by Jenny Oliver
Peter looked from Jimmy to his proffered hand and waited a second longer than was polite, making it look like he might leave him hanging, then he drew his hand out of his pocket and reached forward to meet Jimmy’s in a shake.
Jimmy blew out a breath of relief then laughed. ‘Jesus, I thought I’d had it then.’
Peter shrugged a polite smile.
‘I half expected you to deck me one,’ Jimmy added, reaching into his pocket for a tissue so he could wipe the beads of nervous sweat from his forehead.
Peter shook his head then said, as if quoting someone, ‘Only the person who is emotionally unfulfilled resorts to violence.’
Jimmy started to smile, surprised. ‘You’re studying mindfulness?’
Peter looked equally shocked that Jimmy had picked up on his reference. ‘Only a bit, just as part of this initiative at work.’
‘Really? That’s really good. I’m really into it. Reading everything at the moment,’ Jimmy said, and pulled a battered paperback out of his back pocket to show him. ‘Right now I’m looking at developing emotional intelligence through mindfulness.’
‘Nice, yeah,’ Peter said, and reached to have a quick look at the book cover. ‘I’ve got a book on that.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, handing Jimmy’s book back. ‘I mean, not much time to read it but I try to fit in a bit of daily meditation now. At work we have designated sessions.’
‘That’s really great.’
‘You meditate?’ Peter asked
Jimmy nodded. ‘All the time.’
‘Do you have a mantra.’
‘Nah.’
‘Oh I do. I really need it.’
Eve looked at them both, dumbfounded. ‘What are you talking about? Peter, I didn’t know you meditated?’
Jimmy made a guilty face as though he might have unwittingly started an argument.
‘Yeah, it’s part of the whole yoga thing,’ Peter said to Eve.
‘You do yoga?’ Jimmy asked. ‘What type?’
‘Oh, I don’t think we’ve got that far. It’s called yoga as far as I know.’
Jimmy nodded, still impressed.
‘Wait, wait,’ said Eve. ‘Just go back, you have a mantra? What’s your mantra?’
Peter shook his head. ‘Oh I can’t tell you. We were each given our own personal one. You shouldn’t tell anyone. It’s yours and specific to you.’
‘Oh, come on,’ Eve scoffed. ‘You can tell me.’
‘No.’ Peter shook his head.
‘He’s right,’ said Jimmy. ‘You should never feel you have to tell anyone your mantra.’
‘Oh, for god’s sake.’ Eve sighed. Then, not quite sure she was happy with this turn of events and their buddy buddy-ness, said, ‘We’ve got to get moving, we’re going to miss our plane. Jimmy, it was nice to see you again to say goodbye.’ She went over to give him a quick hug but he held up a hand to stop her.
‘I’m actually booked on your flight as well,’ he said, looking a fraction sheepish.
‘You are?’ Dex said, wheeling his and Jessica’s luggage trolley up level with them.
‘Yeah,’ Jimmy said, nodding. ‘I thought I should probably sort my shit out a bit in London. Can’t live on a boat forever, can you?’
‘What about CeeCee?’ asked Jessica, her expression innocent, her eyes knowing.
‘Who’s CeeCee?’ Dex asked with a frown.
‘You remember—the owner of the boat,’ Jessica said.
‘Yeah, she’s erm … She’s err …’ Jimmy scratched his head.
Jessica’s mouth stretched into a grin. ‘Sailed off without you?’
Jimmy shook his head from side to side. ‘Something like that.’
Dex stifled a smile. ‘So you need somewhere to stay?’ he asked.
‘Nah, mate, thanks.’ Jimmy shook his head. ‘I’m actually going to hook up with Jake.’
‘Jake!’ Eve’s eyes widened.
‘No kidding?’ said Dex.
‘Well …’ Jimmy shrugged. ‘Someone’s gotta be there for him.’
No one said anything to agree.
‘Like old times,’ said Dex.
