Ava had eaten no more than a banana since lunchtime herself and she found her stomach rumbling as Patrick decided aloud from a tempting range of wraps and baguettes. ‘I think I’ll have the prawn. How about you?’ He turned the menu around so that she could read it.
Ava had intended to eat at home but she was starving, and she had actually earned some money today. ‘The roast chicken sounds good.’ She stooped for her gym bag. As she never brought her purse to the gym, in view of the flimsy nature of the lockers, she kept a tenner tucked in an inside pocket for just such eventualities. But Patrick had jumped to his feet and was at the bar before she’d straightened up.
He waved away her attempt to pay him when he returned. ‘We pay when the food’s ready. So what do you like about this gym? They seem to have a good range of equipment. Do you use their personal trainers?’
‘It’s pretty much like any other gym. Machines, trainers, classes in the studio, changing rooms.’
The subject was exhausted by the time their order was called and Patrick sprinted off to collect it. When he returned, there were two glasses of rosé on the tray along with the baguettes.
‘Patrick!’ Ava protested. ‘I didn’t ask for wine.’ Her tenner wouldn’t cover it. But it did look mouth-watering with its delicate little jacket of condensation forming on the glass.
He grinned boyishly. ‘I’ve got almost no cash with me and they won’t accept a card for transactions amounting to less than £15, so I had to pay. Anyway, as I’ve steamrollered you up here, it’s the least I can do.’
In view of her own limited cash situation, Ava couldn’t really argue further and prepared to make conversation while they ate. ‘I met Ruby Glennister and she told me you’re working on a campaign for her. Is that interesting?’
Patrick’s grin flashed again. ‘Very. Where did you meet her?’
Instantly, Ava found that she didn’t want to tell him any more than she had to. ‘I’m making a hat for Sam’s mum and Ruby got involved in a charity thing with her,’ she babbled. ‘Tell me about the campaign.’
But Patrick’s eyes had narrowed. ‘Apparently Ruby got involved with two charity shindigs for Wendy, last Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon. Which were you at? Or perhaps you were at both? Perhaps you and Sam overnighted somewhere?’
Ava cursed herself for a blabber-mouthed moron as she felt her cheeks scald. How could she have forgotten Sam saying he’d be utilising the images from the Middledip Christmas Fayre to add positivity to Ruby’s profile with the media? Hadn’t she begun this conversation with a remark about Patrick working on that very campaign? ‘Um,’ she said, feebly.
Throwing back his head, Patrick let out a delighted laugh. ‘Don’t look so guilty! Don’t you think I know they were your hats Ruby was modelling? Wendy was crusading on behalf of her women’s group and you and Ruby were big-hearted enough to help out and, in Ruby’s case, Sam saw how the situation could be exploited in our client’s favour. My role means I was thoroughly briefed! You did me, Manda Jane and Emily a favour because we’re trying everything we know to get Ruby into the public eye over Christmas when people have a lot of time to browse news sites and may be feeling benevolent. Manda Jane has clout with some online magazines and we’re targeting them at the same time as trying to get in the print media for January. The celeb mags keep their front pages open until the last minute but you’ve got to be really sensational and topical to hit them and we’re still looking for ways to make it a big enough human-interest story.’
Smarting at his evident delight in so thoroughly winding her up, Ava ripped her baguette in half, spraying crumbs over the table, grateful that at least she’d chatted to Izz about the recent weekend over breakfast, careful to make it sound more about business than pleasure. Although Izz had worn the kind of blank expression that usually disguised deeper emotions, hopefully Sam turning up at work with a phone full of pictures to be ‘leaked’ would have helped support the impression Ava had taken pains to create. ‘Not a campaign that will bring you to Camden, then,’ she said, shortly. ‘Do you really think you’ll join this gym?’
Patrick turned to his own food. ‘It’s not impossible.’
‘But not probable.’
He brushed past the point with a wink. ‘How about coming out to dinner with me sometime soon?’
She smiled neutrally. ‘Thanks, but I’m not dating at the moment.’
His face fell. ‘Any particular reason?’
‘I need to concentrate on my career.’
‘Right.’
