of him.
‘I was referring to…before.’ His voice was flat and I wasn’t sure if I’d offended him. If I was honest, there was a lot about this client that I wasn’t sure about, and right now it was why I was feeling so awful about the fact that I might have hurt his feelings. ‘And you’re right. I haven’t taken anything there in ages. I really don’t know how I let things go quite so much.’ The last sentence was quieter, almost as if it were to himself. But I’d seen this so many times before. I wanted to let him know that it wasn’t unusual. That it wasn’t some sort of failure on his part.
‘It’s pretty common actually,’ I began, ‘when there’s been some sort of major event, as there has been in your life. It’s perfectly natural to – ’
‘Kate,’ he turned to me, ‘I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I’d appreciate it even more if you didn’t do the psychobabble thing on me.’
‘I wasn’t. All I’m trying to – ’
The mobile on the floor next to Michael began to ring loudly, interrupting me.
‘Michael O’Farrell,’ he answered, looking away.
I took a deep breath and reminded myself it was just a few more weeks.
‘I’ve already sent all those details.’
Sat close to me as he was, it was hard not to overhear the conversation. And hard to not notice that it was clearly not one Michael was enjoying. His jaw was so tense I was surprised he could even speak.
‘No. That’s not what they said, and not what they asked for…’ He paused, listening. ‘I realise that but…no, it’s fine. I can do it now and email it over. OK. Yep. You’ll have it shortly.’
He hung up and looked at me, running a hand across the back of his neck.
‘It’s OK,’ I said, before he had a chance to say anything, ‘Go and do what you need to do.’
‘I’m beginning to think this client is more trouble than they’re worth,’ he said, as he stood. ‘Ever have any like that?’ He sounded shattered but I heard the attempt at truce.
‘Now and again,’ I replied, not looking up.
‘So, what do you do about them?’
‘Oh, just try and get the job done as quickly as possible, generally.’
‘Sounds like a sensible plan. Although it’s unlikely to be anything else with you.’
I looked up but he already had his hands up. ‘That came out like an insult when it was meant to be a compliment. I just meant that you have your head screwed on right.’ He ran his hand over his face, the tiredness making deep shadows under his eyes. ‘You’re right. I really do need to work on my compliments.’
‘I’m not here for compliments Michael. Don’t worry about it.’
He nodded. ‘Fair enough. I shouldn’t be long on this.’
‘OK.’
He turned and left the room. Moments later I heard the slight squeak from the hinge of his office door as he pushed it to.
Two hours later and Michael still hadn’t reappeared. I’d long since finished sorting his books and had given up waiting. Fetching the cleaning supplies, I’d made sure all the new shelving was free of dust, done the same with the books, then begun putting them on the shelves. The top shelf was higher than I could reach and I’d cast a glance at a dining room chair before remembering the promise I’d made to my client about not climbing on such items. It’d be just my luck that if I was going to fall for the first time ever, it would be here, immediately giving him the opportunity to say ‘I told you so’, which frankly, would be unbearable. I recalled seeing a small stepladder in the utility room so, grabbing that, I began filling the shelves.
It was long since dark when I finished and the house was oddly silent. I packed the books Michael had pulled out for donation into a box and put it by the door. Glancing back, I smiled as I looked at the room. There was still a little bit of work to do in here but its transformation so far was amazing. From a bland, empty room, it was now showing its owner’s personality, which is what a home should do. Although, admittedly, that was usually easier when you understood that personality in the first place.
And now what to do? Did I just leave? Did I call out to him? What if he was in the middle of something? I didn’t want to interrupt. But if I did just leave, then would he feel that I was being rude? Ugh. I put a hand on the banister, enjoying the smooth feel of the oak under my hand as I pondered my decision. If I just peeked my head in to his office and waved on the way out I felt that covered me for not just leaving but wasn’t a big disturbance either - a good compromise.
I reached the door to Michael’s office, which was ajar, and tapped lightly on it. When no answer came, I tried again, but there was still nothing. I glanced around but no light filtered from any of the other rooms so I could only assume he was still in this one, especially as he’d said he’d return to help me once he finished.
Pushing the door open a little more, I peered around it. I was happy to see that the room was still as tidy as we had made it during the first session. I looked over to the desk. The lamp stood on it cast a pool of illumination and within that pool was Michael. His head rested on one arm with the other out to the side, his hand splayed across a laptop, his breathing steady.
I hesitated where I was for a moment. I should probably just leave now. He couldn’t get snarky at me for leaving without saying goodbye if he was asleep. Perhaps I could leave a note? I looked around. A sticky notepad sat on the side of his easel so I scribbled a note and stuck it on the door.
Right. I should go then. Now, probably.
My gaze drifted back to the sleeping form. The lamplight cast long shadows from his eyelashes onto his cheek and the overlong designer stubble. His breathing was even and deep, the sleep obviously much needed after working thirty-six hours straight. I really should just leave. Why was I even still here? I made to turn and froze as Michael stirred. Cautiously I turned my head but he’d barely moved, clearly exhausted.
Oh for goodness’ sake, Kate. Just do what you need to do so that you can get out of here.
I kicked myself into gear and moved quietly to the sofa in the corner. Lifting the cashmere blanket off of it, I popped it over my shoulder for a moment. I returned to the desk and, as gently as possible, lifted Michael’s arm from where it was resting on his laptop. He didn’t stir at all as I laid it back down and pushed his computer back on the desk so that he wouldn’t knock it off if he woke suddenly. Draping the blanket over him, I then leaned across and switched off his lamp. Moonlight mixed with the streetlight filtering in allowed me to see my way.
Pulling the door closed quietly to keep the warmth in, I read the note I’d stuck on it over once more, just to check: Have put the items you wanted donated in the box by the door. All others are currently on the shelves. They are in fairly obvious categories at the moment but these can always be changed, if required – Kate.
Crossing the hall, I picked up my coat and accompanying items, bundling myself up, ready for the onslaught of bitter wind that had been hurtling around the city all day. Before leaving I switched on the table lamp that balanced amongst the junk on the hall table and turned off the