‘Yeah.’ Jimmy nodded. ‘A whole new chapter. Young-ish, free and single,’ he said, picking up his bag and turning to walk towards the revolving doors, the rest of them following behind with their trolleys. Then he glanced over his shoulder and said, ‘Jealous?’
Jessica shook her head. ‘Not one little bit.’
Eve looked down to hide her smile, hanging back so she could walk with Peter, his hand reaching over to link tight with hers as they walked through the airport doors.
JESSICA
Jessica had been back at work a week and already the holiday felt like a lifetime ago, relegated to a screensaver photo of the view out to the lake taken from Bruno’s jetty.
She hadn’t emailed Bruno even though she’d thought about him, instead filing the memory under ‘holiday romance’ and focusing on all the work she had to catch up on. She had made one fairly—for Jessica—monumental change, however, and moved her belongings out of her office and into a spare desk in the open plan, next to Dex’s.
Dex watched, intrigued, a smirk on his lips as she carried her meagre box of possessions over.
‘Well, this is a change,’ he said.
‘Don’t make a big deal out of it,’ Jessica warned.
Dex laughed and turned back to his computer.
She wasn’t a hundred per cent sure of the change. There was no doubt she was more involved. Less reclusive. People started talking to her about more than just work and the foosball league. They asked about her holiday, about her lunch and her weekend and evening plans. She was slowly becoming part of the team. And, even though she was now subject to Dex’s pitifully short attention span and semi-constant chat, being part of the team wasn’t as horrendous as she thought.
But she missed her office. There was no doubt about that. Her cosy little corner that was all hers where she could block out the world. Another safety blanket, Bruno would say.
Bruno.
The thought of him made her roll her eyes and do a little shake of her head, but then, against her better judgement, smile a little as she opened a new document or checked her emails.
‘Coming?’ Dex asked.
They were having a meeting—in the new boardroom created out of Jessica’s old office. The beanbag casual chat area was now fully relegated to the company archives.
The boardroom had a fridge stocked with Cokes and soft drinks, a bowl of fresh fruit on the table and, on Dex’s insistence, a Nespresso machine with a tin of little individually wrapped biscotti.
Four of the design team were already seated and discussing the flavour nuances of the different coloured Nespresso pods when Jessica and Dex joined them. Dex made everyone coffees as if he was in an Italian café, adding a little spoon, sugar sachet, and biscotti to the saucers. Jessica watched amused as they all gleefully unwrapped their biscuits while she pulled her presentation up on the screen.
Becky, their junior designer, was just passing handouts round when there was a knock on the door and Bruno’s grinning head appeared in the glass porthole.
‘Oh my god,’ Jessica whispered, hand frozen over her keyboard.
‘Who’s that?’ asked Becky, frowning disparagingly at the excitable-looking imposter.
‘Bruno!’ Dex slammed his hands down on the table in delight.
Becky raised a brow at Jessica who found herself staring back at her blankly.
Bruno was in her office. Tanned face, thick dark hair, ancient green t-shirt under a beautifully cut grey suit, aviators hooked into his top pocket.
He stood in the doorway, all confident, cocky smile, his hands in his pockets pushing back the flaps of his jacket.
‘What brings you to London?’ Dex asked, standing next to him, clearly delighted by the turn of events and chucking Jessica a wink.
‘I have come to take Ms Jessica for coffee.’
She could feel her cheeks flushing beetroot as she stood up and said, ‘I’m actually in the middle of a meeting,’ knowing it was possibly the most ungrateful response she could have come up with but not knowing what else to say.
Dex frowned. But Bruno just shrugged. ‘That’s OK,’ he said. ‘I can wait.’ He looked around. ‘Play a little pinball,’ he added.
‘No,’ she said ushering him out of the boardroom. ‘No one plays it.’
Bruno frowned in confusion. ‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s annoying. Look, you can’t wait here,’ she said quickly, her voice a whisper.
Giving up her office was one step; public displays of any kind of affection, feelings, or emotion, especially ones in the workplace, were another thing entirely. Things to be tackled further down the line.
