Chapter 13 #2
‘Yes, I studied at Oxford, and I initially started reading Classics. But in the end, we decided it would be better to go for something more practical, so I switched to E and M. Economics and Management,’ he explained, catching my blank expression.
‘We decided?’ I pressed.
‘I decided,’ he corrected, although it didn’t ring true.
‘Sounds … fascinating,’ I said.
‘It gave me the knowledge I needed to succeed in the world of high finance, particularly my area of speciality in the family business. And now I’m looking forward to applying those skills to running my own business.’
He sounded like he was reciting an answer in a job interview. But I could see the light of ambition in his eyes. He was definitely out to prove something.
‘What was your area of speciality, out of interest?’ I asked, trying to keep my question casual.
‘Mergers and takeovers,’ he replied.
Why was I not surprised? My sense of impending doom increased.
‘Your turn,’ he added.
‘What?’ I snapped, half believing he’d declared his intention to take over the Oxford Bookship then and there.
‘Your turn to answer a question,’ he said. ‘You did say that was how it’s meant to work,’ he pointed out, looking a little too pleased with himself.
‘Oh that. I guess so. Hit me with it.’
‘Have you always lived on the Oxford Bookship?’
I examined his expression suspiciously, wondering whether this was the innocent question he was presenting it as, or part of a fact-finding mission by a takeover expert.
‘No, I grew up in a normal terrace house off Cowley Road with my parents, but I spent practically every minute I could on the water in Jericho with my grandma. She taught me what it means to be part of a community, to look out for each other and to contribute to the bigger picture. That’s what I was determined to do when I opened the Oxford Bookship.
I want it to mean something more to the community than just the physical place.
I want it to be a home for them, somewhere people can find friends, and perhaps even get to know themselves better through the books I have on the shelves.
I care about the connection I make with my customers.
’ I fixed him with a serious look. ‘Can you honestly tell me that you’re going to achieve the same with your Wine Barge? ’
Jack thought for a moment before replying.
‘A business is a business at the end of the day. But I also see the true value in creating that sense of community. Start off small and develop it into something which can make a real impact.’
‘By opening a place where people go to get drunk?’ I said dubiously, my anxiety over his allusion to expansion plans making me sound all puritanical.
‘Yes, it’s a wine bar. But I hope it’ll be a place where people can come and chat and feel welcome to visit by themselves or with others.
I want the Jericho Wine Barge to have the kind of relaxed vibe you get when you’re in Italy or Greece, to be a place where the atmosphere is friendly and warm, where people are comfortable to be themselves and savour their drinks rather than downing them like it’s going out of fashion. ’
I was surprised by his speech and nearly found myself being taken in by his obvious enthusiasm for his vision.
‘That’s not normally the way things are done in a student city.
I imagine most people will hear the name Jericho Wine Barge and assume they’re in for a booze cruise.
’ I was making myself sound more and more uptight, but I’d seen the city centre bars at closing time and carnage didn’t begin to describe it.
‘I know you’re wrong, and I’ll prove it to you. It’s the way I’ll do things,’ he said firmly.
‘Oh of course, if it’s the way you’ll do things, I’m sure the rest of the world will click its heels and obediently fall into line.’
‘Perhaps not clicking its heels, but I know that I will make it work.’
‘You’re very confident in yourself,’ I said.
‘You say that like it’s a bad thing,’ he responded.
I shrugged. ‘I suppose you do have the male advantage of self-confidence being a trait which is applauded, as opposed to it being reframed as arrogance or “being difficult” if you happen to be of the female persuasion.’
‘Tough, and unfair,’ he acknowledged.
‘Too damn right.’
‘But that’s not my fault,’ he added. I opened my mouth, ready to respond that a ‘not my issue’ attitude was part of the problem, but he continued with an earnestness that even I couldn’t deny.
‘And that’s certainly not how I think. I have great respect for women with strong opinions who aren’t afraid to voice them. ’
He looked at me steadily, and I glanced down, feigning a renewed interest in the beer mats. Had he just paid me a compliment? It seemed like he might have, but I didn’t know how I felt about it or how to respond. Thankfully Flick saved me by finally returning with our drinks.
‘Have you been giving him one of our feminist lectures, Molls?’ she asked, handing Jack and me a glass of rosé apiece.
‘Some things still need to be said,’ I said self-righteously.
‘Absolutely,’ agreed Flick. ‘And as I’m sure Jack is a fully signed-up ally, why don’t you enjoy the drink I went to great pains to acquire?
I had a dilemma, but in the end, I thought it would be good for you to push yourself out of your comfort zone and have wine for a change.
