Gravitate

by Jo Duchemin

  “OK, I think I can handle that.” I put my coffee down on the desk and got up to open the box, as Sam gathered up a few papers from his desk and prepared for his meeting.

  “I’ll be back soon, finish your coffee first, Claudia, there’s no rush.” He smiled at me as he left and I took his advice and sipped my coffee. I checked my phone to find another message from Jade:

  Look I’m really worried about Tim. He cried when you text last night. I’ve never seen him cry before. He’s jumpy and on edge, and he keeps telling me to tell you he’s sorry.

  I didn’t know how to write a reply that wouldn’t raise more questions. In the end I settled for typing:

  I’m trying to forget about it, tell him to do the same.

  I decided to focus on the filing and found the monotonous, repetitive activity strangely soothing. The only sounds were the rustling of papers and the metallic gliding of the cabinet drawers. The work was easy, but it made me feel useful.

  The door clicked and creaked as Sam came back. I had been bent over, putting a file in the lowest drawer and I turned around to face him. He smiled when he saw me and I smiled back.

  “How’s it going?” he asked.

  “Fine, I’ve put away about half the box so far, how was your meeting?”

  “Boring. Sub-contractors are always moaning about something. I stopped on the way back and bought you something. Just a little thank you for your help today.”

  He produced a gift bag from behind his back and beamed at me.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said, walking over to take the bag from him.

  “I wanted to, you deserve something nice.”

  I opened up the gift bag, uncovering something soft wrapped in tissue paper. I unwrapped the paper to find a black cashmere scarf with matching gloves and a hat.

  “They’re beautiful, Sam, you really didn’t have to, but thank you so much.”

  “Now you don’t have to worry about the stuff you left at your friend’s house.”

  “Thank you, it’s really thoughtful of you.” I felt overwhelmed – they were clearly expensive pieces and, considering I’d only put in a couple of hours of work, I wasn’t sure I deserved them.

  “Did you stop for lunch?” Sam asked.

  “Oh, no, what time is it?” I hadn’t even realised that I was hungry.

  “It’s gone two – you should have stopped to eat.”

  “Did you stop to eat?” I had a hunch that he hadn’t, he looked worn out.

  “Well, no, but…point taken. Come on then, grab your coat, I’m taking you out to lunch.” Sam put his briefcase down on the desk and headed for the office door again.

  “Then people really will start gossiping.”

  “What was it you said this morning? Let them gossip?”

  “Point taken,” I echoed, and smiled, “where are we going?”

  “I know just the place.”

  With me in a less delicate state, Sam’s driving was flashier than the night before. He overtook on lanes where I didn’t think it was particularly safe and went much faster than the speed limit stated. At first, I felt nervous, particularly when he pulled out a junction with a lorry coming along. I was on the verge of telling him to slow down, to remember how my parents had died, but then I got used to the pace of his driving and relaxed a bit. It even became fun when we overtook the slower cars. I noticed the glances of jealousy that some people, mostly men, gave to the speedy, red convertible. We pulled up in the car park of a quaint looking pub.

  “Do you always drive like that?” I asked him, as I negotiated walking on the gravel surface in my heels.

  “Not when I have distressed ladies in the car, but otherwise, yes. Do you need a hand?” Sam watched me wobble towards the entrance.

  “I’m fine, nearly there. Who invented gravel anyway? Who thought – hmmm, let’s make a floor covering out of little pebbles and make it impossible for women in heels to walk on it?” I stretched my leg out to stand on a paving stone, grateful for its stability.

  “The gravel guy must have been an idiot. Have you been here before?”

  I shook my head. “It’s looks cute.”

  “Don’t let the appearance fool you, the food is exquisite, and wait until you try the dessert. The crème brulee is to die for.”

  “Sounds great.” I smiled. I hadn’t been out for a nice meal for months. I’d always enjoyed going to restaurants with my parents and, on occasions, with my friends, but recently I seemed to be staying in all the time.

  We walked through the entrance into a bar area that wouldn’t have looked out of place in London, except for the fact it was deserted. There were marble bars, stone floors and subtle down-lights providing a soft, warm glow. Comfy looking, but smart, sofas adorned the room. One man was behind the bar, writing in a large book, he glanced up at us and appeared to recognise Sam at once. He smiled brightly.

  “Sam, welcome again, how nice to see you.” The barman held out his hand to Sam, who warmly shook it.

  “Darren, here, is the manager of the Black Horse, I worked with him quite closely when we designed the extension and renovation work, two years ago. Darren, this is Claudia Lee - Claudia, this is Darren.”

  I smiled as Darren shook my hand. “Ah, Bobby’s daughter?” he said.

  I nodded, but Sam rescued me from having to talk further. “She’s learning about the company and I thought we’d come here for lunch so she could see the changes for herself – combine business and pleasure, if you will.”