‘There’s a coffee shop, two doors along, I’ll meet you there,’ she said, almost pushing him in her desperation to get him out of the building. ‘Give me half an hour.’
She could feel Bruno taking in the panic in her eyes and the pinking of her cheeks. He glanced behind her to where everyone had paused at their computers. She could see them reflected in the window. All absorbing the scene, fascinated, and everyone in the meeting room transfixed, Dex grinning with delight.
Bruno turned back to Jessica, slipped his shades on, tucked his hands back in his pockets, and said, ‘Take your time,’ before strolling out of the building.
Jessica could barely concentrate on anything in the meeting. Her mind kept wandering to Bruno in London. Would he be able to find the coffee shop? Of course he would. He wasn’t an idiot. What would he be saying? Oh god, why was he here? Dex kept trying to catch her eye. She refused.
When the meeting finished she watched the youngest design assistant scuttle over to her desk and start whispering with the other assistants, glancing repeatedly back in Jessica’s direction. One of them giggled. Jessica felt her shoulders tense as she walked back to her computer. She hated being watched, couldn’t remember how to put one foot in front of the other as she felt the meerkat heads all turn in her direction. When she finally reached her chair she sat down and clicked on her computer. She was about to put her headphones on to block them all out when Dex appeared, looming over her desk.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, annoyed.
‘Checking my emails,’ she said, a little curt.
‘Get the hell out of here. There’s a man waiting in a café for you. And, I might add, the most miserable café in the vicinity. You could at least have sent him to the pub.’
‘I didn’t think.’
‘Stand up. Go.’
‘Why is he here?’
‘I have no idea.’ Dex raised his hands. ‘I can tell you now, though, he’s not about to bloody ask you to marry him so there’s nothing serious to worry about.’
‘That’s true.’ She nodded. ‘We’ll probably just have a cappuccino and that’ll be it.’
‘Yes,’ he said, taking a seat on the edge of her desk. ‘Although possibly have an espresso. It’s very uncool and un-Italian to order a cappuccino after midday.’
‘Why is he here, Dex?’
‘Go and find out. Jesus, Jessica. This could be fun. The Miles thing is over, thank god. Grow some balls.’
‘You can talk,’ she said in defence. ‘I didn’t see you telling Libby how you feel.’
Dex straightened up. ‘I did actually.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes.’ He looked around at all the surreptitious earwigging. ‘Jesus, why did you give up your office?’
‘You encouraged me to.’
‘Well anyway, I told her.’
‘And?’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘OK?’
‘OK.’
‘Sure?’
‘Sure.’
Jessica looked at him, trying to convey her sympathy in her eyes. He shrugged a shoulder as if it were nothing.
‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘It’s good. It’s out now. Quite a relief really. And I’ll tell you what, if I had the female equivalent of Bruno—a bona fide Olympic hero, Jessica—waiting for me in a café, I would be down there. In a flash.’
‘Do you want me to ask him if he has a sister?’
Dex thought about it for a second then said, ‘Not a bad shout, actually.’
Jessica smiled. ‘You definitely think it’s a no with Libby?’
‘Don’t change the subject.’
‘I just don’t know if it’s right. Him and me.’
‘Well, you shagged him twice. For you that’s a bloody miracle. God knows what you’ll do if you are sure it’s right.’
Jessica sniggered.
‘Seriously, Jessica.’ Dex tapped the top of her computer as he stood up to leave. ‘People don’t wait forever.’
‘Will you wait for Libby?’
He laughed. ‘We’re not talking about me,’ he said and turned to go back to his desk.
She watched him walk away. Then she glanced behind her at the people pretending to work. As she turned back to her computer and her photo of the lake on the screen, a reel of images flashed through her head—she saw herself in the New York bar shouting at Flo, sitting in the diner with Dex, standing with Miles in the rain, and then right back to walking away from her parents’ house with just her rucksack knowing if she ever went back it wouldn’t be for years. She thought of answering the ad for a flatmate and meeting two naive idiot girls who giggled too much and having to beg them to let her stay. She thought of writing her apology to Flo. To Miles. Maybe even to herself.
