There’s the distant sound of the kettle being filled, the clatter of plates and then the smell of bacon drifts up.
Harry. See? Nothing to worry about.
I get out of the shower more pent up than I went in. Harry even offers me a bacon sandwich (that’s a first), so I must look like I need help – and that is his currency. Nothing wrong with a man who wants to feed you, but keeps himself to himself.
He pushes the sandwich in my direction when I sit down at the breakfast bar with my coffee. ‘Alright?’
I nod. ‘Thanks.’
He puts together one for himself and picks it up, mug of coffee in his other hand. ‘Better go plant some pansies.’
‘Really?’
‘Kiddin’’ He winks. ‘It’s a digging day, body under the patio and all that.’
‘Wow, you’ve just given me an idea!’
‘Well I’m your man if you need a shovel.’
I’m not sure if he is being serious or not. I don’t know him. This is the closest we’ve ever come to a conversation.
‘Laters.’ He strides out of the kitchen, munching and humming to himself.
I wish life was as simple as a shovel and big hole.
I swallow down the last bite of my bacon and head back upstairs, coffee in hand. Then I roll up my sleeves and get cracking again. Boy this has been a busy weekend so far. I will start to the left of the door and work my way round the room.
By 11.30am, all trace of Dave is in boxes and binbags. I reckon a forensics team could sweep the place and not turn up a single strand (or whatever unit it comes in) of Dave DNA.
I have also realized there is a step three. I grab my laptop, open my emails and type.
Dave
* * *
Don’t come round again, I’ve told my housemates not to let you in. Sorry, but I don’t love you. So NO I don’t want to go to Joe’s wedding with you. It would be weird. Whatever we had has gone. I have asked you to leave me alone. If you contact me again, I’m going to take legal advice.
* * *
Alice
The last bit seems a bit OTT, but so is Dave. I hit send and collapse back on the bed, exhausted and frazzled.
Sunday
I realize my job here is not done. I have things to fix before the working week starts again.
I have spent the last few years discarding (or relocating) my own stuff – first for my family, and then I repeated the pattern all over again with Dave. How stupid is that?
My room is my space, and I am reclaiming it.
‘What are you up to?’
I need a break from my room, so have brought my laptop down into the kitchen and I’m scrolling through the photos of Dave that I’ve got backed up on it.
‘Is it back on again then?’ Kat smiles.
‘Definitely not.’ I find one of him staring straight at the camera, unsmiling. ‘I want to make sure nobody lets him in again, he’s being a pain. I’m going to print a couple of these out at work tomorrow then stick them up.’ I hesitate. ‘That’s not been over the top, is it? I won’t upset anybody?’
‘No way, it’s cool. We all know where we stand if you do. I mean it’s tricky, isn’t it, if somebody turns up and swears they’re welcome? You just kind of take their word.’ I nod. ‘Look, you can borrow my printer if you like?’
‘Wow, you’ve got a printer?’
‘Sure, that’s partly why I put a lock on my room, cos there’s stuff in there that I don’t want messing with or nicking if somebody forgets to shut the front door. We can do them now?’
‘Brilliant!’ I grin at her, and she squeezes in next to me at the table, to help me blow up and print out a couple of photos of Dave. Then she whizzes off to her room to get them.
We stick one on the pinboard. ‘Why not turn it into a WANTED poster?’ asks Zoe.
‘Because he is unwanted,’ I reply. ‘Like the dog that was bought only for Christmas. He needs rehoming.’
She giggles, ‘Or euthanising?’
‘Rehoming,’ I say firmly, grinning at her and Kat. ‘Although Harry has said he’s got a big shovel!’ I’m beginning to realize how much I like my housemates. All along, all I needed was a few ground rules to set my own boundaries.
‘Aww, hun, I wish I’d known he was being a pain in the arse,’ says Zoe, suddenly serious. ‘He seemed so sweet and like he really loved you.’
‘My mum always said to look out for the quiet polite ones, they are the worst.’ Kat shakes her head. ‘At least you know where you stand with a gobby git who oversteps the mark on purpose.’
