‘I’m sorry, we’re closed for the day now,’ I yelled. I couldn’t make out who was there. They were tall, I could tell that much, and they obviously couldn’t read the ‘Closed’ sign on the door because they were still banging.
‘All right, I’m coming. Hold on.’ I bent down to undo the bottom bolt, then the top, before finally yanking open the door.
‘Hello, Abigail. Can I come in?’
Jack. On my doorstep. What the hell? I noticed he hadn’t shaved; his designer stubble looked a bit untidy. He was wearing a tight grey T-shirt and jeans – very impressive chest, I noticed – and a black leather jacket; he looked annoyingly handsome. Bastard! He could at least have had the good grace to look like crap occasionally.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I just wanted to see you. No hidden agenda, I swear.’
‘How did you find me?’
‘You’re not exactly hard to find, Abigail. I had someone on my staff trace your van. This is the registered address for it.’
He has staff – of course he does, he’s a millionaire. Don’t they all have staff?
‘Tell your staff to stay out of my business. I already told you we have nothing more to say to each other.’ I stepped out of the doorway, forcing him back a little, and then pulled the café door closed behind me. The last thing I wanted was for Lucy to hear him down here; she’d have him upstairs in the flat and drinking tea before I knew it. I threw him my best defiant glare, the one I usually reserved for stroppy customers, but it had little effect on him. He moved towards me ever so slightly and I took a step back. I was now trapped between the door and Jack’s body. His dark eyes examined my face and I could feel my cheeks beginning to flush. He was so close, I allowed myself the luxury of a good old-fashioned ogle. No more fleshy, boyish cheeks; his face was more angular, the cheekbones more defined, the jawline more severe. All this new angularity was softened by the warm brown eyes I remembered so well; eyes that I would so often find focussed on me.
‘I think we have plenty to talk about, Abigail.’
The scent of his aftershave filled the air between us and I could see a small pulse throbbing at the base of his neck. I’d quite like to just lean forward and bite it, I thought. Wait – what? Where did that spring from? I tried to regain my composure, taking several deep breaths before I could trust myself to speak.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. We haven’t seen each other for twenty years, what could we possibly have to discuss?’
‘Twenty years is a long time. A lot has happened to us both, Mrs Cowan.’
His voice was heavy with sarcasm and I realised that he’d uncovered my lie. No point denying it any more. I held up my left hand.
‘No ring.’
‘I can see that, but that isn’t how I found out.’
‘Your staff?’
He nodded.
‘Bloody hell, Jack, stop snooping through my life! You have no right to do that!’ I shoved both hands into his chest but it was like trying to move a boulder. I felt powerless and I didn’t like it. He was unrepentant.
‘You didn’t leave me much choice. You keep running away from me, every chance you get. How was I supposed to see you?’
‘You weren’t. That’s the whole point. Don’t you get it?’
I was trying not to raise my voice – I didn’t want to disturb the neighbours or Lucy – but he was being so aggravating. He was looking at me as if I were insane, as if he hadn’t done anything wrong. After running out on me all those years before, he was standing there as if he had nothing to be sorry for.
‘Why are you so angry with me?’ he asked. ‘You’re the one who broke my heart, remember? All those letters I wrote, begging for you to get in touch and nothing! No replies!’
‘What the hell are you going on about? I never saw any letters!’ He was lying, he must be.
‘You were my first love, Abigail, my first kiss. Did you seriously think I would just leave you? Knowing how much it hurt you when your father left? Did you really think so little of me?’
His dark eyes searched my face, looking for some sort of response.
‘What happened to all these letters, then, Jack? Where did they magically disappear to?’
He opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself; holding up his hands, he stepped away from me. I felt the cold air rush into the gap between us and for a moment I was tempted to draw him back towards me. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stood very still, looking me up and down for a few seconds.
‘I didn’t come here to fight with you, Abigail. Can’t we just talk, like grown-ups? I just want to talk to you.’
