by Matt Dunn
'Fee-earner.' Sophie grinned. 'And then there's Benedict, the intern.'
Mark made a face. 'The one with the, ahem, personal hygiene problem?'
Sophie nodded. 'Eggs Benedict.'
Nathan winced. 'That's unfortunate,' he said, then he fixed Sophie with a look she couldn't quite return. 'So - what's mine?'
'What's your what?'
'You said quite a few people have got one. What's mine?'
'I don't think anyone's...' She blushed. 'Given you one. That I know about, anyway.'
He laughed. 'Good cop out, Soph.'
She met his gaze this time. 'I don't make them up.'
Nathan grinned back at her. 'And what would Julie's be?'
Sophie paled, a little annoyed that Nathan kept turning the conversation back to Julie, but at least she hadn't had to admit she'd heard her own nickname amongst the admin girls was 'Bridget' Jones, due to her ongoing singleton status. Though that was something she was planning to do something about this evening. 'Well, again, I haven't really heard anyone say anything.'
'Thank goodness,' said Julie, and Nathan leaned over and nudged her on the arm.
'It's funny,' he said.
'What is?'
'How you can work with someone every day and still not know the first thing about them.'
'It is?'
Nathan nodded. 'Of course. I mean, take Mark, for example.'
As Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat, everyone turned to face him. 'What about him?' said Sophie, eventually.
'You probably just think he's some boring accountant. But underneath that grey-suited exterior...'
'Lies a grey interior, who unlike you, actually has some work to do' said Mark, glancing at his watch, then waving at the waiter and making the universal 'bill' sign.
'Well, that's what days like today are for,' said Nathan. 'To disprove that kind of thing. And so we can all get to know each other a little better.'
'You mean, nights like tonight?' said Julie.
'Either,' said Nathan, with a smile.
And as the waiter arrived with the bill, Mark Webster realised he'd never been more grateful to see anyone in his entire life. And little did he know it, but Sophie was thinking exactly the same thing.
Chapter 6
Sophie Jones was stomping her way back to the office at an impressive pace - so impressive, in fact, that despite the amount of training she'd been doing, Julie was struggling to keep up.
'Are we late for a meeting I don't know about?' she said, as Sophie angrily swiped the door open. 'Or do you just need the toilet?'
Sophie glared at her, then bounded up the stairs without answering, Julie following a few breathless steps behind. Once they'd reached their office, Sophie rounded on her.
'What was that all about?'
'Don't you mean 'you're welcome'?'
Sophie's jaw dropped open. 'I'm welcome? What for? You were all over him.'
'All over who?'
'Nathan!'
'Nathan?'
'Yes, Nathan!' said Sophie, marching over to her desk, picking up the Selfridges bag, and dropping it into the bin.
'What are you doing that for?'
'He's quite clearly not interested in me. Or rather, he's obviously more interested in you. And you seemed rather interested in him too. How could you sit there and flirt with him, when you knew I...' Sophie sat down angrily at her desk. 'I confided in you. I told you I liked him.' She was struggling to stop the tears coming. 'I thought we were friends.'
As Sophie's lower lip started to tremble, Julie didn’t know how to react. She'd never been a particularly girly girl, and physical demonstrations of affection put her a bit out of her comfort zone. To be honest, not counting that time in the taxi with Mark, it had been a while since she'd had any physical contact with anyone, even Philip.
'We are friends,' she said, settling for a brief pat on Sophie's shoulder. 'I was simply trying to find out if Nathan was single.'
'So it seemed.'
Julie bent down and retrieved Sophie's discarded purchase from the waste bin. 'For you,' she said, dusting the bag off, and putting it back on her desk.
'You could have fooled me.'
'Honestly, Sophie. I'm not interested in Nathan.'
'Why not?'
Because I'm interested in Mark was Julie's first reaction. But to admit that would be... Julie almost laughed. She didn't have a clue what it would be. Then, ashamedly, she realised the word 'wrong' should have leapt to mind, given her marital state.
'Anyway,' continued Sophie. 'It doesn't matter anyway.'
