Love Getting Even

22. Chapter 22

22

T om leaned on the delete button for the third time in as many minutes. He let it run all the way left, up all the lines, until there was nothing there—just a white page and a blinking cursor waiting for input.

He tried again.

‘Welcome to Bellden Ltd, the accountancy firm for all your finance needs…’

Jesus, that was awful.

Delete delete delete.

Tom thought that he’d get to the fun stuff once he had the investment and knew he could take the business forward. It turned out, writing copy for your website was not as much fun as it sounded.

It was getting late. He stayed at the office to finish some work for a client, then lingered a little longer to try to draft the copy for his web designer.

Bellden Accountants are—

He stopped. Bellden’s are what? An accountancy firm. Like lots of other accountancy firms.

His web designer had sent him a list of questions to help him. Questions like, why pick Bellden? What sets you apart? What’s your unique selling point?

Right then, the only answer Tom could come up with was, ‘I have no idea.’

He sighed and wondered if an early session drafting the copy in the morning would do the trick.

His phone buzzed, and he lunged for it, glad of the excuse to stop thinking about how picking Bellden Accountants would make someone’s life easier.

It was Katie. He sat up straighter in his chair.

He had had a message from her last week about the engagement. They had exchanged a flurry of messages about it, both agreeing they were fine, lucky escapes, seems a bit rushed… etc. Then the messages had started to dwindle. Neither of them mentioned Pisa. It had lurked in the sub-text in their messages, present by its notable absence.

They hadn’t seen one another since they got back almost two weeks ago. Katie had been away on a long-planned weekend to visit family in Derbyshire and Tom, with the funding agreed, had picked up the pace with the final stages of the business development.

The offices he had been keeping an eye on were still available, so he went for a viewing and shook hands on the deal, with paperwork to follow. He had given his web designer the green light and drafted a job advert for an associate. Having spent over a year building his business by taking on clients and doing their accounts on evenings and weekends, he had a small but reliable client base to move with him, and he needed scope to grow.

Now, feeling wide awake, he clicked on the message.

Hi, you still in town? I’m near your offices, and wondered if you fancied a drink?

Tom felt adrenaline rush through him. Yes, he very much fancied a drink. With Katie.

He started to type a reply when another message arrived.

I’m outside.

Then another.

That came across more creepily then I meant.

Then,

I just meant, I’m nearby. Very nearby.

Tom sent a laughing face. Getting creepier. He added, Press the buzzer, I’ll let you up. I’ve actually got something for you.

His phone vibrated in his hand, and he glanced at the screen.

Now who sounds like a perv?

Tom laughed at the message and raced through from his office to the reception area. The buzzer sounded as he reached the reception and craned behind the high reception desk to hit the door release button. Their offices were in an old black and white medieval building, up creaky old stairs, and the four-hundred-year-old planks creaked and groaned with every step.

Smoothing his hair and adjusting his tie, he tried to look relaxed as she pushed open the main door.

‘Wow,’ she puffed. ‘Those stairs are something else!’

Her cheeks were pink, and her smile was broad as she walked in. She met his eyes as she entered, then seemed to be a little shy, looking away and glancing around the room.

‘Good to see you,’ Tom said, seemingly glued to the reception desk.

Katie stopped in the middle of the room, clutching her bag in front of her with both hands.

‘Yes, you too,’ she said, nodding.

Tom just nodded back. Either trying to write website copy had killed his capacity for words for the day, or he was feeling a little nervous.

‘So,’ Katie said, her eyes bright. ‘This is where you work?’

‘Yes, this is where the magic happens.’

Katie raised an eyebrow, and Tom fought an urge to throw himself behind the reception desk.

‘Ugh, so…’ He peeled himself away from the desk. ‘My office is this way.’ He gestured for Katie to follow him. ‘I was, uh, just doing some stuff for the new website.’

‘Oh, great! Let me see what you’ve written so far.’

