by Kit Eyre
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted.
‘Well, will you take my word for it? Listen, the why doesn’t matter. I’ve learned that it’s the destination that matters, not how you get there. So, let’s try this. Hi, Max, I’m Valerie. I’d love to cook dinner for you at some point soon. What do you say?’
Max opened her mouth then pressed her lips together.
‘I want your first answer,’ Valerie said.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn’t take away the glossy mental image that’d imprinted itself on her brain. She opened her eyes to face the real thing, managing a smile.
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Why not?’
Max didn’t go straight back to the office after she’d exchanged numbers with Valerie. She took a detour to the café a few doors down and got Drew a triple shot Americano and a vanilla latte for herself.
The phone was blaring when she elbowed her way back into the office. Drew was slumped over the desk, drool slithering along his jaw. Nudging him with her shoe didn’t work, so she booted his shin and waited for the groan.
‘What did you do that for. Oh . . .’
He reached for the headset, but she snatched it away. ‘No, leave it alone.’
‘But –’
‘Drink this.’ She dumped the coffee into his hands. ‘We need to bloody well talk.’
‘You’re not my sodding missus,’ he snapped.
‘No, I could call her though. Let her know you’ve turned up and you’re pissed out of your skull, screwing up the business as well as your relationship. Is that what you want?’
All his stroppiness suddenly melted away and every muscle in him drooped. He looked like he had done that night, drained of everything that made him her bloody annoying business partner. She couldn’t yell at him again, but she did stretch across him and mute the switchboard, giving him no room to hide behind another call.
‘So, who was the woman?’ he asked eventually.
Max rolled her eyes. ‘Sod that. You need to stop doing this, mate. I’m not covering for you anymore.’
‘Don’t be a bitch. Like you’ve never been worse for wear.’
‘Bit more than that. You’ve been worse for wear for two months now.’
‘What’s it to you?’
‘Apart from you messing around with my livelihood . . . Elena doesn’t deserve what you’re doing to her.’
He kicked his heel back into the chair. ‘You think I don’t know that? But . . . Max, she wants to try again.’
‘Drew . . .’ Max hesitated then tried to smile. ‘She wants kids, she always has.’
‘We had a kid!’
‘What, and you reckon she’s forgotten about him? You’re being an arse.’
‘Oi, just because you bought me a coffee, doesn’t mean you can treat me like shit. Look, I can’t – I can’t go near her, not like that.’
Max snorted. ‘You’re being selfish.’
‘Give it a rest. I mean it.’
‘Well, do you love her or are you just an arse?’
He crossed his arms. ‘Seriously, leave it alone.’
‘No, come on. Do you love her?’
‘Yes! Course I do.’
‘Then why are you hurting her?’
All his rage drained away again. He shrivelled into the chair and took the odd swig of his coffee while the switchboard lights flashed like a carnival. Max just let him stew, parking up on the sofa and warming her hands through on her latte. He scraped his shoes together then looked up.
‘I’m all she’s got. You know what her parents are like. They’re right – I’m not good enough for her. She shouldn’t have picked me over them.’
‘She wanted you.’
‘It was the baby she wanted. Now there isn’t one so what’s she still doing with me?’
‘Mate, I don’t know what she was doing with you in the first place. But it only works if you’re on the same page.’
He scuffed his hand over his nose. ‘What do you know about it?’
‘You don’t have to have jumped out of a plane to know what it looks like from the outside. Simple question – yes or no.’
‘Go on,’ he muttered.
‘Do you still want kids? Sometime in the future,’ she added when he began to answer. ‘I’m not talking now. But do you want them?’
His chin quivered. ‘Yes.’
‘Then you have to get past this. I know you’re scared, I get it. I saw how much it hurt you –’
‘It’s not about me – it’s what it did to her! I’m scared, yeah. I’m bloody petrified. But it’s of watching her go through that again, not me. I couldn’t look after her, there was nothing I could do or say that’d make it better for her. I didn’t know how to help – I still don’t.’
