Читать книгу Lessons in Love - Kate Lawson - Страница 9

Later that evening, 15 days, 4 hours and who gave a stuff exactly how many minutes it was since Lucy had detonated the bombshell under her life, Jane was back at home, sitting at her computer in Creswell Road, flicking through the list of eligible men on Jayne’s personals site with Lizzie from the library for company. It was called Natural-Born_Romantics and Jayne was right, it was just like being let loose in a chocolate factory. It was just such a terrible shame that there were so many misshapes.

‘So, you’re going to be in charge of all this?’ asked Lizzie in amazement, looking at the screen over Jane’s shoulder while helping herself to one of the all-butter biscuits Jane kept on standby for emotional emergencies. ‘Isn’t it a bit like letting the lunatics run the asylum?’

‘Always seemed to work OK in the library,’ Jane said, clicking onto another web page.’ Actually, I think I’m more of a figurehead—being groomed for greatness.’

‘Right…But is it kosher? I’m mean, you will be paid and things?’

‘Oh, yes, it is most definitely a real job with real money, and I really start on Monday morning. Oh my God, will you just look at the state of him?’

‘And you can get on to all the sites?’

‘I’ve got one password that just lets me browse and then I’ve got two others that let me tinker.’

‘I’m impressed. Tinkering is good.’

‘Tinker and order.’

Lizzie grinned. ‘Can we order a selection?’

Lizzie had dropped in on her way home from work, the plan being to commiserate with Jane and get her up to speed on all the latest intrigue at the library. Apparently Jane’s folder-and-fish-tank trick had impressed everyone in Janitorial Services, which meant—even in her absence—she was likely to come top in the employee-of-the-month poll. Lucy Stroud was a paranoid power-crazed two-faced cow who liked to keep a posse of novelty bears on her desk, and thought most of the community weren’t worth outreaching to, her preferred solution being culling, and she’d made Lizzie go out and buy the lunchtime sandwiches two days running. Janitorial Services already had a lavatory seat laurel wreath hanging up in their tea room with Lucy’s name painted on it. On a less personal front, all the staff were terrified that they were going to lose their jobs, despite a meeting meant to allay fears, which had actually made everyone more paranoid. And there were so many rumours going around about who would be next in the firing line that normal work—other than stamping dates in the in-and-out sections downstairs—had all but ceased. There were so many people watching their backs it was a miracle people weren’t falling downstairs, and nobody was taking decisions at all about anything, just in case. So, no change there really.

‘So, from where I’m standing it looks like you’ve actually fallen on your feet,’ said Lizzie, picking a troublesome crumb out of her cleavage.

‘Got to be better than falling on him,’ said Jane, staring at the screen. ‘Golly, it says here that he’s only thirty-five.’

Lizzie peered at the image and winced. ‘Maybe that’s in dog years or maybe in a universe far, far away. You’d think he’d get something done about his teeth.’

‘Possibly get some? Whichever way you look at it, gummy is not a hot look, is it?’

‘How long are you going to spend checking the stock?’ asked Lizzie.

‘Long as it takes. It’s dirty work but someone’s got to do it. Why? Oh, look, he’s not bad.’

‘I’m hungry. I was going to suggest we rang for a takeaway.’ Lizzie picked up a menu from the desk. ‘Oh, have you had a chance to look through the email that Lucy was so worried about?’

Jane nodded. ‘I’ve had a quick flick through the file before you got here, but I can’t see anything she would want, or worry about. Although there were several veiled threats regarding the amount of coloured copier paper we were using.’

Lizzie shrugged. ‘Don’t worry, she is weird. Oh, he’s nice—there, the one in the middle without a squint.’

‘I’m supposed to be going through all this lot so I’m up to speed on the kind of things Jayne is involved in.’ Jane nodded towards a pile of box files and two ring binders on the sofa. ‘I’ve got those to plough through and then the websites. I’m just hoping that there isn’t going to be a test at the end.’

‘So what else have you looked at so far?’