They ate in silence for a while. Then Patrick wiped his hands on his paper napkin. ‘I know you stayed with his family at the weekend but if you’re waiting around for Sam you’re probably wasting your time. He’s avoided relationships recently. He’s focused on the agency.’ Patrick warmed to his subject as he swigged his wine. ‘I wouldn’t choose work over women myself.’ He waggled his eyebrows.
Ava was half-surprised that Patrick didn’t trot out the Mariah-breaking-Sam’s-heart situation. She opened her mouth to say, ‘But Sam asked me out,’ then closed it again. Why make it obvious that she had turned Sam down? There was something about Patrick’s heavy-handed attempt to put her off Sam that didn’t sit well with her. He seemed not much better than Sam’s old best friend, the unknown Elliot.
Sam was leaving the agency on time, for once. Opportunity was running out for him to finalise his online shopping order and generally get organised ready to host Christmas for his mother and aunt and it was on his evening’s ‘to do’ list.
‘Sam?’ Just as he thought he was making a successful escape, Barb called after him from the front desk, telephone in hand. ‘Bloke requesting your mobile number. I asked his name and he said Harvey.’
Sam considered this surprising information. He didn’t ask ‘Harvey who?’ as he was pretty sure he knew the answer. His first reaction was to keep Ava’s ex at the greatest distance possible, but if Harvey wanted Sam’s number he wanted it for a reason, and he didn’t mind Sam knowing that Harvey wanted it. Interesting approach.
Sam pondered. Ava might not want Harvey to have Sam’s number. That would be for a reason, too.
But Sam was on Ava’s side, he argued with himself.
The desire to make Ava’s world better rose up in him. He’d never experienced the urge so acutely and it wasn’t particularly comfortable that he was feeling it for a faux girlfriend, but … ‘Let him have it,’ he said as he turned towards the door.
Later, lounging on his sofa with his iPad and his online Christmas grocery shopping list, Sam’s phone gave the polite hiccup that meant it had a message waiting for him, and the screen told him that came from an unknown number.
Congrats on snaring the lovely Ava.
Sam sent back: ??? Sorry, your number’s not coming up in my contacts.
Another minute before the phone hiccupped again. She’s quite a girl.
He stared down at the screen. It was too much of a coincidence for it not to be Harvey. Was he basing his assumption that Sam was seeing Ava on the fleeting scene in Blaggard’s – when Ava had been not only with him, but with a group of people?
Or had he seen them together since? Uneasiness prickled across Sam’s shoulders. How would Harvey have seen them? By hanging around and seeing Sam bring Ava home …?
He returned to his iPad and opened a new browser window to remind himself of what it said on the No Blame or Shame website about escalation of behaviour.
Nothing good, he decided ten minutes later. He frowned as he stared out at the nightscape of the Olympic Stadium and the wild and wonderful sculpture of the ArcelorMittal orbit.
He should tell Ava about the text. It was the right thing to do. But should he tell her about his disquiet?
Good question.
Chapter Nineteen
The gallery of shame
Thursday 20 December
Sam was at the coffee machine when Patrick wandered in. ‘Hi, boss.’ He threw his man-bag onto his workstation and j
oined Sam to wait his turn for morning caffeine.
‘You look happy.’ Sam watched steaming water and milky froth fill his cup in twin jets then stepped back to give Patrick access to the machine, enjoying the mellow coffee fragrance on the air.
Patrick pressed a couple of buttons as he sent Sam a big wink. ‘Great evening.’
Sam sipped at his froth. ‘Anyone I know?’ The machine began to gurgle.
‘Ava. Supper and drinks.’
Sam’s coffee suddenly tasted odd. ‘Like a date?’
Patrick patted his jacket pocket where, presumably, his wallet resided. ‘Worth every penny. Taking it slowly because she’s a bit wary, you know, with the ex and everything. But I asked to see her again.’ He gave Sam a ‘you know the score’ grin, swooped on his drink and sauntered off towards his desk, whistling.
Sam made for his office fighting an urge to snap, ‘What the hell?’ at Patrick, even though he knew that Patrick never got on board with the guy code thing of not girl-poaching if a friend had already shown interest. Patrick was more into the every-man-for-himself code.
He closed his office door with a snap, fighting bubbles of anger. He had no rights in this. He was faux dating Ava but there was no reason why she couldn’t genuinely date Patrick. Even if she’d refused to genuinely date Sam for no-men-all-career reasons that seemed not to apply to Patrick.
