Chapter 3 #2
Jim stood up, crossed the room and sat down beside her, resting his arm casually across the back of the sofa. ‘If I get the job, the money will help cover my rent somewhere else, when Martin comes back,’ he said. ‘Every little bit helps.’
Greta brushed a piece of fluff off her jeans, processing his words. ‘So, does that mean you’re planning to live on your own? After . . . ?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ Jim interrupted, pursing his lips. ‘I thought we were taking things one step at a time, talking things through at the end of the year.’
‘We can talk before then, too, you know?’ Greta realised she was gripping her cup too tightly and set it down.
Jim watched her, running a hand across his jaw. ‘Okay, that’s good.’ He nodded several times. ‘Anyway, how did your event at Brewtique go?’
Greta silently berated herself for expecting something . . . more.
She let out a wry laugh. ‘Apart from a miniscule audience, my talk went okay. Then everything fell apart, like a scene from a disaster movie.’ She told Jim all about the evening and how she’d bumped into the strange old woman.
Her mind flicked briefly to the white rabbit on the flyer that seemed to wink at her. She must have been really tired.
‘Apparently, even promoting tinned ham is out of my reach right now. Nora thinks the Perks family should reunite on screen again,’ she said.
As the words left her mouth, it sounded like the obvious solution. Jim was still acting, and Lottie shone in front of the camera. Working together could draw them all closer together again.
Jim smiled wistfully. ‘We’ve left our Maple Gold days far behind, haven’t we? I’ve potentially got a great new contract, Lottie has zero interest in acting, and you . . . well, I’m sure you’ll get snapped up soon.’ He paused. ‘Or, you could always get a normal job.’
‘Normal?’ Greta repeated. ‘I’m not sure what that even means any longer. Do you remember when I got that job in the call centre, cold-calling people to try to sell them a vacuum cleaner? The suggestions of where I could stick it were pretty inventive.’
Jim laughed. ‘Yeah, I remember that. We haven’t exactly taken the easiest career paths, have we?’ He leaned forward. ‘Have you seen there’s a programme about Maple Gold on TV today?’
‘I saw a trailer for it. I think it’s a repeat.’ She hadn’t brought herself to watch it the first time around, worried it might stir up her emotions like silt in a muddy puddle.
Jim shifted slightly in his seat, and his thumb accidentally brushed Greta’s shoulder. ‘Sorry’ he said, moving it.
A warm quiver ran down her spine. Her belly flipped when she noticed he was still wearing his wedding ring. Suddenly, New Year’s Eve seemed like too far away. Too long to wait.
‘We were so good together on screen,’ she said. ‘Do you think we could ever get that back?’
Jim raised his cup to his lips, holding it there. When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he tugged it out. His left eyebrow hitched when he saw the caller’s name on the screen. ‘Sorry, I should get this,’ he told Greta.
‘You didn’t bother to pick up my call . . .’ she reminded him as he headed into the kitchen.
Jim clamped the phone to his ear. ‘Yeah, we can talk,’ he said in a hushed tone.
Greta’s eyes followed him. The warm burr of his voice told her the call was a personal one, not business.
She shifted on the sofa, her gaze drifting around the room until it settled on something purple tucked behind a cushion.
She’d never seen Jim wear that colour before, and she fought against the urge to take a peek.
When he returned, Greta picked up her handbag. ‘Am I interrupting something? Want me to leave?’
‘No. No need. It was Lottie on the phone.’
The name took a moment to register. ‘Oh.’
Jim nodded. ‘Yeah. She thinks she left her boyfriend’s sweater here. She was wearing it when she popped over.’ He glanced around, then batted a cushion aside. ‘Ah, there it is.’ He pulled out the purple garment.
Greta squinted an eye, trying to comprehend what he’d just said. ‘Lottie has a boyfriend?’
‘Oh.’ Jim rubbed the back of his neck, as if realising he’d slipped up. ‘I don’t think it’s serious. Maybe a friend who’s a boy, rather than an actual boyfriend. I haven’t met him.’
But Greta felt like someone had hit the stop button on a treadmill she’d been sprinting on, sending her flying into a wall. Lottie’s first-ever boyfriend, and she was hearing about it second hand?
Jim held out the sweater. ‘Maybe you could give it back to her?’
Greta took hold of the soft wool, gripping it tightly. ‘Sure.’ As Jim walked with her toward the door, something black and feathery on the carpet caught her eye. A spider? No, something else. ‘Is that an eyelash?’ she said, stooping to pick it up. Lottie didn’t wear make-up.
‘Oh? It probably belongs to Martin’s cleaning lady. She wears these big, thick lashes.’
Greta turned it over between her fingers, her mind conjuring up all kinds of scenarios. Did it belong to the cleaning lady, or someone else entirely?’
She pursed her lips, willing her niggles away.
‘Before I go, it’s Lottie’s sixteenth next week,’ she said.
‘Should we plan her gift and celebration together, or am I taking the lead as usual?’ Jim clicked his tongue, thinking.
‘When she was here, she mentioned grabbing a bite at the Anvil Inn. Apparently, the chef used to be in a boy band, and it’s the place to be seen .
. . the kind of place we used to get invited to. ’
Greta raised an eyebrow, the thought of a family dinner stirring up warm feelings inside her. ‘That’s quite the grand gesture. I’ve heard it’s very exclusive, and the food costs a fortune. Would Lottie really want to go there with us?’
‘She can’t afford it otherwise.’ Jim laughed. ‘It’d be a nice gtft.’
‘A very nice gift.’
‘Something for us to all do together,’ Jim added, a hint of hope entering his eyes.
They exchanged a smile, as if briefly part of something together.
It didn’t last long, and he gave her a quick peck to her cheek. ‘Let’s chat soon and figure something out,’ he said. ‘Take care in the lift. It sometimes gets stuck between floors.’
Jim stepped back into the penthouse and closed the door.
Greta jabbed the button and rode the glass box back down to earth, unsure whether the sinking feeling in her stomach came from the motion, or from disappointment.
Once outside, she held the jumper to her face, breathing in her daughter’s scent.
Memories of happier times rushed in— Lottie’s infectious giggle, her wide smile, the sparkle in her eyes when she’d played with a toy coffee set for the cameras.
It felt like looking back at a different person. One she missed with all her heart.
She got into her car, where the crumpled flyer on the passenger seat caught her eye. ‘Looking for the Perfect Blend?’
‘Damn right I am,’ Greta said aloud. ‘How could you tell?’
The ‘Drink Me’ message also intrigued her. Wasn’t it from Alice in Wonderland? Had drinking from a bottle made Alice grow bigger, or smaller? She couldn’t quite remember.
Peering closer, Greta noticed a tiny address printed at the bottom of the flyer. Still unsure what it was promoting, and keen to jettison Jim and Nora from her thoughts for a while, she decided to check it out on her way home.