“Ready?” I ask, all masterful.
“I am,” he replies, just as much. Darn it.
“Great. Any idea where you want to go?”
He shrugs. “Lead on, Macduff.” It’s lay on but I’m certainly not going to suggest he does that. Apart from the obvious, he’d squash me.
So I do ‘lead’ and we head for Papa John’s. I have no fond memories of the place and, although it’s a bit of a way down Waterhouse Street, it’s a lovely walk along the river. And it’s given us time to talk. No face to face – not that we could as I barely come up to his hulk of a chest, certainly not close enough to touch, just plain old simple honesty. His feelings for me (plenty, he said), my feelings for him (none, I said).
He stops and turns to look at me. Down, way down, at me. “None?”
“I didn’t mean it to sound so brutal but I have to be honest. You know I’m with someone, with Duncan, you’ve known that since day one, day two, whenever. I should have been clearer from the start but we’re just colleagues. You and I.”
“And you invited me out to lunch to spurn me?”
Spurn. A word of confliction. I love it as a word but it can wound and I don’t like that. I stay strong. “I shouldn’t have needed to. If you hadn’t kept coming on to me, declaring your undying whatever to m–”
“My undying whatever?” He’s smiling.
“That’s not fair.”
“Come on, Donna. You know you like me.”
Now I do look up to the heavens in futility although I don’t curse. He gently lowers my chin with a finger. A finger that smells of Diesel. The aftershave rather than petrol substitute. Now that’s got me thing of whether it is actually–
“Come on,” he says, taking his finger away. “Let’s go eat.”
Although I don’t think the topic of ‘us’ is closed for good, I know we’re a step nearer in the right direction. Whether it’s a Donna- or James-sized step, I don’t know.
Billy insists on taking me out in his Jag even though we’re only going to the Boxmoor Steakhouse, a few yards from the office. Despite the lure of venison, kangaroo, ostrich and zebra – I know! – being ‘healthier, leaner and flavourful’, we both go for the high-quality graded Pavé Angus rump steaks, 180gm in my case, 230gm in Billy’s, and well done to his rare. Yuk.
Whether they taste all the better for being ‘carefully dry-aged in a temperature-controlled environment with a balanced grain diet for a high-marble score, tender and succulent texture’, I can’t tell you but they’re absolutely delicious. Mine is perfection, as is Billy’s, this he tells me while I look at him rather than it as he cuts into it.
Neither James nor Veronica appear in our conversation but Billy and I hardly talk about work, what with everything that’s going on in the world: America vs. Korea vs. Russia rattling on, stabbings on London streets, enough to make you appreciate how simple your life actually is. It does me.
“So, Donna.”
Uh oh. This makes me sit up straighter. He smiles so I relax.
“How are you finding everything?”
I assume he means generally rather than geographically.
He continues. “I’m sorry I’ve not been around much but you seem very self-sufficient.”
I appreciate the compliment and the fact he has more confidence in me than me. I.
“Thank you. Yes, everyone’s been very kind.” I was going to say ‘lovely’ but veered to the more generic ‘very kind’ instead. Billy’s more relaxed than many bosses, not that I’ve had that many, but even so, he’s still my boss.
“I’ve enjoyed your articles. I like the subtle humour you weave through them. Not too much description of the venues, a bit about the staff you met, nameless of course. Wouldn’t want you getting into trouble now, would we.”
I shake my head. “I hadn’t planned that but some names I hadn’t known and once I’d started the articles like that, I decided it was the way to go. Otherwise the relevant people might get asked for, picked on even. I don’t know. Besides, I’d not told many what I was doing there so didn’t exactly ask their permission.”
Billy nods sagely. “Less is more.”
That’s exactly what Duncan says when the issue of my height arises, and it makes me warm to Billy all the more, even if he didn’t mean it in relation to me.
