Chapter 8
EIGHT
LONDON
The Author
19 December 2005
Two weeks later, Vic was relieved that it was nearly time for the long Christmas break. Her BV infection had thankfully long cleared up and she was feeling so much better. Now that the agreed amount of time had passed without conversation with Nate, she was beginning to feel clearer about both infidelities.
She had just arrived at the outside door of Glovers when her mobile rang. Seeing it was Nate, she took a huge breath.
‘Hey, Sharpie. How’s it going?’
‘Hey, Boo.’ Her beloved nickname for Nate suddenly felt alien to her tongue. ‘It’s going OK, thanks. Just arrived at work.’
‘I know you’re missing me.’ There was a hopeful lilt to Nate’s voice.
‘So much so, if I was an animal, I’d be a pine marten,’ Vic joked.
‘Sharpie, sharp as a tack, as always,’ Nate laughed. ‘Anyway, I know we said we’d meet and talk after Christmas but… ’
‘It’s good to hear your voice,’ Vic intercepted – and meant it.
‘Aww,’ Nate cooed, then, ‘Shit, I’m late.’ He started to talk really quickly. ‘I just wanted to say that just in case you did need to reach me, I’m not going to be ignoring you but work is properly manic this week, what with office parties every lunch and dinner. Then I travel up to the Lakes with Tim for a few days, and you know what me and the brother are like when we get together.’
‘It’s fine. Go! Have fun.’
‘Vic?’ Nate’s voice softened. ‘We’re going to be OK, aren’t we?’ Vic then heard what sounded like a bicyle bell and Nate shouting ‘Hello’ to a work mate. ‘Vic, I gotta go, sorry. Laters.’
The bell in this instance had most definitely been a saving grace, for as much as Vic had missed Nate, living without him hadn’t been as terrible as she had thought it would be. Maybe that was because they had only spent a short time apart, and she had Orla for company. In reality, she hadn’t had the chance to feel alone with herself, or even her thoughts, for that matter.
She was glad to be spending Christmas in Windsor with her mum, without the routine of work or the frenetic backdrop of London town. She was also very much looking forward to sketching some winter river scenes and actually having the headspace to think about her job and her art too. She needed to work out exactly what would make her happy.
Letting herself into the office, she put her handbag down on the side in the kitchen and reached into the cupboard for a coffee cup.
‘Morning, morning. Hurrah for it being my last day until January the third.’
The cropped-haired blonde with a bright red trout-pout and black statement glasses came sauntering in, grabbed herself a mug and poured a coffee from the jug.
‘Morning, Penny.’ Vic grinned. ‘You do make me laugh. You only work three days a week – and that’s when you bother to show up at all.’
‘Three days plus two children equals a lifetime of hard graft and misery. Well, eighteen years of that guaranteed, anyway.’ A smirking Penny shimmied to get milk from the fridge.
‘ Bonjour, bonjour. Joyeux No?l .’ Ray Glover came flouncing in, blowing air kisses. ‘Please note, I made the coffee this morning and also, I have a surprise for you today, Victoria Sharpe.’
‘Oh no. That sounds ominous.’
‘Not at all.’ Ray rinsed his mug under the tap. ‘I spoke to Jerico Flint last night, and he was insistent he came in to meet you before he heads off on his Christmas holidays.’
‘Ah, OK. I can’t believe I still haven’t met him in the flesh, to be honest.’
‘He’s a complete hottie, so you won’t be disappointed.’ Ray grinned.
‘Really? He did like the new cover, didn’t he?’ Vic enquired pensively. ‘Because he didn’t seem his overly effusive self last time we spoke.’
‘Well, his novel is out already, so he must do. Right. I’m off to the accountant’s this morning. I’d better check what books need cooking before I leave.’ Ray poured himself a fresh coffee.
‘I need to get cracking too.’ Penny picked up her drink from the side. ‘The terrible twins have a dentist appointment at two thirty – ha, “tooth hurty”, funny. So I need to leave early, I’m afraid.’
Giving Vic a knowing look, Ray headed to his office and shut the door.
‘Victoria Sharpe, the pleasure is all mine.’
