Chapter 20 Panic! #2
While waiting in line for coffee at Snoots — a Monday treat — she checked her schedule.
Another jam-packed day where Stephanie had left barely any time between sessions.
Catherine sighed, a familiar frustration bubbling up.
She really must speak to the agency about sending a different assistant.
And she must catch up with Jeremy and ask about Francesca.
Coffee in hand and scrolling her phone, she almost bumped into the person heading into the café.
“Sorry,” she mumbled with a quick glance up and did a double-take. “Oh, hi,” Catherine said with a breathy laugh as her pulse peaked. “Hi.”
Jules stood in front of her, smiling. Her red curls were swept up into a messy bun, and her makeup-free face was glowing in the fresh morning air.
“I’m not stalking you, honest! Will sent me out for pastries, and I thought I should oblige, seeing as I had him lugging boxes until the wee hours.”
“I guess I better get used to seeing you around, and this really is the best place for pastries.”
“Oh, and I meant to ask if you’ve any allergies or anything.”
Catherine blinked. “Sorry?”
“For Friday, I’m cooking you dinner… that’s if you…” Jules reached up and touched the back of her neck. The movement didn’t escape Catherine. It was hard to imagine, but was Jules anxious about their date too?
“Of course. Friday. I’m looking forward to it. No allergies, but I’m vegetarian.”
“Great, you’re easy.” Jules’s eyes bulged.
“I mean, that’s easy, you’re a veggie. Vegetarian.
Yes. I can do you.” Her eyes grew wider still.
“That, I mean, I can cook that.” Colour crept up her neck and into her cheeks.
The bashful display went a long way to settling Catherine’s nerves.
She smiled and touched Jules’s arm. We’re in this together.
“Please don’t go to too much trouble; I’m not a fussy eater.”
“Okay, good. Well, I’ll see you Friday, and probably a hundred times before then, too.” Jules’s laughter carried like blossom on the breeze.
In a rush of endorphins, Catherine practically skipped to work, the fragrant morning air thick with hope and pollen.
She keyed in the code to let herself into the office and was greeted by the sounds of clattering crockery and muttered curses as Stephanie rattled around in the kitchenette.
Catherine paused in Reception to open the blinds and window, bathing the small room with light and air — another small thing Alice had done instinctively, which Catherine had taken for granted.
“Morning, Stephanie,” she called out as she passed. Stephanie squeaked a surprised response.
As the lights of her office flickered on overhead, Catherine pulled off her light jacket and sank down into her desk chair, affording herself a grounding moment to sit still and sip her coffee before her busy day began.
A soft rap at her door interrupted, and Jeremy’s face peered into the room.
He looked much brighter than he had last week; tired eyes, but at least groomed and with some colour back in his cheeks.
“Oh, I didn’t realise you’d be in today.”
Jeremy pulled his thin lips into a smile. “I have things to do, and I feel a little useless rattling around at home.” With three bouncy strides into the room, he perched on the chair opposite Catherine.
“How’s Francesca doing?” Catherine’s mind flashed back to the hotel room and the unravelled state she’d found her in.
“She’s home, thankfully. I think your visit did some good.” He frowned. “I know she can be… difficult.”
Catherine steadied her voice and shifted in her seat a little. “Look, this might be hard for you to hear, but Francesca’s behaviours are—”
“Awful, I know.”
“No, I was going to say… consistent with narcissistic personality traits.” Catherine swallowed. “I really think she needs a formal diagnosis and some proper support. Not just for her sake, but—”
“Yes, yes. I agree.”
Catherine’s eyebrows lifted. “You do?”
“Honestly, I’ve known for longer than I care to admit. As you say, all the traits tally.” Jeremy stared intently at his clenched hands. “This isn’t the first time she’s taken things badly after a… break-up.”
“Right.” Catherine swallowed again.
Jeremy drew a sharp breath. “But this time I was brave and broached the subject with her.”
“You did?”
“It’s early days, but she’s receptive to the idea of therapy. And I suppose if it is NPD they might prescribe mood-stabilisers. But she’s open to it. That’s something.”
“That’s great, Jeremy.” Catherine refrained from adding the words perched on the end of her tongue… and long overdue.
“Quite. Yes.” He slowly nodded. “I’d like to do something to thank you… you know, for coming to our aid in a time of need and helping things along like you have.”
Catherine held up her hands. “There’s no need.”
“Lunch! Can I take you to lunch this week? Somewhere nice.”
“Really, it’s fine and besides my diary is—”
“Please, Catherine, for me. It’s important.” He hit her with that pleading look she couldn’t resist.
“Okay, alright. Just not today. I’m off to the University Hospital to see a patient — the final hangover from all the Alice business.”
Jeremy winced.
“And not Friday,” she added quickly. “I can’t do Friday.”
Jeremy bobbed his head. “Got it. Not Friday.”
Friday was reserved for Jules and mentally preparing for their date. Catherine gripped her fingers around her reusable cup because a rogue wave of panic surged again at the thought.
For the second night in a row, Catherine lay awake, staring into the dark. For a while she thought about Jules lying in the room above her. Is she restless too? Or does she sleep like the dead?
There was so much to learn about a new person in your life, but wasn’t that supposed to be the fun part?
The thrill of discovery, the slow unveiling of personality, the shared laughter and quiet confidences — these were the things Catherine craved.
Perhaps she wouldn’t like what she found out.
Or worse, Jules wouldn’t like what she discovered as she peeled back Catherine’s layers to find her shrivelled, old core.
Enough with the old — you’re fifty-six, not a nonagenarian.
Her mind drifted to Jeremy and the curious lunch he was planning. A mixture of anticipation and dread swirled in her stomach. Despite her reluctance, she was a little intrigued. She’d sensed there was more he wanted to get off his chest.
Resigned to wakefulness, Catherine swung her legs out of bed and padded to the kitchen.
As she waited for the kettle to boil, the image of the man she’d earlier visited in hospital flashed into her tired mind — Alice’s friend, George — a chronic insomniac, suffering from grief-induced episodic memory loss.
There was something about the hunch of George’s broad shoulders that reminded her of her father — the way his weary face crumpled when he spoke of his loss.
That was why she’d picked this career path, after all — and really why Jeremy had, too.
A memory stirred as she steeped a Chamomile Teapig, adding a squirt of honey to take away the bitterness.
They sat in the old stables, legs dangling from the mezzanine floor as Jeremy popped the cork on a bottle of vintage Champagne he’d swiped from his parents’ wine cellar.
“Are you sure they won’t mind?” Catherine scanned the bottle’s dusty label. It was older than her, and probably worth more than her dad earned in a month.
Jeremy shrugged. “School’s out. We’re celebrating!”
She took a tentative sip and giggled when the bubbles fizzed up her nose.
“Have you decided what you want to do at uni yet?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it, and I want to help people somehow. I wondered about training to be a psychologist or something?”
“Right, yeah. Psychology,” he said and swigged another mouthful before passing the bottle back to her.
“My dad needed help after my mum…” She took another sip from the bottle and left the end of the sentence hanging because still the word was too hard to say.
“Do you reckon psychology would help me understand girls any better?”
Catherine spluttered. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Right, well that’s settled then. I’ll do psychology, too.”
She laughed, but Jeremy didn’t, so she turned and took in his earnest expression.
“You’re serious?”
“Of course!”
Catherine carried her steaming mug through to the lounge and flicked on the lamp.
She’d allow herself a little time with the Sappho jigsaw while her tea cooled, and maybe after that sleep would claim her again.
But she lost herself in the puzzle until the thin dawn light strained through the blinds.