To broker a peace deal, because I felt for some reason I’d done something wrong, I’d spent Wednesday night not exploring my new city and playing tourist, but baking something for morning tea. A hummingbird cake with cream cheese frosting. The slice I’d cut for him now sat limply in the kitchen sink, along with the coffee I’d delivered with it. The milk had skinned over, and the cake was crusty on the outside.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief when Pam strolled through the front door. Being stuck in here alone with William was fast becoming my idea of a nightmare.
* * *
‘Do you know how to address envelopes?’
Was he talking to me? I peered up at William as he stood on the opposite side of the counter, a bundle of papers and their envelopes in a hand that dangled over the counter. Yes, he was, and it took everything in me to not snap back. My jaw clenched, and fingers curled over the keyboard.
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ I asked.
‘I need these sent out. Today. Make sure you put the letters in the envelopes, write the address on the front—’
Pam cupped her phone receiver and glared at him. ‘William, what is up your bum this week? Stop being so rude to Emmy. She’s perfectly capable of doing the mail. Unlike you, she can answer her own phone.’
Warmth pinched his cheeks, but he didn’t waver. ‘The addresses go on the front of the envelope, stamps too, and then you put them in the mail so as people actually receive them.’
I shrank back into my chair. ‘I guess you’re giving that job to me because you don’t understand how to do it yourself?’
Beside me, Pam punched the sky and snapped her finger at William, whose jaw dropped just enough to be noticeable. He scowled, announced he was out to lunch, dropped the mail on my desk and shot through the door like a dog with the gate left open.
‘Jerk,’ I mumbled.
‘He’s never like that.’ Pam leant across. ‘Ever. Honestly, it’s like your being here has brought something out in him. ‘He certainly seems to have a stick up his you-know-where since you arrived.’.’
‘Who’d have guessed?’ I sighed.
Never like that or not, it was unacceptable. He’d been an ass from the minute I stepped through the door. I’d barely got a full sentence in on Wednesday before he walked from the room without saying a word. On Thursday, I’d asked him to pass the milk, only for him to walk straight past me and place it back in the fridge. And he was yet to dial my extension if he needed anything from the front desk, despite the fact Brian had assigned me his patient list. Because what could go right this week?
‘Emmy.’ Brian appeared around the door of his office like a vaudeville mime. ‘Do you drink?’
‘Quite an unhealthy amount lately, yes,’ I joked.
‘Good. Team drinks tonight at the local, it’s this great little pub just off the High Street, you’ll love it.’
‘Sounds great.’ After this week, a drink (or five) sounded just what I needed. The William thing had left me in knots.
‘Be a love and send out an email asking everyone to confirm?’ he suggested, disappearing again.
One by one, everyone replied.
Except William.
* * *
London evenings were quickly earning a place in my heart. Even in the suburbs, she had a special kind of shimmer about her. The smell of barbecue wafted down streets full of children out playing late in the longer evenings. In my reverie, I may have wandered too far in the opposite direction, but I still managed to double back into the pub on time. Last to arrive, and after a quick wander of the building, I found everyone seated at a long table near the bar.
‘Emmy!’ A collective cheer rose from the table, glasses thrust in the air. There were party hats, streamers, and a clip-on koala that looked suspiciously like one I would have sent to William, except I was sure the one I’d sent was draped in the Australian flag. It was soon attached to my collar.
‘Thank you, I feel like I’m a little late.’ I rested my coat on the back of my chair and looked around. ‘Still getting used to finding my way around.’
‘No, no, not late. There’s no time limit.’ Brian stood, motioning to a free chair. ‘Sit, sit, what do you want to drink?’
‘Surprise me.’ I clapped my hands together and briefly glanced over to see William who, down the other end of the table, was managing to enjoy a lively conversation with Trevor. I tried, but couldn’t make out what was being said.
‘You are going to fit in just perfectly.’ Pam stretched across the table and snapped a party hat on my head. ‘This is why I like you so much already.’
