The Three of Us

27. Jack

Chapter 27

Jack

J ack is pleased with the way the project is going. More importantly, his bosses are pleased too. Another two or three weeks of testing and tweaking and it can all go ‘live’. Soon after that, when everything is running smoothly, he will be moved on. There are other projects lining up, plenty for him to tackle once this particular one has been completed, so he knows his future is secure, even though his time at Mandrake’s is coming to an end. That’s how being a consultant works. A bit like temping, going where he is needed, making new friends, building his CV and his reputation. His new company is not about to go bust as the last one had. He will be with them long-term, or for as long as he wants to be.

But for the next few weeks, he will be working in the same building as Carly, seeing her often, and having to find a way for them both to deal with that. Being colleagues, friends, and nothing more. If only the might-have-beens and the what-ifs didn’t keep popping into his head. Is it really too late? It’s madness to think that way, but there’s something about her that has grabbed hold of him and is not quite willing to let go.

Since that encounter in the pub garden, he has tried hard to avoid her mate Suze, yet somehow she keeps appearing. Coming up to his floor with messages or invoices in need of querying. Hovering near the lifts. Giving him that evil stare of hers that seems to have replaced the sensual come-and-get-me look she had directed at him when he had first arrived. She seems to have appointed herself as Carly’s protector, some kind of gatekeeper, making it her mission to keep watching him, and to keep them apart. Far from warning him off though, her determination to save Carly from the clutches of a married man has become like a red rag to a bull. It is not her place, nor her business, to come between them or decide whether they should see each other or how they should behave. It’s how he feels, and just as importantly, how Carly feels, that matters, and as they have no choice but to be thrown together, this is a relationship, whatever form that might choose to take, that they have to figure out for themselves.

He has another meeting with Carly later this afternoon. He has told himself, and her, that his diary is full, that four thirty is the only time he could manage, but he knows that’s not true. He has chosen a late-afternoon slot knowing that, by the time they are finished, everyone will be going home, that he can quite legitimately suggest a quick drink somewhere, so they might finally be able to talk things through, away from the office, and work out where they go from here.

‘Oh, I can’t, Jack. Not tonight. Sorry. I’ve got a driving lesson at five thirty. Syd’s meeting me outside the front door. You should pop out with me and say hello.’ It’s only four twenty-five but they have both got here early and Carly is spreading out her notes on the desk in front of them, her pen poised, the tip just brushing her lips as she concentrates. She is wearing a bright-pink shiny lipstick, and he just wants to reach over and kiss it. Kiss her. He mustn’t. He doesn’t.

‘It’s just that… well, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.’

She looks up, her hand and the pen it is holding slipping back down onto her lap.

‘About the project?’

‘No. There’d be no need to go out for a drink to do that. We can cover that here. It was… you and me, I suppose.’

He’s sure he can see the hint of a pink tinge creep up over her face. She looks a bit uncomfortable, yet her eyes continue to hold his gaze. She braves it out and doesn’t look away.

‘Is there a you and me?’

‘I sometimes think there will always be a you and me, Carly. Whatever else happens…’ He stops, an image of Molly and some faceless future baby crashing into his thoughts, just as it probably is into Carly’s too. ‘I get the feeling we still have unfinished business. Oh, that’s not a very good way to describe it, I know.’

‘It’s not, no. This, here, is business.’ She taps the pile of papers on the desk. ‘And that’s no problem, is it? It’s all going well. We’re going well, working together like this.’

‘We are. But you know that’s not what I’m talking about. It was something your friend said to me. Suze…’

‘Suze? When did she talk to you? And what did she say? God, I wish she would just butt out. She’s hardly a world expert on relationships herself. One minute she’s all loved up with that Sean, they’re getting on great, then he’s been spotted with another woman and she dumps him, then she’s all over him again. I can’t keep up. I just wish she’d make up her mind. Go on, what’s she said? Something horribly embarrassing, I expect.’

‘It doesn’t really matter what her exact words were. She was more or less telling me to leave you alone, to stay away or else…’

Carly laughs then. ‘And I bet you were really scared, right? What’s she going to do? Whack you with one of her high heels? Throw a drink in your face?’