He wished he hadn’t mentioned it. He had nothing. Literally, nothing.

‘Oh no, let’s just head off.’

As they entered his office, Tom reached for his computer and tried to shut the program down, but Katie had already slipped behind the desk and was bending down, peering at the screen. Tom fumbled with the mouse for a second, then gave up.

Katie took in the white screen and the blinking cursor.

‘Is this it?’ She pointed at the page.

‘Uh, yes, well, like I said, I’ve only just started.’

‘When?’

‘Three days ago.’

Katie looked back at the blank screen.

‘Wow. I love it.’ She nodded. ‘Really compelling.’

Tom sighed but gave a small smile. ‘Okay, look, I know that—’

‘Move over,’ Katie bumped her hip against him and scooched him out of the way.

‘Oi, what are you doing?’

‘You don’t do words, do you, Tom?’

She gazed at him, gold flecks flashing in her hazel eyes. He hoped they were still talking about the website. Unfortunately he proved her point by being lost for words and failing to answer.

‘See?’ she said, pulling up his chair and sitting down. ‘You do numbers. But you forget that I use words for a living. Including,’ she settled her hands on the keyboard, ‘writing website copy.’

‘Katie, you don’t have to do this.’

‘I know I don’t. Believe me, I am a looonng way past doing anything I don’t want to do. You picked me up from the dentist, Tom. You made me bread. Bread. ’ She said this with a note of awe, as if this was a rare and remarkable talent. ‘Let me help you with this.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s only bread, Katie. It’s not complicated.’

She huffed in response to that and pulled the keyboard towards her. ‘Yes, well. It was a really kind thing to do…’

Her voice trailed off at the end of the sentence, and she dipped her head so her hair fell forward and he couldn’t see her face.

He thought of the little file in his drawer. The little file with her name on it that he’d been trying to work out how to give her for the past few days.

‘What are these?’ She peered at the prompts from the web designer that Tom had printed out and set beside the keyboard. ‘Oh no, we don’t need those.’ She slid the sheet of paper to the side of the desk so fast it dived off the side, and her fingers started flying over the keys, the little cursor zooming across the page as she started to write.

Tom pulled up a chair and sat beside her, peering over her shoulder as the screen slowly started to fill with text. He caught the scent of her perfume, and in a second, he was back in the hotel stairwell, pressing her against the wall, running his fingers up her thigh. He sat back a little and ran a hand over his face, trying to erase that image and stymie the feelings that coursed through him.

‘Let us take care of you, so you can take care of business,’ Katie had typed.

‘Wow,’ Tom murmured. ‘That’s a lot better than, ‘Hello, we are Bellden Accountants.’

Katie chuckled.

She was throwing suggestions onto the screen. ‘We know that having someone you can trust to look after your accounts and interests while you focus on growth is invaluable. Here at,’ She paused. ‘Is it Bellden Accounts or Bellden & Associates?’

‘Bellden & Associates Chartered Accounting,’ Tom replied softly.

Katie nodded and continued typing.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, and his eyes fell on the curve of her neck. He hadn’t seen her since they returned from Pisa. He had told himself that night was a one-off, a symptom of the heightened atmosphere that weekend, the drama of trying to get home, the chianti. Now that she was there, beside him, it seemed she still had an intoxicating effect on him. And she wasn’t even looking at him—her eyes were glued to the screen.

‘With over—’ She turned and looked at him. ‘How long have you been an accountant?’

‘Uh, over eight years,’ Tom replied.

‘Ok, so…with nearly a decade of experience meeting the needs of local businesses…’

Tom smiled as Katie’s fingers flowed across the keys. She was right. She was good at this.

After a few moments, she shuffled her chair to the side and gestured for him to view the screen.

‘See what you think,’ she said. ‘I’ve outlined a few suggestions for copy for your home page and your about page. You’ll need to flesh them out but it’s better than a blank page.’

Tom was reading over her copy.