Jane grinned. ‘Younger men, older men. I haven’t got as far as the rugs and curtains, and dinners delivered in dry ice yet.’

‘And are you really going to move into her house then?’

‘Jayne’s? I’m not sure. It makes sense. All the business stuff is over there in her office, but it feels odd moving into a house full of someone else’s things. Like camping out. Mind you, you should see it—it’s like something off Grand Designs-low lighting, good furniture, acres of bare boards and wonderful rugs—the odd sculpture here, original painting there—lots of natural fibres. I don’t think I’d be able to relax in case I spilled something. Or one of the cats threw up on the Berber kelims. Although I have to say cruising around in a soft-top Mercedes has a certain appeal.’

Lizzie considered the idea for a few minutes. ‘You get someone to clean, cook and all that stuff too?’

Jane nodded. ‘Uh-huh. He’s small, oriental, sort of dangerous-looking in an underplayed kung fu way, and called Gary. Did you ever see that film with Peter Sellers—Inspector Clouseau?’

‘I think you should give it a try. I’m sharing a house at the moment and it’s driving me mad. The idea of someone else clearing up behind me and the animals I live with sounds like heaven. And I could always come and live here while you’re away if you wanted. Mind the fort for you.’

Jane looked at her. ‘Really?’

‘Why not? Why risk Boris or Milo hocking up a fur ball on a priceless rug? It would be brilliant. I could feed the cats, water the plants. And I’d pay you rent.’ Lizzie was warming to the idea.

‘And you could always do a little window-shopping on Natural-Born_Romantics if you got bored.’

‘Really?’

‘I don’t see why not. Feel free to take the tour—oh, and you could feed Gladstone.’

Lizzie sniffed. ‘Oh God, do I have to? He was fishing something out of the skip when I got here.’

‘I know—such activities are part of his natural charm. Besides, if you don’t he just grazes through the leftovers in your dustbin, which is far worse, trust me.’

Lizzie pulled a face. ‘That is just so gross. Which reminds me, did I mention Mrs Findlay is planning to get in touch? She said she was hoping that you’d still be coming back and letting Lucy shadow you for a few weeks.’

‘Don’t you mean stalk?’ said Jane, helping herself to a biscuit.

Meanwhile, in her flat in Buckbourne Lucy Stroud was in the bath, in a face pack, shaving her legs, waiting for Steve Burney to pop by for his regular Wednesday evening visit. She’d got a big pot of Greek yoghurt, a punnet of raspberries and a pair of handcuffs on standby. She would have liked to talk to him about Jane Mills but decided she might wait until after the main event.

In Creswell Close Jayne Mills, accompanied by Augustus, had been up in the loft looking for her old rucksack. She knew that she’d seen it somewhere; whenever she moved house it came with her like a touchstone. The night was as black as ink through the dormer windows, the stars like fishscales in a dark ocean. Jayne opened the floor-to-ceiling cupboards, eyes wandering along the rails of clothes, across the shelves, past winter coats, boxes of books, her record collection, lampshades and things stored and saved just in case. In one cupboard was a pile of cartons stuck down with brown tape and carefully labelled ‘Store/Sentimental’. Each label was topped with a big red stick-on heart.

Jayne smiled and lifted the top one down. Inside the box was a photo album covered in battered fawn leatherette, labelled ‘1980-83’. Tucked inside the cover were all sorts of letters and cards and tickets and things she had completely forgotten about. Very carefully Jayne carried everything downstairs to the sitting room, poured herself a large gin and tonic, and settled down on the sofa. Augustus took his cue, curled up in the box lid, and went to sleep, purring softly.

On the first page, sitting on a rucksack almost as big as she was, was a younger, leaner, far skinnier Jayne Mills wearing cut-off jeans, hiking boots, a long-sleeved paisley T-shirt and a toothy grin that stretched from one ear to the other. The caption, written in big bold rounded handwriting, read, ‘Finally—we’re off!!’

Jayne felt a lump in her throat and turned the page. It was going to be a long night.

