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I closed down my CV in case anyone walked past and clocked it on my screen. Mind you, everyone seemed to be assuming I’d go for it, anyway. I’d had fantasies about shocking them all and leaving and doing something else with my life. It had been on my mind quite a lot lately, but I never did anything about it and eventually the thought disappeared and I carried on like I always had. I knew where I was with this job. I had familiarity, structure, a routine, a decent salary; why would I throw all of that away just because I fancied trying something new? Especially when the thing I really wanted to try would mean opening myself up to thinking about the past, which I wasn’t sure I’d ever truly be ready for.
My desk phone rang.
‘Hello, Kingsland Marketing, Rebecca speaking?’
‘It’s me,’ said Val. ‘Can you give me some dates? I zoned out in that planning meeting last week,’ she continued.
‘What do you need to know?’
She proceeded to reel off a list of upcoming events that she’d conveniently forgotten to write down.
‘You on for lunch?’ asked Val.
‘Can’t today. I’ve got to work on that thing.’
‘What thing?’
Val had a memory like a sieve.
‘You know … that application,’ I mumbled.
Freya raised her eyebrows at me.
‘Oh! The job, sorry, yeah. You know it’s a sure thing, right?’ said Val.
‘You can never be sure, can you?’ I replied, glancing at the closed door of the meeting room. ‘Lunch tomorrow instead?’
‘It’s a date.’
The soft, tinkly meditation music Freya played daily and on loop started up. I usually quite liked it; today, I did not. See, this was what happened when I didn’t get my optimum eight hours of undisturbed sleep.
‘You look tired,’ said Freya, peering at me suspiciously.
‘Mmmn, I am a bit,’ I said.
She passed me a Rescue Remedy lozenge and I took it, sucking on it wildly.
‘Late night?’ asked Freya.
‘Not particularly,’ I replied, trying to throw her off the scent. She definitely knew something was up, but telling her the truth felt far too risky.
‘Chatting to someone on Tinder, were you?’ she said, not giving up.
‘No, I was not,’ I said.
I’d already told her that I wasn’t into the whole swipe-right thing; it sounded completely humiliating. I didn’t want men all over London deciding whether I was attractive enough to bother with based on one measly photo.
‘Think I’ll go and make a coffee,’ I suggested, pushing back my chair. ‘Get some caffeine down me.’
In the kitchen, I washed and dried my mug on a stained tea towel and chucked in a teabag. The steam from the kettle fogged up the windows and I smeared a fingertip over the pane, drawing a cloud shape on the glass. I was just about to pour in the water when a pair of large, warm hands suddenly slipped around my waist.
‘Well, hello there,’ growled someone in my ear.
I recognised Tyler’s Manhattan twang immediately.
‘Long time no see,’ I said, turning to face him.
He glanced over his shoulder and then kissed me hard on the mouth.
