AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There’s another pause but not the helpful kind.
“You’re having dinner with him?” Claire asks with honestly warranted incredulity.
“I’m living in his house. What am I supposed to do, eat in my room like a sulky teenager?”
“It’s just the way you said it. It sounded weird.”
I prickle. “It’s not weird.”
“It’s a bit weird,” says Tiff.
“It is,” agrees Amjad.
“I’m trying to win him over,” I remind them. “I’ve got to be amicable.”
Claire does not sound like she approves. “You haven’t forgotten what a colossal piece of shit he is?”
“Oh believe me, I’m regularly reminded. But it’s…it’s complicated, y’know?”
“It’s not complicated,” Claire snaps. “He shoved you into a shower, gave you a concussion and threatened to fire us all, not in that order.”
Tiff gives a little gasp. “Shit, he’s got Stockholm syndrome.”
“I don’t—”
“Well actually,” says Amjad, “Stockholm syndrome was invented by a guy who was butthurt because one of the hostages criticised him for how he handled a negotiation. Like it’s not in the DSM.”
I’m getting very tempted to hang up on them. “Whether it’s real or not, I don’t have it.”
“That’s what you’d say if you did have it,” Tiff points out.
“Except,” Amjad points out back, “he doesn’t have it because it doesn’t exist.”
“I don’t have it,” I say, not quite flipping my lid but at least tipping it up a bit, “because I’m out here faking a medical condition to save all our jobs and I don’t like Jonathan Forest. And now I’m going because I have to get on with planning this party which, let’s remember, is a vital part of the job saving strategy.”
They’re making faintly sorry noises as I hang up. And when they’re gone, I just sit there stewing in this mess of frustration and affection. Because I definitely do not have Stockholm syndrome. But it’s also so perfectlyTiffto think I might and so perfectlyAmjadto be more concerned about whether it’s a technically correct diagnosis than anything else, and so perfectlyClaireto walk the line between the two and try to keep me focused.
Still, though, I don’t have any kind of syndrome named after any kind of city anywhere in Europe. Me and Jonathan have had maybe two good conversations since I’ve been here. And okay,there’s been times he’s almost showed a human side. And okay, he gets on well with the cat, so he can’t be completely terrible. And okay, he did make me a pretty decent chicken sandwich. But it’ll take more than that to make me like him. Much more. Probably more than he’s capable of. And I’m not sure why I even care if I like him or not because he sure as hell doesn’t.
I try to stop thinking about him and turn back to the folder. Except that doesn’t help at all, because just like the Stockholm syndrome debate so Tiff and so Amjad, the big old file of rules for how to enjoy yourself is just so,soJonathan Forest.
CHAPTER 13
Say what you will about Jonathan Forest—and you can say a lot—he’s a man of his word. Which is why I’m being hugged by every woman in his family simultaneously. It’s not a lads-hugging-each-other sort of crowd, but we do a round of handshakes and back-pats afterwards.
“I told you,” Wendy’s saying, “I told you he’d come through for us. I had a good feeling about you, Sam. Didn’t I say, Les, didn’t I say I had a good feeling about him?”
“You did,” confirms Les.
Wendy sails past me in a purple tea dress printed with a pattern that manages to combine both leaves and polka dots. “I knew he’d be good for our Jonathan.”
“Like I say”—I get the feeling I’ll be repeating this a lot—“I just work for him and I’m staying here because I had an accident at the shop and he’s worried I’ve got a concussion.”
“Yes, yes.” Auntie Jack is also sailing past me. “You’re just friends. We understand. We understand all too well.”
I’m not sure if it’s helping me or hindering me that the family thinks I’m Jonathan’s secret boyfriend, but I’m getting the feeling there’s nothing I can do about it. And even if I wanted to press the issue I couldn’t because they’ve started spreading out through the ground floor like schoolkids in a museum gift shop.
“We can get a massive tree in here,” Wendy’s yelling through from the second of the three reception rooms.
