Chapter Forty-Four
The next few days were a bit of a blur. Ironically, after months of longing for a break, I found it hard to adjust to the non-urgency of my days, and after the second day of rising at ten and eating at strange times, I re-imposed routine, and started polishing my CV.
I would be drawing on my small nest egg of savings to live, which made me jittery, but this was counterbalanced by the relief I felt at not being in The Hexagon, the sudden absence of a weight that I hadn’t even known I was carrying.
When a friend offered me some consulting work to tide me over, starting in two weeks, my job hunt became less frantic and more strategic.
I wanted different. I wanted work-life balance.
In all, Pebble and I felt as though things were looking up.
I had conversations with friends, some on the phone, some via messaging, and the main people in my life knew apart from Dad and Alex.
I was due to visit them at the weekend so I would tell them then; with Dad’s tendency to panic I knew a real-life chat would definitely be better.
True, I was still very much discombobulated and lacking in energy; and also true, I hadn’t been cooking healthily, relying on takeaways and the kind of food that was so highly processed it basically just tasted of salt and sugar combined.
But when I established my new early-rising routine I also established the process of putting make-up on and wearing clean clothes, so I was at least in the land of the living when someone knocked on my door one afternoon at the point I’d been about to start watching a glossy property show, dressed in leggings, furry ankle boots and a teal lambswool jumper which had a high neck and was extra snuggly.
Frowning, and wondering who had buzzed the visitor into the building, I went to the door and opened it on the chain, then reared back at the sight of the person standing there. ‘Jacob?!’
His poreless, perfect face loomed at the door crack. ‘Fuck. So this really is where you live. I had just presumed, you know, another place with the same name.’
I shut the door and leaned against it. Imagined Sara clapping her hands with delight: finally, a man from Finance at my door.
‘Lizzy?’ Jacob’s muffled voice sounded woeful. ‘That wasn’t my best opener, I admit. Can I speak to you, please?’
‘How did you get my address?’ I bellowed. It was all well and good letting Olly come over when I’d been worried out of my mind about Pebble, but letting Jacob, world-of-interiors, into my lousy little flat? Nah. Noooo. Nope.
‘Duh,’ said Jacob, through the keyhole. ‘I looked on the EKArts database, obviously. You going to report me for a GDPR breach?’
‘Might do,’ I snipped. Did I fancy ringing up EKArts and saying there’d been a data breach? Not really.
‘I come in peace.’ I heard tension in his clipped voice. ‘Can you please open the door? There’s an old man staring at me.’
I took the chain off and opened the door. Bill was standing on the landing, gimlet eyes fixed on Jacob, in lofty defiance. ‘Is this man bothering you, Liz?’
Jacob mouthed Liz? at me.
‘It’s fine, Bill,’ I said. ‘Thank you for checking.’ I looked back at Jacob. ‘Wait here.’
I shut the door again and looked around the flat, stifling the enormous sigh that was rising in my chest. Mercifully, I’d cleared away the takeaway boxes and run the hoover around earlier.
My only issue was my paranoia that the flat smelt of cat and biryani.
I walked across the room, opened the window, turned the plug-in air freshener on, plumped the cushions on the sofa, then went back to the door.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘You can come in. Although I’m afraid it’s not a tastefully restored townhouse in Kensington.’
‘I married money, Lizzy,’ said Jacob. ‘I don’t come from it. I know what a normal flat looks like.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, come in, before I change my mind,’ I grumped.
‘Thank you,’ he said, with exaggerated politeness.
I turned away as he walked in, not wanting to see him look around and take it all in, and also trying not to visualise his own stunning kitchen extension which he’d once shown me a photo of.
No bifold doors and marble floors here, mate.
When I glanced back, he’d already taken off his coat and folded it neatly, placing it over the back of the sofa.
‘Coffee?’ I asked gloomily.
‘Is it proper coffee?’
‘I make it in a cafetière.’
‘Then, yes.’
I made the coffee, deciding not to make excuses about the flat: he could think what he liked. Jacob carefully sat down on the sofa and looked around.
‘What a beautiful cat,’ he said, in the voice of someone making an effort, as Pebble shot past his outstretched hand.
‘Don’t tell her that,’ I said, putting the coffee down in front of him and sitting next to him on the sofa. ‘She hates compliments. Makes her sink her claws into people.’
He gave a wintery smile. ‘I do miss your humour.’
‘I’m sorry?’ I said. ‘You miss me? Don’t let word get out.’
‘I’ll just deny it if it does,’ he said, with a shrug.
We sipped our coffees in silence for a moment.
‘So,’ he said. ‘Ask me how things are going at EKArts.’
‘No,’ I said, mercifully just about keeping a whine out of my voice. ‘I don’t care.’
‘Fine.’ He sighed. ‘Ask me how Olly is.’ He feigned my voice ‘ “How is Olly, Jacob?” ’
I pressed my lips together.