Julie perched on the end of Sophie's desk. 'Why ever not?'
'Weren't you listening? Because he fancies you, not me!'
'Nathan?'
'Yes, Nathan!'
'Whatever makes you think that?'
'Let me see.' Sophie began counting off on her fingers. 'Because of the way he asked you to sit next to him. Because of the way he was talking to you - or should I say flirting with you.' She looked up, red-eyed. 'And because he sent you that card.'
'What?'
'The Valentine's card that was on your desk when you came in this morning. It was from Nathan.'
'How do you know?'
'Because I was here when he walked in and put it there,' said Sophie, in between sobs.
Julie reached into her desk drawer and removed a box of tissues. 'Why didn't you say anything?' she asked, handing Sophie one.
'Because...' Sophie blew her nose loudly. 'Because he asked me not to. And because I thought if you didn't know he was interested in you, then you couldn't possibly be interested in him.' She shook her head. 'But that doesn't really matter now, does it?'
Julie stared at her. Because if Nathan had sent the card, then that meant he'd probably sent the balloons and chocolates too. And that meant... Well, it meant that Mark wasn't as interested in her as she'd thought.
She almost felt like crying herself. The one ray of light she'd been holding on to in the midst of the nightmare situation she was in with her husband was... Well, it was looking like she'd imagined it all along, and that made her feel foolish. But it was more than foolish. She felt lonely. Lost. Hopeless. Helpless. A combination of emotions Julie wasn't used to, and certainly didn't like. But while she might not have known what to do about her own situation, Julie felt she owed it to Sophie to try and make things a little clearer for her
'Listen, Sophie, here's what we'll do. First things first, don't let Nathan see you like this.' She glanced at her watch, then made for the door. 'You go and wash your face, and I'll...'
'Where are you going?'
'To the toilet, actually. Too much soup. Then I've got a meeting with the ad agency. But after that, I promise I'll go and tell Nathan in no uncertain terms I'm not interested in him.'
'And how will that help me, exactly?'
'Well...' Julie thought for a moment. 'If you stick to the plan we've just discussed, it might even work in your favour. He'll be vulnerable this evening, and you never know - he may decide to drown his sorrows. If he is - or does - you might be able to swoop in and offer him a shoulder to cry on. And once he sees you in that...' She nodded towards the Selfridges bag. 'You'll have a field day. Or, at least, a Nathan Field day.'
Despite her tears, Sophie half-smiled at Julie's joke. Besides, she realised, that approach might just work, and she'd be more than happy to offer Nathan her shoulder – or any other part of her body – to cry on. And so what if she got him off the back of Julie's rejection, or even just because he was drunk? She'd still be getting him. It was better than nothing. And nothing was all she had at the moment.
Mark Webster was standing outside the newsagent's on Frith Street, unable to work out why Julie had seemed so disinterested in him, and come to think of it, why she'd been showing so much interest in Nathan. Nathan, on the other hand, was doing his best to be encouraging, though he was mystified why Mark had cut the encounter short.
'What were you thinking? We could at
least have walked back to the office with them.'
'Were you sitting at the same table I was?'
'Yeah. Went well, eh?'
Mark shook his head. 'I am so waiting to see how you can put a positive spin on what just happened.'
'Well, she was very chatty, at least.'
'To you.' Mark sighed. 'Nathan, face it, Sophie showed more romantic interest in me. And she hardly said a word.'
'I wouldn't say that.'
'I mean, it's like the kiss never happened.'
'You're sure it did?'
Mark made a face. 'Not so much any more, no.'
Nathan smiled. 'I'm sure it's just a front. Like you said, she's not exactly an open book, is she? So she's hardly going to throw herself at you over coffee with the four of us.'
'She threw herself at you.'
'What?'
'You didn't notice?'
Nathan frowned. 'Well, no, to be honest.'
'And you seemed quite interested in her.'
'What?'
'If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were... Never mind.'
'Yeah, well, someone had to make conversation. Otherwise the four of us would have been sat there like lemons.'