‘Wow, Katie, thank you so much. I’ve spent hours on this the last few days and got nowhere.’ His eyes ran over the simple, elegant, focused copy once more. She had made his little start-up firm sound like a serious business. ‘This is great.’

Looking over at her, he saw her eyes were shining. Shrugging, she said, ‘You’re welcome.’ Standing, she walked around to the other side of the desk. ‘Now, fancy a drink, or are you staying here to ruin my beautiful copy?’

‘No, no,’ Tom said with a laugh. He closed down his computer. ‘Let’s have a drink. But first.’ He stood. ‘I have something for you. Something I made for you.’

Christ, he was making it sound like he’d made her a macramé necklace or a potato print picture.

‘It’s a surprise.’

Jesus, that made it sound even weirder.

Katie raised her eyebrows. ‘Is this thing you’ve made for me suitable for an office environment?’

Was that a suggestive smile on her face?

He didn’t dare respond for fear of making it even more awkward. Instead, he pulled open his desk drawer and reached inside for the slim file. A brown manila folder with ten neatly bound sheets inside.

Reaching his arm across the desk, he said, ‘Here.’

Katie looked nonplussed, and she didn’t immediately stretch out her hand for it. Tilting her head to one side and eyeing the folder, she said, ‘Tom, what is this? Is this some sort of tax advice or something, because I—’

Tom thrust the folder towards her. ‘Katie, just take it.’

Her eyes on his, she took the folder and opened it slowly, as if she thought it might go off. She was quiet for several moments as she looked at what was inside. Tom became aware that his heart was thudding in his chest. He desperately wanted to clear his throat, to say something, but he didn’t want to break the heavy silence in the room or interrupt her thoughts. She was turning the pages now, gently flipping one at a time.

Katie lifted her head, her eyes shining. Her hands trembled slightly as she looked down at the folder and up at him again.

‘You wrote me a business plan,’ she said, her voice just a whisper, ‘for my pottery.’ A tear spilled over and ran down her cheek.

‘Yes,’ Tom said, in a voice that didn’t sound quite like his own. He cleared his throat. ‘Those numbers are projections, and they are full of assumptions, which,’ he gestured to the folder, ‘are also all in the plan.’

Katie was just looking between him and the folder. Another tear ran down her cheek, and Tom rounded the desk to stand directly in front of her.

‘It’s not a pipe dream, Katie, not if you don’t want it to be. This,’ he tapped the document, ‘can be your proper job. And I didn’t make this up. We have potters and other artisans on our books and,’ he twisted his lips, ‘some of them do very well indeed.’

Katie gripped the folder more tightly.

‘You wrote me a business plan. For my pottery,’ she said again. She ran her fingers over the slim bound document and then closed the folder with reverence. ‘Tom, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever given me.’

‘You don’t need to jump right in,’ he explained. ‘You can just start to cut back on your technical writing clients—when you’re ready—and do more pottery. Build it up. That’s the model I outlined in there, anyway. A two-year phased move to making pottery full time, to give you time to build up a reputation and client base.’

‘Tom,’ Katie said, then seemed at a loss for what came next. She tried again, holding his gaze as she wiped at her eyes. ‘No one else has ever said it was more than an expensive, messy hobby. They said no one could make a living doing this. And I assumed they were right.’ Her lips trembled. ‘Thank you.’

The last two words were a whisper, and her voice didn’t quite hold out to the end. Something in Tom’s chest ached, and in that moment he desperately wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her. To tell her that he would believe in her even when she didn’t. But he had no idea what they were to each other right now. He stood in front of her and gave an awkward smile, and then they hugged, Katie’s arm still holding the folder to her chest between them, and he patted her on the back.

‘I didn’t mean to make you cry,’ he said when they pulled apart.

More composed now, Katie shook her head. ‘I’m not upset, not like that. I’m so grateful. This is…’ she stopped. ‘This is so very generous and thoughtful. I never would have known how to work this out. Thank you, so, so much.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Well,’ she sniffed. ‘I guess that means the drinks are on me.’