It was time to accept that even if Ava made him ache to take her to bed she wasn’t going to let it happen.
But … bollocks. Just superbollocks.
The bar was the nearest to the agency, an ex-industrial venue with huge windows once designed to save on the lighting bills of a factory owner. Inside, festoons of red tinsel and oversized frosted baubles in blue hung incongruously on its bare brick walls.
Because it was early when they arrived, Ava and Izz were able to grab comfortable squashy leather seating in a corner rather than having to stand up in the vast seatless desert that made up the majority of the space. Ava manoeuvred so that Izz faced the door.
Ava wasn’t feeling as cheerful as she had yesterday, though yet another Rotarian had bought a gift voucher and at a nice value, too. Maybe it was the approach of Christmas that was getting her down. Not the accidentally-on-purpose Sam and Izz date, she assured herself.
She ordered a large glass of wine and listened to Izz talk about Sam who had, apparently, been shut in his office almost all day. ‘Everyone noticed, because he usually spends a lot of time around the agency talking to everyone about their projects.’
‘What does he say about yours?’
Izz did a sudden meerkat impression, bolting upright and staring fixedly across the venue. ‘There he is!’
‘Who?’ Ava sipped her wine without looking round.
‘Sam!’
This time Ava feigned mild interest. ‘Really?’
‘He’s gone to the bar.’
‘I expect he wants a drink.’
Izz craned. ‘He’s drinking Cobra. He’s looking at his phone. Now he’s looking around the bar. He’s seen us!’ Then, incredulously, ‘He’s coming over.’
In a few moments Sam loomed over them looking amazing in a dark suit and a darker expression. ‘Are you waiting for someone or can a tired and frazzled bloke join you?’
‘Join us,’ invited Ava, as Izz had turned as red as the tinsel above her and seemed temporarily struck dumb. ‘Tell us about your frazzles.’
Sam plumped down into a seat. ‘The press haven’t been particularly interested in the charity angle and so we’re chasing our tails – as I’m sure you’ve been hearing, Izz – over the Ruby Glennister campaign. Trouble is Ruby’s fixated on us working some magic over Christmas and it doesn’t give us much time to plan.’ Sam dragged off his tie and rolled it up into his pocket.
He spent the next hour talking about work. To Izz.
Izz, as stunned as if Hugo Boss Christmas Man himself had walked into the bar and begun chatting her up, didn’t contribute hugely to the conversation.
As Sam was labouring to achieve more than one-word answers, Ava realised she’d have to give the conversational ball a nudge. ‘I meant to look to see what bands are playing over Christmas, now I’ve got a few quid to spend. Have you checked it out, Izz? Vibe’s just up the road from here, isn’t it?’ Anyone could talk about music with Izz. She was a contemporary music encyclopaedia.
Sure enough, once Izz’s favourite social common ground had been broached she launched into the list of bands and venues she carried in her head – she was incredible at retaining that information. All Ava had to do was sit back and smile and nod as Izz and Sam chatted about The Libertines, After Alice and other bands on Izz’s playlists.
They were halfway down their second drink when Sam broached a new subject. ‘Are either of you going to Comic Con or True Believers next year?’
Ava glanced at Sam in surprise.
Izz frowned. ‘Tod goes, but with his housemates.’
Sam looked interested. ‘I’ve never been. I wonder if Tod would mind me tagging along?’
‘Are you into comics?’ asked Ava, disbelievingly. The bar was filling up and she had to raise her voice to be heard over the noise level in the high-ceilinged space.
Sam switched his gaze to her. ‘I’ve got a collection. Old-school stuff, you know – Justice League of America, and League members like Superman and Green Lantern.’ He turned back to Izz. ‘What about you?’
Izz was staring at him as if he’d just transformed from Hugo Boss Christmas Man into The Riddler. ‘We’re not into comics.’
Sam’s eyebrows flipped up. ‘But you were at Tod’s BalCom event.’
‘Only because Tod likes us to go to his Christmas do, not because we like superheroes in tights.’ Izz looked mildly insulted.
The corners of Sam’s mouth turned down. ‘Shame. A graphic novel can be really engrossing escapism.’