‘True. I never thought Dave would be like this, but it’s just like my opinion doesn’t matter, he doesn’t hear it.’ I sigh. ‘I mean, what kind of person just assumes their ex will be happy to be their plus one at a wedding?’
‘Does Della know not to let him in?’
‘Not sure, but I’m going to tell her, tell everybody.’
I then go round and explicitly state to everybody else that they must not let Dave in, I also stick a reminder note and another photo of him on the back of the front door. Which Zoe thinks is hilarious. But I don’t want him getting in, whether I am here or out.
Harry said ‘fair enough’ and stomped off in his wellies, Jack said ‘cool’ and went back to his Xbox warfare, Della suggested he might be sexually challenged and was looking for a way of asserting his male identity.
Anyhow, they all seem to have got the message. I feel a sense of achievement. So, rather smug about my new assertiveness (get round that one, Dave!), and all warm and fuzzy about my lovely housemates – who all of a sudden seem to have become friends and a real benefit in my life, not obstacles and unwelcome presences in my home – I decide I need an afternoon of chilling. I will go for a long walk.
Chapter Eighteen
Monday
Monday morning comes, and I don’t feel like I can work here, in my room. Even though I’ve achieved loads, it’s been a bit stressful and I need a break from the place. I don’t want somebody to accidentally gatecrash my peace and quiet and spoil it all. I want to hang on to the feeling that it’s finally all starting to fall into place.
My home can be my happy place.
I will work at one of the hot desks set aside for people who urgently need to be in the office on a stay-at-home day. I’ll tell the dragon I’ve got workmen in, or no internet, or no electricity, or something.
I slap on the minimum acceptable amount of make-up, swap my sloppy wear for slightly smarter (and less coffee-stained) work wear and pull the door of my room decisively behind me.
I’m tempted to put a hair or something above the door handle, like they do in movies, so I will know if anybody has been there. Which is ridiculous. I have to trust that what I’ve done will work. Or how can I ever move forward, without looking over my shoulder?
Jamie is whistling and carrying a cup of coffee as he strides past me. He’s got particularly nice bum-hugging chinos on so that you can almost see the strong lines of his muscles through as he strides along, and…
He stops abruptly. Backs up a couple of paces until he’s level with me and does a double-take. ‘What’s up?’
‘Thought it would be easier to work in the office, my internet is a bit…’ The lie I had prepared for the dragon dies on my lips. ‘I just fancied it.’
It is odd, sitting at one of the ‘hot desks’ that are lined up along the wall of the office for anybody who has to come in on a day that isn’t officially ‘office’ for them. It’s a bit like working in a coffee shop window, but without the view. Or the decent coffee.
Okay, it’s not like working in a cafe, it’s more like being in a school exam hall, or at one of those working areas at the airport, where the shelf is only just wide enough for your laptop, you’re right next to the queue for beer and you don’t want to look at a blank wall because you’re scared you’ll miss out on something exciting. Like a strip search, or your gate being called.
But anyway, right now it is better than be
ing at home. I don’t really expect Dave to come round again, he’s not stupid, but if he did it would cause upset and friction.
He is so going to hate what I’ve done. Which is fine, I don’t want his approval. But I do hate conflict. I guess I’ve always been the people-pleaser of the family, taking after Dad. I was the peacekeeper when my sisters were yelling at each other. I was the one who appeased little sister Sophie when one of our older sisters said she was too young to join in with what they were doing. And I got to be even more that way after the attack on Darcie. Life’s too short.
I feel all twitchy. The sooner I can get my head into work the better, I need something to distract me.
‘Well you can’t sit there.’ Jamie grabs the pad and laptop off my desk and puts a hand on my elbow so that I’m forced to grab my handbag and follow him – or else create a big scene and attract attention. I reckon he knows I won’t do that.
‘Why? What? It’s a hot desk, I’m allow—’
‘Nonsense. No way am I letting you sit there. You can’t kid me that you prefer that to sitting in your own room at home.’
