by Michael Ross
Chapter
Forty-Two
“Jess rang me this morning; we’re meeting in Bristol this afternoon,” I say to Rob on the phone.
“How did she sound?” There is no doubting the concern in his voice.
“Different. Not offish, not friendly. Not cold…I don’t know how she sounded.” I don’t know what I expect him to say.
“If you want this to work, Danny, you’re going to have to change. You need a fresh starting place for your thought processing. If your relationship with her, or anyone, is going to work, you’re going to have to forget your rubbish marriage and get back to being the person you were before your ex-wife screwed your head up. You trusted someone one hundred percent before; you need to decide that you can do it again. If I’m anything of a judge, then Jessica is the one—trust her, without question and without parameters.”
“You’re a good friend, Rob.”
“I’ll be thinking of you.”
Sound advice. Am I bright enough to take it on board?
***
We meet in the lobby of a waterside hotel. It’s awkward. I’m not even sure if I’m meant to kiss her on the cheek or keep my distance. I keep my distance. I have decided that I will start this conversation. I have to defend myself, so I need to break the ice. We find some seats in the corner and do not even order drinks.
“I have no defence that’s worth offering,” I begin at once. “I do not understand my reaction. When I replay the other night though my head, it’s like I’m watching someone else, someone I don’t recognise. I’ve been talking to Rob about it and he reckons my marriage breakup hurt me a lot more than I realised. He says I need to get back some part of me that got cut out with that business.”
Jess tilts her head as she listens, and for the first time I get the feeling that she has arrived with an open mind.
“I don’t want to come out with glib comments and promises, because who knows what any of us can promise of the future?”
We sit there quietly, other voices in the background as people go about their lives.
“All I can promise is that I will fight for you as long as I live, fight to be with you, fight to support you, fight for you to achieve your dreams. I don’t want anything in life other than to be with you.” I’m exhausted physically and mentally—I have nothing left to give.
Jess takes her time before she responds. “When this all happened, I don’t think I have ever felt so bad in my life. I felt as if you had betrayed me, that once again I was alone in the world. I was so angry with you. So, so angry, but the worst feeling was one of humiliation. I had trusted you and you had degraded me by your reaction. When I left you at that café, all I wanted in the world was to hurt you as much as you hurt me.”
I cannot look at her.
“I don’t think that attitude would ever have changed if it was not for a strange moment when I bumped into this young English girl. I spent a few hours with her, with someone whose life experience was so out of kilter with mine, and it made me rethink…everything. You, me, life, my father, my job, my ambitions. She wasn’t the brightest thing, but I realised she could live until she was a hundred and had no chance whatsoever of having what I have, and she would never find anyone as decent and good as you.” And there it is, that merest glint of light at the end of a very long tunnel.
“I don’t want or expect you to be perfect, but I do expect you be there for me regardless. Regardless of absolutely anything that life throws at us. I thought that I had a clear view of life, but I now accept that I have become cynical. I’m now wondering whether that comes from the world I live in, the commercial environment where you do and say anything to come out on top. I’ve been going through it in my mind: what if it had been Gemma, not me, and I had been you? Would I have come down on her like a ton of bricks, or would I have held her hand and supported her as best I could?” She draws a breath before she continues. “You flew all that way at an instant and you have every right to form an opinion on the limited information you had been given. It would be wrong, although it would be easy, to say ‘let’s go our separate ways,’ but I truly believe we are better than that.”
“I know we are better than that.”
“So let’s spend the day together, let’s truly talk. About the small stuff and the big stuff. Let’s get to know each other on a deeper level and”—she is forming the words in her head—“tonight I have a pre-paid bedroom, two floors above us, which I would like you to share with me.”
“Normally I’d put up a fight, but I’ll give that a go if I must.”
So we walk and we talk, and I find out so much about her and her beliefs and her history, and now I am not only in love with her, but I genuinely like her as well. She is a nice person to know.
Chapter
Forty-Three
I have never been the sort of person who likes to talk about my sex life, such as it is, not even with my mates down the pub, but last night was…and I am struggling for the right words here…surreal. I have got used to thinking of sex as a function: good enough but not particularly memorable, here and gone, soon forgotten. What planet have I been living on? There was this old film called Barefoot in the Park, where this honeymoon couple lock themselves in a hotel suite for two weeks, and their idyll is only broken by the hotel’s room service leaving food outside their door. How ridiculous! Actually, no—it is not. I, for one, could quite happily make do with a fortnight spent like that.
We get up late and have a shower (together) and get changed. I have swilled my pants, socks and shirt under the shower before going to bed, so they are clean if not in pristine condition.
“Coffee time?” I ask Jess.
“Gosh, you sound just like Gemma.”
“I think you should speak to her this morning. She’s bound to be worried about you.”
“I know. I will, as soon as we’ve had coffee.”
