Chapter 16 #2
Right. This was it. Grip on to something and haul yourself up .
. . one hand, one foot, one hand, one foot.
After a couple of minutes, she looked sideways to find she was doing .
. . well, not too badly. Nobody was paying her the slightest attention, which was great – she was unremarkable.
Maybe this could turn out better than she’d imagined.
Feeling just the smallest twinge of hope, she went back to her hand–foot rhythm.
Looking upwards (not down, oh God, not down), she saw that William had started moving again, after clipping himself on with some contraption.
Actually, once you just stayed calm and kept your mind on the job, this climbing thing wasn’t too bad, she decided.
Maybe she could become one of those wiry, stunning girls with golden legs who climbed scenic rock faces in blazing sunshine—
‘Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!’
There was a piercing yell from someone, which turned out to be her.
She felt herself being yanked upwards and for a second she was only aware of swinging wildly on the rope, with no control, and crashing against the wall.
She then became aware of the ground, which was waaaay further down than it had been only moments before.
At the same time, she realised that her harness was giving her a massive wedgie and slightly below her was .
. . William. Their rope was going through a loop above them, and the whole thing was acting like a sort of giant weighing scales.
‘Get a grip,’ he shouted. ‘Grab a handhold and attach yourself on.’
Surprisingly, she managed to follow his instructions and found herself clinging back onto the wall, though her legs felt like jelly.
‘Sorry . . . sorry!’ he shouted. ‘Some eejit cut across me and I slipped. Are you OK?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ she blabbered.
Ally had no idea how she was, it hadn’t even dawned on her. What she did recognise, though, was that worrying about the worst thing that might happen was way worse than dealing with it when it actually happened.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘winch yourself down.’
How the hell did you do that?
The prospect of being helped down by large men on ladders was more humiliating than she could bear, so she somehow managed to winch herself down, scrutinised by all the other climbers and the rest of the crowd below. Oh God, her bottom had never felt bigger.
A few minutes later, they were both standing on the ground, William flushed with exertion, her pale with shock.
‘Wow, sorry about that, Ally – well-handled, though. Really gets the adrenalin flowing, doesn’t it? Really makes you feel alive.’
Actually, it had made her feel more like death. William didn’t seem to think so, however.
‘Just as well you were heavy enough to stop me falling too fast.’ He winked at her. ‘I reckon you weigh about—’
‘Don’t finish that sentence, William, if you value your life.’
At least he’d the grace to look a bit sheepish. ‘Seriously,’ he cheered up, ‘I thought you were moving really well up there. If you stick at it, we’ll make a decent rock-jock out of you yet.’
The only rocks Ally was contemplating came with a slice of lemon in a gin and tonic.
‘So . . .’ William enthused. ‘Will we take it easy and try a bit of bouldering now?’
Bouldering? ‘Ah, I don’t know, William. I think I might have done enough for this evening.
’ This was clearly code for let’s pack it in and go to the pub.
She’d been hoping for a cosy, intimate drink, following their dramatic, potentially life-threatening fall.
They were trauma-bonded after all, weren’t they?
And wasn’t adrenalin famous for being an aphrodisiac?
Not for William, apparently. His brain seemed to be working on the basis that you were either climbing or not climbing. There seemed to be nothing in-between.
‘Ah, don’t worry at all, let’s get you home safely,’ he announced, leading her towards the front desk. So much for trauma bonding.
Once back in the car, he seemed to soften.
‘You did really well for a beginner, Ally. Fair play . . . In fact, let me make it up to you. I’ll cook dinner for you next week, how does that sound?’
She felt her spirits lift a little – the night had been redeemed and was no longer quite the miserable washout. He wanted to see her again.
‘Here we are,’ he announced, somewhat unnecessarily, as they pulled up outside her apartment.
They hesitated, but then both seemingly had the same idea at the same time and ducked in for a kiss, banging their heads together.
‘Oh ow, sorry, silly me, my fault,’ they chorused in unison.
‘OK, William, I’ll chat to you later. Goodnight,’ said Ally, scrambling out of the car.