  “Certainly, Sam, we haven’t any other diners at the moment, you missed the lunchtime rush, so you can take your pick of tables in the restaurant.” Darren walked out from behind the bar and led us to a bright, airy restaurant area. I didn’t notice the furniture at first, as my eyes were instantly drawn to the glass ceiling – a combination of clear and blue glass had been used, and the effect made the room sparkle. Darren saw me looking at the ceiling. “That was your dad’s idea – nearly everybody has their breath taken away by it. Where would you like to sit?”

  Sam led the way to a table for four, slightly to one side, near full-length windows looking out over a frozen lake surrounded by a backdrop of weeping willow trees. The view could have been used on a Christmas card.

  “Picturesque, isn’t it?” Sam asked me and I nodded, slightly lost for words. “Your dad wanted to make sure all the diners could appreciate the views, so he insisted on the windows being full-length – it cost more, but you can’t buy views like this. Do you like it?”

  “I love it,” I whispered, even though we were the only ones in the room. I wasn’t sure where Darren had disappeared to. I realised that Sam and I were standing quite close together – the carefully maintained space he’d kept between us, last night and at the office, had disintegrated in this relaxed setting. He seemed to notice at the same time as me and automatically moved away from me, but his closeness hadn’t had an impact on me. It didn’t make me feel excited, like being close to Marty, but it also didn’t repulse me as being close to Tim had done. I just felt nothing.

  Darren reappeared from a doorway, accompanied by a man in black and white checked trousers and a white chef’s tunic. I’d never seen a chef leave the kitchen to come into the restaurant before.

  “Claudia, this is Marcus, he’s the head chef here.” Darren introduced me to Marcus, who held his hand out to shake mine.

  “Would you like a quick tour of the kitchen? Your dad helped to design it and we love the layout, it helps us produce the food we want to more efficiently than before.”

  “I’d love to.” I replied. I’d never been treated like this before. Normally, the only thing I got asked in restaurants was to show ID to prove I was old enough to buy alcohol.

  “Can I get you some drinks, on the house, of course?” Darren waited for a response. I looked to Sam.

  “Would yo
u like some wine, Claudia?” Sam asked. I nodded, unsure of what else to do. Aside from the dark days directly following my parents’ deaths, I normally avoided drinking during the day as it tended to make me sleepy. “I think she’d enjoy the Australian Shiraz and a bottle of still mineral water, too, please, Darren. That is very kind.”

  We followed Marcus into the kitchen area, where he showed us how my dad had helped to plan the layout, which made it easier for them to get the correct courses out on time. It was very interesting to see how the design helped the kitchen run smoothly. By the time we got back to the table, two bottles were waiting for us. Sam poured a large glass of wine for me and just a half glass for himself.

  “I’ll be drunk at this rate,” I said, sipping the wine.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get you home safely,” Sam replied.

  “What about the filing?” I smiled as I asked.

  “I don’t think either of the company bosses will fire you – oh, wait, you’re one of them,” he filled my glass, “and I’m the other one!”

  I giggled and he laughed too. “What are you having from the menu? Any recommendations?”

  “The roasted red pepper tart is very nice. Of course, Marcus will prepare anything you like if he has the ingredients.”

  “Does he do that for everybody?”

  “Not normally, no. You’re special.”

  “I’ve never been special before.” At that moment, I felt special – though not a patch on how special I’d felt with Marty. I drank my wine as I pushed away the thoughts of Marty. I would never feel like that again. It was a once in a lifetime situation.

  “You’re special.” Sam’s eyes locked on mine and he gave a fleeting smile before looking away.

  Darren appeared and took our orders. We decided to forgo the starters in favour of having desserts. Darren topped up my wine glass before he left and offered to top up Sam’s, but Sam declined.

  “Sorry, Darren, it’s delicious wine, but I’m driving. I’ve got to make sure I deliver Claudia safely back home. But please, make sure Claudia’s glass remains topped up, she’s far too polite to help herself.” He smiled at me and this time I looked away. I didn’t feel I deserved such kindness.

  “Certainly. I’ll just take your orders to the kitchen.” Darren left.

  “Remember I have to get back across that gravel car park, don’t let me drink too much!” I gently shook my head at Sam.

  “You’ll be OK. I’ll look after you.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “Nobody has looked after you for a while, have they?” Sam’s question took me by surprise.

  “My boyfriend did.” It hurt to refer to Marty as just a boyfriend.

  “But he left.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened?” Sam topped up my wine glass again, even though I’d hardly had a drink since Darren had refilled it.

  “He had to leave.” I had a sip of wine and followed it by a bigger sip. Talking about Marty was difficult.

  “Had to?”

  “He didn’t have a choice.”

  “If I’d had a girlfriend like you, when I was in my twenties, I’d never have let you go.”

  “It wasn’t his decision. He would have stayed forever, if he could have made the choice himself.”

  We were silent for a few minutes. I looked out of the window, drinking my wine and trying not to cry.

  “Didn’t you have a wife when you were in your twenties?” My words left my mouth with a mixture of venom and curiosity. I resented his implication that he was better than Marty.

  He sighed. “Yes, I did.”

  “And you don’t have a wife now.”