Tears bubbled in his eyes. Max groped for the box of tissues lodged on the windowsill and tossed them onto his knee. He blew his nose twice before looking at her again with his cheeks inflated like a puffer fish.
‘Drew, I’m not a bloody therapist,’ Max said after a minute of him staring at her. ‘But you said the grief counsellor –’
‘She was a right cow.’
‘Yeah, maybe, but she said things are different for everyone, that grief doesn’t work the way you think it should. I agree with that, I reckon. Don’t you think Elena’s thought about what might happen if you try again? She’s just as scared. Only she’s having to hold it together in front of you or you’ll be all over it. You’ve gotta start talking to her, properly talking. Tell her what you’ve told me and then listen to her for God’s sake.’
He yanked another fistful of tissues from the box and wiped his eyes. His attention drifted back to his coffee, then he cocked his head to the side.
‘So, who was the woman?’
‘Just a rep.’ Max gestured to the switchboard. ‘Get some calls answered now you’ve sobered up a bit.’
Chapter 4
‘Amy, may I have a minute?’
Dennis Cowper’s voice echoed across the cafeteria. She dropped her pen as he approached then twisted her face into a smile as he sat down opposite her.
‘Of course,’ she replied.
‘Is that my suggested reading you’re working on?’ he asked.
‘Economics. Paula Harborough gets very excited when you actually get it done.’
‘It’s a teacher thing, I’m afraid.’ He nestled his fingers together and peered over his beige glasses. ‘I’m glad I’ve finally caught you. I’ve been trying for some time, but you’ve thwarted most of my attempts and I didn’t feel it right to draw attention to the situation by requesting you stay after class. I’m concerned about you.’
‘I don’t understand. My marks are coming back okay, aren’t they?’
‘That as may be, but I see you struggling, Amy. I’ve spoken to a few of your old GCSE teachers and –’
‘Excuse me?’
Dennis scratched his ear. ‘I assure you, this is nothing untoward. It’s standard procedure when we believe a student isn’t coping very well. Throughout your time at the school, you’ve always been a model pupil. That’s why your behaviour –’
‘My behaviour?’
‘Please, there’s no need to be defensive. There’s no shame in admitting you’re struggling with your workload or that there’s something else in your life troubling you. We’re all human.’
‘There isn’t anything,’ she insisted.
‘Amy . . .’ Dennis paused and ran his eyes over the textbooks scattered across the table. ‘My understanding is that you’re a bright girl. Your grades in all subjects, both at GCSE and AS Level confirm that.’
She pressed her knees together. ‘Then I really don’t see the problem.’
‘You’re not happy,’ he said.
‘My dad died less than a year ago and you expect me to be happy? Quite frankly, Mr Cowper, I don’t care what you think about my state of mind or whatever else it is you’re talking about. My mood’s nothing to do with you, my grades are. And, actually, I
’m offended that you think you can speak to me like this when there’s nothing wrong.’
His congenial smile flickered and faded. She began to apologise, but he held up his hand.
‘Yes, you could be a lawyer. You’ve got the capacity to do most things you set your mind to, I’d imagine. Law isn’t an easy field, not in the long run. It’s not something you should go into if you’re not passionate about it. My feeling is that you’re passionate about what it represents to you, not the profession itself. Now, so far, you’ve been able to put that aside, but you have exams to get through, this year and next. Many pupils have lined up internships for the summer. With your background –’
‘Okay,’ she interrupted. She gazed into the grains of the table and swallowed. ‘I’ll think about it, Mr Cowper, but, please, leave me alone.’
He eased out of the chair. ‘I do understand how hard this is, however unlikely you believe that to be. Theoretically, I have no reason to call home. Don’t give me one.’
‘You’re late, dear.’
‘Sorry, Biddy.’ Amy pressed a kiss to her cheek. ‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Enjoying the sun. I hope that’s allowed.’