* * *
It was Friday and at Hogget and Simpson the partners were assembling for the follow-on meeting with Francis’s company, CDC – in other words, in a few hours, he’d be cruising in there with his colleagues in his upgraded wardrobe.
Ally had got up early that morning, showered and blow-dried her hair carefully so that her side fringe swept across one eye.
She’d treated herself to a pale lavender crossover top in silk jersey, as well as a charcoal pencil skirt and heels.
The top wasn’t exactly revealing, but it clung to her curves in all the right ways.
She appraised herself in the mirror with satisfaction.
It’s never a mistake to look your best, she concluded.
Frankly, it didn’t matter what happened with Francis; she was determined to look like desirable property for the sake of her own self-esteem.
Unfortunately, her top seemed to work on everybody, including Vincent, who insisted on standing creepily close to her just as Francis’ group arrived, annoyingly blocking her view as they disappeared up the stairs.
By a quarter to five, the boardroom door burst open and the booming sound of confident men’s voices reverberated through the building.
To her annoyance, Ally found her heart beating just a little faster.
It wasn’t that she’d any notion of making a play to get Francis back, but what if he ignored her?
Just paraded straight out the door without a second glance?
The thought was crushing. The voices passed her office before she heard the front door open and then the voices grew fainter as they stepped outside and the heavy door swung shut behind them. Her heart sank.
‘You don’t fancy coming for a drink?’ said a familiar voice.
‘Francis! Oh . . . hi . . . I thought you’d just left. Surely you have a date on a Friday evening?’ she said archly. She wasn’t letting him off that easily.
‘Nope. Nothing at all.’ He sounded quite positive. He might have changed his style but he still had the same softness underneath. At the same time, some part of her did register fleeting unease . . .
Actually, it felt lovely to be properly asked out for a drink by someone, whether it was her ex or not.
‘You know what, Francis, that sounds perfect right now.’
A few minutes later, they were strolling down Baggot Street to Merrion Row and into Doheny and Nesbitt, where they found a small table by the wall due to the early hour, although the pub was filling up fast with office workers.
It certainly looked like the work-from-home trend was on the way out.
Ally held the table, as usual, while Francis went up to the bar.
‘White OK?’ was all he’d needed to say, and she’d just smiled and nodded.
It all felt so familiar. He arrived back with the two drinks and settled into the seat opposite.
Ally realised she’d shut down her feelings, following their breakup, and never really allowed herself to acknowledge them.
What she’d said to people was: it’s all for the best, it’d run its course, somebody had to make a move .
. . Yet now, here he was, sitting opposite her, just the two of them.
She was getting a glimpse of what it would be like to meet him for the first time on a date again.
So . . . gentlemanly, successful, nice-looking – but not super-stunning, which could be unnerving.
Nonetheless, there was still that softness .
. . She felt mean for even thinking it, because he was unmistakably a Nice Guy and she definitely wouldn’t swipe left on Tinder.
A dreadful thought was starting to take shape: why was she only realising this now?
‘Cheers, Ally, I reckon this is a bit overdue.’
She couldn’t help smiling. ‘It’s nice to see you too, Francis.’
‘Likewise.’
She wondered how they might look from the outside: a professional, thirty-something couple having a drink after work. What could be more normal, or desirable? It just showed, didn’t it, how deceptive appearances could be.
‘I see you’ve been making some changes. I must say, they suit you. You’re looking really well.’ This was code for ‘better than before’.
‘Likewise. Dad talks about you a lot. Congratulations on going Sale Agreed on the house . . . and the promotion. You deserve it all, Francis.’
He looked pleased. It actually matters to him that I’m impressed, she thought.
They chatted a bit about Damo’s baby news and how good Julia was for him.
Everything felt so comfortable, so familiar, as though the past year had never happened.
But that was for the birds – she couldn’t just pretend nothing had changed.
They sipped their drinks, and then Ally volunteered to buy the next round. This was her moment. She sat back down.
‘Sooo, Fran, what about this new lady in your life? Where is she this evening?’
Francis blushed. Oh . . . oh, what was this?
‘Ah, yes, you’ve got me there. It’s . . .’ He gave a little shrug as though to imply ‘no big deal’.
Love rat. No way was she going to be palmed off that easily.