“I wouldn’t mind finding a street market or somewhere cheap so I can get a change of clothes. Anything I can wear once and throw away.”
“Let’s go before you finish that sentence by adding on something inappropriate.”
Mm, she is probably right, but I have a little giggle in my head anyway. We fill in the time somehow before Jess picks up her old, patched-up phone and dials Gemma’s number.
***
Gemma has her phone set to silent, but it vibrates on her desk, so she is forced to pick it up.
“Gemma Barrow.”
“Hi, Gem, it’s me,” Jess says.
“Oh hi, Mrs. Munro, you’ve caught me at an awkward time. Can I call you later, or would it be better if I spoke to Mr. Pearson first?”
“You can’t talk?”
“Yes, that’s right. I will get it sorted and come back to you as soon as I can.”
“Okay, ring Danny’s phone. Love you.”
“And you, Mrs. Munro.”
The sour-faced woman sitting opposite Gemma throws a questioning look her way.
“My next-door neighbour. One of the other tenants has got a cat which keeps pooing on the lawn. She wants me to tackle the landlord.”
“Mr. Pearson?”
“That’s him. Mind you, he’s a miserable git, so I’m probably wasting my time.”
“As may be. Now, the updates on the Swindon recoveries—can we go through them once more? I am not sure I quite grasped the figures the first time.”
Lady, Gemma thinks, you’ve got big boots to fill. Jess would have all those figures buttoned up within minutes.
***
“That was a strange conversation.”
“She obviously had someone sitting with her. She called me Mrs. Munro, who was this old woman that used to work in the canteen, a real gossip. She knew, or pretended she knew everybody’s business. Whoever was there cannot have been in the area office for long, not to know her name. I guess they’ve moved someone sideways to cover for me.”
“Is it that bad? I knew you had resigned, but would they react that quickly?�
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“Hang on.” Jess lifts her laptop onto the table. “You may as well read the email I sent to the chairman. There is nothing you don’t know, but it might read differently than hearing it.”
I sip at my coffee and read the email through a couple of times.
“There’s no way back for you after that—even if they sacked or disciplined him, you’ve burnt your bridges there for certain.”
“Absolutely. And I do not care one jot. I know I will have no trouble getting another job. It might be a lower salary, but I hardly make a dent into my wages anyway.”
I can do no more than lean back and smile.
“All this,” she continues, her arms making a sweeping gesture, “you, Cotswold Lodge, Bill and Mary, mid-morning breakfasts. I need to make changes to my life. I want to put something in; there is no imperative for me to take out. I want every day to feel like today. Today I feel good about me.”
I feel so good about making her feel good. I’m in this for the long-term. I stand up to walk around the table before kissing her long and lovingly. “Fair enough—you can buy me a decent tee shirt then!”
***
Gemma takes an early lunch break and walks to the park. She rings Danny’s number.
“Hi, Gemma. I’ll pass you over.”
“Hi, Gem. How are you?” asks Jess.
“Feeling very strange. It feels like I’m living in some parallel universe.”
“Lots happening?”
“Yesterday I was called up to the third floor and told in no uncertain terms that I should under no circumstances communicate with you. Head Office had launched an enquiry into certain happenings in Paris, and to be fair to all parties, blah, blah, blah.”
“And what are the rumours?”
“Some people were whispering that you tried to seduce Paul in order to get a position on the board and he rejected you, so you attacked him. But all that came from France. No one here believes that. I haven’t spoken to one person who doesn’t think it is utter garbage. No one here has a good word to say about Paul. You’re not really going to resign, are you?”
“I already have, Gem, and there is nothing in the world that could change my mind. In fact, I feel as if a weight has been taken off my shoulders.”
“What about me?”
“Gem, we’re friends for life. Let’s see how things play out. I have no plans whatsoever; I’ve just got this newfound faith that something good is going to happen. I’m back tomorrow night; we’ll meet up on Friday and talk it through. Be strong, bite your tongue, and see the week out. And if Paul Clement is still in the company at the end of the week, don’t worry about it. I’m not.”
“Two and a half days. I suppose I can do that. By the way, did Danny really fly over to Paris on Tuesday morning?”
“He did, and of course you can tough it out for two and a half days. Lots of love, Gemma. See you soon.”
Gemma strolls back to her office in an unusually positive frame of mind, a strange and unrealistic feeling that life is good. The street beggar she had ignored only fifteen minutes earlier has a pound coin cheerfully dropped on his rug.
“Thank you, miss. Have a good day.”
She turns back to face him.
“Thank you for that. I think I might well have. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
Before she leaves the park, she stops and dials a newly listed number on her phone.
“Hello, Edwin. I’ve just spoken to Jess; she seems as right as rain.”
“That’s good. Can’t speak right now; I’m at the solicitor’s with my father.”
“Fair enough. Maybe speak to you later?”
“I’ll ring you within the hour. Bye.”