There was a shuffle of the drinks menu and a quick show of hands, and Brian disappeared to collect drinks. He returned with a rattling tray and a joke about a second career waiting for him. When he was satisfied everyone was comfortable and had a drink of some sort, he raised a toast.
‘Emmy, may your hours fly by, your days be fun, and your tenure long. It’s only been a week, but it’s already been great.’
‘And, hey, five days in and she can still remember the practice’s address.’ William held his drink up. ‘That’s commitment for you.’
With that, he’d successfully managed to induce a pregnant pause.
‘Now the formalities are out of the way, tell us all a little bit about the Emmy that arrives at home every night.’ With his coal-dark eyes and floppy hair, Trevor leant into the table and clutched at bony elbows.
‘Is Emmy short for anything? Emily? Emmeline?’ Bob asked. ‘Maybe your parents were fans of Emmylou Harris?’
I chewed on my bottom lip. ‘I don’t think so, no. I mean, it’s not short for anything, and I don’t think Emmylou Harris is my dad’s jam. He’s more a Beatles fan.’
Pam clutched at my arm. ‘I want to know about your boyfriend. Why didn’t you bring him tonight?’
‘Oh, I didn’t think it was a boyfriend type occasion,’ I said nervously, looking around at exactly zero other spouses while I fumbled for the phone in my pocket. ‘But I do have some photos.’ I skimmed through a couple, glad that Craig was not partial to a nude. ‘Oh, this here. Was one of our first dates, I think.’ I thrust the phone out to the centre of the table. ‘Sunset, Sydney Opera House, wine and cheese picnic. It was all very romantic, a cruise ship leaving the bay, dance music thumping all the way down past the Heads’
‘Oh, look at that.’ Bob clutched at the phone. ‘I really think we should have a team building trip to Sydney. Is that Luna Park in the next shot?’
I walked around the table, squatting between Bob and William, the rustle of fabric testament to the fact I’d knocked William. ‘Right, yeah, that’s one of the ferries out to Manly … and that is—’ I scrolled through ‘—the view from the bridge.’
‘You can climb the Harbour Bridge?’ Bob was so excited he almost squeaked. He slapped William excitedly, who had barely raised a brow at what he was being shown.
‘Isn’t it great, Emmy?’ Brian asked. ‘I did that a few years ago with my wife. Phenomenal.’
‘Emmy can be our tour guide,’ Pam volunteered. ‘She can drive the minivan around, with her boyfriend.’
I laughed. ‘He’d probably be drinking wine with you lot, he’s a total lush.’
‘Wedding bells soon?’ Brian asked.
When I grimaced, everyone laughed. William didn’t budge, a regular stick in the mud.
‘No, nothing like that,’ I said. ‘At least, I don’t think so. Not entirely my decision, I suppose.’
Even through his silence, the invisible thread that had held us together all those years ago was still there. It wound past us, through the table, under and around the legs of chairs to trip us up, and knotted itself around my brain. The only thing that pulled me out of this confusion, because that’s what it was – total, utter confusion – was a question about spiders the size of dinner plates.
‘I promise you, if I took you around the country, you wouldn’t be eaten by spiders.’
Trevor thrust his hand in t
he air. ‘I’m going to second Sydney for a team trip, Bri, just saying.’
‘Harbour Bridge, Bondi, wineries.’ William offered a saccharine smile that steadfastly refused to touch his eyes.
‘I would take you there.’ I lifted my glass to my mouth. ‘All you would need to do is show up, William.’
‘I’m not sure we’d all be allowed to take holiday at once, somehow,’ Brian said. ‘But let’s eat. I am starving.’
As knives and forks gnashed at dirtied plates, wine glasses refilled without asking, empty schooners disappeared as if by magic, and I shared my first meal with my new team. With each fresh question that tumbled out, it felt like a job interview all over again, but it was fun and loud, with laughter and well-meaning advice about everyone’s favourite regular patients.
‘Alright.’ William stood and stretched. ‘My shout. Who wants what?’
