I’m really beginning to hate Humphrey, Rachel thought,and I haven’t even met him yet.
She pushed her headphones into her ears and fired up Spotify, wishing that Tom’s latest alt-pop playlist could drown out the awfulness of what she’d just tacitly agreed to.
Four hours, minimum, alone with Jack in a confined space. A whole day together, most of it spent at close range. Endless, excruciating minutes during which she’d have no one to look at or speak to but him.
Since coming to London, Jack had moved into an apartment in Highgate. Rachel had originally argued that it made sense for her to meet him there on Friday morning, since it wasn’t far away from where she and Anna lived. In the end, though, his insistence that she save herself the trouble (plus the extra half-hour in bed this promised) proved impossible to resist. She agreed to let him pick her up at 9 a.m. at the flat.
The day was clear and bright, so Rachel decided to wait for Jack outside. Within a few seconds, she realised this was a mistake. It was freezing and she wasn’t wrapped up as warmly as usual, having decided that her usual attire of jeans and a chunky jumper might be too homey for high tea with a baronet. Instead she’d opted for a demure dove-grey dress – long-sleeved, high-necked and made of thick fabric, with a flattering skater skirt cut just above the knee. With it she wore black tights and her high-heeled ankle boots, which remained uncomfortable despite repeated attempts to break them in.
Rachel felt put together in a way that she hoped wouldn’t seem overdone, and reasoned that at least the blister-inducing footwear wouldn’t be a problem. After all, most of her day would be spent in Jack’s car. She was trying to stay calm about that.
As she leaned against the aged wall that separated the flat’s tiny yard from the street, she heard the front door bang. Will, who’d been locked in the bathroom when she left, was loafing towards her.
‘Still here, then? Is he late?’ he said, joining Rachel on her perch.
She checked her watch. It was 9.06. ‘Hmm. By a few minutes. How come you’re not at work already? No company mergers or hostile takeovers to negotiate today?’
‘I’m going to Edinburgh for a meeting. Just waiting for a taxi to the airport.’ Will patted a canvas overnight bag that she hadn’t noticed until now, then placed it on the pavement. Even almost four years into knowing him, Rachel couldn’t quite picture Will in his role as a corporate lawyer – firstly because he was so placid, and secondly because, in his personal life, he had a tendency to say daft things where silence might have sufficed.
‘God, I need a coffee,’ Rachel groaned. ‘I should have brought one for the road. And to think, Anna probably has a class full of kids staring at her by now. I don’t know how she does it.’
‘Me neither,’ Will said, misty-eyed and shaking his head as he smiled. ‘She’s a dynamo. Ah, here’s my cab. And … fuckme. Is that your lift?’
Behind the Uber that had just turned the corner onto the street, some kind of vintage car was cruising. Jack was driving it.For shit’s sake… Why hadn’t she seen this coming?
‘It would seem so,’ Rachel said, feeling strangely embarrassed. Why did everything about Jack have to be so …much?
Will picked up his bag and waved at the taxi driver. ‘That’s an MGA Roadster,’ he said to Rachel, awestruck and gesturing at Jack’s car. ‘Gorgeousand very rare. You’re going to freeze your tits off in it, I should think, but it’s a beauty.’
‘Do me a favour, Will – don’t be too impressed. We hate this guy, remember?’
‘Oh yeah. Got it,’ he said, and laughed as he mock-saluted her. Then he pulled her in for a big-brotherish hug and kissed her cheek before opening the door of the taxi. ‘See you in a day or two.’
Rachel turned and strode towards Jack, who’d parked a little way down the street. The car was red and shiny, and it had one of those squashy retractable roofs. Why had she ever supposed he’d drive a Range Rover? This made so much more sense.
Jack leaned across the gearstick and opened the passenger door for her. Inside, the car was all wood and polish, circular dials and soft tea-coloured leather. It was lovely, but she was damned if she’d say so out loud.
Rachel sat down, cursing the low ride of the car. It was conspiring with her high heels and hemline to expose more of her legs than she’d like.
‘Morning,’ Jack said, smiling. ‘Sorry I’m a bit late. I needed to get petrol and thought coffee might be a good idea too.’ He gestured to a cardboard holder that was wedged between the seats, inside which sat two tall takeaway cups.
‘Oh my God,yes,’ Rachel said in a rush. ‘Definitely.’
‘Take either,’ Jack said. ‘Both generic service station lattes of questionable quality – but the left-hand one has sugar.’
Without hesitating, Rachel picked up the cup with sugar. Today was going to be difficult enough without caring about empty calories.
She took a large, grateful sip, then remembered herself. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘This was … nice of you.’
Jack smiled and nodded, turned the key in the car’s ignition and started driving.
As they waited at a set of lights a few minutes later, he twisted in his seat to look at her and said, ‘I’m still waiting for you to say it, Rachel. I can feel itkillingyou, not saying it.’
‘What are you expecting, exactly?’ Rachel asked. His eyes were dancing and she felt her face split into a smile before she could stop it.
He used to do this all the time: call her out on some snarky thing she was thinking so she’d give in and say it out loud. Back when they were first friends, Rachel had thought that taking the piss out of Jack’s vanity, pretensions or the parade of worshipful women he dated was protective. Every jibe was supposed to armour her – remind her of the reasons why he shouldn’t be remotely alluring to someone as sensitive as she was.
Once, when he’d asked her why she was so rough on him, she’d half-truthfully explained that his persecution was in pursuit of universal balance. The world was quite kind enough to Jack Harper without Rachel being nice to him as well – and God knew he loved himself more than enough for the both of them.