Izz continued to stare at him. ‘Tod will be here any minute so you can talk to him about “sequential art narrative”.’
‘Will he?’ Ava looked at her friend in fresh surprise.
Izz nodded. ‘I told him at work today you and me were meeting and he said he’d join us.’
Sam’s smile faltered. ‘I expect he knows a lot more about comics than I do.’
His gaze caught Ava’s and she read the alarm there. The penny dropped. ‘Tod’s an aficionado,’ she agreed sweetly. ‘Don’t worry if you don’t feel your knowledge matches his. He’ll be happy to educate you.’
‘What am I an aficionado about?’ Tod came up behind Ava, Louise in tow, literally, as she had the kind of grasp on Tod’s arm that said ‘he’s mine and where he goes I go’.
Izz frowned. ‘You didn’t tell us that Sam’s into comics, like you.’
Beaming, Tod swung on Sam. ‘Seriously? I honestly didn’t know that. What are you into?’
Then Sam had to struggle to keep his end up in the conversation as Tod kindly filled in all kinds of gaps in Sam’s knowledge about comics in general and the Justice League in particular.
They were interrupted in his discourse about Justice League International and The New 52 by Izz’s phone ringing. She answered as if glad of something to do other than listen to comic talk, jamming the handset against one ear and her hand over the other. ‘Mum? Sorry, say that again. What about Christmas?’
While Izz screwed up her face in an effort to hear and said, ‘Oh?’ a lot, Louise instigated a change of subject. ‘Speaking of Christmas, what’s everybody doing? We have plans with my family. We’re wrapping presents at the weekend, aren’t we, Tod?’
Looking as if it were a lot less inspiring a prospect than talking about Comic Con, Tod agreed.
‘As you know, I’m not a big fan of Christmas,’ Ava contributed. ‘As Tod’s busy, it’ll be just Izz and me this year. We’ll stick dinner on, watch TV and drink fizz.’
Izz finished her call, dismay all over her face. ‘Oh Ava! I’ve got to go to my parents’ for Christmas. That was Mum. My sister Danielle�
��s being sick constantly now she’s having a baby and Mum says she and Dad can’t manage the grandparents on their own. Grampie keeps falling over and Nana can’t cut up her own food.’
Ava gazed at Izz, cold tentacles of disappointment creeping around her. ‘We’re not spending Christmas Day together?’
‘I couldn’t really say I wouldn’t go.’ Izz’s eyes filled with tears. ‘You can come, too, but you know how they do Christmas. Kind of …’
‘Full on,’ Ava finished for her, knowing all about the hours spent slaving in the kitchen, Christmas hats all through dinner, flaming pudding, extravagant presents and family carols after the Queen’s speech. ‘I wouldn’t impose, Izz.’
Louise broke the awkward silence, for once sounding sympathetic. ‘You could visit your parents, Ava. A French Christmas would be fun.’
Ava nodded but she knew that if she could get flights at this late stage the cost would be prohibitive, especially as she had Wendy’s hat to finish so wouldn’t be able to fly until Christmas Eve. She blinked and tried not to look at Izz, not wanting to read guilt in her face for something she couldn’t help, or Tod, who could convey more sympathy in a look than most people could in an essay. She needed a moment to absorb the fact that she’d wake up on Christmas morning alone. Spend the day alone.
That was a lower-key Christmas than even she wanted. Lower even than the years after Gran died, when her parents tried their best to get the whole nuisance festive season out of the way as briskly as possible.
Christmas truly sucked.
Sam nudged her. ‘I don’t suppose you’d come and help me create Christmas for my mother and aunt, would you? As you know, it’s the first time I’ve had to do it and I’m floundering.’
Ava managed a wobbly smile. ‘That’s kind of you but I’ll be OK. I’ve always said that I’d like to pretend Christmas doesn’t exist. Now I can.’
He sighed, propping on his palm a jaw shadowed with end-of-day stubble. ‘If that seems more attractive than helping me out then I completely understand. Aunt Van will pitch in but she only gets a couple of days off work for the festivities and so I really wanted to give her a break. Also, I want her to stop Mum from doing anything.’ His voice dropped. ‘You know why this Christmas is … special.’
The Christmas Promise Page 16