'Yes, but, did you have to make so much conversation?'
Nathan grinned. 'I was just trying to see what I could find out about her.'
'By steering the conversation round to talk about me? And what did you find out, exactly? That she didn't say a single thing to me, and instead, preferred to spend the whole time flirting with you about tonight.'
'She was hardly flirting...' Nathan caught sight of the look Mark was giving him, and held his hands up. 'Okay, okay, it may have seemed like that on the surface. But it's a good double bluff, isn't it? Or...'
'Or?'
'Maybe, she was trying to make you jealous.'
'Make me jealous? Why on earth would she...'
Nathan stepped off the kerb to let a mad-haired old woman pushing a dog in a pram pass. 'Think about it. She might be thinking exactly the same as you. This kiss allegedly happens...'
'It did happen.'
'And afterwards, you’re hoping the person you kissed will mention it, perhaps even ask you out, but... Nothing. No response. In fact, whenever you bump into him in the corridor, he seems to do the exact opposite. Avoids even mentioning it. Looks away awkwardly when you even try to pass the time of day. If it was me, I'd think they were maybe embarrassed. Ashamed, even. And certainly didn't want a repeat performance.'
'I still don't see where the 'jealousy' part comes in.'
'So maybe she was trying to do the same as you are today with all your balloons and sweets. Provoke a reaction.' Nathan fished in his pocket, and removed a handful of coins. 'Wait here.'
He disappeared into the newsagent's, so Mark leant against a nearby postbox, and tried to analyse what he'd just heard. He supposed it was possible he'd put Julie off by his shyness, and his lack of acknowledgement of what had happened between them. After all, weren't women supposed to want men who were direct, confident, and not afraid to go for what they wanted? It had been her who'd made the first move in the taxi, and since then... Well, he could see how it might look as if he wasn't the slightest bit interested.
As he waited on the pavement, Mark realised if Nathan was right, it was a wonder Julie was even speaking to him, the way he'd heartlessly kissed her - or rather, kissed her back - then not even mentioned it. After all, why should he have expected her to? That wasn't fair. Certainly wasn't the done thing. While Mark was no chauvinist, he liked to think of himself as a gentleman, or at least a modern man, and being a modern man, he should have followed things up. Taken the lead. Or at least 'grown a pair', as his boss in the US was fond of saying.
He looked up as Nathan emerged from the newsagent's clutching a packet of Extra Strong Mints. 'So?' he said, offering Mark one.
'It's a bit extreme, isn't it?' Mark helped himself to a mint, and popped it into his mouth. 'Trying to make me jealous. It's the kind of thing you'd do in the playground.'
'Like sending cards without your name on them?' Nathan began walking back to the office, and Mark duly followed him. 'Or anonymously giving someone a packet of balloons. Or sending them chocolate 'kisses'.'
'Well, what would you do if you were me?'
Nathan puffed air out of his cheeks. 'Again, I'm hardly the best person to ask for advice, mate. Last time I tried to give someone something on Valentine's Day, they pretty much threw it back in my face.'
'You don't think... No.' Mark shook his head. 'That's not possible.'
'What?'
'Well, it could just be the case that if she was drunk, then she was so drunk she doesn't even remember who she was in the taxi with, and therefore, who she kissed. Maybe she thinks it was you. And so maybe that was her way of finding out.'
'Why would she think it was me?' Nathan shook his head as they turned the corner into Bateman Street. 'And if she did, surely she'd have said something by now?'
'I refer you to your earlier 'embarrassed' observation.'
'Fair point.'
'Unless...' Mark stopped dead in his tracks. 'Are you sure she didn't see you deliver the card?'
Nathan nodded. 'Yup. Hundred and ten percent.'
Mark bit his tongue to stop his inner accountant from pointing out that was a numerical impossibility. 'You're positive?'
Nathan nodded. 'And I told Sophie not to say anything either.'
'What?'
'Sophie. I told her not to say anything.'
'When?'
'This morning.'
'Why would Sophie have said anything?'
'Well, she was in the office.'
