Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Jack’s gaze fell on our table. He seemed to falter then strode across, greeting us with a curt nod. ‘Good evening, ladies.’
Hilda whined in response, while Flick chuckled. ‘I reckon she’s the most ladylike of us lot,’ she said, pointing at my pooch. I’m Flick by the way. It’s short for Felicity in case you were questioning the sanity of my parents.’
‘It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jack.’
‘Oh, I know exactly who you are,’ said Flick. ‘Do you want to—’
I shoved my elbow against her ribs, stopping the invitation which I knew my treacherous so-called best friend was about to issue.
I didn’t bother trying for subtlety, and judging by the expression on Jack’s face, he’d seen the move and knew exactly why I’d made it, which was probably why he took such perverse delight in his answer.
‘Actually, yes, I will join you,’ he said. ‘It’s rammed in here tonight. I think I’d be hard pressed to find a table elsewhere.’
‘We are truly honoured,’ I muttered sarcastically.
‘Meeting someone special?’ asked Flick. I fought the urge to jab her in the ribs again. She had the subtlety of a brick sometimes.
Jack shook his head.
I tutted. ‘You’re missing an opportunity for flattery here, Mr Siddall. Surely everyone knows that the only correct response is, “I am now”?’
‘Is that so?’ he replied, refusing to rise to my bait.
‘Ignore Molly, she’s got a bee in her bonnet tonight,’ said Flick. ‘Her favourite Jane Austen style bonnet that is,’ she added with a wink.
‘Apologies if I am failing to conform to expectations,’ said Jack, taking our banter at face value. ‘I wasn’t anticipating having to be sociable.’
‘Even though you’ve chosen to come to the pub?
Surprising. What did you expect was going to happen?
You’ll have to get used to the whole being sociable concept once your bar is up and running,’ I said, unable to resist making the dig.
‘Most people tend to prefer a genial mine host, rather than a grumpy so-and-so who hates having to chat.’
‘I didn’t say I dislike talking,’ pointed out Jack.
‘I was merely trying to explain that I talk when there’s something worth saying.
’ Unlike some, was the unspoken implication.
‘I had intended this visit as business research,’ he continued, impervious to my fizzing irritation.
‘I wasn’t expecting to see someone I’d recognise. ’
‘Business research? Way to put a dampener on a night out,’ I muttered.
‘Checking out the … opposition?’ said Flick, quickly changing tack from her intended comment after I pointedly cleared my throat at her.
‘Sort of. I know my endeavour is on a different scale to this place. But it’s solid practice to see what other Oxford venues are offering and try to work out what makes them popular with the punters.’
‘I’d say the chips they serve here are a good place to start,’ I said. ‘But you’re not serving food, right? Just letting people drink without providing anything to line their stomach. I read the press release you sent to the Gazette.’
I got a perverse kick out of seeing the frown lines furrowing his brow again.
‘I won’t be running an all you can drink happy hour, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ he said. ‘I may offer some snacks – olives, maybe some artisan pretzels and the like – but that will be the extent of it.’
‘Sounds deliciously pretentious,’ I said.
‘I’m not much of a cook,’ continued Jack, ignoring my comment. ‘I mean, I’m perfectly capable of creating a balanced meal for myself, but I have neither the ability nor the ambition to extend my catering to a wider circle than my family and friends.’
He glanced across to the bar, reading the drinks listed on the chalkboard with a critical eye. Flick gave me a significant look which I pretended to be oblivious to.
‘Where are my manners? What can I get you to drink?’ she asked after her telegraphed instructions to me went ignored.
Jack started. ‘No, absolutely not. I’m the one intruding on your table. I should get drinks for you two. Three, if Hilda would like a top up of her water bowl.’
‘Nope, I insist,’ said Flick, standing up and starting to make for the bar already. ‘Same again, Molls? And you’re a wine man, aren’t you, Jack? Shall I surprise you? Perhaps something rich and full of character?’
She didn’t say ‘Just like you’, but it was obvious from her tone that that was exactly what she was implying.
‘Thanks, that sounds good,’ said Jack, oblivious to Flick’s teasing or at least pretending to be.
‘De nada,’ replied Flick, winking at me as she disappeared into the crowd.
Judging by the amount of people vying for the barman’s attention, she’d be there some time, even supposing she made any effort to catch his eye.
