Page 94 of Counting Down To You

“Can I ask you a question?” Cal asks, peering down at me.

“Sure.”

“Do you definitely want to come back?”

I bite my lip. It’s like he can tell, somehow, what I’ve been thinking over the last couple of weeks. “Well, I mean, yeah. I guess. What else would I do?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Given you work in recruitment, I think you know there are plenty of options.”

“I can’t not come back. I couldn’t do that to Farah.”

“Farah is one of the good ones. If it’s the right thing for you, I honestly think she’ll just be proud of you. It’s not like you haven’t given the company enough.”

“But I…I can’t,” I insist. My voice, though, lacks the conviction it would have held only a few weeks ago. We move forward a space in the queue. “I mean, I suppose I could do some temporary work somewhere, like three days a week or something. Then use the time to figure out what’s next. Maybe even temp somewhere outdoors, if I can get it. There’s this course in sustainability I’ve wondered about for a while—and, after being in the Alps, it’s making me think maybe I could look into something like sustainable travel. I’m not saying I want to travel loads or anything, but there’s a whole sector there. I could at least try to find out about it, couldn’t I? I suppose I have some savings to live off for a while. When summer comes, I might be able to get some seasonal work somewhere outdoors, if I haven’t figured stuff out by now. And I…” I break off, realizing I’ve gone into babble mode. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

But Cal is grinning, wide. “You’re not rambling. I’m pretty sure you, my friend, are deciding to quit.”

“Fuck.” I blow out a long breath. “I think I might be.”

He turns to me in the queue, gives me a hard hug. “I’m going to miss you. But I’m also going to go straight to Farah and apply for your job. Get me away from the temps, please.”

I laugh, though it’s slightly manic. Have I just decided to quit? Nothing is set in stone. Not until I hand my notice in. Oh God, I feel a little sick.

In my coat pocket, my phone vibrates and I slide it out to see a message on screen. It is only two words long.

I’m here.

What does he mean, here? Here as in London?

Where? I type back. If he can keep things short, so can I.

Somerset House.

I stare at the message. Surely not. But…I told him I’d be here, and what time. He hadn’t replied, but maybe that was because he was traveling from Châtel. My heart does an almost painful somersault.

“What is it?” Cal asks, pulling me forward in the queue as I haven’t noticed it moving. We’re nearly at the front now.

“It’s…Leo.”

“Who’s Leo? Wait, you mean Leo Brooks? The manager?”

“Yes. He’s…” I glance around the immediate vicinity, like I might be able to spot him. “Fuck,” I whisper. “He’s here.”

“Here?” Cal immediately whips his neck around too. “What’s he doing here?”

“He’s…” I wet my now dry lips. “He’s come to see me.”

“Okay, I’m so far behind. This is why you need to keep your friends updated, Al.”

“You were updated,” I hiss. “It’s just…a lot has happened.”

Cal is eyeing me knowingly. “This has something to do with why you’re back, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. But I…”

“Find him,” Cal interrupts firmly.

I give him a look. “You don’t even know what’s going on.”