by Rhoda Baxter
He went back to making tea whilst she tried to remember all her purse had contained.
"Here you go." He set a mug of tea in front of her. "I'm sure I had some biscuits," he said, as he opened one cupboard after another. "Ah, here we are." He pulled down a packet of digestives and put them in front of her as well. "Now, will you be okay for a few minutes?"
"Yes, sure." She wrapped her hands round the mug of tea, immediately feeling a little better. She smiled at him.
"In that case, I'll just go and get changed into something warmer."
"Would it be okay if I phoned my flatmate. She'll be wondering where I am."
"Of course. Phone whoever you want to." He gave a quick smile and left the room.
Jane waited until she heard another door close and quickly punched in Polly's number, thankful that she knew it by heart. "Hi Pol, it's me," she said when Polly answered.
"Jane, where are you? I've been trying to call you, but you didn't answer your phone. I was starting to get worried."
"I'm fine," said Jane. "My phone got nicked..."
"What? How?"
"I...er...I got mugged." It seemed too weird to say that. Until now, muggings were something that happened to other people, like winning the lottery. It seemed strange to be the victim of one.
"Oh my God! Are you okay? Where are you?"
"I'm fine," Jane repeated. "Marsh rescued me."
"Marsh?" said Pol. "Is that the one with the nice arse?"
Jane couldn't help but smile. Trust Polly to remember that one fact above all else. "Yes, that's the one."
There was some murmuring in the background and Polly said, "Shut up Andy." Then, "So where are you now?"
"I'm in his flat..." Jane felt a strong urge to giggle.
"What? Jane, what's going on?"
Suddenly, it was all too funny. "He's in the shower," she said, giggling. "He made me a cup of tea."
"Jane? Jane, you're scaring me. Tell me where you are and we'll come and get you."
"No, no," Jane wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and tried to stop the laughter. "I'm fine. Honestly. Marsh has been a total gentleman. He brought me in here into the warm and made me a cup of tea. He even gave me his phone to call the police and report the mugging."
There was silence from the other end, and then Polly said, "Let me get this straight. You got mugged. This guy with the nice arse rescued you and took you back to his flat?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't he bring you to your flat?"
"I asked him not to," said Jane, suddenly feeling bad. Polly would have looked after her.
"Why?"
Jane didn't want to hurt Polly's feelings by telling her that she didn't really feel at home in Polly's flat. She felt like she was in the way. "I... He was wearing running shorts," she said finally.
Now it was Polly's turn to laugh. "Okay, I see what you mean. Well, if he tries anything funny, just call me and Andy will come and pick you up, okay?"
"Okay."
"What's the number there, just in case?"
Jane turned the phone round and read the number that was printed on it in neat feminine handwriting. She had seen Marsh's scrawl before. It wasn't his.
She heard the bathroom door open. "He's coming back. I've got to go," she said and quickly hung up. She dialled the police and was busy giving the policewoman a list of what was stolen when Marsh came back in. She didn't look up, but concentrated on what she was saying. She could hear him moving around, making himself a drink.
She heaved a sigh of relief when she'd finished.
Marsh leaned on the other side of the breakfast bar. "Sorted?"
"I think so." He was barely a foot away from her. His hair was still damp from his shower and stood in unruly ridges where he'd run his fingers through it. She could smell his shampoo. She looked down, afraid to look into his eyes in case he noticed that she fancied him.
"You should cancel your credit cards," he said, finally.
"Yes, I should."
"Would you like some food? I could do us some pasta."
Suddenly her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten since lunchtime. "That would be lovely."
As she made her phone calls, she watched Marsh cook. If anything, he looked even more sexy in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He moved confidently round the kitchen, slicing garlic and chopping vegetables.
When he said he'd make pasta, she had assumed he would just open a jar of sauce. She hadn't expected him to cook a proper meal from scratch. She tried to remember the last time a man had cooked for her. Ashby's idea of cooking was making a sandwich.
By the time Jane had finished her calls, the kitchen smelled wonderful. He got plates out. "Would you like a glass of wine? I'm having one."
"Yes, please."
He placed two glasses of red wine and a big dish of pasta with a tomatoey sauce in front of her and pulled up a stool opposite her. "Cheers," he said, raising his glass.
Now that the food was in front of her, she found she was really hungry. Jane tried a bit of her pasta. "This is delicious," she said. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"To be honest, I was surprised to see you made it from scratch," said Jane, when she'd eaten a bit. "Do you cook a lot?"
Marsh thought for a moment. "I guess I do," he said, looking surprised. "I never really thought about it before. I had to make sure Stevie had a healthy diet so, I started to cook for us. I guess I've just got used to it now."
Stevie. Jane's felt her heart sink. Why had she assumed that a man like that would be single? Of course, no one at work had mentioned that he had a girlfriend, only about Dominique, but then, perhaps he kept it quiet. He seemed like a fairly private person and the office was full of gossip. "Your girlfriend is a really lucky woman."