We don’t quite talk for England while we finish our steaks then desserts (seasonal berries Eton Mess for Billy, chocolate fudge brownie with marinated cherries coulis and cherry ice cream, hazelnut tuile and salted caramel for me!) but for at least half of Hertfordshire, this half (probably more a quarter) this side of the M1 anyway. I learn more about Cassandra (never Cassie or Cass), Leo and Milo, their sons from the fourth round of IVF. Wow.
“We were going to have triplets but…” Billy doesn’t need to say anymore. It’s clear from his expression and the fact that only two sons are ever mentioned that the third child didn’t make it. Respectful Donna doesn’t ask whether it would have been a boy or girl but Billy adds, “Poor Cassandra’s outnumbered as it is.”
I can’t imagine losing a child. I thought I was going to have one but I was wrong. It’s not the same at all. I wonder how Billy always remains so cheerful but it’s clear they’re used to their situation and incredibly grateful for the two they do have.
And that’s the biggest lesson, to be grateful. We’re alive. We’re healthy (although slightly less in my case after such an extravagant dessert). And while some might be wealthier than others, my life’s been nowhere near as tough as Billy and Cassandra’s. I hope I’ll have a child, more than one, whenever it’s meant to be. With Duncan. I can already see what a wonderful father he’d make, is to Buddy.
And as I drive home, I give them a call, handsfree, and leave a message when it goes to answerphone, noting that Duncan’s probably having a bath, with Buddy chewing one of his many semi-abandoned rawhides.
I’ll call Duncan later, have our usually catch up and he’ll tell me how much he loves me. I’ll say I love him more. “Not possible,” he’ll reply and blow me a kiss, making me want to cry because I’m that happy.
And so life goes on.
Chapter 72 – Become Quite Formidable
Friday 18th May
It's Duncan and my one-year anniversary today so we chat on the phone, albeit quietly as Mum’s still in bed, alone I think but there’s no noise so for that I’m grateful, until it’s time for me to get up and go to work. I had a lovely bath when I got back (Mum’s car was here but no sign of her) so no need for a shower. I have visions of a lovely romantic dinner followed by a soak for two tonight.
Although I’ve enjoyed my outings this week, and caught up with Mum’s antics (by text): still engaged, still blissfully happy, and yes, Charles is going to join her on the next course of guitar lessons, Friday afternoon can’t come soon enough. I’ve been up to date with my articles, reader and other external and internal emails, helped by Veronica being on top of hers remotely – which I take as a sign of Ethan being on the mend, either that or working was taking her mind off things – so very little for me to do when it comes to my project.
Considering I’ve been Veronica all month, we seem to have had less contact than normal. That’s actually not true but it feels like it. We’ve been aloof, certainly intentionally on my side, especially because of what she’s been going through; respectfully on both sides I think.
My journey up the M1 is slower than normal but after a day solely in the office with a mum-made cheese and apricot jam (in the same) sandwich (because I asked for cheese and jam, meaning separate but she knows I like weird stuff) for lunch, and only nods between James and me, I’m so thrilled at going home, that it doesn’t frustrate me. By ‘home’ I mean Duncan’s, although I will pop back to mine at some stage as I’ve worn everything I have with me and at Mum’s.
I’m past halfway through the month so on the home stretch, literally and figuratively. Duncan texted me to say he was already home and is ‘getting the place nice’. I
love that he’d do that for me. As I sit in a seemingly never-ending stream of stationary traffic – there’s a bend ahead so I’m hoping it doesn’t go too far past that, I picture his lounge, main light off, the room lit only by a gazillion nightlights and candles. But I think of it as a fire hazard. I’m such a romantic.
The traffic eventually moves and I get going. As with most holdups, there seems to be very little reason for it, just the usual Friday afternoon ‘weight’. The radio, Heart FM as normal, has already livened up in preparation for everyone going out on the town. Duncan and I are usually too tired but often make up for it on a Saturday evening, with or without Izzy and William. We’ve become quite a formidable… I struggle to think of the four equivalent for trio, quad? Quartet? Must be the latter, and another great film. I get sad whenever I think of Billy Connolly. Such a funny man.
