Chapter Five
She could hear movements downstairs, the clinking of someone busy in the kitchen, the cheerful, hushed voices of her friends.
Jen sighed and stretched, taking a moment to luxuriate in the comfort of the king-size bed with its expensive mattress and cosy down duvet – they’d given her the best room, naturally; it was her birthday, after all.
She’d slept like a baby, unused to such comfort. Her boxy room in the shared flat had an aging futon that had thinned over the years and was now more like sleeping on a raft than a bed. She couldn’t afford to replace it. Her haphazard work patterns had given her freedom, but not luxury.
She dozed for a minute, taking in the soft twinkling of the lights in the wreath that hung from the headboard, the warm weight of the holly-patterned duvet that cocooned her.
She would give herself five more minutes. If she couldn’t lie in on her birthday, when could she?
The smell of bacon drifted from below, and she immediately felt more motivated to get up. Throwing off the covers, she pulled a jumper over her PJs and padded down the stairs. The kitchen was buzzing as her friends busied themselves preparing a cooked breakfast.
‘Here she is!’ Ted said, and they all sang ‘Happy Birthday’, out of time with each other and out of tune, but she was still touched.
Ted enveloped her in a hug; he was a big, gentle bear of a man, and she found herself squashed against his chest, breathing in the smell of aftershave and bacon. Her preference was to ignore her birthday altogether, but she had to concede that this wasn’t a bad start to the day.
He released her, and the others immediately piled in for hugs. Lou led her to the table, where a stack of cards and presents sat at one end.
‘Sit down, we’ve made a fry-up to start you off in style.’
‘Can I help with anything?’ Jen asked, praying that the answer would be no. She wasn’t the best cook.
They all shook their heads. ‘It’s all ready now anyway,’ Rich said, as he placed a plate heaving with sausages onto the table. It was soon followed by bacon, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, beans and fried bread.
‘Wow,’ Jen said, happily filling her plate. ‘I won’t be able to move after this lot.’
Ted shook his head, already biting into a sausage. ‘This is fuel. We’ve got that hike, remember?’
Jen forced herself to smile, even though she was inwardly groaning.
She understood why they’d chosen this activity; back in the day they’d loved heading out into the gorgeous Cotswolds countryside every now and then, getting some fresh air and admiring the views.
It had been a nice change from the city-based drinking habits that were their usual entertainment.
But she hadn’t been on a proper walk for years.
There had been literal cobwebs in her boots when she’d dug them out from the back of a cupboard, and they were looking more than a little worse for wear.
She wasn’t sure they’d survive an actual hike; when Ted had instructed her to bring them, she’d assumed it was for a little ramble over a field, nothing more.
Still, she was enjoying the fuel, at least, she thought as she cut into an egg, the yolk spilling over the plate, and added it to the crispy bacon already speared on her fork.
‘Remember that time we got mugged by a sheep?’ Ted said, and they all laughed.
‘Oh my God, it was so greedy! I’ve never known anything like it,’ Jen said. ‘Bloody thing nicked my sandwich.’
‘And my apple,’ Lou said.
‘And my crisps!’ Rich added, through the mouthful he was chewing. They could only make out what he was saying because they’d been there, so they knew.
‘Ah, well. It did you a favour there, your college diet was awful!’ Jen said. ‘You lived on crisps and sweetcorn straight from the tin.’
He shrugged, grinning through a mouthful of beans. ‘Sweetcorn’s healthy.’
Lou laughed. ‘Can’t argue with that.’
‘Remember—’ Rich was laughing so hard that he could hardly speak.
‘Remember that time you thought you’d got a tick, and we all had to rush home?
’ Jen flushed. She hated this story, she’d felt so foolish, making them abandon the walk over nothing.
‘And it turned out to be just a bit of grit stuck between your toes!’ He was laughing so hard he was doubled over.
Jen laughed along, raising her hands in defeat. ‘Yeah, what an idiot! It was a very tick-shaped bit of grit though.’
Lou was smiling. ‘I think we’d pretty much done with the walk that day anyway, hadn’t we?’
Ted looked at Jen, his dark eyes soft. ‘Ah, easily done. Could’ve happened to any of us. Maybe it was just your tac-tick to end the walk, eh?’ He looked around at them all, grinning, and was met with the usual mix of laughter and groans.
‘Right,’ Lou said when they’d finished. ‘Let’s get this cleared away and open some presents.’
They did allow Jen to help clear the table, though she was shooed away from the dishwasher.
‘Tomorrow you’ll be back on clean-up duty,’ Ted said, smiling. ‘But for today, let us spoil you.’
