Chapter 18
18
It was almost ten o’clock on Friday night when Tom finally returned from his work trip to Cambridge. Turning off the car engine, he blew out a sigh of relief. After spending the last two days in meetings with the potential new clients at the bioengineering company based there, his brain was mush.
He’d worked hard to get up to speed with their business and operations, and craft a sales pitch that would convince them that the products and services his company sold could streamline their processes and simplify their organisation. Life sciences was a new sector for Tom, and it hadn’t been easy getting to grips with the nature of their business and what they’d need from a service provider.
But he’d done it, and as far as he could tell the sales pitch had gone down well with the people he’d met.
He would’ve had more time to prepare for the pitch had his boss not asked him to meet with yet another prospective client while he was in the Cambridge area to make the most of the work journey. While the additional pitch was to a smaller firm working in a professional services sector that Tom was already familiar with, he’d still had to research their business and arrive ready to demonstrate the value of what he was there to sell.
That had meant two long days at the start of the week while he prepared, plus three even longer days once he arrived in Cambridge to meet the two sets of prospective clients, give his sales presentations, and then work one-on-one with the key employees and procurement managers to demonstrate the products and services and answer questions about their specific applications.
The last meeting of the day had run late, and at the end of it, Tom had accepted an invitation to join a small group of senior staff from the bioengineering company for drinks to round off their discussions. Knowing that these informal get-togethers were often crucial to cementing the personal relationships that were integral to good business partnerships, Tom had no choice but to accompany them for drinks.
By the time everyone began drifting off, it was almost seven o’clock. The expected two-and-a-half-hour drive back to Hamblehurst turned into three hours, thanks to the inevitable traffic delays as he skirted around west London.
Now, as he got out of the car, he was glad to put the hectic week behind him. Much though he loved his job, he needed some downtime.
Not that he’d get much of that this weekend. Tomorrow was Lucy and Martin’s wedding day, which would mean another Saturday filled with ceremony schedules and reception arrangements and being a useful wedding guest.
And it would also mean having Carole by his side as his plus-one.
In the whirlwind of his non-stop work week, he’d somehow forgotten about that.
Actually, that wasn’t true. He hadn’t forgotten.
He’d simply chosen not to think about the fact that Carole would be his wedding date once again. Choosing not to think about the second leg of their wedding date arrangement meant he didn’t have to think about Carole either… or about what he felt for her.
Because he did feel something.
He’d felt something from the moment they’d danced together at the last wedding they’d gone to, something that had only intensified when he’d gone round to her house for dinner, and they’d shared that super-charged moment in her kitchen when their gazes had locked and he’d imagined pulling her into his arms and kissing her.
Was that really an entire week ago? The sensations of that moment were still so seared into his mind that it could’ve happened just hours earlier.
He hadn’t seen Carole since their subsequent doorstep encounter when she’d handed him the bowl of dessert she’d prepared but hadn’t served because he had to rushed off. He’d knocked on her door on Saturday morning to return the clean bowl, but she hadn’t been at home, and when he’d texted her later, she’d explained she was working all day and then spending most of Sunday with her family, and that there was no rush to return the item.
And then Monday had rolled around again, bringing with it a full work schedule and two long days at the office before he’d driven to Cambridge for the sales meetings that took up the rest of his week.
As Tom hitched his work bag over his shoulder and grabbed his small travel suitcase from the boot, he glanced towards Carole’s house and saw a dim light in the living room window. Despite his fatigue after a week of long days and countless meetings, part of him wanted to knock on Carole’s door and…
What? Say hello? Insist on returning the dessert bowl at last? It was a bit late in the evening for either of those things.
And yet the quiet stillness of Foxglove Street made him regret the darkness that lay behind the windows of his own house and wish he wasn’t about to spend what remained of the evening there alone.
As he locked the car and fished his door key from his work bag, he realised the street wasn’t as quiet as he’d thought. It rarely was. Laughter drifted from an open window further along the street, a dog walker meandered along the pavement in the distance, and the sound of a football being kicked around echoed from a back garden somewhere close by. A flock of crows swooped into the deep blue twilight sky overhead and cawed to one another before settling on the highest branches of a tree in someone’s front garden and roosting for the night.
Tom’s gaze flicked once more to Carole’s front window as he unlocked his door. He knew it was too late in the evening to drop by, and the truth was he was wiped from the long day and the even longer drive home.
And yet he wished for Carole’s company just the same, instead of the empty house that awaited him.
But he had no choice but to go inside, alone, whether he liked it or not.
Inside the house, Tom turned on lights, dumped his bag and luggage, and scanned the fridge for something to eat. He found some leftovers that looked vaguely edible, and while he waited for the microwave to zap them, he pulled out his phone and tapped out a message to Carole.
Hey, Carole. Just back from my work trip (at last!), wanted to check we’re all set for the wedding tomorrow?
Tom watched as the three dots flashed in the reply window and a moment later a message arrived.
All set. Looking forward to it. Hoping it will be less eventful than the last wedding we went to.
She’d added a funny emoji face to emphasise the point.
Me too. Is your dad still on the road to recovery?
He’s doing fine, thanks. Still a while to go before the cast comes off his wrist but the bruises are on the mend and he’s feeling more like himself again.
Glad to hear it. Okay with you if we set off at noon tomorrow for the wedding?
The three flashing dots appeared again, lingering for a long beat before vanishing again. The reply box remained empty for what felt like ages before another message finally arrived.
This one was just a single emoji, the thumbs-up sign.
Tom waited, wondering if Carole would say anything else. But that was all he got, just that one solitary thumbs-up. When the microwave pinged, he set aside his phone and dug a fork into the reheated leftovers that would have to do as far as a late dinner was concerned.
As he tucked into his meal while leaning against the kitchen counter, he considered sending another message to Carole. He liked messaging her and liked talking to her even more.
He’d missed doing both during the long week at work when he’d scarcely had time to do anything except focus on the gargantuan sales tasks he was responsible for steering through to a successful conclusion.
And yet part of him knew there hadn’t really been anything stopping him from sending a quick message to her. It was the work of moments, after all.
But the heated look they’d shared in her kitchen over a week ago had made Tom throw on the brakes, because that was the sensible thing to do.
Tom was all in favour of being sensible.
Being sensible right now meant eating his reheated leftovers, decompressing for a while after the hectic work week, and then catching up on some sleep. He’d see plenty of Carole tomorrow at the wedding anyway.
They’d complete part-two of their wedding plus-one arrangement and then get back to life as usual.
Tom set aside the unfinished food, his appetite gone, wondering why the idea of life as usual suddenly left him feeling so empty.