I went for something subtle and light for you both,’ she continued, diverting me before I could climb too far onto the moral high ground.
‘I hope you approve, Jack. I felt the pressure buying wine for the expert.’
‘The proof is in the tasting,’ said Jack.
I expected him to take a sip and swill it around his mouth in the slightly pretentious manner of all self-professed connoisseurs, but instead he looked expectantly at me.
‘I’m of the opinion that people should be able to enjoy what they enjoy, without feeling the need to appear a certain way.
You go first, tell me what you think,’ he invited.
‘And before you say anything, I’m not trying to test you.
I’m genuinely interested in your opinion.
You do after all seem to like expressing it. ’
I frowned at him, unsure whether he was criticising or merely stating a fact. I generously decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and took a small sip, then a larger glug. ‘Good choice, Flick, fresh and fruity. What is it you say? Very quaffable.’
Jack raised an eyebrow. ‘That sounds like a ringing endorsement to me. I shall have to stock it in the Jericho Wine Barge.’
‘Don’t bother on my account,’ I said quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea.
I didn’t have time to be popping out to wine bars, even if they were right next door to me.
Especially when they were right next door to me and owned by someone I frustratingly couldn’t fathom.
Tonight’s socialising at the pub was an aberration.
‘Your turn, Mr Siddall. What’s your informed opinion? ’
Jack lifted the glass, and gently wafted it under his nose, a dreamy expression softening his features.
‘I wouldn’t sniff too deeply, I think Hilda’s just let one slip,’ I said facetiously, hoping my dog forgave me for my little white lie.
But instead of frowning in disapproval at my coarse comment, his face crinkled into a warm grin.
‘That’s dogs for you. Don’t worry, my smell receptors are pretty much immune to eau de dog, thanks to growing up with a particularly flatulent Labrador. What he delivered in gas attacks, he more than compensated for in love and affection. I always thought of Henry as my four-legged brother.’
Was it me or were Jack’s eyes turning a little watery as he remembered his childhood pet?
Despite my misgivings about my new neighbour, I couldn’t help feeling the empathy any dog parent would.
I fought the urge to pat him sympathetically on the shoulder, and instead nudged Hilda gently with my toe, encouraging her to sit up and rest her head on his lap.
Jack immediately started stroking her, thankfully unbothered by the string of drool which she deposited on his previously immaculate jeans.
‘All dogs are special. We don’t deserve them, really,’ I said quietly.
‘You’re right there,’ said Jack.
This time there was a different quality to our silence.
‘What’s the verdict on my drink choice then, Jack?’ asked Flick eventually.
‘Absolutely. Sorry, let me try it properly now.’
I found myself almost hypnotised by the way he pressed his lips to the glass and took a sip. His throat moved as he swallowed, and then he glanced up and caught me staring at him.
‘Delightful,’ he said.
I knew he was only talking about the drink, but something about the way he said that word while looking at me made my insides lurch.
I tried to dismiss the disconcerting sensation as vinegar-and-chips related.
The rosé must have gone straight to my head for me to be feeling…
No, I pushed the false thought away. I was in an emotionally vulnerable state, with all the stress I was under at the moment.
Whatever bizarre imaginings were going on, I needed to get myself out of here, and smartish.
I put my glass down and made a great show of checking my phone, before standing up abruptly.
‘Goodness, is that the time? I should be off home. Some of us still have to work in the morning.’
‘May I—’
But I didn’t let Jack finish whatever it was he wanted to ask. ‘Thanks for a lovely evening, Flick. Come on, Hilda, let’s get going.’
Hilda blinked up at me, surprised by my sudden change in tone, and clearly telegraphing her intention to stay right where she was.
‘Come on you, Hilly-billy. It’s way past your bedtime.’
She slumped down and shuffled herself into an even tighter ball, burying her face under her haunches, apparently thinking if she couldn’t see me, I wouldn’t be able to see her.
‘She can stay here, and I’ll bring her back with me later,’ offered Jack, as she signalled her intention to remain glued to his side.
I was rational enough to realise Hilda would be perfectly happy with that scenario, but instead of being gratified my loving pet parenting had resulted in a dog who no longer had separation issues, I felt sad she seemed to be picking him over me. It was the final straw.
‘You can move into my neighbourhood and destroy my peace and quiet, but there’s no way I’m letting you steal my dog too,’ I said.
And with that, I grabbed hold of Hilda’s lead and bribed her with all the treat-related buzz words I could come up with to follow me reluctantly out of the pub.