Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Flick was suitably indignant about Jack’s bad steering and poor attitude when I joined her to drown my sorrows in the King’s Arms on Sunday night.
It was one of Hilda’s favourite pubs, mostly because the staff never failed to give her treats, plus she got lots of attention from students who were missing their pooches back at home.
She was currently sprawled out at our feet, using her long tongue to her advantage to search for any crumbs which might be lurking on the floor.
‘Eurgh, Jack may be pretty but that doesn’t give him permission to behave terribly,’ said Flick, taking a large slurp of her G&T without the G, her favourite tipple.
Flick had never been a boozer, but despite the teetotal nature of her drinks, she always managed to end up acting tipsy by the end of a night out, high on social energy.
‘Do we think he’s pretty?’ I asked doubtfully.
‘Okay, so pretty’s maybe the wrong word. Dishy. Handsome. Swoony. Take your pick,’ said Flick, trying the words out for size.
I frowned as I pictured him. ‘Not sure any of those fit exactly. How about surly? Entitled? Posh boy?’
Flick leaned forward and brushed something off me.
‘What was that?’ I asked.
‘Just removing the chip off your shoulder,’ she said with a teasing glint in her eyes.
‘Ha ha, very funny.’
‘He can’t help what family he was born in,’ she said. ‘What’s wrong with being posh?’
‘Nothing whatsoever, unless it makes someone believe they can swank around doing whatever they like, which is unfortunately the case with Jack Siddall.’
She pursed her lips. ‘Let’s rewind a little.
His previously discussed sins still stand, and yes, like you, I’m horrified that he crashed into the Oxford Bookship.
Someone with no sense of direction like that absolutely shouldn’t be allowed in charge of a boat on the canal.
But you’ve said yourself he apologised and offered to pay for the damage, which a spoilt posh boy wouldn’t have thought of.
And he lent you a fancy coat when you were getting soaked in the rain. So, he’s not all bad.’
‘The only reason I was getting soaked in the first place was because I was having to rescue him. If he knew even the very basics of steering a canal boat, I would have been able to stay nice and dry indoors. Every time I think about what happened, I seethe. There’s something about him which makes me…
’ My voice trailed off as I struggled to articulate exactly how he made me feel.
Irritated, pissed off, whatever other synonyms for annoyed you could come up with.
And something else as well. Jumpy perhaps?
On edge? Definitely hyper conscious of his every move.
From a self-protection perspective, I elaborated in my internal narrative.
Flick raised an eyebrow. ‘Interesting,’ she said in a pointed manner.
‘Bloody hell, no, nothing like that. He really … riles me.’
‘Right,’ she said, still maintaining that irritating I-know-better-than-you voice.
‘Look, at the end of the day, you can’t change the facts.
The guy’s there now. There’s no point in letting him spoil your happy place for you.
And they do say there’s a thin line between hatred and love,’ she added with a devilish grin.
‘I know you’re winding me up. Jack Siddall is the last man in the world I would ever love. Whoever “they” are need their head examining,’ I said. It was about time I turned the tables on her. ‘Speaking of all things romantic, when’s your next date with Liam? I’m assuming there’ll be one.’
‘We’re texting a lot, and he’s promised to give me a guided tour of his boat, which I think is a genuine offer rather than being a pretext to lure me back to his, although I wouldn’t be devastated if it was. She’s called Lydia apparently.’
‘Lucky you. He did a whole series of videos about doing her up. She was a complete wreck when he bought her and he’s completely transformed her, so cool.
’ Flick assumed her ultra patient expression.
‘Sorry, that’s not the point, I know. I’m thrilled you guys have hit it off.
He seems really lovely, such a positive outlook on life despite it all. ’
‘Despite what?’ asked Flick.
I hesitated. ‘He swore me to secrecy, otherwise I’d tell you myself, but you might want to ask him about his experience of Jack Siddall,’ I said.
‘Sounds intriguing. You do realise telling your best friend doesn’t count,’ pointed out Flick.
I fought an internal battle. ‘I’d absolutely love to, but I made a promise, plus I don’t want to put you in a difficult position.
You’re a journalist after all and although I totally trust your discretion, it would be plain mean to hand you a story when you can’t do anything with it.
Ask Liam. Honestly. I’m sure he’ll fill you in.
And then you’ll understand why Mr Siddall is not to be trusted. ’
‘Order twelve, portion of chips?’ asked the waiter, providing a welcome distraction from potential awkwardness by arriving at our table to deliver our food. ‘Any sauces with that?’
‘Tomato ketchup,’ started Flick.
‘And lots of vinegar, please,’ I completed our request.