***
“Who was that, son?” his father asks Edwin as they stand outside the solicitor’s office.
“Oh, a friend. More of a friend of a friend.”
“Mm.”
“What do mean, ‘mm,’ Dad?”
“Only your voice, Edwin. It sounded like you were talking to someone who might have been a bit more than a friend.”
“No, a friend of a friend, that’s all.”
“And what is your non-friend’s name?”
“Enough already, Dad. Let’s get this over with.”
They go in.
After the meeting, as they are walking out, Edwin says, “I’m going to miss him like crazy. Goodness knows how you’re going to cope.”
“In my own way, I suppose. There might be a few tears, but there are too many good memories to comfort me.” Edwin Pedlar studies his son. “You’re more like him than I ever was.”
“I’ve always thought that. He loved you so much, Dad. I don’t think I ever spent time with him when he didn’t say how much he owed to you.”
“He repaid me a hundred times over, Edwin.”
“He kept himself to himself at times. Were you surprised at how much he left?”
“No, not that much. He had an eye for the property market, he bought and sold at the right times, thought carefully how he invested his money. I often used to wonder why. I suppose today he left me the answer.”
“I want to make him proud, Dad. It’s all too much to grasp for the moment, but I’ve got a month or so to get my head around things.”
“You’ll do it, my boy. I’ve no doubts about that, but make sure you don’t take your eye off the business. It’s easy to do and hard to repair.”
“Uncle John always said my major strength was time management. I used to think that was something of an insult.”
“I’m certain he did not say it as anything other than a compliment.”
“In three months’ time, I’ll know if he was right or wrong.”
“How often was your Uncle John ever wrong?”
“Mm.”
“Talking of ‘mm,’ what did you say that friend of a friend’s name was?”
Chapter
Forty-Four
It does not seem right, dropping Jess back to Leigh House and heading off for home on my own, but Jess insists she needs a couple of days “to think about her future.” I don’t feel threatened, simply a tiny bit lost. She’s been my constant companion for three days, and there is a space next to me where Jess should be.
***
I forgot to set the alarm, so I don’t get to the unit next morning until it’s gone nine o’clock. I am impressed with how much progress has been made on the refurbishment whilst I have been away. My vision for the finished article is taking shape. It takes me quite a while to find Derek, who is sharing a bacon sandwich and a mug of tea with two of the workers. He is leaning on a pair of crutches, his wheelchair nowhere to be seen.
“Hi, Derek. Where’s the wheelchair?”
“Hi Danny. Couldn’t cope with it. I lasted a day more, then I went to the infirmary—Darren here gave me a lift—and I blagged these crutches. I’m getting the hang of them and I can get to parts of the site that were impossible with the wheelchair.”
“He’s like a bleeding whippet on them things,” pipes up the guy called Darren.
“I’ll be more than glad to throw them away, but I’m getting the job done,” Derek says as he puts his mug down. “Okay, lads get back to work while I show the governor around.”
“I think Edwin’s their governor, not me, Derek.”
“Funny that. I guess it’s the way the company is set up. Edwin and his father take great store by their staff identifying with the client. It must be infectious.”
“Have you seen much of Edwin?” I ask.
“Very little. He’s due back here later tonight. No one is working tomorrow, which surprised me, but it’s a company policy to only work every other weekend.”
“That’s unusual—will they still get the job finished in time?”
“They’re an unusual company,” he says. “The job will be finished with a week to spare if we carry on at this pace.”
“Good for me—not so good for you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I can�
�t believe how much I’m enjoying myself. The same workload without the financial pressures. I can easily cope with missing a week’s wages. With the weekend free, Chan and Jeremiah are coming over for two nights.”
“Great stuff. You must come round on Sunday.”
“That’ll be good. Must go, the chippies need chivvying up again.”
I have made a promise to Jess I won’t contact her until Sunday, when she is coming over. I asked her over for Saturday, but she said that would be impossible. I didn’t delve any further. I have a rep coming around who covers an area which includes my old and new sites, so it will be good to show off my new fiefdom. A few phone calls to make, maybe a telephone conversation with Buck, a get-together with Derek and Edwin, and then my time’s all my own.
***
“Good morning, Mr. Roberts. I’ve come to see JB.”
Jess’s father does not even speak, just makes a vague gesture towards the house, climbs into his Jaguar and drives away. The strangest man, thinks Gemma. She has been to this house twice before, but she finds the setup as weird as ever. Inside the front door a lobby has been created with large double doors that lead into the main house; on the left side a single door leads into JB’s apartment. There are two external locks on that door. Today, for the first time, Gemma notes that there are two separate postboxes on the outside wall of the house. Jess lives with her father, but for all intents and purposes he could be living on another continent. Surprisingly, when Gemma quizzed her boss there appeared to be no bad blood between them, merely an arrangement to live their lives independently. It seemed to work, so who was she to question them?
“Morning, Gem.”