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‘I’m going home,’ Gavin says. ‘To talk to Charlotte.’
THIRTY-NINE
HEATHER
The door to Jack’s office is slightly ajar and I can see him through the gap, sitting at his desk writing. He looks stressed out. I can only imagine how difficult his job must be. I don’t think I could ever work here. I take a deep breath, raise my hand and knock three times.
‘C’mon in,’ he says, casually.
I push the door back and step inside, unsure whether to close it or not behind me. Maybe he likes it left a fraction open for some fresh air. I think I’d like it to be. I decide to leave it open.
‘Hi, Heather,’ he says, dropping his pen on his desk and standing up.
He’s not wearing his usual white coat over scrubs and he has a tie around his neck today instead of a stethoscope. His tailored navy suit is a stark contrast to the running gear he wore last night. He’s dapper.
‘Have a seat,’ he suggests, pointing to two large leather chairs waiting at the far side of his desk.
I nod and sit into the nearest one as he walks out from behind his desk to close the door.
‘Thank you again for the lift last night,’ I say, the brief silence making me anxious.
‘No problem,’ he says, coming back to take his seat at the opposite side of the desk. ‘Drink?’ he asks. ‘Tea, coffee, glass of water?’
‘Um, no,’ I say, looking around his office. There’s no coffee machine or even a kettle. There’s a bottle of unopened Lucozade on top of the cabinet behind his desk but I doubt he wants to split it. ‘Thank you, but I’m fine.’
‘You sure? I’m having a coffee.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘Okay,’ he says and reaches forward to press a button on his desk phone. ‘Hi, Matilda. Could you grab me an americano and a muffin when you get a moment please? Actually on second thought…’ He pauses, and his eyes shift from his desk to find mine. ‘You didn’t get a chance to bake yesterday, did you?’
I shake my head and he smiles, understandingly.
‘Matilda, make that just a coffee today, please.’
‘What?’ A women’s voice carries over his loudspeaker. ‘But you love the muffins in the canteen.’
‘I do,’ he says. ‘But just a coffee today. Can you get two, actually? Thank you.’ He smiles at me. ‘Just in case you change your mind.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, not really sure why. ‘Hopefully I’ll have time to bake a double batch later. Kayla is so much better today.’
Jack’s jaw twitches but he doesn’t contradict me. I look around his office some more. His running gear is folded neatly on a suede armchair that sits under the window. There’s another energy drink next to his clothes, only that bottle is empty.
‘You didn’t go home last night,’ I say, and I hate that it comes out accusatory.
‘I wanted to be nearby,’ he says.
‘In case she took another turn?’ I ask.
‘That armchair is surprisingly comfortable,’ he says, avoiding my question. ‘I think I spend more time asleep there than I do in bed.’
‘Really?’ I say. ‘It looks kind of stiff and firm.’
‘Yeah okay. You’re right,’ he agrees. ‘It’s awful and uncomfortable. But I do catch a few Zs there. Quite a lot. It keeps my colleagues in osteopathy in business. My back is in bits.’
I know how he feels. My lower back has never been so sore. Every time I wake up in that horrible plastic chair next to Kayla my butt cheeks are numb and my back is knotted like a pretzel.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, feeling somehow responsible. ‘But thank you, I know you stayed to keep an eye on her. I really appreciate it.’