‘The mark of true friendship,’ she responded. ‘Can you imagine if one of us preferred mayonnaise and salt with our fries?’ She shuddered at the very idea of it, and I felt relieved that she hadn’t taken offence at my reluctance to share Liam’s story with her.
‘I’m afraid I’d have to end our friendship,’ I said with mock seriousness.
‘Or we could order two portions for once,’ said Flick with a smile.
‘Yes, of course, splash out, why not,’ I said hastily. A bit too hastily.
‘Is everything alright, Molly?’ she asked. ‘There’s nothing you’re not telling me, is there? I mean, apart from the thing you’ve explicitly said you’re not telling me.’
I forced myself to take a moment before replying.
If I came in too quick again, she’d definitely know I was holding something back.
Flick and I had grown up together and been by each other’s sides through all the significant firsts – boyfriends, jobs, homes.
But time and time again I’d seen her take on other people’s problems as her own, and I truly didn’t want to burden her with my worries.
Her job was high pressure. She should be focusing what energy she had left over on herself, not me.
‘All’s good. Apart from Mr Annoying McAnnoyington next door, of course.’
‘Catchy nickname,’ she said, smuggling a chip to Hilda under the table.
‘I suppose you think I should ignore his presence and carry on as normal,’ I replied.
‘Ignore him? Now that would be a shame. At least allow yourself to enjoy the novelty of having some eye candy on your doorstep. Is doorstep the right word?’
‘Not exactly. His bow is in close proximity to my stern.’ I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth.
‘Ding dong, oo-er Matron,’ said Flick in her best Carry On voice. ‘That sounds like an extremely interesting position to be in.’
‘Alright, alright, there’s no need to keep making the same point. Jack could be described as objectively hot. When he’s not scowling, that is, which is hardly ever. But he’s in possession of a terrible personality and there’s nothing that will make up for that.’
‘Is he really though? Or are you prejudiced against him, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, because he hasn’t read your favourite book, and you’re more of a cider girl than a wine drinker? Remember how it works out for our lovely Lizzy.’
I snorted. ‘Well, I’ve been on board his barge, and trust me when I tell you it’s no Pemberley.
And despite his terrible steering, he’s yet to have a wet shirt moment in the canal.
’ I held up my hand to stop the interruption I anticipated.
‘Before you call me a hypocrite because that only happened in the TV series and not in the book, I don’t care.
Mr Darcy’s wet shirt moment is iconic, and I won’t hear otherwise. ’
‘Don’t worry, that’s a point I certainly won’t argue with you about. But I maintain he has some claim to Darcy looks. You’re sure he can’t be tempted to join your next Blind Date with a Book night? You might get a few extra ladies signing up if he appears in the posters.’
I nearly choked on my drink. ‘He is the last person I’ll be putting on the posters. I want the right sort to come along. You know, men who are well-read and—’
‘—good in bed,’ added Flick with a snigger. ‘You can have that marketing tagline for free.’
I pretended to consider it. ‘Hmm, maybe, although trade descriptions would probably get me into all kinds of trouble with those sorts of claims unless I verified them for myself, and frankly I don’t have the energy.
’ Flick was snorting with laughter, but I ploughed on regardless.
‘As to the next do, there’s another very good reason why Mr Siddall won’t be attending.
He’s holding his Wine Bar launch event the very same night.
He absolutely refuses to change the date.
And no, I will not even consider doing a joint event, before you suggest it. ’
‘Sounds like this new revelation calls for further discussion which can only mean dessert. Shall we spoil ourselves?’ said Flick.
‘Why n—’ The words died in my mouth. ‘Actually, why don’t we head elsewhere for dessert?
’ I suggested casually, trying very hard not to make the reason for my sudden change of heart obvious.
Unfortunately, Hilda had no such qualms. As soon as she clocked the man who’d just walked into the pub she was on her feet, thumping her tail in anticipation, and looking at me expectantly for permission to go and see the person she now considered a friend, even if I didn’t.
Although I had her lead hooked onto the bottom of my chair, I grabbed hold of her collar, just in case.
The furniture in the King’s Arms was no match for Hilda when she put her mind to it.
‘Stay, Hilda.’ I delivered the command softly, but she knew I was serious.
She let out a little whimper and quivered in frustration.
I could practically read the thoughts running through her mind – confusion as to why she wasn’t allowed to say hi to him, and betrayal that her number one human was holding her back from something she really wanted to do.
I willed the new arrival to decide it was too busy and leave, but no, he stood casually surveying his surroundings like he owned the place.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he was considering adding it to his empire.
I shrank back in my seat, trying to make myself invisible, but it was practically impossible to remain incognito given my own height and the fact that I was accompanied by a large dog who was very keen to be noticed.
She let out a plaintive ‘Harrrwuull’ of frustration as I continued to keep hold of her collar, and the game was up.