I knew I should say no, but I suspected he would have an answer all ready for whatever objections I raised, and I didn’t have the energy to argue. You also want to know what he has to say, said a little voice in the back of my mind.
‘All right, fine,’ I snapped, ‘but you can’t come inside.’
He looked mildly amused. ‘Whatever you want, Abigail.’ He walked away from the café, over to the railing opposite that enclosed a small patch of grass; the only patch of green left along the street.
‘It’s stupid, I guess, but I hadn’t expected it to look so different.’ He looked up and down the little row of shops that was home to my café. ‘In my mind this all still looks like it did when we were kids.’
I stepped out from the doorway and went over to stand beside him, leaning against the same railing. He put his hand over mine and kept it there for a few seconds before he eventually pulled away. He walked over to peer into the window of the next shop along the row.
‘What happened to the hair salon next door? That place was responsible for my first, and last, dodgy perm, I seem to remember.’
‘Oh, God! I’d forgotten about the perm!’ I started to laugh. ‘That was truly awful. Mind you, it was the eighties – I think we all made some pretty poor hair choices, if I recall.’
‘Wet-look gel and Lynx deodorant – those were the fragrances of my youth,’ he said, walking up to the shop window and peering inside.
‘So much hairspray, so little ozone layer,’ I replied.
He turned back to me and grinned and then jerked his thumb towards the café.
‘I promise to behave myself if you let me in.’
‘I thought you just wanted to talk,’ I replied.
‘I do.’
‘We can do that just as well out here.’ I didn’t feel as if I needed to say any more. If I didn’t want him to come in, then that was up to me, wasn’t it? No need for explanations; I was the one in control here. Jack might have been surprised but he kept it well hidden; he replied without missing a beat.
‘Doesn’t matter. We can just sit on the front step, like we used to, remember?’
I did remember, every detail, which was precisely the problem.
‘I’m too old to sit on cold concrete steps anymore,’ I said.
‘I’d suggest you sit on my lap, but I don’t suppose you’d go for that.’
I threw him a look that answered that question and he laughed.
‘Thought not. Here, sit on this.’ He took off his leather jacket and draped it over the step. I saw the designer label in the lining; there was no way I was about to park my arse on something that expensive. I picked up the jacket and threw it at him.
‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous.’ I plonked myself down on the hard step and he sat down next to me.
‘You are a tricky one, Abigail.’
‘Yes, so I’ve been told. What do you want to talk about, then? Anything specific or will the weather do?’ There wasn’t much space on the step. I shifted my position so I was half facing him, trying to put a little distance between us, and absent-mindedly brushed something off my apron – anything other than look at his face. I could feel him staring at me.
‘Don’t be a smart-ass, Abigail. It’s been so long. I want to know what’s been going on with you, that’s all.’
What should I say? I opted fo
r brief and simple. ‘Let’s see, now. Got pregnant, got dumped, went to college, inherited a café. Ta da!’ I held my arms out wide, to illustrate my vast empire.
‘But not married?’
I laughed at the suggestion. ‘No, not married. The surname change was Mum’s idea. Something to do with all of us needing a fresh start after Dad buggered off.’
‘And the baby?’
‘Isn’t a baby any more. She’s just about to leave her poor old mother all alone and start university.’ That thought brought a lump to my throat but I swallowed it down and quickly changed the subject.
‘And what about you, Mr Moneybags? I don’t suppose I need to ask you how your life’s been, do I?’ I think the mention of his money made him uncomfortable, as he squirmed a little. I wasn’t about to be put off; he wasn’t the only one who had questions. ‘What exactly is it that you do?’ I said. ‘You never told me.’
‘You never asked.’ He looked at me so intently, I couldn’t hold his gaze. I was asking the questions and yet I still felt like the one being examined. I needed to take charge of the conversation – and fast.
‘Your girlfriend, Lexie, seems very sweet,’ I said.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘What on earth makes you think she’s my girlfriend? That’s ridiculous.’
‘Oh. I thought you two were an item. You seemed very close.’ I couldn’t tell him about all the pictures I’d seen whilst I was looking him up on the Internet. I’d look like a stalker.