Bright and early the following Monday morning Jane Mills pressed the call button on the security panel below an elegant brass plaque that read, ‘Waterside House. J. Mills Enterprises’.

‘Hi, it’s Jane Mills here,’ she said into the speaker. Looking up into the single unblinking eye of the CCTV camera Jane smiled brightly to hide a flicker of nerves. She had spent Wednesday, Thursday and Friday reading and taking notes from the websites and box files and Googling up on Jayne Mills’ business style and practice. Intuitive, perceptive, hands-on, and robust with a good management philosophy seemed to be the general consensus. Saturday and Sunday she had pined for Steve Burney, his cooking, his company and his bloody Labrador.

Jane squared her shoulders. Intuitive, perceptive, hands-on—she could do that. Jane had decided on her suit today—it seemed right.

There was a little whirr and then the heavy plate-glass door silently glided open. Jane stepped into the elegant flag-stoned foyer of the converted granary, with its view out over the canal. It was only a few minutes’ walk from Buckbourne town centre and full of original features, soft red brick and oak beams mellow with age. It was hard not to be impressed.

Seconds later, Ray Jacobson, dressed in a white polo shirt, penny loafers and faded blue jeans, jogged down the steps to meet her, looking as if he was fresh out of the shower. ‘Hi, morning. Did you find us OK?’ he said. He looked younger out of his suit, and today was all smiles and warm handshakes. ‘Come on up, great to see you, coffee’s on.’

‘I can smell it. I’ve never noticed this place before.’

‘Beautiful, isn’t it? Tucked out of the way but still really central.’ Ray, guided Jane inside. ‘One of Jayne’s bright ideas. She bought it as a shell a few years ago. The ground floor we rent out to a whole range of alternative practitioners. The first floor is mostly offices for Jayne’s business interests, and then I use the top-floor flat when I’m in town. Takes working from home to a whole new level. Come on through.’ He smiled, opening the inner door into the stairwell and stood to one side to let Jane pass. Through tall thin windows that ran from the floor right up to the pitched roof, the warm morning sunlight reflected and shimmied across the water in the canal, filling the well with glittering golden ripples.

‘I’ll make sure you’ve got the security code for next time you’re in. Did you take a look at the files and the websites?’ Ray asked as they made their way upstairs.

‘I did, every last one of them. I’m still not altogether sure why Jayne wants me here.’

Ray’s smile broadened out a notch or two. ‘Ours is not to reason why. Jayne’s got a nose for talent. I think we should just both relax and just get on with it. This is the office.’

As they reached the landing he pushed open a door into a warm sunlit room. Inside the walls were unfinished brick, the floor gorgeous old, time-mellowed oak floorboards, and on two long wooden trestle tables stood a row of flat screens, a couple of wireless keyboards and matching mice, with an office chair at each. On the opposite wall in a deep alcove with a view out over the canal, were two cream linen sofas with brown suede cushions and a long low table, on which stood a bowl of pebbles and a vase of lilies. Behind it was a wooden cupboard in the same style with a coffee machine on top.

Jane smiled appreciatively. ‘Wow. This is amazing. How on earth do you keep it looking so tidy? Where do you keep everything else? You know—all the chaos. The muck and bullets?’

Ray laughed. ‘Oh, don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of those—they’re all in the back room. If you’d like to help yourself to coffee and pull up a chair, I’ll just be going through a couple of things that I thought you might do over the course of the next couple of weeks and then my plan is leave you to it. You can work here or at Jayne’s home office—either is fine by me, although to be honest I’m not used to having someone about the place. We outsource all our services, and I don’t usually see Jayne from one week to the next. We lunch a couple of times a month if she’s in the area but we usually communicate by phone or email. We talk most days.’ Ray shifted his weight as if he was slightly uncomfortable with what he was telling her.

‘So what you’re saying is that you would prefer me to work from home?’ Nothing like being wanted. Jane managed to hold on to her smile. Just.