‘Tell him you want a cocktail.’ Pam leant in. ‘He’s a good shout.’
So, I did. All without response. Watching him melt into the crowded bar area, he felt like a distant memory, someone who was there, but wasn’t, and it made me question everything. I wondered whether I’d simply imagined Hogmanay and the days after. Maybe it was all just me.
‘I asked the guy at the bar what he thought you might like, based on the completely useless fact that you’ve never been here before.’ William placed a glass in front of me. ‘He likes to call this one The Vanishing Act.’
‘Just don’t do that to us.’ Bob held his drink up and I was toasted all over again, all the while feeling as small as an ant.
The issue of William notwithstanding, it was a fun night. We laughed, we joked and, instead of leaving of our own accord, the owners asked politely if we wouldn’t mind vacating the premises as they were keen to go to bed.
Outside in the cold, we stood awkwardly around a street lamp, making small talk before Pam made the first move. She crushed me in a vice-like hug, thanking me for my help during the week. Trevor mumbled something about a football team, while Bob shook my hand and wished me the best as he slipped off into the night. Brian wandered off to the nearest bus stop, politely discussing procedural changes with Pam as they went.
Suddenly, it was just William and me.
Under the streetlight, his hair was a voracious shade of red, made worse by his choice of clothing: dark jeans, sky-blue shirt, and a navy coat. I thought about walking away in silence, but I turned back to find him, head bowed and peering at me from underneath his giraffe length lashes. I walked over to him and poked his cheek.
He chuckled, standing taller. ‘What was that for?’
‘Just checking to see if you were real,’ I said. ‘I thought you might be a post-jetlag, sleeping-pill-induced hallucination that had been following me around all week like the ghost of winters past.’
‘Why? You’re planning on coming back to work on Monday, are you?’
My heart sank somewhere down around my feet. It was entirely possible I was piercing it with my heels. I glanced around the street, at the couple leaving arm in arm, up at the old gaslight lamps that now held light bulbs, and then at William. How was it so easy for someone to break my heart just by being there?
‘Are you done?’ My bottom lip quivered.
‘Done with what?’
‘I have tried all week to get something out of you. Anything. I have brought you coffee, only to find it cold in the staff room an hour later. I baked a cake on Wednesday night. Do you know why I did that? And it’s sure as shit not because I’m a great cook, because I’m not.’
He shrugged. ‘Because you’re busy sucking up.’
‘Because I just wanted you to talk to me. That’s all it was meant as – a conversation starter, but you didn’t even have the heart to look at me when I handed it to you. Even then, I found it stale the next morning. I have said good morning and good night, I have asked specifically if I can help you, and I have nothing to show for it, but a shitty cocktail designed to upset me.’
William shifted about uncomfortably, glancing around and looking for an exit.
‘You hurt me,’ I said. ‘But I suppose you think you were being funny?’
He drew his wobbly lip through his teeth, and his chin dimpled the same way it had the day I arrived.
‘I have gone out of my way to ask you for help, to try and engage you. Even today you couldn’t reply to a blasted email about a group dinner.’ I rubbed tears away. ‘You make me feel like I don’t exist, like I’m invisible.’
‘Oh.’ His eyes widened. ‘You feel like you don’t exist? See, I thought that’s what we were doing. You stop responding to me, so I stop responding to you. That’s fair isn’t it, Emmy? Ems. My lovely, beautiful Emmy.’
‘What?’ I sputtered. ‘I have never, ever ignored you. I went out of my way to try and contact you.’
‘Really? And that’s why we’ve not spoken in, what is it—’ he checked the date on his phone ‘—over two years? Is that what you call going out of your way? Because I’d hate to see what you’re like if you don’t want to be found. There was so much I tried to share with you, and you didn’t have the bloody heart to respond.’
‘William, I wrote to you constantly. Every month. Where are you, William? Have I said something wrong, William? Are you okay, William? Are you even still alive, William? I’ll let you go now, William. I’m not going to try anymore, William.’ I was so worked up that I yelled, ‘Every month! And when that didn’t work, I took to the phone book, to Facebook, anything I could think of short of turning up on your doorstep, though … surprise!’
