by the woman he now wanted to try again with.
But he had asked me to that function and I’d left alone, something he apparently wanted to talk about. But what was there to say? It was my choice to leave. And he’d made it clear there was nothing romantic about the invitation anyway – at least initially. It was hard to deny that as we’d sat at the table and then taken to the dance floor together that maybe…
I grabbed for the pole to steady myself as I gathered my concentration in staying upright as the train swayed on the track. I leant my head against it momentarily, just as it shunted on a bend. Thanks to the laws of physics, this resulted in me swiftly head butting the pole. Two people sat on the seats across from me suddenly disappeared behind their copies of Metro, but not before I saw the hint of a snigger on their faces. In another mood, I’d have probably joined in their amusement. But today it just seemed par for the course. I gave my forehead a quick rub, not caring what anyone thought. As I’d hinted to Michael yesterday, I’d spent years hearing much worse things directed my way, thanks to the, let’s say, unusual domestic arrangement of my childhood. At least something good had come from the mess of my younger years: I could nut a pole in a crowded tube train and still walk out with my head held high – even if it did now sport a bit of an egg.
***
The snow appeared to have no intention of relenting. Checking our diary it looked like Bernice didn’t have any clients this afternoon so I knew she would be getting back to the office soon. I gave her a call.
‘Hi Kate! I just got back and was about to call you. How did it go last night?’
‘Fine. Everyone seemed to really like him.’
Including his ex-wife.
‘Right,’ Bernice said slowly, and I could practically see her frowning down the phone. ‘That wasn’t exactly what I was getting at.’
‘Oh?’
‘Come on Kate! You, super hot ex Grinch, twinkly Christmas lights, open bar, good food… You can’t tell me nothing happened.’
‘Nothing happened.’
‘I just said you couldn’t tell me that.’
‘Sorry. Anyway, I just called to tell you to go home now. This weather’s getting ridiculous and I don’t want you stuck out somewhere.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. It’s fine. There’s nothing that can’t wait.’
‘I didn’t mean about work. I meant are you sure nothing happened, between you and him.’
I let out a sigh. ‘I think it’s safe to say that any woman would remember if something happened between her and Michael O’Farrell.’
‘You sure you didn’t have a few too many glasses of champers?’
‘Bernice. Really. Nothing happened. I actually left a little earlier than him in the end anyway.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes, alone. Now please, can we just move on?’
‘Of course. Are you seeing him again?’
So much for moving on.
‘No. There’s no need. The house is all done. I’d said something about helping him decorate the tree and stuff, but I’m pretty sure he’s got that covered now, so he’s all ready to go for Christmas.’
‘Right,’ she said again.
‘Just before you go, there’s a little something for you in my bottom drawer. You know where the keys are.’
‘Oh Kate. You shouldn’t have.’ It was one of those phrases that trips off the tongue, but in this case, I knew it was meant. It was one of the things I loved about my colleague and friend: Her honesty. Even when it meant she enquired a little further than I might have liked, it was all done with the best intentions and came from a good place.
‘You mustn’t open them until Christmas Day though!’
I heard a squeak. ‘That’s ages!’
‘It’s a few days!’ I replied, laughing at the level of excitement for the season Bernice still managed to achieve. When it came to Christmas, it was like she’d never got past aged five. In a good way. And I loved that.
She let out a sigh and I heard background noises as she found the key and opened my drawer. The deep file drawer held a bag full of goodies.
‘Not all of these?’
‘It’s just a few bits.’
‘Kate! It’s too much!’ Her voice was serious now.
‘No, it’s not. I’m not always the greatest at saying…stuff. And I just want you to know how much I value you and the huge contribution you’ve made towards the business and its success.’
‘Thank you.’ Bernice’s voice was soft and I could tell she had tears in her eyes. Admittedly, that was pretty easy to make happen. She was soft as a brush. Another thing I loved her for.
‘You’re welcome. Now go home to that lovely fiancé of yours and have a wonderful Christmas.’
‘Thank you Kate. You’re a very special person. I hope you know that.’
We said our goodbyes and I headed in the direction of the office, pulling my hat down further against the weather and making a couple of stops on the way for some food. I stood in the queue, glancing at the other shoppers with their trolleys piled high with festive fare. Placing my basket down on the self-service till, I scanned the few ready meals I’d chosen and prayed that today was the one time there wasn’t an ‘unexpected item in bagging area’ because right now, I really wasn’t in the mood.
When I finally got in, the office was quiet, most of our neighbouring businesses having closed for Christmas already or perhaps headed out for festive drinks. I switched on the little pre lit tree by the door, its glow casting enough light for me to do the things I needed to – grab some paperwork to work on over Christmas, collect the exquisitely wrapped gift Bernice had left for me and update our client spreadsheet. Quickly, I fired up the computer, opened the programme and scanned down to find Michael’s name. In the end column I put a tick: Project Completed. I hit ‘save’, made sure it updated and then closed everything down. As I left the office, I unplugged the tree, then shut and locked the door.
I wasn’t ready to go home yet, so I wandered up and down Oxford Street and then made my way to Piccadilly and the huge bookshop in which I could quite happily spend an entire day. Or more, given the opportunity. Aimlessly wandering between the different genres, I ended up with an eclectic handful of reading matter. My phone beeped for the third time, notifying a missed call. Knowing Michael, he wouldn’t give up until he’d said what he had to say. Except that nothing he could say mattered now. I didn’t blame him for wanting to give things another go with his ex. They had history. Watching them last night, it was easy to see that familiarity, how well they fit together, how easily they remembered what they’d had. Yes, he’d flirted with me, but it was harmless. How was he to know what I felt for him? I hadn’t even known