Marsh coloured slightly. "Oh, Stevie's not my girlfriend. I don't have a girlfriend. Stevie's my sister. She lives with me." He pointed to a framed photo on the wall behind her. "That's her there."
It was a photo of a family. Marsh was there, looking a lot younger and, standing next to him, was a small girl.
"Of course, she's a lot older than that now."
The family resemblance was unmistakable. "Are those your parents?"
"Yes," said Marsh. "That was taken in my second year at uni. It was about a year before the accident."
"Accident?"
"They...they died. In a car accident. When I was twenty-one. Stevie was only thirteen then, so I became her legal guardian." He was still looking at the photo.
She tried to imagine what it must have been like to simultaneously lose your parents and suddenly be in charge of a child at the same time. "Wow. That must have been..." She couldn't think of a word that covered the situation. "That's tough,"
He looked back at his plate. "We managed. Stevie's a great kid. She looked after me about as much as I looked after her." He turned his attention back to her. "Enough about me," he said. "How about you? How are you getting on at Ramsdean and Tooze?"
"Okay, I think," said Jane, and paused. "Is everyone obsessed with rank?"
"Oh yes," Marsh said with a completely straight face. "You have to introduce yourself stating where you fit in the company hierarchy. I tried not to for a while, but people kept asking me if I was a trainee." He shrugged. "It's silly, I know. But you're in that atmosphere for so long every week, that you start to think it's normal."
"You seem to be able to distance yourself, though." Jane sipped her wine.
"I used to be more immersed," he said. "I've had to teach myself to step back every so often since..." He looked embarrassed. "I...er...had an intra-office relationship that went a bit wrong. It gave me a crash course in perspective."
"I heard about that."
"I thought you might have done. The gossip network at R and T is pretty comprehensive," he said, sounding a little apologetic. "Good old Dominique. Gone, but never quite forgotten."
Jane swirled her wine. She hadn't talked about Ashby to anyone other
than her mother and Polly. She hadn't been ready. Somehow the idea of telling Marshall, who had been cheated on himself, seemed easier to contemplate. She avoided looking at him. "I know what it feels like to have your partner cheat on you", she said. "I caught my ex in bed with another woman." It felt strange saying it out loud. She waited for the pain to hit.
"You actually saw them? Ouch. That must have been nasty."
For a moment, she'd thought the hurt had gone away, but there it was. Gnawing away at her. Briefly she considered telling Marshall about how much it had hurt to walk in and find Ashby and the stick insect busy on her nice clean sheets. But then, perhaps he knew? The stick insect had given a fairly frank interview about the whole thing. So maybe everyone knew. Did he ever flick through his sister's magazines? If he did, might he connect her with Triphoppers? As she paused for too long, she could see Marsh starting to look worried.
"Yeah. It was pretty nasty. But I'm over it now." Then, feeling a little honesty was required, she added, "I think."
Marsh gave her a sympathetic smile. "It takes a while."
"It makes you feel really stupid, doesn't it? You wonder what else was going on that you didn't see."
"And if the whole world knew and it was only you who didn't see it."
Jane wondered if he knew just how close that was to her own thoughts. "Yes. And you wonder how you could have been that bad a judge of character."
They both looked down at their drinks.
"Well, I guess that's something we have in common then." The dimple appeared briefly in his cheek.
Jane felt the sudden urge to touch it.
He raised his glass "To cheating partners. Good riddance."
Jane had to laugh. "Good riddance. We're better off without them."
Marsh laughed too as he lowered his glass.
She wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
Suddenly the phone rang. Jane jumped. Was Polly checking up on her?
Marsh looked at the number and slipped off the stool, mouthing "excuse me". He retreated to the other side of the kitchen, still within earshot, but giving the illusion of privacy.
"Yes?" He sounded slightly annoyed. He listened for a moment. "That's okay. Don't worry about it."
He listened some more. His face softened. "You too. Listen, I've got to go. I've got someone visiting."
He shot a quick glance at Jane. "Yes."
There was some babble of the other end. He rolled his eyes. "I'll email you tomorrow. Bye." He hung up, smiling. "My sister," he said, by way of explanation.
Jane glanced at her watch. It was eleven-thirty and she had to be at work tomorrow. She hesitated, not wanting to bring the evening to an end.
Marsh noticed her checking her watch. "I guess we should think about getting you home."
"I still have my Oyster card. It was in my pocket."
"Oh no, I can't let you take the tube at this time of night. Especially after all that's happened to you this evening." He reached for the phone. "I'll call you a taxi."
Jane opened her mouth to protest. Apart from anything else, she had no money on her.
"I'll pay," he said, as though he'd read her mind. "I insist."
Once Marsh had ordered the taxi, he opened one of the curtains. "Do you mind if I turn some of the lights out, so that we can see the taxi when it turns up?"