So why? Why did she feel so watched? So judged? And why did she care so much? She glanced up at the young design assistants—all around the age she was when she moved in with Eve and Libby. What had she known about life then? How many people had she judged and found wanting?
What had she known?
Everything.
Nothing.
She had come so far. Too far to care so much what other people thought.
She bent down and picked up her bag.
When she stood up and shrugged on her jacket she half expected the whole office to burst into spontaneous applause. Instead junior designer Becky stood up and said, ‘Will you be out long? We’ve got to go over those samples?’
As Jessica paused, completely out of the zone of answering work questions, Dex spun round in his chair and said, ‘Leave it with me.’
And Jessica walked out, realising finally that no one really cared.
*
As she approached the café she saw Bruno sitting outside having a loud gesticulating chat with the moody owner. One ankle crossed over his opposite knee, leaning comfortably back in his chair, he was nodding and then jumping in as they talked, an espresso steaming on the table in front of him.
At the end of the road the sun was just peeking out from behind a skyscraper like a game of hide and seek, casting a few shafts of dusty light on the café tables and the shabby trees standing at intervals along the pavement.
The café owner was laughing. Nodding. Laughing again. Jessica had never seen him crack anything so much as a smile previously. Their exchanges had always been curt, perfunctory. Bruno, though, was in deep conversation, telling some wild involved story and the café owner had stopped his clearing up to listen, to frown, to smile, to clap, to belly laugh. Finished, Bruno sat back, arms crossed over his chest, proud as though his work was done.
Then he caught sight of Jessica and immediately his mouth stretched into a wide grin; he raised a hand and beckoned her over as if he owned the place.
‘Jessica!’ he shouted.
She walked over, a touch wary.
‘This is her,’ he said to the café owner. ‘You know her?’
The café owner gave her
a look up and down, acting like he didn’t see her every day of the year, and shook his head.
Bruno frowned as if he couldn’t believe it. ‘Well, Jessica this is Lucas. Lucas, Jessica. Now you’ve met.’
They shook hands, Jessica half lamenting the loss of her coffee anonymity, half quite pleased that she might become one of those people who knew people—who made casual chat.
She sat down opposite Bruno, the sun on her back, and Lucas went inside to make her the espresso she ordered.
‘So, why are you here?’ she said once they were alone and immediately regretted her abruptness.
Bruno laughed. ‘I came to take you for coffee.’
‘All the way from Italy?’ she said, incredulous.
He shrugged. ‘It’s only a few hours.’
She raised her brows.
‘Like taking a bus,’ he said with a cocky half-smile, and sat back as Lucas brought out the coffee.
‘You came two hours on a plane to take me for coffee?’
Bruno nodded.
‘But we agreed it was just a holiday fling.’
He pulled on his shades and gestured to the beaming sun as it slipped further out from behind the skyscraper. ‘And I’m on holiday.’
Jessica shook her head and then sat back with her espresso, defeated.
‘So are you pleased to see me?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know.’
He laughed. ‘I’m always pleased by your honesty.’
She felt herself getting warm and had to shrug off her jacket. ‘I just don’t want you to expect anything,’ she said.
He held his hands wide. ‘I expect nothing.’
‘But you’ve come all this way.’
‘For coffee,’ he said. ‘Very good coffee and very good company.’
‘I haven’t been good company so far.’
‘Well, try harder.’
‘I’m worried that you’ve had a wasted trip.’
He huffed a laugh. ‘Don’t worry so much.’
‘I can’t help it.’
‘Yes you can.’
‘You flew all the way here to see me—that’s pressure.’
Bruno leant forward, resting his forearms on the table. ‘OK, how about I say my sister lives here. I come over and see her quite a lot. Does that help?’