‘I wouldn’t put it past her to do either of those, actually. But the point is that I don’t want to have to find out how you feel from your friend. I want – no, I need – to hear it from you. Do you want me to stay away?’

‘Not easy, when we work together.’

‘Aside from work, I mean.’

‘This is all a bit heavy, Jack. And we are at work, aren’t we? With a project to worry about and to talk about, and less than an hour to do it in before Syd gets here.’

‘Later then? After your lesson? You could meet me somewhere. We can’t just keep ignoring it, can we? I know we agreed to let it go, but it’s not that easy, is it? That kiss, all those years ago. What so nearly happened, and why we let it. Did we do the right thing, Carly? Walking away from all that… I don’t even know what to call it… attraction, lust, something more than that? I couldn’t get you out of my head for weeks afterwards, and being back here has just made it all so real again, what I felt back then, what I’m pretty sure you felt too. It’s like the bloody great elephant in the room every time we get close to each other.’

‘But you married someone else. We can’t ignore that, can we? Or the fact that she’s pregnant? I told you before, I can’t be the third person in all of this, the bit on the side, the dirty little secret. Your wife doesn’t even know I exist, and I hope to God it stays that way. But I know about her, and that means I have a choice, whereas she really doesn’t.’

‘What if I told her?’ He has no idea where that has just come from, but suddenly he means it. Come clean. Do the right thing. Get it all out in the open and sod the consequences.

Carly gapes at him, her pink lipstick mouth poised as if to say something that fails to come out.

‘I mean it, Carly. What if I told the truth? Told her everything?’

‘There is no everything. Nothing to tell. We don’t really know each other, Jack. We fancy each other rotten, I admit that much. But we’ve never even slept together. What we have is no basis for big confessions, for wrecking a marriage. I don’t want to be responsible for that.’

‘How do we know, if we don’t give it a try?’

‘I can’t do this. I can’t have this conversation. Not here. We’re at work. Someone could walk in. And we haven’t even started to talk about this project that means so much to you.’

‘It’s not the only thing that means so much to me, and you know it.’

‘The baby…’

‘That’s below the belt, Carly. I never wanted a baby. I still don’t know if I want a baby.’

‘A bit late for that. You’re having one, like it or not. It’s not going away.’

‘I know. It’s just… look, Carly, I haven’t really talked about this before. Well, only to my mum and dad. But I’ve been in this position before.’

‘Position?’

‘A pregnancy I hadn’t planned, hadn’t expected. I was just a kid really. We both were.’

‘You and Molly?’

‘No, no. Before Molly. A girl from school. The typical stupid snog behind the bike shed kind of thing. Except it was actually a barn full of pigs. And I was all bravado and raging hormones, and thinking nothing could touch me, you know. The big I Am. Not stopping to think. When she told me she was having a baby, I totally lost it. Shouted, swore, blamed her, denied it, tried to wriggle out of it, the lot. I’m not proud of myself, but I was seventeen. I knew nothing about abortions or how to get one, and I didn’t have the cash anyway. There was nothing I could do but own up to it, tell Mum, who told Dad, and before I knew it I was marched down to this girl’s house and there was this big pow-wow that seemed to go on for hours. Angry voices and tears and shame… Well, it all got sorted, quickly and quietly, Dad paying, the girl going away for a while, taking time out of school.’

‘ The girl? Listen to yourself. Didn’t she have a name?’

‘Yes, of course. Sorry. I’m making her sound unimportant, aren’t I? And like it was all her fault, and I’m the only one affected by it all. Katie, that was her name. But at the time I admit I didn’t really give a thought to her, how she was feeling, even though it was her body, her baby, her choice to make. I was a selfish pig, I really was.’

‘And you’re still doing it, Jack. Her baby? It was yours too.’

‘Oh, God, I know. But it ended… well. Oh, I know that well isn’t the right word, but things could have been worse. Nobody found out. They moved house quite soon after, took her away from the village, and I never saw her again, but those few months, from the moment she told me until the day she left, were the most traumatic of my entire life.’

It’s not until she takes hold of his hand that he realises it’s trembling. ‘Does Molly know?’