Vic laughed as Jerico Flint doffed his trilby at her. ‘Hi. Great to meet you, and you are so not how I imagined you to look.’ She grimaced. ‘Shit. Sorry! I literally just said something I was thinking out loud.’
‘Oh, I do love it when one’s psyche has a moment of unwanted external revelation.’ Jerico looked over his over-sized horn-rimmed spectacles at her.
‘Mine has a habit of doing that,’ Vic laughed.
‘You imagined an unkempt, white-haired mad-professor-type, wearing ill-fitting chinos and smoking a pipe, didn’t you?’
Vic didn’t answer. Instead she took in the man in front of her. His appearance and sardonic, affable persona reminded her a bit of Vince Vaughn, the American actor whom she had loved in the hit summer romcom Wedding Crashers .
Jerico Flint was around six foot, Vic reckoned. She had always liked a tall man, with both Nate and Steady Stuart fitting that mould. He was broader than Nate, though, with shoulder-length hair, raven black, and olive skin. He was around forty, she guessed. But it was his eyes that truly captivated her. They were a vivid green, surrounded by delicate crinkles. His indigo jeans were complemented by a vintage velvet blazer in a rich shade of burgundy, paired with a paisley shirt in hues of blue and gold.
Ray had come out of his office and was loitering to speak with Jerico, and Penny waved at the author from her desk.
Ray shook Jerico’s hand and winked at Victoria. ‘Ignore this one being so rude – you just can’t get the staff these days. I’m off to a meeting, but I wanted to wish you an incredibly happy Christmas.’ He handed Jerico a bottle-shaped gift bag.
Jerico recognised the neck of an expensive bottle of brandy inside. ‘How very kind.’
Ray headed back to his office and Vic chimed in. ‘So, where were we? Yes… I have to confess I imagined you were older. I love your jacket, by the way.’
‘Oh, this old thing.’ He laughed with his eyes as he handed Vic a book. ‘ Mr Pigeons and the Waterloo Clock , signed, sealed and delivered. A gift for its jacket designer extraordinaire.’
Vic took it and grinned.
‘Everyone is loving this cover. I mean, people say don’t judge a book by one, and all that, but thank you. It’s going down a storm.’ He reached into his bag and took out a beautifully wrapped present. He handed it to her and, as if he knew her trait of never patiently waiting to open anything that was given to her, added, ‘Save it until Christmas – if you can.’ He winked. ‘It’s been so lovely to meet you, Queen Victoria.’ Then, with a pretend bow, he reached for her hand and held it a little longer than necessary.
‘You too,’ Victoria giggled.
As soon as the office door shut behind him, Penny shouted over from her desk. ‘Whoa there! Get a room, you two. I could feel that spark from here, lady.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’ Vic was blushing, as she too had felt an energy between them that had really lifted her mood. Ray hadn’t been lying either; Jerico Flint sure was a striking-looking man.
‘Well, you’re both creative, so you have something in common, at least. Talking of which, how is the gorgeous Nate? Did he manage to escape the dreaded lurgy?’
Ouch! Vic recoiled inwardly. ‘Surprisingly, yes.’ She sighed, not wanting her judgemental colleague to know anything further. For despite working with Penny Clayton for the past three years, there had never been closeness enough between them to trust Penny with anything more than surface-level chatter.
She would tell Ray about Nate, but not before Christmas. It was all too much to relive what had been happening, and the new year might bring a whole new story anyway.
As she sat back at her desk, she heard a text ping into her phone. It was the sexual health clinic asking her to come back in for a face-to-face appointment at four p.m. the next day. A feeling of panic enveloped her.
Ray, who was heading off to see the accountant, caught a glimpse of her expression. ‘You all right, Vic? You’ve gone a bit pale.’
‘Fine, fine. But I did forget to tell you I need to leave at three thirty tomorrow, as umm…’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘As, umm… I’ve got a smear test.’
‘Honestly!’ Ray grimaced. ‘Give me strength!’ Throwing both arms in the air as he strode towards the door, he shouted back to her. ‘And that’s it, you can chuck the discrimination book at me. I don’t care. I am employing only men – and handsome ones at that – forthwith!’