Chapter 14
‘ H ey, do you mind?’ I asked David as I joined him in the hotel restaurant.
‘Don’t be silly,’ he said kindly, gesturing to the chair opposite.
Within a minute of me taking the seat, a waiter came to pass me a limited menu.
It was my second visit to Manchester this year, but unlike the first time, it was now raining, with no sign of any sunshine, just thunderstorms, though it was the end of May. However, the most significant difference was that Diane had managed to book two separate rooms at a more typical three-star, no-nonsense hotel chain.
I hadn’t told her about the room mix-up in April. I didn’t want anyone to know I’d shared a room, let alone a bed, with Adam, though I trusted her not to pass it on. (I was sure she’d had nothing to do with it, so why mention it?)
David and I had just attended a yearly business briefing at the company’s headquarters. Although it was an event available to all, not many from our site had fancied travelling up to the Midlands to listen to the company’s recent achievements. It was supposed to have lasted until after five, hence we’d decided to stay over. However, in the end, they’d let us off early.
‘I’ll have the soup and the duck please,’ I told the waiter when he returned to take our orders.
‘I’ll have the same and a glass of burgundy Pinot Noir,’ said David. Before the waiter left, he quickly added, ‘You know what, just bring the whole bottle.’ He looked at me. ‘Might as well; we’ve both worked hard. Do you drink wine? Sorry, forgot to ask. ’
I smiled. ‘Yes, but I’m not a good drinker. The last time I had red was at the Christmas party, I think…’
‘Yes, I remember you disappeared early that evening… So did Adam.’
‘Really?’ I asked, feigning ignorance. ‘Well, I had a headache and had to go home. Adam offered to walk me to the Underground; he must have headed home too.’
David’s face didn’t reveal whether he believed me, but we were still playing the staring game.
‘You know, he speaks very highly of you,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise you two worked so closely together.’
Before I could reply, ‘We don’t,’ David’s work phone went off. He excused himself and left the room to take the call.
He didn’t return until I’d finished my soup. Since it had been getting cold, I’d decided not to wait for him.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said, retaking his seat.
The soup had been rather on the small side, and I was still starving, but David was eating at a snail’s pace. It dawned on me how irritating it was to wait for someone else so that I could get my second course. Then I remembered how patiently Adam had sat opposite me a month ago in another hotel restaurant. I couldn’t help wondering what he was doing right now – whether he was still stuck in traffic or had already made it back home from the office… Whether he was alone or perhaps with that woman called Sharon.
David’s phone rang again, bringing me back to the moment. He declined the call but didn’t look happy. ‘I’ll call them back later,’ he told me.
‘Oh, did I tell you I saw Mandy Johnson today?’ I asked. ‘She’s back from maternity leave.’
David gave me a confused look.
‘You must know Mandy Johnson – sorry, now Tate? Still doesn’t ring a bell?’ I pressed, but he gave no indication of recognising the name. ‘She used to work as a payroll manager. Well, I guess she’s back there again. She married the company’s IT guru, Arthur Tate. They met at a company party and hit it off a few years ago. You must have heard Mandy’s name before. She used to sort payslip issues. I’m sure she was still here when you started.’
He shook his head and said, ‘In my experience, workplace romances can only complicate things.’
‘Right. But, technically, Mandy and Arthur don’t work together; they’re in different departments with completely different reporting channels.’ I shrugged and continued, ‘Anyway, I can’t see how colleagues becoming romantically involved would be an issue at Brooks O’Grady. It shouldn’t be frowned upon… After all, it’s a family-owned business.’
I still held his gaze defiantly and was convinced of my sound reasoning. In the end, he was the one to look away first.
We chatted about work for a bit, discussing all the new contracts the company had recently won and that we’d just been briefed on. Then, just as we were finishing the duck, his work phone rang again. Before he left to answer it, he told me not to wait for him as it may take a while.
More than half the bottle of wine remained on the table. David had barely touched his glass, and I hadn’t finished mine either. I didn’t feel like drinking alone, so I went upstairs to my room.
When I finished in the shower, a message waited on my phone. It was from David: ‘ Sorry about earlier, busy evening. Have a good night .’
I was about to text back, ‘ No worries, you too ,’ but I changed my mind. I thought, Now or never , and typed, ‘ It’s still early. Fancy a drink in the bar?’
I felt good about sending the message but with a slight nervous excitement in my stomach about the prospect of meeting up with him again tonight. We could have called it an evening team-building exercise… but who was I kidding? We were both adults; he must have understood my invitation went beyond the expectations of a strictly work relationship.
A few minutes went by with no reply. Maybe David hadn’t seen my message. Or perhaps he had and decided to ignore it .
Still wrapped in a towel, unable to decide whether to put on my pyjamas, I sat on the bed, trying to charm my phone into producing a reply.
Another five minutes passed, and I saw three waving dots under my message, indicating he was typing back. The dots disappeared, but there was still no reply. Then the typing resumed, and a short text came through. I had to blink to make sure I was seeing right. It said, ‘ Okay, see you at 8:30 .’
I quickly dressed again, putting on dark jeans and a sleeveless blouse, and put some make-up back on. It was only ten to eight, so I decided to watch some TV before heading down. I made myself comfortable on the bed again and flicked through the channels until I found some property shows.
The next thing I knew, the room had fallen into darkness – I’d been so exhausted that I’d fallen asleep.
I turned on a light and checked my phone. It was close to midnight.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
*
David and I had planned to work at headquarters for most of the day, then take the train back to London and carry on working from there. We’d missed each other at breakfast, and when I was checking out, the receptionist informed me Mr White had already left.
I walked to the Brooks O’Grady offices in the city centre and finally found him at a hot desk on the third floor.
After settling at an empty desk nearby, I went to say good morning. He seemed distant but polite, and when I tried to bring up last night, he stopped me.
‘Is it okay if we don’t talk about it?’ he asked, not looking up. ‘I feel bad enough as it is…’
He must have regretted accepting my invitation. What was I thinking? He’d told me at dinner that he didn’t endorse office romances .
‘Right. I just wanted to say sorry; that’s all.’
‘You have nothing to apologise for; it’s all on me,’ he said, still not raising his head. ‘But now, if we can focus on work please.’
I’d clearly hurt his pride by not turning up for our rendezvous, and it seemed unlikely he’d give me another chance to prove I wasn’t just playing with him. It seemed like I’d hit a brick wall with him and was unsure if I’d ever be able to break through it.