‘I just worry, that’s all.’
‘Enough to let me know when you’re too busy studying to come home?’ Biddy tilted her hat further to the left. ‘It works both ways.’
Amy shrugged and settled on the blanket spread across the lawn. Biddy had taken her sandals off, so she felt no compunction in slipping her flats off and kicking her legs out. The sun that had blighted her walk tickled her legs now she was back until the knot in the pit of her stomach gradually unwound. It only left behind one kink.
‘Biddy, do you think it’s too late to ask Flyman and Twine for an internship this summer? It’s only just been suggested that we should try for something and I wondered if it’s too late.’
‘That school’s slipping,’ Biddy answered.
‘I don’t think it’s their fault –’
‘They have responsibilities. Anyway, I thought of it myself weeks ago and I mentioned it to your mother. I should have a word with the firm.’
Amy’s fingers caught in a stray blade of grass trembling beside the blanket. ‘No, Biddy, don’t do that. It’s an oversight, that’s all. It’s not the end of the world.’
‘Your father always said that students should know what they’re walking into, dear.’
‘I know that, but I’m not just anyone. I know what his job was like and I’m ready for it.’
‘You’re a credit to him,’ Biddy murmured. ‘A real credit.’
Amy shivered as her voice cracked. She inclined her chin a touch, just to see if she was struggling to draw breath, but her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkling.
‘Don’t think I can’t see you watching me,’ said Biddy as she adjusted her hat again. ‘There’s no need to fuss.’
‘I wouldn’t dare, Biddy. I’m not brave enough for that.’
Valerie’s presence diluted the warmth of the sunset.
The dinner table conversation followed the usual pattern of Biddy’s week, local news, and updates from Valerie including the odd political anecdote. One prospective constituent had been too tactile with her during a meeting, which she’d taken in her stride at the time. Amy watched Biddy over the rim of her glass, seeing her frown sprout up as the tale wound to its conclusion. Valerie only noticed the expression when she’d regaled them with the punchline.
‘You look very serious, Clarice. It’s just a hazard of the job, and it very rarely turns into anything more inflammatory than that. Most people are harmless.’
Biddy brushed crumbs into her napkin and bundled it up. ‘I wonder what Timothy would make of the whole idea. You’re encountering all sorts of people, undesirables from all kinds of backgrounds. It can’t be healthy.’
‘Undesirables?’ Valerie’s tone was indecipherable. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, you know. All those special cases – the ethnics and the gays.’
Amy grimaced, lowering her eyes into her soda water. She wasn’t expecting the huff from across the table that made her glance to Valerie.
‘Really, Clarice, I would’ve hoped you’d put those attitudes behind you by now. If you said things like that to the wrong person, you could cause serious offence.’
Biddy shook her head. ‘They’re always quick to take offence. Now, I know you have a public persona to maintain, so I’ll leave it at that, but I’ll not be lectured to in my own home.’
‘Of course not. I didn’t mean to lecture. I’m in debate mode, I suppose,’ Valerie added with a deferential smile. ‘Each side of the argument deserves an airing.’
Amy narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. She was focused on the way Valerie clutched at her wine glass until it seemed to absorb the tension in her hand. Then she was back to normal, sipping her Chardonnay and complimenting the moussaka. Biddy accepted the praise before putting her fork down.
‘Did you ever speak to Graham Wilson about the internship I suggested?’
‘Hmm?’ Valerie took another sip of wine. ‘Oh, they were looking more for a dogsbody than an intern and I couldn’t allow Amy to work in Tim’s office under such circumstances. It would hardly be appropriate.’
‘That’s disappointing. I should speak with him, or perhaps Murray Cox. I play bridge with his sister-in-law. I could –’
‘Actually. Clarice, I’d prefer if you didn’t. I’m afraid I became rather emotional with him. It was to do with Tim’s loyalty to the firm and how they’ve altered things in his absence. I’m not sure Amy working there now would be pleasant for anyone, even if they were to agree.’