He pulled a face. ‘Her home, actually. Jayne’s office is all set up with everything you’ll need. It would be far easier than coming into town every day. Anyway—your call. Maybe if you wanted to come in until you get the hang of things…’ He moved the mouse alongside the nearest computer and the screen flickered into life.

‘Anyway, here we are. We’ve got new web pages and catalogues going live at the end of the month on all the current sites. Most of the donkey work has been done by our design team, graphic artist and the geeks, but I thought you could go through them—see what you think, any suggestions, you know, any little tweaks and see if there are any errors. I’d value your input.’

Jane stared at him, trying to work out if he was telling her what she thought he was saying. ‘You want me to proofread the web pages? I’ve just spent all weekend going through the existing websites.’

‘I know, bit of a pain in the arse but these are the new shop fronts and I really do need someone with a bit of savvy to check them over. Feel free to make any suggestions. Might seem like the bottom rung, but actually I think it will give you a really good feel for what’s current and up and coming.’ He smiled brightly.

Jane nodded. It wasn’t that she minded doing it, but she couldn’t work out why he or Jayne hadn’t told her that the websites she’d spent hours going through were about to be taken down—nor whether he was being serious or taking the mickey—so she smiled back and then turned her attention to the images.

‘And then,’ Ray said, biting his bottom lip as he stared at the screen, then clicking on a button, ‘we’re also currently in the process of updating all of our current customer records and product codes. There’s all kinds of information on the data base that needs sifting through. We’ve outsourced most of the data entry but it’s really important we go through all the customer details as well as the list of products we sell, and check nothing vital has been missed off. It would be really useful to cross-reference the information to see if people are buying from more than one site and, if so, what. There’s a little bit of software here for that. Oh, here we are…’

Ray looked back over his shoulder at her and smiled again, all big blue eyes and bonhomie. Jane still couldn’t quite call it one way or the other.

‘Let’s just sort out that coffee and then we can get you started. Oh, by the way, I’ve had our guys draw up your contract and there are a few other things for you to sign. There are different levels of access online. Jayne’s got most clearance obviously—presumably she set you up with a username and password?’

Jane nodded.

Ray paused. ‘Good. How are you fixed for supper?’

She stared at him. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘I thought we might pop out after work today for an early supper. I booked us a table at Carters—thought it would be nice to celebrate your launch.’

‘Well…’ Jane began.

‘Nothing too late—say six thirty?’

Jane didn’t know quite how to respond. Which Ray took as a yes.

‘Good. Oh, and while we’re on the subject of food, Jayne is supposed to be going to a dinner later in the week—Thursday, I think. You don’t mind going, do you? I think she’s expected to do a little presentation. I’ve got the script here somewhere. It’s just a trade thing.’

Jane hesitated but was determined not to look rattled or outgunned. ‘Oh—OK…I’ve done presentations before at the library. But I’m not sure that I can…’

‘It’ll be fine. I’ll email the speech over to you with the details. I wouldn’t labour the point about Jayne not being there.’ He paused. ‘I’m sure she’s already told you that she’s a little wary about letting people know she’s taking a sabbatical so unless someone asks directly…’ He smiled. ‘Although I suppose technically you are Jane Mills.’

‘Will you be there?’ asked Jane.

‘If I can, but it looks like I’m probably double-booked. It’ll be fine though. They’ll send a car for you.’ He smiled again. ‘So here we are—your first day with us.’

Jane nodded; her first day as a junior officer, she thought ruefully looking at the screen Ray had opened up on the computer. Data input, checking names and addresses was a bit like stuffing envelopes, and that, along with the proofreading, was the kind of thing you’d give someone on work experience from the local comprehensive. She felt she couldn’t say anything, however. After all, how would it look if she moaned about the first job he gave her?

Something didn’t feel right but she wasn’t sure what. Maybe it was that she was feeling overwhelmed. Or maybe it was just first-day nerves; maybe she was up herself; maybe Ray was being genuinely kind—maybe. He poured her a coffee from the machine.