‘No. Nobody does. I didn’t see the point. It’s history.’

‘Is it though? It’s obviously had an effect on you, a huge one. No wonder you’re a bit rattled, but it’s very different this time, isn’t it? This pregnancy was unplanned, yes, but you’re older, and you’re married. You’re not some Willoughby-type character, seducing young girls and getting away with it.’

‘Who?’

‘Never mind. He’s in a book. Sense and Sensibility .’

‘Oh, right. I can’t remember when I last read a book.’

‘Really?’ She looks shocked. ‘I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t reading a book. But, look, what I mean is that times have changed. And so have you, I hope. No need to go running to Daddy for a handout. No shame in what you’ve done. Your wife is pregnant. Your wife , Jack.’

‘I know. But it’s brought back a lot of that old feeling. Of it all happening again, things being out of my control, things I might not even want. I feel trapped, Carly. I’m not even sure why I married Molly, to be honest with you. I think maybe I was trying to just do the right thing, be respectable, honourable, you know, because I hadn’t been the first time. Once we had slept together, with condom very securely in place, I felt I owed her. Loyalty, a future… I couldn’t be that Jack-the-Lad bloke I’d been before.’

‘But did you love her, Jack? Do you love her now?’

He pauses, not sure what to say. Did he? Does he?

‘I thought so. Life was comfortable, easy, ticking along… until I met you.’

‘I’m sorry, Jack, but you need to grow up. Grow a pair. Being a couple and making a baby together isn’t meant to make you feel scared or trapped. Take responsibility, like you said you wanted to. Make a proper choice and stick to it. Not just what’s right for you, but for her, and the baby.’

‘But it’s not just them, is it? It’s you too.’

‘Oh, come on, Jack. I didn’t get you into this mess. You did that all by yourself. You have to decide what you really want.’

‘I’m trying. I really am.’

‘Well, try harder. Because I’m not going to be messed about. Do you really want to own up? Just walk away from a perfectly good marriage? Start some new life with me? Because, let’s just say, in this ridiculous fantasy of yours, that you confess all, tell your wife about me, leave her and your unborn, unplanned child, and come to me. What happens if I want a baby? When I want a baby? Have you thought about that? You’ll be on the same old treadmill all over again, won’t you? Another do-you-don’t-you-want-this situation. It seems to me like you’re running away from something with no idea what you’re running into. You haven’t thought about it properly. Any of it.’

‘Then talk to me. Help me to think about it properly, because what I do know is that I can’t stop thinking about you, and that’s no way for me to live, and it’s not fair on Molly. Better she knows.’

‘Is it? Really? I’m not sure I’d want to, if I was her.’

‘But I have to do something, Carly. I feel I’m in limbo here, stuck in the middle, and I don’t know what to do. Tell me, what did this Willy bloke do? In the book?’

‘Willoughby! He put his philandering behind him, fell in love with a girl called Marianne, but went off and married someone else. For money. Broke poor Marianne’s heart, and quite possibly his own as well. But she survived, and she married someone else after a while. Someone safe and steady, who really loved her.’

‘Right. Not sure what lesson I’m meant to learn here.’

‘Well, let’s just say I’m keeping my options open. Holding out for a hero! But there’s really only one way to learn, Jack, and that’s from your own mistakes, although it would be much better if you stopped making them. But, okay, I agree we can’t leave things between us like this. We’ll talk later. After my driving lesson, although God knows how I’m going to concentrate on bloody three-point turns with all this going on in my head.’

‘Where?’

‘Not in some pub, with people listening. God, what if I cry? Or you do?’ She laughs then, but he can see she’s not finding it funny. She’s scared, just as he is. ‘I may live to regret this, but come to my place. We can be sure of some privacy there. Fran will probably be home. My flatmate. My chaperone! But we can go into my room if she is. And I can make us something to eat, if you like. Just stay away until after Syd drops me back. I wouldn’t want him to see you coming in and get the wrong idea. He’s another one who’s been trying to warn me off, although a lot more subtly than Suze wading in with her size nines.’

