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Daisy and Matt were lovely too, if a little quieter than Bronwyn. They recently got engaged and are just starting to plan their wedding, so we chatted about that for a little while. From the noises that Katie and Bronwyn were making, I don’t imagine they will be far behind. What surprised me was that, although I should have felt like a massive gooseberry, they all just welcomed me and made me feel comfortable. I didn’t learn any more about Elliott, although there was a lot of speculation. Apparently, he calls into the café every weekday morning and gets a latté with an extra shot to take away, but nobody ever sees him other than that. Penny, who does Bronwyn’s job in the café on weekdays, tried to engage him in conversation to find out more about him once but, although he was perfectly polite, she got nowhere.
It’s now Monday morning, and I’ve taken a leaf out of Elliott’s book and grabbed a coffee from the café before heading for the station to catch my train to Charing Cross. I’ve got a busy week ahead, putting the finishing touches to a launch party for a new celebrity perfume on Thursday evening. All of the printed materials have already arrived, including very swanky-looking bags for the guests to take their samples home in. The caterers are also under control, as is the booze side of things. From here on in, I’m going to be poring over every detail, no matter how small, and double-checking it. Thankfully, Emily has been as good as her word and there haven’t been any more sabotage attempts since I confronted her. In fact, she’s actually started asking for help and, as I predicted, everyone is being very supportive. Annabel is starting to trust her more, although she still makes sure that one of us checks everything with her to make sure she hasn’t missed anything. She’s coming on well, though, and I don’t think it will be long before she’s flying solo.
The platform is busy as I work my way along. Most of the people here are obviously commuters, because there are little clumps of them at regular intervals, presumably where they know the train doors will be when it stops. I join a group near the front and sip my coffee. The train, when it comes, is already very crowded and I can’t see any free seats. The doors open and our little group squashes its way inside. I try to secure a spot near the door so I’ve got something to lean on but I’m pushed towards the centre of the carriage by the people boarding behind me. In the end, I stick my legs out as far as I dare to give me something to brace against as the train rocks and shudders its way down the track. The last thing I want to do is bump into someone and spill coffee on them. My cup has a lid, but I’ve seen those fly off in the past. I make a note to buy myself a reusable cup like the man standing next to me.
I lift my eyes to his face, and I’m surprised to find out that the guy I’m practically pressed against is Elliott. He’s holding a tablet computer which appears to have one of the daily newspapers on it. He seems engrossed, so I take the opportunity to study him. Facially, he’s fairly unremarkable. He has light, sandy-coloured hair, even features, and round, wire-framed glasses. His light-blue, open-neck shirt is perfectly pressed today, he’s wearing what look like the same dark trousers over well-polished black shoes, and I can detect a faint whiff of cologne. He obviously takes pride in his appearance. I glance at his face again; his skin is smooth without a hint of stubble. There’s a tiny mark on his neck where he obviously nicked himself shaving, but other than that, his skin is flawless. I’d love to stroke it, to see if it feels as smooth as it looks.
‘Hello again. How are you settling in?’ he asks, snapping me back to reality and causing me to blush slightly. He obviously caught me staring at him.
‘It’s going well, thank you. I’ve already met some of the other neighbours.’
‘Oh yes?’ He seems genuinely curious.
‘I tried out the café on Saturday morning, and ended up spending the evening with Daisy, who owns it, her sister Katie, and their partners. They were really nice.’
‘Ah, okay. I don’t really know them. The people in the café always seem pleasant enough, though. So, I take it you work in London?’
‘Yes, I’m an events planner. How about you?’
‘IT.’
Just then, the train gives an almighty lurch, and I accidentally squeeze my coffee cup as I try to keep my balance. It’s not enough to dislodge the lid, thankfully, but a little bit of coffee spurts out of the drinking hole, catching Elliott on the cheek.
‘Oh, God. I’m so sorry!’ I exclaim. ‘Let me see if I can find you a tissue.’ I start rummaging in my bag.
‘Don’t worry about it. There’s no harm done. You might want to think about getting a more robust coffee cup, though. Those single-use ones are a bit of a liability.’ He wipes his cheek and turns back to his tablet, indicating that the conversation is over.
I don’t want to be caught staring at him again, so I busy myself looking at emails on my phone. There’s nothing on there that can’t wait, so I decide to pass the rest of the journey playing Nutsy the Squirrel. At one point, I’m sure I can feel Elliott watching me, but his eyes are firmly on his tablet when I glance up, so it’s probably me being irrational.
When we get to London Bridge, there’s a bit of shuffling around while those getting off the train try to squeeze past those who are staying on. Elliott is one of those getting off, and he gives me a brief nod of acknowledgement as he goes. The good news is that there are now plenty of seats available and I sink gratefully into one of them. It’s about twenty minutes’ walk from Charing Cross to the office and I arrive at ten to nine, pleased that my new commute seems much more manageable than the flog from Uckfield. Yes, standing on the train wasn’t ideal, but it’s no different to standing on the Tube or the bus, and I do that a lot when I’m travelling around London. Emily is already at her desk when I arrive.
‘Can I run something past you?’ she asks, once I’m settled and have powered up my computer.
‘Sure.’
This is normal behaviour from her lately. We have a weekly meeting every Monday where Lucy, Emily and I have to walk Annabel through each event that we’re working on. After a couple of rebukes from Annabel, Emily has taken to getting me to check her stuff before she presents it. She leads me through the plan for a wedding she’s working on and I have to admit that I’m impressed. Everything is neatly documented along with backup plans and schedules.
‘This looks really good, Emily,’ I tell her.
‘Is there anything I’ve missed?’
‘Nothing that I can see. How’s the bride?’
‘Hard work, but I think she’s beginning to trust that I know what I’m doing.’
‘The trick is to come across like a swan. You will probably be paddling like mad until it’s over, but if she doesn’t see that then she’ll be more relaxed and stay off your back.’
Emily laughs. ‘Here’s hoping!’
Annabel is obviously pleased too, and Emily is positively beaming by the end of the meeting. She’s like a different person these days, and I find it hard to find any evidence of the bitter woman who wanted to bring me down. Let’s hope she stays that way.
The rest of the day passes in a flurry of emails and phone calls, along with a visit to the venue to check the preparations. It’s well after eight o’clock by the time I get to Charing Cross to catch my train, and I’m delighted to find that there are plenty of seats available; it’s been a long day and I don’t really want to stand all the way home. Once I’m back at the flat, I pull out the tuna pasta salad that I made yesterday in anticipation that I’d be too tired to cook and flop in front of the TV. Now that I’m back at work and I’ve got a sense of what my ‘normal’ life is going to look like, I’m not at all unhappy. The commute is okay, the flat is very comfortable, and I have some lovely neighbours. Even Elliott was reasonably friendly this morning.
Thinking of Elliott makes me remember that I was going to look for a reusable coffee cup. Realistically, that will have to wait until the weekend at the earliest. I’m going to be flat out until Thursday now. Still, the launch is shaping up nicely, and I’m looking forward to a late start and working from home on Friday. Annabel is a stickler for us taking rest time the next day if we’ve had to work through an evening, as she’s convinced tired planners are a liability.
* * *
The next couple of days follow a similar pattern. I see Elliott on the platform each morning but, despite being crammed together in the carriage, we don’t have any more conversation. We do acknowledge each other, but only with a nod or raised eyebrow when we clock each other on the platform and when he gets off at London Bridge. I never see him on the evening train, but that’s not surprising given that the earliest I leave work is half past seven.