‘She’s a friend of the family. I’ve known Lexie since she was a teenager.’
‘Well, she’s all grown up now. And she’s in love with you, obviously.’
Jack acted surprised by my statement. ‘What? That’s crazy. She’s more like my little sister. She’s not in love with me.’
I raised an eyebrow at his emphatic denials; I wasn’t entirely convinced they were genuine. Or maybe I was being unfair; I wasn’t sure. It reminded me again of how little I knew about the man in front of me.
‘Men are so dense,’ I said. ‘I’ve only met the girl twice and even I can see it.’
Jack shook his head. ‘I’m telling you, she’s just a friend.’
I held my hands up in mock defeat. ‘All right, if you say so. But I know I’m right.’
Jack puffed out an exasperated breath. After a few minutes’ silence, he said, ‘It is really strange to be back but, sitting here with you, I can’t explain it, it just feels right to me. I—’ He stopped abruptly, as if he wasn’t sure what to say next. He didn’t need to say it; I knew what he meant. There was something comfortingly familiar about the two of us together. It felt safe and reassuring. And temporary, my logical brain piped up. In a few days he would be gone again, back home to his life in America. There was no point sitting there romanticising about it, I told myself. This was just two old friends catching up. I needed to get the conversation back onto safer ground.
‘Are you a spy or something, then?’
‘What?’ Jack laughed. ‘Why would you say that?’
‘I ask you about your work, you change the subject, or you’re very vague. I just figured it must be top secret if you won’t talk about it.’
‘I don’t talk about it because it’s very dull and there are plenty more interesting topics we could be discussing.’ He nudged my shoulder and gave me a flirty smile. I didn’t reply. He sighed.
‘It’s just computers. Very boring. My company designed a few programs that various government agencies found useful.’
‘Government agencies? Ooh, so you are a spy!’ I punched him on the arm, not surprised when my fist landed on a very firm bicep. My brain took a little detour and I had a brief vision of what his body might look like under his clothes. Bloody Nora. I felt a little hot suddenly, the two of us squeezed onto the doorstep, so close our bodies were touching. I had to swallow down the involuntary murmur that almost escaped my lips, but I could feel the flush that was heating my cheeks.
‘Are you all right? Abigail?’
Pull yourself together, woman, I chastised. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Sorry. You were saying?’
Jack smiled and I had to resist the urge to punch him again.
‘I wasn’t saying anything. Computer programming and developing software. That’s it. We’ve just started working with some companies over here, hence the reason we opened the new office and why we had the party you catered for.’
The party. That seemed like a lifetime ago but it had only been a few days.
‘So, if there’s no romance between you and Lexie – which I’m still not convinced about, by the way – is there anyone else in your life?’ Even as I asked the question I realised that I wasn’t totally prepared for the answer. If he suddenly announced he had a wife and three kids tucked away somewhere, I wasn’t sure what I would do.
‘No. There’s no one. I haven’t exactly been blessed in that department. I work long hours and most of the women I’ve dated haven’t been keen on playing second fiddle to my business.’
‘No children?’
‘None that I know of and I’ve been pretty careful about that.’
‘A workaholic, then? Sounds lonely.’
He shrugged. ‘It is what it is. I’ve had to make sacrifices to be successful. It isn’t a big deal.’ His expression contradicted his words; he looked sad and I found myself feeling sorry for him. I’d be lost without Lucy, without family and friends. No amount of success could compare to the love and support of family. That wasn’t a sacrifice I could ever see myself making. Which probably explained why my business was in the toilet and Jack was flying first class around the world. The comparison made me smile.
‘What’s funny?’
‘Nothing. Everything. I was just wondering where my life might have taken me if things had been different. Being left on your own to bring up a baby when you’re barely an adult yourself isn’t exactly a recipe for career success.’
‘Lots of women do it.’
‘They do, you’re right. Perhaps they’re lucky enough to have the help of a loving partner.’