‘Well actually…’ I am about to tell him he is talking rubbish, and doesn’t know anything about what I’d prefer, when I realize that he is steering me towards my, sorry, our, desk.
‘Oh no, no! Stop, Jamie!’ It’s hard to be indignant quietly and dig my heels in too obviously. People will notice if he’s dragging me, sliding across the office floor. Won’t they? ‘I can’t, it’s your day in. I’m fine at,’ I wave towards the hot desks, ‘one of the spare—’
‘You need it more than me, Alice, I know what it means to you to be with your own stuff around you.’
I am getting used to the office not being like a home to me, not having as much of ‘me’ on display. I realize that I’ve actually been feeling a lot more confident about not needing so much ‘stuff’, and it’s getting easier every day – now I’m starting to feel confident that my private property will be there for me, untouched, where I left it, when I get home.
But Jamie is right, this is a bit of a step too far right now. At least I can see my Rodney and Mabel from the hot desks though. If I crane my neck or sit up meercat style.
‘I’m fine, honest. I won’t be here all day, I —’
‘Here we go.’ He puts my notepad down and points to the chair.
Oh my God, I am going to sit down on his still-warm chair.
‘Lucky I’ve not even had chance to sit and settle in for the day. Eh?’ He grins.
Oh bugger, yes, he was on his way in. What am I thinking? Our chair is un-sat on, not yet warmed up. Shit, I hope he doesn’t know what’s going through my mind, he’ll think I’m a right weirdo.
I plonk myself down and sit bolt upright, a bit stiffly, then he wheels me in closer to the desk as though he’s my mum. He leans down, his warm breath fanning my neck. Not at all like my mum. ‘On one condition though.’ His voice is soft, deep, sending a shiver down my spine and goosebumps along my arms. Gulp. ‘You come for a coffee at lunchtime?’
I nod, not daring to speak because my throat is dry and I’m trying not to lean into him or turn my head and gaze into those gorgeous eyes.
Oh my God he smells nice. I don’t know about ‘cedar notes’ or ‘woody’ or ‘spice undertones’ or any of that crap. It’s a bit like with wine; I don’t analyse it, I drink it. And with this, I just want to sniff him. Oh boy. It’s just male, and sexy, and clean in a just-washed, not worked-myself-into-a-sweat-at-the-gym kind of smell.
Although I’m sure even his sweat smells nice, not like that OTT teenage testosterone smell that made me nearly puke when I accidentally wandered into the boys changing room at school after athletics practice. Never again.
Why are my eyes closed? Why am I leaning like the tower of Pisa?
I probably should move away. Quickly. Now. Now, Alice.
I stare ahead stiffly, and his head suddenly appears in my vision as he ducks down in front of me making me jump.
‘You sure you’re alright?’ There’s a quizzical but caring look on his face.
My nodding dog impression kicks in.
He reaches over to pick his pen up off the desk, his warm bicep brushing against my arm. Then he stands up straight. Phew.
‘Half past twelve?’
‘Sure,’ I squeak, recovering slightly now there’s a small distance between us. ‘And thanks, for…’ I indicate the desk.
‘No probs.’ He smiles. A proper smile that reaches his eyes.
‘Alice!’ Everybody looks up as Lou yells across the office before bouncing over, splashing people with hot coffee as she goes. It’s a good job it is early and there are not many people in yet. ‘Oh shit, you’re in! Why didn’t you tell me?’ She goes in for a hug and I flinch away as her coffee cup goes whizzing in the air. ‘Sorry.’ She giggles and puts it down. ‘Come here, girl.’
I’d forgotten just how impulsive, how crazy, how loud, how wonderful Lou is. Wrapped in her arms, I remember and my eyes sting. She releases me, so I sniff and blink rapidly. ‘Shit, it’s nice to see you, we’ve got to do a catch-up. Oh my God, we could have done lunch, but I’ve got a meeting with the poo puffs.’ I chuckle. This is not a non-PC comment, Lou has been working with a small company who are going to revolutionize lives all over. Whether you pass wind in the bathroom, the living room or, heaven forbid, the bed, the poo-puff will detect it and puff a special neutralising smell that you will barely notice. Ha, yes. I’m not sure if these guys are for real. We used to have a dog that had the power to make the gassiest after-curry offering from a human fade into non-existence. So good luck with that, poo-puffs. ‘You should have let me know and I’d have rearranged. We could do one evening? Why haven’t we done that yet?’