When she shrugged, he turned the dining area lights off and they stood side by side, watching the road below. They chatted about work and London, but Jane could barely concentrate on what she was saying. She was hyper aware of him standing next to her.
He felt so big and warm and safe. She wanted nothing more than to close the small gap between them. His chest was so close she would only have to move a tiny bit to rest her head against it and hear his heart. Just when the temptation was getting unbearable, a taxi turned into the road.
"There it is," said Marsh, his voice sounding strained. "We'd best get out there before he beeps and wakes Mrs. Watkins on the ground floor."
As he helped her into her coat, Jane said, "I never got to say thank you."
"I didn't do much."
"No, I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come along. And dinner...was lovely too." She raised up on her tip toes and, with her heart hammering in her ears, she kissed him on the cheek, just next to the dimple.
Marsh froze.
For a moment they stood there, their faces millimetres from each other. Jane forgot to breathe. The world seemed to stop still. Suddenly there was a beep from outside.
Marsh looked into her eyes. He placed a light kiss on her cheek. "No funny business," he whispered, his breath warm on her skin. "I promised."
Chapter 8
From: Stevie Winfield
To: Marshall Winfield
What happened? What happened? What happened?? I hope I didn't interrupt when I phoned last night.
##
From: Marshall Winfield
To: Stevie Winfield
No, you didn't interrupt anything. We were just talking.
What happened? Well, it's a long story.
I was leaving the office to run home and I heard a scream. So naturally, I ran to see if I could help. There was a woman being mugged by two men. I shouted and ran towards them. They pushed her to the ground and ran away.
It turned out the woman was Jane. God knows why she decided to use the shortcut at night. You'd think she'd know better. She's from Manchester!
Anyhow, she was all shaken up. I offered to take her home, but she didn't want to go there. So, I took her to the flat, gave her a cup of tea and some pasta. We were just chatting about stuff and you rang.
That's all.
Marsh
##
From: Stevie Winfield
To: Marshall Winfield
What do you mean 'that's all'? Didn't you snog her?
##
From: Marshall Winfield
To: Stevie Winfield
No I didn't snog her. I wanted to. But I didn't. It didn't seem right to take advantage when she was all shaken up. That would make me a total shark, wouldn't it?
Besides, when I invited her back to the flat, I promised no funny business.
M
##
From: Stevie Winfield
To: Marshall Winfield
What did you do that for--you idiot.
God, no wonder none of your relationships last more than a month -apart from Dominique the bitch. It's this gallant crap you insist on pulling.
##
From: Marshall Winfield
To: Stevie Winfield
And there was me thinking it was because I lived with my little sister. Silly me.
##
From: Stevie Winfield
To: Marshall Winfield
Okay, even if that was the problem, you have no excuse for the last year when I've been away at uni?
##
From: Marshall Winfield
To: Stevie Winfield
Apart from the whole Dominique thing? If we exclude that, I have no excuse. I hang my head with shame.
##
From: Stevie Winfield
To: Marshall Winfield
Wait a minute. A self deprecating joke??
You like her!! You really REALLY like this girl!
Which means you are a super big GIANT idiot for not kissing her. What am I going to do with you?
I hope you're at least going to ask her out today. So that you can snog her without feeling like you're taking ad
vantage.
##
From: Marshall Winfield
To: Stevie Winfield
I'd like to ask her out, but you know how badly things can go wrong when I date people from work.
We work in the same team, which means we wouldn't be able to avoid each other. At least with Dominique, she was at the other end of the office.
Also, I'm trying to make partner, remember. I've already had one warning about office relationships once--cue Dominique again. I can't risk another.
Besides, Jane's just come out of a bad relationship. I think she still feels a bit fragile about it. It's probably not a great idea for me to land her with another one.
##
From: Stevie Winfield
To: Marshall Winfield
Fine. Fine. Whatever.
But you DO like her, don't you?
##
From: Marshall Winfield
To: Stevie Winfield
She's pretty. She's clever, She's nice. She's interesting. And I feel totally at ease when I'm talking to her.
So yes, I like her. But she's still a work colleague, so I can't ask her out.
Sorry to disappoint you.
Marsh--boring old fart.
PS: Of course, all this makes it very distracting work with her.
##
From: Stevie Winfield
To: James Edwards
Cc: Louise Edwards
Jim
I think Marsh is in love with this Jane girl. But he's refusing to ask her out because they work together. Can you talk some sense into him?
I'm CC 'ing Lou in case she has any good ideas about it.
Stevie
##
From: Stevie Winfield
To: James Edwards
One other question Jim. What's Jane's last name?
Stevie
* * * *
Jane yawned and switched her computer on. It had been a long night and she was still shattered. It had taken a lot of effort to drag herself into work on time.
Ruth's head appeared above the partition. "Late night?"