I finally pull onto Duncan’s two-car driveway, or at least try to, but it’s already full. And I recognise both cars. Duncan’s, obviously, and a familiar hulking black Range Rover.
“Charles? What’s Charles doing here?” I ask my car as if she can answer me. I leave her on the road and head inside. I assume my mum’s here too and am pleased when she’s the first person I see.
“Mum? What…?”
She waits as if for me to continue as I shut the front door but I don’t feel I need to say anything else. We usually know each other so well that we finish each other’s sentences anyway.
“I’ve asked Duncan to give me away,” she blurts before I’ve had time to take off my jacket. It’s just as well I’ve already lain my bag on the floor as I would have surely dropped it.
How I don’t burst into tears, I really don’t know. I also hadn’t realised her plans were so advanced. “You have?”
I look into the kitchen and Duncan appears as stunned as I feel. He’s holding a bottle of red wine in his left hand and corkscrew in his right. They’re touching but barely, as if he’s gone to make the first turn but been interrupted when asked ‘the question’. Charles is leaning back against the work surface, a smile planted on his face.
I’m still semi speechless and can only manage, “I…”
“Come, come in. Duncan’s pouring wine for us all. Charles is driving obviously so a small one for him please, Duncan.”
Duncan nods.
I finally find my voice. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming up?”
“Spur of the moment. I’m sorry,” Charles says and holds up a hand, palm out. “When she told me that’s what she wanted, I said ‘let’s ask him’. I meant on the phone but your mother, rightly so, said it could only be asked in person, so here we are.”
And here they are indeed. Our romantic evening kyboshed for the second time in less than a week, not that I don’t enjoy seeing my mother but I was looking forward to just being Duncan and I. And Buddy.
With no notice, Duncan makes the meal, spaghetti Bolognese, stretch to four by adding more pasta, an extra loaf of garlic bread, and the whole bag of mixed leaf salad rather than half. Just as well he bought a big one.
My mum and Charles, as she explains, were partway here (Dunstable) so thought they may as well carry on up the A5. Dunstable, it turns out, is where Mum’s temporarily non-mobile mobile hairdresser lives, being unable to travel to Tring, to drive at all, as she’s broken her leg. Not so badly though to not do her clients’ hair, providing they’re prepared to venture over to her.
“I didn’t think you knew where Duncan lived,” I say, before tucking into the delicious-smelling meal, then hope it didn’t sound like a gripe.
“You listed him as your next of kin.”
I swallow then blow out as the hot sauce burns its way down my throat. “I did?” I croak.
“At work.” My mum looks horrified, as if she’s just let the biggest secret ever out of its padlocked bag.
“Mum…”
“It’s my fault,” Charles admits. “Don’t blame your mother. It’s just that I know Leah and–”
“Personnel human resources Leah?” I snap, now not feeling the least bit guilty. Is there anyone Charles doesn’t know?
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I was just looking out for you.”
I’m not sure how to feel about this so turn to my mum. “You could have asked.”
She looks down at her feet. “I know.”
“Anyway,” Duncan says cheerily, “you’re here now and it’s lovely to see you both, to meet you, Charles. Let’s eat.”
I’ve lost my appetite but I love spaghetti Bolognese almost as much as carbonara so tuck in.
With Charles’s apology accepted, more by some than others – me – the rest of the evening improves and more red wine flows. It’s not my favourite drink; I’m still at the tastes-like-vinegar stage but have a small glass to prove to Duncan that I’m willing to try. After the first one, Charles sticks to sparkling water, which Duncan thankfully stocks as I don’t like still. Duncan had mentioned to me, when we were alone in the kitchen between courses, about suggesting Charles and my mum stay over but I didn’t want our Saturday morning interrupted.
Buddy’s loving the extra attention throughout, having not seen my mum for ages, given she missed him when he and Duncan visited at the weekend. She’s dog mad so will make a fuss of any mutt going, and he, being a typical dog, will enjoy it for as long as it lasts.