‘Deal. I’ll tell Molly I’m working late. She won’t mind. Saves her having to cook, and she’ll probably have nodded off before I get back anyway. Or I’ll say that I’m meeting up with Syd. It’ll kind of be true if I come out and say hello to him before your lesson.’

‘Are you a natural liar or have you had lessons?’

‘It’s just easier to tell a half-truth sometimes, and why rock the boat before we know if we want to get off?’

She looks at him strangely, but picks up her notebook and pen again, tearing out a page, scribbling her address down and passing it across to him.

‘Quarter to seven, okay? Now, let’s do what we came here for, shall we?’ She lifts her wrist and looks at her watch. ‘Keep it professional, at least while we’re here. I’ve got a list of things I need to ask you, and we don’t have long left before I have to go.’

He has been so determined not to be late that he’s totally misjudged the journey and turned up twenty minutes early. The car will be back at any minute with Carly and Syd in it, and he’s promised to stay out of sight. He’s pretty sure he knows which direction they are going to be coming from, so he strides off the other way, hits the nearest corner, and turns down the street to his left. There are a few small shops up ahead and he goes into one that looks like a cross between a grocer, a newsagent and an off-licence. Should he buy her something? Chocolates? A bottle of wine? A lottery ticket, in the hope they’ll win a fortune and he can walk away into a new life without leaving his pregnant wife without a roof over her head?

He spends ten minutes browsing the overstuffed shelves, aware of the man behind the counter watching him suspiciously as if he’s some kind of robber about to demand he open the cash register and hand over the takings. Not wanting to hang about any longer, he selects a bottle of white wine from the fridge and the best of a selection of semi-wilted flowers from a plastic vase near the door, and pays the extra ten pence for a carrier bag he only really needs because the flower stems are dripping water down his trousers. And then he’s back out on the street and cautiously approaching Carly’s flat, ready to backtrack round the same corner at the slightest sighting of a learner car. There isn’t one, so he assumes she’s back now and that Syd has already gone.

He examines the plaque on the door and rings the bell for Flat 3. There is no fancy electronic entry system, just the faint sound of the bell ringing somewhere inside and feet pounding down the stairs, before the door opens and Carly ushers him in. She is still wearing the clothes she had on at work, as is he, of course, and that all just makes the whole meeting feel a bit too formal.

‘I brought wine,’ he says, holding the bag out in front of him. ‘Just corner-shop stuff, I’m afraid, but you did say you might cook…’

‘Oh, okay, thanks. These for me too?’ She has taken the bag from his hands and is admiring the flowers, lifting their petals to her nose. ‘They never seem to have any scent these days, do they? Pretty though.’

She closes the front door and he notices the scuffed skirting boards, dodgy lighting and threadbare carpet in the hall and on the stairs behind her. There’s a vaguely musty smell too, from a lack of windows and fresh air. It reminds him of the entrance to his own block. Standard stuff, presumably. Functional, just about clean, shared by several people, none of whom are keen to do anything about it.

‘Come up then. Fran’s here, but she’s busy ironing, so she won’t bother us.’

They stop in Carly’s small kitchen and pop the wine into the fridge.

‘Talk first, or eat?’ she says, turning her back towards him and reaching for plates from a cupboard above her head. ‘It’ll only be something simple. Pasta okay?’

‘Fine. Not that I’m all that hungry, but it will be nice to sit down together. Will Fran be joining us?’ He nods vaguely in the direction of the rest of the flat and the woman he has yet to set eyes on.

‘Do you want her to?’

Jack laughs. ‘Not particularly. Three’s a crowd and all that.’

‘No, we usually do our own thing when it comes to food. She’s more of a chips and chocolate girl anyway, to be honest.’

‘Okay, we’ll eat first then, shall we? Or talk while we eat, if you like.’

He slides into a wooden chair on one side of the table and watches as Carly measures out pasta and sets a pan of water to boil. She starts frantically chopping at tomatoes and slicing mushrooms, and from the straightness of her back he can tell she’s tense.

‘This should feel nice,’ she says, still facing away from him. ‘Cosy…’

‘But it doesn’t?’ he asks.