Nathan had started walking again, and Mark hurried to catch him up. 'What office?'
'Her office. You know, the one she shares with Julie?'
They'd reached Seek's building now, so Mark lowered his voice. 'Let me get this straight. When you delivered the card this morning - my card for Julie - you walked into the office she shares with Sophie and - in front of Sophie - put the card on Julie's desk?'
'Yeah.'
'Nathan.'
'But like I said, Julie didn't see me.'
'But Sophie did,' Mark almost shouted.
'So?'
'So Sophie might think the card was from you.'
'But I...' Nathan's jaw dropped open as he quickly replayed this morning's encounter with Sophie in his head. 'Ah.'
'And so what if she's told her?'
'She won't have,' said Nathan, looking a little less confident.
'No? Why ever not?'
'Like I told you, I asked her not to,' he said, weakly.
'And women always do what you ask them, do they?'
'Point taken,' said Nathan, grinning sheepishly.
'You didn't think adding 'it's not from me' or 'I'm delivering it for a friend' might have helped a little?' Mark shook his head, then pulled his key card from his pocket and swiped the door open.
'But Sophie...'
'Is a woman. So's Julie. Women talk. They don't have secrets. Ever.'
'Sorry, mate,' said Nathan, following him inside. 'I thought...'
'Yes, well, its not what you thought that counts, is it? It's what she thinks. And what on earth am I going to do about that?'
As Mark unlocked his door, Nathan clapped him on the shoulder. 'I'll sort it. Just leave it with me,' he said, before making for the stairs that led down to his office. Though in truth, he didn't have the faintest idea how.
Calum Irwin limped slowly along Oxford Street, wincing with every step. Why oh why had he taken up Debbie's offer of a free personal training session, and today of all days? There had been no way he was going to get ripped abs by this evening, and the muscles he suspected he'd torn in his lower back were hardly the same thing.
He cursed under his breath, then lifted his arm gingerly and looked at his watch. At least he still had four and a half hours until he was due to meet Emma, though given how the pain at the b
ase of his spine wasn't getting any better, four and a half days wouldn't have been enough.
Ironically, it hadn't been the exercise that had done for him - instead, he'd been trying not to appear a wimp in front of Debbie by attempting to put a dumbbell back on the rack that some other member had forgotten to put away. And while he'd never been one to draw attention to himself in the gym, the loud yowling noise he'd made when he'd picked it up and felt his back go had certainly done that. As he'd lain on the mat, whimpering quietly, Debbie had run off to fetch the manager – an Amazon of a girl who'd looked as if she could have picked the dumbbell up in one hand and Calum in the other. She'd been a picture of concern, though it turned out she'd actually been concerned Calum was going to sue the club for his injury. When he'd put on a brave face and told her 'no harm done', she'd looked relieved, and given him a couple of free passes for something called 'Zumba', which had made Calum feel a little better until he'd discovered it was some sort of dance fitness class, and not a tropical fruit drink from the juice bar.
He'd crawled out of the weights room, showered slowly, and - having found it impossible to reach any part of his body lower than his waist with his towel - dried his nether regions as best he could using the hand-dryer in the toilets. Getting his clothes back on had taken the greatest of efforts, though tying his shoelaces had been beyond him, and as he walked, he had to take care not to trip over them.
He caught sight of his shambling reflection in a shop window and wondered miserably whether he should text Emma to cancel, but decided to wait, hoping by some miracle his back might get better before tonight. Instead, he called into Boots to pick up some ibuprofen and a jar of something called Tiger Balm that Debbie had recommended (although he put that back on the shelf when he realised how bad it smelled).
Calum couldn't believe his bad luck. He couldn't even stand up straight, which made his claim of being over six foot tall look even more spurious. Still, perhaps the grimace he couldn't stop appearing on his face every time he took a breath would be enough of a distraction, and Emma wouldn't notice. Or she might even regard a gym injury as some sort of badge of honour, and be concerned enough about his health to offer to give him a massage... For the second time today, the words 'yeah' and 'right' formed a sentence in his head.