Smiling once more, she turned towards the door.

‘Um, seeing as you just wrote half my website copy, I think we’re pretty even,’ Tom grinned, reaching for his jacket.

As they walked down the corridor, he let out a long, slow sigh of relief that she had liked the business plan. He had worried she would think he was interfering or overstepping. Or that it was simply an odd gift for which she had no use as she didn’t intend to develop her pottery into a business. Now, as she wandered ahead of him, the folder cradled carefully in her arm, he was glad he had done it.

Creaking down the old stairs and out into the street, Katie still clasping the folder to her chest, Tom wondered what this drink meant. Was this a friend’s drink? Was this a date?

Strolling along the street, they came to The Rising Sun, one of the oldest pubs in Barnsford. The oldest part of the pub, including the bar, was over five hundred years old, and the well- worn and uneven floor boards had regularly got the better of the tipsier patrons over the years.

Walking ahead, Katie pushed open the studded oak door, and Tom ducked as he stepped through the low doorway. It was cool inside the pub, the mullioned windows allowing in only modest amounts of light.

Katie stopped at the bar, and a grizzled-looking man who looked like he hated all customers on sight approached at a snail’s pace.

‘Yes,’ the man said, in a weary tone, his eyelids half closed as if boredom or tiredness might carry him off at any moment.

‘Tom?’ Katie looked up at him.

‘I’ll have a pint of Guinness, please,’ Tom said.

The man nodded and looked at Katie. ‘I’ll have a G&T with lime, please.’

‘Humph,’ the man said and shuffled off to get their drinks.

They took their drinks into the tiny beer garden, clematis climbing up the ancient brick walls and pots of pansies, geraniums, and busy lizzies clustered in the corners.

Tom assumed someone else did the gardening. The barman didn’t look like he had enough hope in him to do something as fundamentally life-giving as growing things. Katie carefully set the folder down on the old picnic table, out of range of their glasses.

‘Cheers,’ Katie said, raising her G&T. ‘To you getting the business grant!’

Tom touched his glass to hers, ‘Cheers!’ he said.

‘Are you fully recovered from the Pisa travel ordeal?’ Katie asked.

There was only one other person in the beer garden, an old man wearing a peaked cap who looked like he might be asleep in the evening sun. He didn’t shift as Katie and Tom sat down.

Tom took a long sip of Guinness and nodded.

‘I can’t remember the last time my heart was in my mouth like that for so long. Literally every step of the way, I was waiting for something to go wrong—late train, cancelled flight…’

‘But it didn’t,’ Katie said, her face partly in the shade, sunlight playing across her red hair, as the parasol waved above them in the breeze.

‘No.’ Tom looked across at her, her expression unreadable. ‘Thanks to you.’ He smiled and tipped his glass towards her.

Silence fell between them, then Katie broke it. ‘Tom,’ her tone was serious now, and he could feel it coming. ‘Do you think we should talk about…’

She trailed off, but he knew what she was referring to.

‘Probably a good idea.’

‘Just to clear the air. So we’re on the same page.’

Wondering what page that was, he nodded. Tom wasn’t sure he knew what he wanted with Katie, but he knew that night meant something.

They both studied the contents of their glasses for a moment.

‘I was thinking that it was probably,’ Katie began, fiddling with a knot in the wood of the table, ‘just…one of those things that happens when you go away.’

Tom’s chest tightened, and his body stiffened.

Just one of those things. Her words echoed around his head.

He could feel his lips pressed together and wondered what his face looked like right now.

‘Right…’ he said, leaving space for her to say more. Say something different, he willed.

Katie was staring at him, her eyes wide and soulful, searching over his face. ‘I think, realistically, maybe we were—we still are—on the rebound.’

She said the last word in a whisper as if it made her uncomfortable.

‘Right,’ he said again, for want of anything more constructive. That night and since, he had thought there might be more to it for both of them, but it seemed any desire for anything more was on his side only.