‘It’s a sort of homely couples thing, isn’t it? Making a meal after work, sitting down together to talk about our day. We never had that, Jack. We never even had a first date, did we? We’re not a couple. And now it’s too late.’

He stands and takes her hand, easing her away from her chopping and into the chair opposite him. He studies her fingers as he grasps them over the table.

‘I’m sorry, Carly.’

‘What for? For never taking me on a date? For marrying someone else? For the babies you didn’t want? For coming back to London and turning everything upside down again?’

‘All of the above.’

‘This has to stop, Jack. I want us to get along, to be friends, to be able to work together without this constant feeling of… oh, I don’t even know what it is. Uncertainty, I suppose. So, we have to just put the past aside and get on with it, don’t we? Being colleagues. Keeping our distance for as long as you’re working at Mandrake’s. Forgetting everything else. Living life as it really is. You telling your wife anything about us, past or present, would be crazy. It wouldn’t achieve anything except a lot of upset, and for what?’

‘A chance. One worth taking?’

He can see the tears forming, and tightens his grip on her hand.

‘No.’ She tries to pull away from him, but he won’t let her.

‘I want to kiss you, Carly. Please. One last time, if that’s how it has to be, but just come here, will you? You’re unhappy, I can see that. Let me…’

And she does. She stands up just as he does, and moves towards him, the tears trailing down her cheeks now and making her eye make-up run. He pulls her in against his chest and feels her breathing. He has never wanted her more.

He lowers his head at the same moment she raises hers and their lips meet. She is warm and soft. Her mouth opens, pressing hard against his own until her lips part and his tongue touches hers. Her hand comes up to the back of his neck and her fingers find their way into his hair.

‘Oops! Sorry.’

They pull apart. There is a short, very round woman standing in the open doorway, her face red, maybe from embarrassment, or maybe she always looks that way. This must be the elusive Fran. She backs away. ‘I was just going to make a cup of tea. I’ll come back…’

‘It’s fine. Come in. It’s your kitchen just as much as mine.’ Carly returns to her chopping board. ‘This is Jack, by the way. Jack, Fran.’

They manage an awkward hello as Fran flips the kettle on.

‘Can I get one for either of you? Or a coffee?’

‘No, thanks,’ they both say together, and silence returns while Fran busies herself with teabags and a mug and Carly pours pasta shapes into the pan.

‘I’ll let you get on then. Enjoy your meal.’ She scurries away, closing the kitchen door after her.

‘Well, that was a bit…’

‘Our fault, Jack, not hers.’ She is concentrating on the tomatoes which have been chopped so finely now they are turning to mush. ‘Maybe we should continue our… conversation… in my room once we’ve eaten.’

‘Or now. The food could wait.’

‘I suppose it could.’ She puts her knife down and turns off the heat under the pan.

She reaches for his hand again and leads him out into the narrow hallway. He catches a glimpse of Fran through the open door of what must be the lounge. She is holding an iron in one hand and a half-eaten chocolate bar in the other. She doesn’t look up as they pass.

Carly’s room is just as he would have expected it to be. Very tidy, with bookshelves lining one wall and a double bed, neatly made, with pink covers, against the other. He can see the top of a tree through the window, and hear the faint hum of traffic. They stand for a few seconds, just looking at each other, as if neither of them can be quite sure what is supposed to happen next, or if they really want it to.

‘I really care about you, Jack.’ She says it so quietly he wonders if he might have imagined it, but the look in her eyes tells him he hasn’t. ‘I think I’m probably half in love with you already, and it would be so easy to let myself fall the whole way, head first, no holding back… but I can’t, can I? And I have no idea what to do about it.’

There is only one thing they can do. At this moment, anyway. Later doesn’t matter. What happens after this doesn’t matter. Not anymore. They have waited so long.

He wraps his arms around her and slips a hand underneath her top, letting his fingers roam up her bare back, pulling her closer. She lets out a small groan and does the same to him, each of them exploring the other’s hidden skin, tentatively, gently, for the first time.

The bed is inches away and he’s not sure who makes the first move, but they are on it now, his body alongside hers, his hands moving around to the front of her top and easing it up and off over her head as a book slips off the pillow and hits the floor with a thud.