‘There we go. Milk’s in the fridge. That’s the thing that looks like a cupboard under the coffee machine, and sugar is in the drawer there. Do you mind if I smoke?’ As he passed her the cup his hand seemed to linger for just an instant too long on hers. Had she imagined it? Jane suppressed a shiver.

‘No, you’re fine,’ she said.

Ray’s smile held. ‘Not cold are you, m’dear?’

‘No, just a bit nervous, that’s all. First-day nerves—you know.’

‘Well, don’t be nervous. We run a very happy ship here. Jayne’s always seen to that. I don’t know how well you know her but she is the most amazing woman.’

Jane added a little milk to her coffee, not quite sure what he was expecting her to say.

As if reading her mind he continued, ‘I know what I’ve asked you to do looks like pretty menial stuff but as far as I’m concerned your being hired has come out of the blue—not that I mind; oh, no, with Jayne I’ve had to learn to be flexible—but if I’d known Jayne was bringing someone in we could have devised a more coherent strategy. So, this will out Jayne’s business until we work out exactly what to do with you. To be perfectly honest I don’t really know how she fills her time on a day-to-day basis, so if you start with something that really needs doing, we’re both going to have to make the rest of it up as we go along.’

He lifted his coffee cup in salute. ‘To the new Jane Mills.’

Jane tried out another smile and Ray beamed back.

Maybe she was being oversensitive, worried that the job was too good to be true. Maybe it was going to be all right after all.

‘To the other Jayne Mills,’ she said.

Meanwhile, the other Jayne Mills set her handbag down on one of the unforgiving airport seats and stared up at the departure board to check the flight times. She felt strangely nervous. Although she’d been flying round the world for the best part of twenty-five years, this flight felt special. She smiled. Twenty-five years—it seemed impossible. Then she had never imagined herself ever being this old.

The airport clock rolled over another minute. Another fifteen minutes and they would start boarding. Jane tucked the boarding pass into her jacket pocket and then glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see Andy loping towards her through the crowd, in his famous baggy blue shorts, a rucksack slung casually across broad shoulders, long blond hair flapping like unruly wings. Catching herself, Jayne smiled and let the ghost fade away. There was no Andy, no long blond hair, just an appraising and appreciative look from a good-looking guy in a suit from behind a copy of the Telegraph.

She smiled back while reminding herself that this wasn’t about the past, it was about the future. Her future. A bright shiny new future. This was about looking at where she had been to try to make sense of where she wanted to go next, and where better place to start than in Kos?

Kos—Jayne let the word linger in her mind and then very slowly roll over her tongue. It was a word heavy with memories of newly baked bread, and honey and olives and creamy feta cheese. Kos, so very ordinary now, but so unfamiliar then. Hardly a great adventure, hardly exotic in the twenty-first century, but all those years ago it had seemed so very far away, and so very foreign. Now it was just another short-haul flight, barely a hop across a globe that she had crossed and recrossed God knew how many times since. But then it had seemed a million miles away for a hick from the sticks.

So, while Greece might not appear the bravest of starts to an outsider, it had been the first step on her journey all those years ago, so what better place to start again now?

In a homage to travels past she had booked into economy class, and having toyed with the idea of taking pot luck on arrival, in the end had succumbed and booked into a little hotel in Kefalos old town, at the far end of the island of Kos, a steep climb away from the night life and the bars.

The taxi dropped her off at her hotel in late afternoon, and once she had booked in Jayne dropped her things in her room, and made her way back down the hill, down steep flights of steps to the beach, past the little church with its white walls, pale blue dome and roof, surrounded by trees and a field of what looked like cotton. Everywhere was remarkably green, despite the heat, the steep hillsides covered in low bushes and shrubs that followed the sharp rocky contours of the bay. She had forgotten how breathtaking the view was.

Below the old town of Kefalos, new bars and tourist restaurants lined the beach like a string of bright beads, colourful flotsam and jetsam stranded at the high-water mark, and windsurfers and sailing dinghies cut back and forth across the glittering water on the edges of the sun-warmed wind.