He glanced back at me. ‘Pining. That’s how he is.’
‘Someone on Tinder broken his heart?’ I said, in a brittle voice.
Jacob rolled his eyes. ‘Mercy. Pining for you, you silly cow.’
I shook my head, concentrated on my coffee, trying to ignore the thud of my own pulse.
Jacob leaned forward, trying to catch my eye.
‘What’s wrong with you? That man is as fit as fuck and every time he looks at you it’s like there are fireworks going off in his eyes.
And now he’s wandering around like a romantic poet searching for his muse.
And the muse is you, Lizzy, much as it surprises me to admit it. ’
‘That’s mean! Why do you care, anyway?’
His face wriggled. ‘You saved me a lot of money over the years. Don’t think I didn’t appreciate you downgrading your travel.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
He gave me a sidelong glance through narrowed eyes.
‘I don’t want you getting too full of yourself, but you were my favourite colleague, Lizzy.
Unlike most people, you actually give a shit about the people around you.
You try to make things better. And I like Olly, too.
A lot. Nothing better than a bit of Scottish totty.
Far nicer than that very changeable boss of his. ’ He raised his eyebrows.
‘Look, don’t think I’m not grateful for your concern.’ I quailed at the darkling look he was directing at me. ‘But you’ve got it wrong. We had a – thing, a spark. But he’s not interested.’
‘Has he not messaged you? Spoiler: I know he has.’
The idea of Olly confiding in Jacob made me blink with surprise. But Jacob was watching me earnestly.
‘Yes, he has. But he was very formal. Asked if we could “reconnect” as he doesn’t want there to be bad feelings between us. Trust me, there was nothing heartfelt about it. If anything, it felt as though he was just ironing out a professional wrinkle.’
He muttered something sweary under his breath, knocked back the last of his coffee, and placed the mug carefully on the coaster in front of him.
‘Lizzy, I’m going to level with you. Oliver MacLeod is in love with you.’
I opened my mouth to interrupt him, but he held up an index finger to stop me.
‘He is. In love. With you. And you’re in love with him.’
‘No, I’m not!’ I said, indignant. But even to my ears, it sounded unconvincing.
‘Well.’ He took a breath. ‘Perhaps Olly is overestimating things. He said Venice was special for you both.’
Venice. The memories of being with Olly in Venice seemed like something from another world.
But they were scored into my mind: his touch, the white sheets, the scent of him.
Had there been choirs singing as we were in the throes?
That’s how far the experience was up there as opposed to being part of the real world.
‘Lizzy?’
When I looked back at him, his face had softened. ‘And that’s exactly the same expression he had on his face.’
‘Do you want more coffee?’ I picked up the mugs. When he shook his head, I took them to the kitchen area. ‘My life is complicated,’ I said, to the kitchen counter rather than to him. ‘It’s full of difficulties and obligations. It’s messy.’
‘Come back here.’ Jacob patted the sofa, and I winced as I saw dust motes fly out. I traipsed back over and sat down.
‘My very dear Lizzy.’ He was deadly serious, which was alarming considering who I was speaking to, his blue eyes holding my gaze in complete solemnity.
‘Everyone’s life is complicated. Everyone’s life is difficult.
Don’t push people away because you think you’ll be too much.
’ He put his head back, inhaled loudly. ‘Sweetheart, trust me when I say this man wants you. All of you. And he’s a good guy.
I like him. And I say that very rarely.’
‘This indeed is true,’ I said, nodding.
‘Wouldn’t it be nice,’ he said, looking around him, something like sadness flitting across his face, ‘to let your defences down? To’– he gave a little shrug – ‘let the light in a bit?’
I regarded him in stunned silence.
‘Jacob,’ I said solemnly. ‘Is this the secret of your success? Do you have a tattoo that reads “let the light in”?’
‘Fuck you, bitch,’ he said, and I squealed with laughter. ‘I was going to hug you, but it would be wasted on you.’
He got up, gently removed his coat from the sofa and put it on. ‘That plug-in air freshener is heinous,’ he said. ‘I’m going to send you some melts.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, rising and standing opposite him. ‘What will they smell like? Old Library mixed with leather and whisky on ice?’
‘You should be so bloody lucky. You’ll get bergamot and lemongrass and be grateful for it.’
‘Thank you, my liege.’
He hugged me then, carefully, keeping his torso an inch away from me at all times. But the gesture was so unexpected, so not-Jacob, that tears sprang into my eyes.
‘I appreciate you coming south of the river,’ I said.
‘I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure,’ he said, observing my pot plants.
‘Will you tell Olly you’ve come?’ I couldn’t help it.
His eyes focused on mine. ‘No.’ A slight smile. ‘You’re on your own, kid.’
I nodded, walked with him to the door.
‘Laters,’ I said.
‘Laters.’ He produced a card, put it in my hand. ‘My address and phone number. Do not lose it. Some people you want to keep.’
And just like that, he was gone.