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Elda sat up straighter. She’d never been invited into Charlie’s office. As the three of them walked up the stone steps to the old building, Elda and Jack fell behind like two children. Charlie swiped her ID card and pushed at the heavy double doors.
“I feel like we’re in a library,” Jack said, tiptoeing across the tiled floor behind Charlie.
Elda giggled into her sleeve. She knew that work was important to Charlie, and if she had to come in for something on a Saturday morning, it was no joke. They walked through a maze of corridors until they reached Charlie’s door. She pushed the handle.
“This door is awkward. Be careful when you come in.”
The room was underwhelming, but Elda craned her neck to take in every detail. She’d imagined Charlie’s office like something out of an architect’s journal. But this was like an old house had been converted into cramped rooms. Either way, they’d been allowed into a private space, and she took reverent, careful steps around the modest chamber.
Elda brushed her fingertips across textbooks on a shelf, leaving a mark in the dust. She could see echoes of Charlie’s living room in this space, familiar titles, identical cushions, and a matching pair of lamps.
Charlie unlocked some filing cabinets and stacked brown folders on a chair. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and she clicked her tongue.
“Who’s this, Charlie? Is this you?” Jack held a photo of two young girls.
Charlie took the frame out of Jack’s hands. “Yeah, it’s me. It was a long time ago.”
Elda caught the distance of her tone as Jack pulled a face. She recognised the girl in the picture as Theresa. She saw the resemblance to little Jacob.
“Who’s the hot girl with you?”
“Stop it, Jack.” Elda dragged him away, not wanting him to offend Charlie with one of his throwaway lines. “You’re being rude.”
“What’re you on about?”
Charlie stepped out, and Elda heard the whirring of a photocopier. She stood like a statue, and a wave of unease crashed over her. She was suddenly aware of being in Charlie’s space.
“Right. That’s it, let’s go.” Charlie held two brown envelopes.
Elda wondered whether this was how Charlie was in work mode or whether Jack had upset her. They quickened their pace until they reached the fresh air of the city square, and Elda took deep breaths into her belly. There had been something stifling about the building, but now they were out, their casual equilibrium returned. Jack made a joke, and Charlie put her arm around him. Her face softened, and her eyes wrinkled at the edges again.
“Let’s go back to ours and stickBeacheson. Who’s up for crisp sandwiches?” Jack asked.
Charlie touched her head to Elda’s as they laughed through their approval, and the three of them turned east and started along the canal.
“We could watch something else,” Charlie said with a hint of hope. “Just for a change?”
“Charlotte Mason, do you not loveBeaches?” Jack asked with mock incredulity.
He started to walk backwards again, facing them. He would put on a show for them all the way home. Elda swallowed the lump in her throat. Something strange had happened in Charlie’s office. It might have been the way Charlie moved through the space or spoke in tighter sentences. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was gnawing at the back of her mind. It reminded her a little of the doubt that haunted her back in Paris, when Francis had been quick to criticise her, or had left her friendless at a party. Elda tried not to dwell. But if there was one thing she could fixate on, it was feeling rejected.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Charlie looked on as Jack performed his own fashion show. He walked the runway like a professional while she and Elda reclined on his sofa, a tangle of arms and legs. He drew laughs from his audience of two by flexing his muscles.
As a spare wheel for their tandem, he was getting ready to hit the town and make his own fun. Charlie loved to be around Jack—he brought out the best in Elda—but she relished the intimacy they shared when it was just the two of them.
Jack held two hangers against his solid chest and skinny pelvis. “Jeans or cords?”
He didn’t wait for a response. His whole day was a performance, and he was, at the end of it, his own critic.
“Now, folks. To tan, or not to tan?”
“Not,” Charlie said, without thinking.
“I love you two together.” Elda was wiping tears from her face from laughing.
Jack turned his wrist around and rolled his eyes. “There isn’t time to do all the buffing and polishing anyway.” He swivelled his longs legs and exited.