‘Maybe, but I still think you’re selling yourself short. Your daughter’s off to college, the world is your oyster now. What do you want to do with your life?’
There were lots of things I wanted to do – it was just that, at this moment, I couldn’t think of any.
‘I can’t just up and leave… go wherever I want… Lucy’s still going to need me… I’m the only proper parent she has… I need to be here… for her…’ It sounded so pathetic, I knew that, but I wasn’t ready to look beyond the next few weeks. The thought of the future terrified me, but I was buggered if I was about to let him know that. I think he sensed my discomfort so he changed the subject.
‘Lucy’s father isn’t in the picture at all, then?’ Jack looked a little nervous as he waited for my answer.
‘No. Martin sends her a birthday card with a ten-pound note in every year but that’s about it. He left just after Lucy was born.
‘What about his family? Didn’t they want to help?’
‘Good God, no!’ I exclaimed. ‘The Church family couldn’t really be considered upstanding members of the community, despite their surname. Besides his mother always hated me, thought I’d trapped her little boy on purpose by getting pregnant.’ That thought made me chuckle, as if Martin were some prize catch that I’d snagged with my wily ways. When it came to her son she was always very good at conveniently overlooking his many flaws.
I think I saw the exact moment that the penny dropped for Jack, as he processed the information I’d just given him. He knew Martin Church – we were all in the same class at school – and he hated him.
‘Hold on a second. Lucy’s father is Martin Church? You slept with Martin Church?’ He stood up and walked away from me, raking his hands through his hair. ‘That useless asshole is the father of your kid? Abigail, seriously, how could you do that?’
I attempted a laugh in the hope of masking my embarrassment. ‘I was young, stupi
d, I guess…’
‘Stupid is a fucking understatement,’ he exclaimed. ‘He was a useless little shit even when we were kids. I can only imagine the kind of man he grew up to be.’
I jumped to my feet and strode over to him, my feelings of embarrassment now replaced with anger. How dare he stand there and judge me?
‘He grew up to be the kind of man who would gamble away what little money we had, shove me about a bit and then piss off and leave me with a baby to look after. That kind of man. Happy now?’
I noticed the flash of anger that crossed his face at my reference to Martin’s violent temper.
‘God, Abigail, why would your pain make me happy?’
I just shrugged and then crossed my arms defensively. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his eyes.
‘Abigail. Look at me. Please.’ His voice was soft and when I looked up there was no trace of anger or disappointment in his gaze, only warmth and tenderness. ‘Talk to me.’
‘First Dad left and then you. Mum had gone from creeping around the house like a ghost to then acting like my own personal prison warden. Always watching me, always criticising – I couldn’t breathe.’ The memory of that time still made me shudder. ‘Martin was nice to me.’
‘Yeah, I’ll bet he was,’ said Jack.
‘It wasn’t like that – we were friends. We hung around together. To be honest I don’t think his home life was any better than mine. I’m pretty sure his dad used to knock him and his mum about.’
‘Explains a lot,’ said Jack, sarcastically.
‘You know what, just forget it. It’s very easy for you to sit there in judgement of the rest of us. The ones you left behind.’ I stood up and turned round, ready to go back into the café and slam the door in his face.
‘Wait, look, I’m sorry. I’m not judging. I’m just trying to understand.’
‘Understand what?’
‘How someone as amazing as you could have ended up with him.’
‘We all make mistakes, Jack. Martin was one of mine. We just sort of fell into a relationship. Then Lucy happened.’ I smiled at the mention of my beautiful daughter. ‘We decided we could do it – we could be better grown-ups than the ones we knew. So, we got a shitty bedsit and gave it a try. But something changed. We had responsibilities. We weren’t playing at being grown-ups any more. This was real. I guess Martin never fully managed to rise to the occasion. He was always unemployed. I worked in the café, but it didn’t pay that well. Martin couldn’t ever seem to hold onto a job. He’d started drinking and gambling a bit as well.’
Secrets and Tea at Rosie Lee's Page 8