  “No, I…” Sam leant towards me, across the table, and I instinctively leant towards him, “I married her because of duty – she was pregnant with my son and just so you know, she left me, she grew bored of me and there was nothing I could do to change it.”

  “You didn’t get a choice?”

  “No. She ended things and I just had to move on.”

  “How did you do that?” I was intrigued to speak to someone who had been in the same situation.

  “It was hard. Every time I went to collect Ben, or drop him off, I saw her; and every time I had this fresh hope that she would have changed her mind.”

  “How did you get over her?”

  “I’m not sure I ever did,” he looked me in the face, “I had to try to find a new goal for my life. And I made sure she wasn’t it. So I threw myself into the business.”

  “You never found another love?”

  “Not that compared to her. Not yet, but I’m still hopeful.” Our eyes met briefly.

  “You’re a hopeful romantic, as opposed to a hopeless one.”

  He smiled, “I guess I am.”

  We were still leaning in towards each other when Adam brought over our meals. The food was presented beautifully – almost too good to eat. I’d never had a meal quite like it. We made polite chatter over dinner, never touching on the depths of the subjects we’d broached earlier. Darren came over to take our dessert orders.

  “I’ll have the crème brulee, it came recommended to me.” I smiled at Sam.

  “I’ll have the same,” Sam said.

  Darren topped up my wine and left with our orders.

  “So what are you doing for Christmas?” I asked Sam.

  “I’ll be visiting old friends on Christmas and then Ben is visiting me on Boxing Day. You?”

  “I’m going to see my aunt – it won’t be the same, but it’ll be OK.”

  “I remember my first Christmas after the divorce – I thought the world would end, but it was OK. I lived. I made new traditions.” He looked into my eyes.

  “Yes. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I have to.”

  “I’m sorry.” He looked away.

  “You didn’t make a man on drugs crash into them.”

  “No. It was bad luck.”

  I couldn’t speak. I picked up the wine and took a large gulp.

  “It isn’t fair on you,” he finally said.

  “Life isn’t fair. But I’m still here and I have to make the most of what I have left.” I took a deep breath, steadying my emotions.

  “You don’t sound like most teenagers.”

  “I’m not like most teenagers.”

  He stared me in the eyes, “I know.”

  Adam arrived with our desserts. We both thanked him and set to work breaking through the sugar topping as though we were breaking through ice.

  “You’re like a crème brulee, you know?” Sam whispered in the empty room.

  “How so?” I whispered back.

  “Tough exterior - soft, gentle and delicate underneath. A masterpiece.”

  “Hardly. I’m more like scrambled egg – it’s all a mess but somehow, without any prior planning, it works.”

  “You don’t know yourself. Did you want a coffee?”

  “No, no, I’m fine.”

  “Drink your wine then, I’m going to have an espresso. Then I’ll drop you at home.”

  “But the filing?”

  “It will wait until tomorrow. The rumour mill would run over time if I bring you back this late. You’d fall asleep in my office and then we really would create some gossip.”

  “Well, don’t dock my pay then,” I smiled.

  “I’d need to get the other company director on board for that one – oh, wait, that’s you!” Sam chuckled.

  “And I’m working for free.”

  “Out of the goodness of your heart.”

  “Exactly.”

  Darren brought over Sam’s espresso and the bill, which was whipped away by Sam and replaced by a credit card before I could even glimpse at the amount I owed for my share.

  “Do you want money? For my half?�
� I offered.

  “It’s my treat. A gentleman always pays.”

  “You sound like Ben.”

  “He sounds like me – I’m the original.”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Miss Claudia, are you drunk?” Sam’s eyes sparkled as he smiled at me.

  “No. I’m Princess Claudia and I am merely tipsy.”

  He laughed. “Princess Claudia. That has a ring to it. I like it.”

  “Good.”

  “Finish your wine, Princess, your chariot awaits.” Sam knocked back his espresso and encouraged me to do the same with my wine. I drank as much as I felt was safe.

  “I can’t have any more, I’ll be asleep before we get to the car.”

  “Did you have fun?”

  “Yes,” I was surprised by the truth in my answer, “I did.”

  “Good. Did you remember about the car park?”

  We reached the entrance. I rolled my eyes at the gravel. I pulled off my shoes and ran across the car park, barefoot, to the passenger side of Sam’s car.

  Sam laughed as he watched me run. “So graceful under pressure.”

  “It was that or ask for a piggy back – and I’d probably break your back!”

  “I doubt it. It’s unlocked.”

  I slid into the passenger side, carrying my shoes in my hand. I was starting to get used to the low seats in the car; it felt fun, fresh and exciting.

  “Right, Princess, time to take you home.”

  “As long as I don’t turn into a pumpkin…”

  I didn’t remember much beyond pulling out of the car park, lulled by the engine’s purr into a sleep. The next thing I knew was Sam calling my name and seeing my front garden out of the windows. I tried to surreptitiously check the sides of my mouth for dribble. I noticed something on the welcome mat in front of the porch.

  “What is that?” I asked.