‘Yeah? And I wrote to you every other week,’ he shouted. Late-night revellers walked past and glared at us, two idiots standing on the sidewalk arguing about writing letters. Because who would write letters anymore? ‘And I never got a single reply, so explain to me how that works?’
‘You know what? I’m not doing this with you.’ I checked my pockets to make sure I had all my belongings. The last thing I needed was to walk back inside, tail between legs, and announce I’d left my phone behind. ‘Not you.’
‘Not me?’
‘No, not you.’ I checked for traffic. ‘Of all people, not you.’
‘So, what, you’re just going to walk away again? Vanish into the night?’
‘You know, I was so excited to see you again, I really was, but not like this. If this is the William I get now, you can bugger off. I don’t want you, us, like this.’
Before he had a chance to respond, I skipped across the road, ignoring the oncoming van that honked its displeasure. As I disappeared around the first corner that offered itself up, the first angry tear slipped out.
Chapter 10
As far as I was concerned, I could see the lights of Piccadilly Circus a thousand times over, and they would still be just as wonderful as the first time I’d seen them as a ten-year-old on a trip to visit family. It was an odd realisation to know that I was here again. As if he sensed it too, Craig leant down and pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
‘Pretty incredible, isn’t it?’ he asked.
I lined my camera up and snapped off a few random shots as pedestrians moved around us like water circumventing rocks in a stream. ‘It really is.’
‘Hey, so, last night.’ Craig nuzzled my hair. ‘And this morning.’
‘Hmm?’ I twisted out of his grip, so I could capture the famous water fountain at a different angle.
‘That was nice,’ he said quietly. ‘Good to reconnect with you after this week.’
I frowned a little. I hadn’t noticed any disconnection and felt pangs of guilt that he had. In fact, after getting in late last night, he was the only person I wanted. I woke him up to tell him as much and, when we’d worked out we were home alone this morning, we’d taken advantage of that, too.
‘It’s been a little busy.’ I took him by the hand and pulled him into the next café we walked past. It had brown awnings, gold lettering, and promised the best coffee in London. That was enough to be going on.
We were sat in a little table by the window, cherry-red with a Gingham tablecloth. A slow breeze blew in each time someone walked through the door. Was it the perfect morning? Just about. All I needed was a hot coffee and a decent meal.
‘So, tell me about your first week. I feel like we haven’t really delved into it much.’ Craig leant across the table and held the tips of my fingers. I teased at his fingers and drew him into a play of grabbing at hands. He won when he reached under the table and pinched at my inner thigh.
‘Well.’ Stray hairs tickled my forehead as I let out a deep breath. ‘Where would you like me to begin?’
‘Are you happy? I feel that’s important. I want you to be happy.’
I smiled. ‘I am. It’s been a little stressful, first week and all, but I’m here, aren’t I? How amazing is that?’
‘You know, I’ve spent the week running around and playing tourist, but I don’t think it’s sunk in yet that I’m not going home?’
‘Right?’ I bounced excitedly. ‘Tell me about your week again. I’m going to live vicariously through you.’
‘We haven’t really talked this week, have we?’ Craig pouted, as a milkshake was placed in front of him. ‘We just kind of ate and slept. Well, you have.’
I pouted. ‘Sorry, that’s my fault.’
‘It’s not your fault, you’ve had a big first week, anyone would be tired. It’s okay.’
Somewhere, somehow in the conversation, I was eclipsed by stories of Churchill’s War Rooms, the rabbit warren of bunkers and secret rooms, and the walk along the Mall towards Buckingham Palace. The street art at Shoreditch and decommissioned warships sitting in the Thames were one of the highlights of the week. I was thrilled that he was excited, but when my description of work was limited to filing, sorting, taking calls, and not the adventures Craig had been having, I was almost relieved when my phone rang.
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