Finally, after some unsubtle yawns from yours truly, Charles says they should really make a move. I have mellowed, admittedly helped along by the wine, so although not forgiving them completely, and I will certainly have words with Leah on Monday, our wishes of a safe journey are heartily meant. I’d be lost without my mum and I hardly see her so her having Charles in her life probably won’t make that much of a difference so as long as he makes her happy.
And if he doesn’t, he’ll have me to contend with.
Chapter 73 – None Of Us Faultless
Saturday 19th May
It’s lovely not having to get up at a certain time. Duncan’s been an angel and brought me breakfast in bed before going to work. He’s rather behind with paperwork due to a new vet starting and one of two courses, seminars, I can’t remember which he’s been on and which is outstanding, next week sometime.
I, on the other hand, have a lazy day planned, and I’m starting as I mean to go on. Buddy’s gone off with his lord and master, so a lovely quiet house. Or it is until I hear my phone ringing. I remember having removed it from my bag part way through the evening but have no clue where it is now. It’s distant enough to be downstairs but when I go downstairs, it’s still distant. So I come back upstairs. Thankfully whoever’s calling is persistent enough to try again when the answerphone kicks in.
I finally find it on the windowsill in the bathroom. I have no clue why. Even trying to think about it while swiping the green ‘slide to answer’ bar comes up with nothing.
“Morning, darling.”
“Morning, Mum.” I’m a little less chirpy than her but I can’t help it.
“I wanted to give you a quick call before I head out with Charles… He’s in the en-suite getting ready. We’re going for a quick coffee somewhere then to the craft exhibition at the museum. Did you see it when you went with Duncan? It’s supposed to be really good. I don’t know why I haven’t been before. It’s not on for much longer so this is my last chance really, given how busy I am in the week, and we’re off somewhere tomorrow… I can’t remember where. Anyway how are you?” Typical Mum, she doesn’t pause for breath.
“I’m okay, thank you.” I try to sound more chipper but I’m struggling. It doesn’t matter that she found out where Duncan lives… I would have told her if she’d asked, it’s the way she got Charles to do it. Anyway, I have to let it go. I realise she’s said something but I missed it. “Sorry?”
“No, I’m sorry. I should have asked you. Please don’t get Leah into trouble. I think Charles said it was an emergency. It really wasn’t. Leah’s so lovely apparently. He…” Mum pauses for breath so I chip in.
/> “How does he know her?”
“Erm… he did say. Sister’s cousin or sister’s niece or niece’s sister, but wouldn’t that also make her his niece. I can’t remember. A relation I’m sure. He said he had to phone her anyway about a job.”
“He wants a job at the paper?” I’m thankful now that I’m only there for another few days.
“Not for him, no. For someone he knows.” It could be anyone as he seems to know everyone.
Then the penny drops. “The agony aunt position?”
“Yes! How did you know? Of course you work there, and you go out with Leah sometimes, don’t you.”
“Yes, sometimes.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I really am. I feel terrible.”
The last thing I want to do is make my mum feel bad but sometimes she doesn’t help herself, although I can say the same thing about me. We’re none of us faultless. “That’s okay. I won’t say anything. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”
“We wanted to surprise you.”
“You did that.”
“We were on the way anyway.”
About a quarter of the way. “You were, and it made sense.” In her head if not in mine. I shouldn’t give her a hard time and I decide not to do so anymore. “Really, it’s fine. It’s a lovely thing that you did. Duncan’s beyond honoured.” He’s been pretty much speechless on the subject since it was raised. He accepted, was happy to accept, especially knowing it’s going to be months off. I make a mental note to google ‘how long does a quick divorce take if we both agree?’ or something like that, when I come off the phone.
“That’s all I was ringing for mostly. Again, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”
I know my mum. While that exact same thing won’t happen, there will be something she’ll need to apologise for at some stage in the future. Like her daughter, she does have a habit of speaking or doing before truly engaging brain. “It’s fine, Mum, really. It’s fine. You have a lovely day, weekend, with Charles and I’ll see you tomorrow evening or Monday evening, more likely Monday.”
The Serial Dieter (The Serial Series Book 2) Page 33