Once she got onto the coarse gritty sand Jayne slipped off her sandals and walked along the water’s edge, down past the sleeping cafés and shady restaurants, down past the boat-hire shops towards a little island caught in the curled arm of the bay. Although the sun was well past its zenith it was still wonderfully warm, the waves reflecting the sunlight like the shards of a broken mirror.

The beach was completely empty except for a handful of locals swimming and windsurfing on the wind-ruffled sea where the harbour met the beach.

Jayne stretched, relishing the sensation of the warm breeze on her face, dropped her towel onto the sand and, slipping off her sandals and thin cotton dress, stepped naked into the welcoming water. Not that anyone saw or cared.

It felt like a cool caress over her body and was the perfect antidote to the long wait at the airport, the flight and the taxi ride from Kos town to her hotel. Jayne sighed and shimmied beneath the waves, the chill making her shiver, and then very slowly she rolled over onto her back, looking up into the cloudless azure blue sky. Kos. Still here after all these years. It felt as if her soul was slowly uncurling. She smiled, with an odd sense of coming home. It had been a good choice.

* * *

In Buckbourne, Ray helped himself to another olive from the little dish on the table and smiled. The restaurant was quiet.

‘So, why don’t you tell me some more about yourself?’ he asked. ‘What sort of things do you enjoy?’

Jane blinked as he carried on topping up her wine glass. She didn’t make a habit of drinking straight after work and this was her second, but after a day spent crosschecking names and addresses and postcodes for customers with special interests, unusual delivery instructions and various complaints, she hadn’t refused when Ray suggested they share a bottle and a toast to her first day with the company. The first glass had slipped down nicely, and—with Jane having had only a sandwich for lunch—had gone straight to her head.

‘Jayne tells me that you worked in the library before joining us. What brought you to the area? Is your partner local?’

The glasses seemed big and Jane was almost certain Ray hadn’t topped his up.

‘No, actually I don’t have one,’ Jane heard herself saying. It felt like he was asking way too many questions anyway. ‘Not at the moment.’

‘Really? I find that very hard to believe,’ said Ray, beckoning the waiter over. Since they had arrived the menus had sat unopened between them on the table.

‘Actually I’ve just come out of a relationship,’ Jane said, not meeting his eye.

‘Really? Ah, well, may I offer my condolences. But you know what they say about getting back in the saddle. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding a replacement,’ Ray said brightly.

Jane stared at him. He made Steve sound like a washing machine.

‘Now, what do you fancy? The seafood here is absolutely superb.’ He barely paused for breath. The waiter stood by the table, with his pen hovering over a pad, and Ray’s next remarks were aimed squarely at him.

‘How about we start with the goat’s cheese soufflé—for two—and then we’ll have the paella. And I think we’ll have another bottle of white with that—the Chenin Blanc and salad, maybe the green salad with poached nectarines that sounds rather nice, don’t you think?’

It was entirely a rhetorical question. Jane stared across the table at him; she hadn’t even had a chance to look at the menu, let alone choose. Meanwhile, the waiter was busy scribbling down the order, and far from feeling flattered or protected or in safe hands, Jane felt annoyed—or at least she would have been if it hadn’t been for the wine. Before she could protest the waiter had vanished off towards the kitchen.

‘Now,’ said Ray leaning a little closer, ‘where were we? Oh, I know, you were going to tell me all about what brought you to Buckbourne.’

‘Was I?’ snapped Jane.

Ray laughed. ‘I can see why Jayne thought you’d fit in,’ he said.

Jane stared at him, wondering what the hell he was going on about.

The meal was delicious but he seemed odd. For a start Ray appeared to be totally enthralled by her every word. He insisted she have a liqueur after dinner, and although Jane declined she had a strange feeling that there was booze in the coffee. This was hardly the nice shiny start she had anticipated. Looked like getting drunk during the day was getting to be a habit.

‘How about I call you a cab?’ Ray said while he was settling the bill. ‘Unless of course you’d prefer to come back to the office and have some coffee? You look like you could use some.’

Jane hesitated for a moment or two as Ray waved the waiter over to take his card.