She didn’t object. She was used to being independent, rarely seeing her family and having never lived with a partner.
Things were amicable with her flatmates, but it wasn’t like living with friends.
It wasn’t like it had been at college, where if you were ill someone would run to the chemist to get you medicine or bring endless supplies of tea or Lucozade or juice, depending on your preference.
Now, when Jen was sick she had to drag herself out of bed or do without.
When she was tired she often just made herself beans on toast for dinner.
There was no one to share meals with, no one to help out.
No one else to please, she reminded herself.
No one to hold her back when she wanted to take an impromptu holiday, no one to break promises.
Watching the good-natured banter between Lou and Rich over the correct way to stack the dishwasher, she imagined they were exactly the same with their spouses; comfortable, relaxed. Squabbling over that kind of domestic drudgery – dishwashers, school runs. It was hardly sweeping romance.
‘Right, let’s get on with it,’ Rich said. ‘It’s going to snow later and we want to be safely in the pub by then, not still trekking around on a hike.’
‘Snow!’ Jen said. ‘It’s only just December, we’re not going to get snow.’
Still, she needed no more encouragement to open her presents.
Ripping off the paper, she soon found her way into the gifts: a set of Molton Brown toiletries from Lou and a bottle of nice red wine from Rich.
So far, so good. She hugged them and thanked them, promising not to break into the wine on the train journey home the next day.
Ted’s gift was smaller, and she unwrapped it to find a small velvet box.
Inside, she found a little pendant, sitting on a white satin cushion. Pulling it out, she saw it was a silhouette of a little black cat, dangling from a silver chain.
‘Oh, it’s Jet!’ she said, overwhelmed with happy memories of the pet she’d grown up with. She’d been a sweet little thing, stoically accepting a young Jen’s habit of dressing her in doll’s clothes and pushing her round in a little pram. ‘I can’t believe you remembered.’
‘Of course I did, Jet was a legendary part of our college days, right?’ He looked around at the others, who both nodded.
Jet had lived to the ripe old age of twenty, and had welcomed her college friends in an enthusiastic bid for cuddles whenever they’d visited.
‘And I know how much you love cats, so . . .’ He shrugged.
‘I love it,’ Jen said. ‘Thank you.’
‘I thought – I know you’ve always wanted a cat, but I thought you’re probably not quite at that . . . so you can have this one with you whenever you want. Until you’re ready for the real thing.’
‘That’s so sweet of you.’ A cat, or even several, was definitely on Jen’s list and she had a dream of one day being the woman who spent rainy Sundays curled under a blanket by the fire, reading a book with a cat snuggled on her lap.
Once again, she found herself enveloped in his bear hug.
She squeezed him tight, and the feel of his broad, taut chest under the soft knit he wore brought a sudden memory of their brief dalliance at college.
She banished it from her mind, not wanting any awkwardness to threaten their easy friendship.
‘Right,’ Rich said, clapping his hands. ‘Present time’s over, birthday girl. Let’s get out for this hike.’
Once she was outside, Jen began to believe that the snow that was forecast might actually appear. The air felt like icicles were plunging into her chest with each breath, and the sky was ominously heavy.
The hike was still beautiful. She found herself marching along as they walked up rolling hills, admiring the views of fields and starkly bare trees, silhouetted dramatically against the purple sky, lit by a smouldering sun.
‘Get a move on, you slow coaches,’ she shouted, laughing and breathless after she’d raced to the top of the hill.
They soon caught up, panting and grumbling good-naturedly about how it was unfair that she wasn’t sleep-deprived or worn down by job stress.
Jen felt full of energy. The walk and fresh air and gorgeous views had been invigorating; she’d forgotten how much she loved being out in the countryside.
Grudgingly, she had to admit that a birthday hike had turned out to be the perfect choice.
‘I’m hungry,’ she said, as they sat down for a minute to catch their breath. The view that spread below them, of fields and farms and smatterings of houses in villages, was so comforting, they were just drinking it in. Jen hadn’t realised how much she’d missed this sense of space.
Lou laughed. ‘How can you be hungry? We ate a massive breakfast!’
‘Here,’ Ted said, handing Jen a cereal bar that he’d produced from his pocket. ‘I knew this would happen, you always need to be no more than five minutes away from a snack.’
Jen took the bar gratefully. He was not wrong.
She remembered coming for walks to places just like this when she was small. Back when they were all happy, she and Julia would run around picking flowers or splashing through puddles or clambering up hills, their parents laughing as they watched.
She shook the memory away.