We have swapped messages, but seeing her in real life is different.
I’ve got on with Lou since the day I started working at We Got Designs, but it’s always been a work hours type of friendship. We’ve done lunch once a fortnight or so and gone to the bar across from the office after work sometimes, but we’ve never actually had a proper night out, away from work, thing. I guess with me living west of the office, and her far north we’ve just kept our socializing office-based.
‘I don’t know! We’ve got to, I’ve missed you.’
‘I’ll head over to the wasteland.’ Jamie gives me a thumbs up.
‘Thanks, honestly, you didn’t have to—’
‘I know, I want to. Look forward to seeing you at lunchtime.’ He winks cheekily, throws his rucksack on his shoulder and strides back across the office.
Lou opens her eyes wide. ‘Wow, he gave up the desk for you, must be love.’
‘Shut up, Lou.’ I try and shake my head dismissively, but, from the way my face feels, I suspect I am the colour of a beetroot.
‘And you’ve got a lunch date! Won’t be as good as me, mind you.’
‘Never!’
She grins. ‘Better get to it!’ She picks up her coffee and waltzes round to the other side, sits down at her own desk and chuckles. It’s infectious, I grin back. It’s going to be funny working opposite each other!
I settle down. It’s weird being in on a different day, seeing people I haven’t seen for ages. Seeing Lou. It’s amazing how quickly we’ve adjusted to the new normal and come to accept the way things are.
I spend the rest of the morning getting to grips with a particularly boring change request to a website, which means peeping under my eyelashes at Jamie is far more interesting an activity. Gawd, I wish I had something mind-blowing and exciting, or just plain tricky to do this morning – which would mean I have to concentrate.
It gets even worse when Lou catches me do it. There’s a big grin on her face.
‘Are you okay?’ Jamie is looking straight into my eyes, the hint of a smile on his face.
I bite into my baguette as a delaying tactic.
‘What?’ I try and act as though I don’t know what he means.
‘You’re in? I mean I know it
must be hell for you, not seeing me, but…’ The smile is encouraging, his words only gently teasing.
The man gave up his desk. He’s been nice. He’s bought me lunch. I owe him at least some kind of explanation, I guess.
‘Reading your notes just isn’t enough!’ I say jokingly, and he chuckles.
‘Mabel misses you.’
I wish he did.
‘But?’
I sigh, put my lunch down and wipe my hands briskly on the paper napkin as though being brisk will make this easier. ‘It’s my ex.’
‘Flower man?’
‘Yeah, Dave.’ Wow, how does he even remember about Dave sending the bouquet? I try and get my thoughts in order, decide what to say. Jamie waits. Not eating or drinking, just patiently waiting. But, strangely enough, it doesn’t feel like pressure.
‘You don’t have to tell me, it’s none of my business.’ He cracks first. ‘But you just don’t look happy.’ His tone is soft.
‘He went round to my place when I was out and messed with my stuff,’ I splurt out, look at him in astonishment, then instantly feel better. ‘He just thinks he can step in when he wants and just carry on where we left off.’
Jamie nods, looking thoughtful.
‘Sorry, he just wound me up. It made me cross that it doesn’t seem to matter to him what I think, he can just carry on as though we never split up.’ I guess though what has really got to me is that he could do it again, and, if he does, we’ll have to have it out. Properly. I’ll have no choice if he’s ignoring what I’ve said in my emails. God, I hate confrontation. It just seems so stressful, and so unnecessary. ‘It’s nothing, it’s my fault for not being clearer with him.’
‘He doesn’t want to let you go.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say—’
There’s the hint of a smile curling the corners of his kissable mouth. ‘I get that.’
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