‘I mean, it’s only been a few months since I broke up with Ryan, and you broke up with Melissa.’

‘Okay…’

‘I mean,’ she looked up at him, ‘say something. What do you think?’

‘I think,’ he hesitated. He wanted to say, What if that’s all a load of rubbish? I felt more connected to you that night than I can remember feeling with anyone. Did that night change nothing between us?

But he looked at her questioning face, shrugged and said, ‘You’re probably right. Not the best circumstances to start anything.’

He couldn’t tell what played over Katie’s face then. She was still for a moment, then in a quiet voice, she asked, ‘So, you feel the same way then?’ Her eyes were trained on his face, unblinking. ‘That the thing in Pisa was… it was just a one-off thing. It was probably just rebound?’

‘Sure,’ Tom said, feeling anything but. ‘Makes sense. We barely know each other, do we? We just made an agreement to help each other deal with the aftermath of getting cheated on. And now there’s just one more event, and then the pact is done. We’re done.’

Katie dipped her eyes, her head shaking almost imperceptibly.

Tom didn’t know why but he added, ‘It was a one-night stand.’

Katie looked up at him then and frowned. ‘That makes it sound seedy.’

Feeling a flash of irritation, he shrugged. She didn’t want to explore anything further between them, but she didn’t want to call it what it was. In a strained voice, he replied, ‘Not sure how else to describe one night spent with someone.’

‘Someone?’

He sighed. ‘What do you want me to say? You say you don’t think it’s the start of anything, therefore, by definition, it’s a one-night stand. What’s left to talk about?’

He put his glass down on the table more heavily than he had meant to.

Her mouth fell open. ‘What’s left to… So what, we can’t talk now?’

‘I didn’t say we can’t talk, I’m saying what is there left to say on that subject? We’ve said it was a…’ he felt around for words other than a one-night stand. ‘A onetime thing. Let’s move on, shall we?’

‘To what?’

‘I don’t know, Katie. Any other subject you like!’

She looked up sharply at him, and he regretted the harsh words as soon as they were out of his mouth. They’d done nothing but laugh, joke, and support one another through the past few months. Bickering in the local pub felt so wrong, it hurt.

Katie combed a hand through her hair. ‘I’ve been through a lot these past few months, Tom, we both ha—’

‘Sorry, I didn’t realise I was just part of something you had to go through,’ he snapped before she could even finish.

Katie’s lips parted and he saw the shocked surprise in her eyes, the slight furrow in her brow as she stared at him.

His blood ran cold. He wanted to reach out his hands and grab the words that made her look at him like that and fold them all back into his stupid mouth.

‘This has all got a bit messy, hasn’t it?’ Katie said in a tight voice, avoiding his gaze.

She pushed her unfinished drink to one side, then gathered her things, readying to leave.

Tom’s heart sank. She was so distant from him.

‘What about our pact?’ Tom asked.

If she said she didn’t want to complete their agreed dates, he wouldn’t know what he’d do. It felt utterly wrong to be at odds like this. He needed to know he would see her again. But he wouldn’t pressure her—if she wanted to walk away, he’d have to sit back and watch her leave.

‘Would you, um,’ Tom didn’t want to ask in case he didn’t like the answer, but he had to know, ‘would you prefer to leave things here?’ He would never want her to feel beholden, so he added quietly. ‘It’s fine if you do.’

‘No.’ Katie shook her head firmly. Tom waited, his breath caught in his throat. ‘We have an agreement. Of course I will stick to that. Especially now that,’ she pulled a face, ‘they are engaged.’

Tom laughed with no humour. ‘Yes, I am sure they’ll be flaunting that at the business dinner.’

Her expression was flat. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

‘It’ll be good,’ he said then, his voice softening, ‘to have you there to support me. If you’re sure.’

As she stood, she said, ‘Like you said yourself, one more event, and then the pact is done.’