Biddy jangled her fingers together. ‘A placement is vital. I won’t have Amy walking into her career without a placement first.’
‘I’ll ask around,’ Valerie promised. ‘We’ll do our best for her. I meant to ask, Clarice, did you see that piece in the paper about St. Michael’s?’
The conversation shifted to Biddy’s church and Amy’s attention drifted, along with her appetite. She managed the mechanics of clearing and serving dessert, but she was grateful when Biddy excused herself from coffee and she could finally look at Valerie again.
‘You never spoke to Graham, did you?’
Valerie brushed her hands together. ‘Why would you assume that?’
‘Probably because I know what you’re like. And I know Graham wouldn’t be like that.’
‘You don’t understand people half as well as you’d like to think. You’re still a teenager, remember that.’
Amy snorted and crossed her arms. ‘Come on, what did you think? That if I don’t have an internship then I might just abandon the whole idea of becoming a lawyer? You’re the one who doesn’t know a thing about me if you thought I’d give in at that.’
‘Really?’ Valerie took a long sip of coffee before reaching for a chocolate mint. ‘I’d say I know more than you’d like to admit. Why has it taken you until this late in the day to wonder about an internship? Did you wonder at all or is the idea fixed in Clarice’s mind –’
‘I was the one who brought it up,’ she interrupted.
‘Then I ask again – why now?’
‘I’ve only just thought of it, that’s why.’
‘The school hasn’t, though. It was prominently discussed in the newsletter two months ago, along with a note saying all students had been informed on several occasions. Now, either you haven’t been attending college or . . .’
Valerie popped another chocolate mint into her mouth then stood. She went through the ritual of smoothing down her clothes before walking straight out of the room without a backwards glance. Amy caught up with her as she was collecting her coat from the hooks beside the door and grabbed her arm.
‘You’re not going to stop me doing what I want to do,’ she warned.
‘Then we’ll both be happy in the end, won’t we?’ Valerie shook her off and opened the door. ‘You know as well as I do that bein
g a lawyer isn’t what you want, not in your heart. You’d better open your eyes sooner rather than later. There is such a thing as going too far to fail. Believe me, Amy, I know that cliff edge well. Goodnight, sweetheart.’
Chapter 5
Max’s skin prickled as she pulled up outside 5 Geith Place.
She let the engine idle and craned her neck to clock the height of the trees lining the cul-de-sac. The sun skimming across the bonnet caught her in the eye before she could follow the trunk all the way up. She rubbed away the sunspots with one hand and tapped the steering wheel with the other.
Bouncing light off towards the house dragged her attention to the frosted glass door. Valerie was stood on the top step, motioning her into the driveway. Max hesitated for a moment then reversed in beside the BMW. She’d barely applied the handbrake when her door was plucked open and a finger trailed along her bare arm.
‘Come in,’ Valerie said.
The finger was gone, replaced by a breeze as Valerie swept away into the house. Max locked the car up and glanced around the sheltered garden before she followed her inside, halting when spices tickled her nostrils. She was trying to separate them out in her mind when Valerie stretched past her to nudge the door shut and their bodies pressed together.
‘Am I going to have to coax you every inch of the way?’ Valerie asked.
Max inhaled, tasting wine in the air. She tried to step away, but there was no moving forward or back. Her only choice was to raise her eyes and meet Valerie’s. The flash of satisfaction she caught there would’ve put her off with anyone else, but it set her hands moving into blonde hair that slithered between her fingers now. Valerie leaned back into the touch and smirked.
‘I have to say, it’s reassuring to find that this isn’t one-sided. I thought I may have coerced you into dinner, twisted your arm.’
‘You did,’ Max murmured.
‘I’m used to getting what I want, that’s all. I knew the moment you broke that damn tyre that this was something I needed to pursue, come what may. Now, that might make me selfish, but if you feel the same . . .’