I knew perfectly well she’d disappeared off to leave Jack and me alone together in a touchingly optimistic attempt to encourage us to mend our differences.
When she spoke to Liam, she’d realise why they were irreparable.
We sat in awkward silence for a few minutes.
At least, I felt awkward. It was very hard to tell what was going through Jack’s mind with that impenetrable expression of his.
Even when he wasn’t speaking, he had a way of making me feel unsettled.
I shifted in my seat, wondering if I could get away with going to hide in the toilets for a bit.
But that would mean leaving Hilda in his care, and I was reluctant to give him an opportunity to further ingratiate himself with my pet.
As if reading my mind, Hilda pointedly put her paw on my foot to encourage me to let go of her collar.
I acquiesced, as always unable to resist the power of her pleading expression.
She went straight to Jack, wiggling in pleasure as he scratched her behind the ears.
Then with a contented sigh, she settled down at his feet, curling herself up like a giant hairy croissant.
‘It’s like having my own personal hot water bottle,’ he commented eventually. Then he winced. ‘She has remarkably bony elbows for a dog her size.’
Well played, Hilda, I thought.
‘I suppose I should be grateful you’ve at least stopped referring to her as a horse,’ I responded.
‘You seemed to find it offensive. Although Hilda informs me she was never bothered by that. She has her mind on a much higher plane.’
‘Yes, mostly food related, or so she tells me. If she shares other thoughts with you, I hope you’ll keep her confidence.’
‘I am the soul of doggy discretion.’
We lapsed into a prolonged silence again.
‘Goodness, Jack, you really must stop with all your chitter chatter, I can barely get a word in edgeways,’ I said eventually, tired of the discomforting sensation of him sitting there beside me.
‘I don’t feel the need to fill the air with any old comments for the sake of it,’ he responded.
‘That’s me told.’
‘That’s not what I… Oh never mind,’ he said. ‘What do you think I should be saying?’
‘I didn’t know you held my opinion in such high esteem. Perhaps you should use your initiative? Surprise me.’
He frowned, then took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for something difficult.
‘How long have you lived in Oxford?’ he asked eventually.
‘Wow, insightful question, I can’t believe it took you so long to come up with it,’ I said, then regretted my bitchiness.
Normally I went out of my way to keep a conversation flowing, to the point where guys sometimes believed I was really into them when in fact I was only trying to calm their nerves out of a misguided sense of empathy.
Not that Jack needed or even deserved that kind of treatment.
‘I’ve lived in Oxford my whole life,’ I said.
‘Right,’ he said, sounding surprised.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I asked, my hackles rising.
‘Nothing at all. I was merely acknowledging what you said.’
‘Sure you were. It’s funny how one word can be so loaded with stuff that isn’t said.’ I was back being defensive and snappy again.
He spread his palms. ‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You were being judgemental and dismissive because I’ve only ever lived in one city.’
‘I think you’re projecting your own insecurities on to me,’ he said in an infuriatingly calm tone, but I was warming to my theme. Why I felt the need to justify myself to him, I didn’t know but somehow it felt important to explain.
‘I have travelled elsewhere, don’t get me wrong.
But I’ve never spent longer than three weeks away from this city.
And no, that doesn’t mean I studied here.
I went straight into work at eighteen. Some of us have to, you know,’ I added, a little wistfully.
Plus, I didn’t have the grades to get in.
My teachers had always told me I was bright, generally before they then went on to shake their heads disapprovingly and mutter something about me needing to concentrate more and apply myself.
The trouble was, my brain and formal exams did not get on with each other.
Given how my shop was doing, those teachers would probably say the same thing was true about my brain and business management.
I pinched my finger and thumb together, trying to settle my anxious thoughts, and decided to turn the tables on him.
‘How about you? Was the university what brought you to this city?’
‘Me?’ he asked.
‘Yes, that’s generally how conversations work. You ask a question, I answer, then it’s your turn. Or I could guess if you prefer?’
‘I prefer to answer for myself,’ he said.
There was a long pause, during which I started constructing a tower out of beer mats.
‘Note to self, get better quality beer mats than this place,’ Jack said as the tower collapsed onto the table. He reached across and began his own, much more successful, attempt. ‘Scratch that. It’s all in the architect.’
I shrugged. It was a fair cop.
‘Go on then. I’m guessing you read something like Classics here, Mr Hoi Polloi,’ I said.