have to order a sign, and I’d like to put the name at the top of the menus, get some business cards printed and all that.’

  As usual, the fact that the café was closed didn’t mean that the hard work was over. The excitement of helping her friends prepare for the new opening was precisely what Amy needed to take her mind off her increasing anxiety about forthcoming parenthood. The next day’s order of milk, bread, and perishables had been placed, and the endless round of filling the dishwasher, lifting the chairs, and cleaning the floor was being tackled by Megan.

  It was a long time since Amy had worked at the café, and although she loved her current job she missed the camaraderie of Pickwicks sometimes. Placing the last spare plate in a box, Amy listened as Megan sat next to her and read through the list of things she would have to do after Peggy and Scott signed the final piece of paperwork the next day.

  The kitchen door swung open. Kit held the draft letter in her hand. ‘This is fine now, Scott. Just type in those few minor changes and it’s good to go.’ Her gaze fell on Amy, and her face broke into a bigger smile, ‘Hello there, Mrs Donahue! What are you doing in these parts when you should be snoozing at home?’

  ‘I figure I’ll have plenty of time to get bored on the sofa when I’m on maternity leave. I went to see Jack, and I wanted to come and see how it was going here. I must admit, I didn’t expect to walk in and be given jobs to do.’

  ‘Just like old times!’

  ‘I’m rather enjoying it, to be honest.’ Amy adjusted her position on the chair. ‘How’s everything with you now then?’

  Once Kit had brought her up to date, she revealed what Jack had said about his crush on Rupert – a fact that made Kit groan.

  ‘That is exactly what Helena predicted would happen, albeit out of spite. I’m not sure she really believed it.’

  ‘Well, from what the boys tell me, it sounds as though the crush is mutual.’

  Kit sighed. ‘Poor Helena! She’s very much happier, but she’s still a bit bruised on the pride front. I can see the attraction for Jack this time, though. Rupert is a very nice bloke. You’ve not met him yet?’

  ‘Not so far. I’m sure I’ll encounter him once the baby is born. Kew will be on my pushing-the-pram route once I get to that stage.’

  ‘Do you have a pram yet?’

  ‘Not yet. We thought we’d get one this weekend. I fancy one of those pushchairs with a car seat attached. They look much easier to push around shops than a bulky pram.’

  ‘I’m sure they are. I had one of those massive double buggies. It was a nightmare doing anything that involved doorways.’

  The phone ringing in the background didn’t interrupt Amy or Kit’s conversation, nor did Scott’s conversation when he picked up – not until they heard his usually placid voice snap, ‘What!’ down the line.

  One look at Scott’s expression was enough to tell the women around him that something was wrong. Very wrong. It was so unusual seeing anything other than positivity in his expression. The effect of seeing him scowling was unnerving.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Peggy’s face drained of colour. ‘What’s happened?’ Memories of the day she’d had a phone call telling her that her husband had been involved in a car crash came back to her. Rushing across the café, she grabbed his hand. ‘What? Is everything OK?’

  Scott held Peggy tightly as he closed the call with, ‘Thank you for letting us know so quickly. I will be back in touch as soon as I’ve spoken to our solicitor.’

  ‘Solicitor?’ Amy, Kit, and Megan exchanged worried glances as Peggy slumped down onto the nearest seat.

  ‘Scott, please. Tell me what’s happened.’

  Sitting next to his wife, taking both her hands in his, he said, ‘No point in making those changes to the chef’s letter now. We’ve lost our second Pickwicks. The landlord has changed his mind.’

  ‘What?’ Peggy’s reply came out as a barely comprehensible whisper.

  Scott beckoned to the others. ‘Megan, make us some strong coffee and I’ll tell you everything.’ He raked his hand through his short black hair. ‘It affects us all in one way or another.’

  The coffee wa
s poured, and the Pickwicks staff, past and present, sat around a table, Scott explained, ‘The landlord no longer wants to rent out the premises in Mortlake. He wants to sell it outright so he can buy a place he’s seen while he was abroad. We can’t afford to buy it, therefore we’ve lost it.’

  ‘But we signed the papers, and ...’ Peggy stammered, but got no further.

  ‘The only way we can buy it, love, is if we use all the money we’ve saved for our retirement, and thanks to my stupid legs, we really need to plan that sooner rather than later. I’m so sorry, Peggy.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’ Peggy tried not to cry.

  Not sure if she should say anything or not, but suddenly seeing her own career disappearing in front of her eyes, Megan said, ‘But there was a contract?’

  Scott grimaced. ‘There was a clause in it that said the landlord had the right to change his mind up until the day before exchange – which is today. Or rather, was today.’

  ‘But that’s so unfair!’ Amy’s eyes came to rest on the boxes of equipment ready to head to Mortlake. ‘Will they compensate you for the money you’ve already spent on getting the place ready?’

  ‘I’ll call our solicitor in a moment and see what he can do about getting some inconvenience costs, but I’m not holding out a great deal of hope.’

  No one knew what to say. The gloom that had invaded the room cloaked the place like a blanket.

  Kit was the first to break the silence. ‘Right; we should give you two some space. When are you going to see the solicitor, Scott?’

  Shaken out of his introspection by Kit’s question, Scott got up. ‘I’ll call now. Hopefully we can get an appointment as soon as possible.’

  While Scott disappeared upstairs to make the call in private, Kit turned to a shocked-looking Megan. ‘Come on, hun; let’s get all that stuff out the back. Staring at it will just make everything feel worse.’

  Amy put her hand out to Peggy. ‘Scott might be able to sort something out. Don’t give up yet.’

  Peggy smiled bravely at her friend, but there was no hiding the devastation in her eyes. ‘You’re very kind, Amy, but I doubt it.’ Forcing a happy expression on her face, Peggy looked around her, ‘It did feel a bit like cheating on this place, maybe it was never meant to be.’