‘Did he?’
‘Yeah. Said he was sorry for messing you about. And he hoped I’d look out for you, and that you’d do the same for me.’
‘He said that?’
She waited for me to look at her before replying.
‘I think he has feelings for you,’ she said. ‘Like, real feelings.’ There was no acrimony in her words, no jealousy or accusation. Just a kind of defeated resignation.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, and…look, I’m sorry about how I reacted to everything before. It was just a bit too raw. But I don’t blame you for getting with him, OK? I don’t blame you any more.’
‘Well,’ I said, my heart skipping wildly while I tried to keep my voice neutral, ‘it doesn’t matter now. He’s moving away.’
‘Yeah, but.’ She pressed her lips together and looked around the office before her eyes settled once more on me. ‘You should call him, maybe.’
‘Oh, Til,’ I said, knowing how hard it must be for her to accept that Tom and I had something worth saving.
‘Hey, don’t give me that look. I’m fine.’ She was all joviality again, but her eyes were a little too bright. ‘Nothing brings me down, babe, you know that.’
‘Yes.’ I smiled at her. ‘Maybe I’ll call him then. Thanks. You really are a friend.’
‘I know,’ she said hollowly. ‘Sorry, desperate for the loo.’ And she ran off before I could see what she really felt.
I should have been happy to know that Tilda had given us her blessing, but I couldn’t help feeling that it was too late now. Tom was going to London, and I wasn’t. We could try the long-distance thing, but did that ever really work out? I’d made the decision, soon after starting my degree, that I wanted to settle here. The city was big enough to have excellent arts and leisure facilities, great shops, glorious parks and architecture, but it was small enough to know your way around and get into the countryside within twenty minutes. It had a comfortable, slightly Bohemian vibe that had always appealed to me, and the people were friendly and relaxed. I liked my job, liked my house share, liked my friends.
London, of course, had unparalleled access to many, many aspects of life, but the thought of spending hours of my week on a cramped tube train made me feel sick. And, much as I loved Tom, I wasn’t ready to make him the central focus of my life in such a drastic way yet.
Did I even trust him enough to let him loose in London? Would I spend my weeks miserably convinced that he was seeing other women? Perhaps it would be best to cut my losses now, after all. But I couldn’t. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to do that. I was in love with him.
I drifted miserably over to the water cooler, wishing somebody could wave a magic wand and give Tom a brilliant job within a half-hour travelling radius. Jodie gave me a bright smile from her desk outside Ed’s office.
‘Cheer up,’ she said. ‘It’s Monday. We love Mondays at the Clarion. And Christmas is coming.’
I smiled weakly at her, about to respond, when her phone buzzed and she picked it up.
‘Hello – oh, well, there’s nothing in the schedule. Let me double check…OK. I’ll just have a word with Mr Maguire and get back to you.’ She dialled through to Ed’s phone while I filled my cup, still brooding, her words fading out of my consciousness until they brought me sharply back into reality.
‘Haydon, Councillor Keane is in Reception and apparently he wants to see you urgently. I know he doesn’t have an appointment but…all right, I’ll go down and collect him.’
I stared at her, aghast. Keane was coming up here! I put down the water and made a break for the toilets, but before I was halfway across the office, Chief Sub Dean stopped me, insisting on discussing a paragraph I’d excised from Friday’s edition, to the chagrin of one of the people involved in the article.
‘She’s on the phone now, Ella, and I think you need to explain to her yourself why you didn’t include the detail about her son’s St John’s training.’
‘I’ve told you,’ I flapped, ‘because of the word limit and it not really being relevant. Look, I’m really desperate for the toilet if you don’t –’
‘Ella, don’t give me the attitude! I’ve been happy with your work since you started here, and I think you have the potential to make Chief Sub one day, but –’
‘Oh, my God!’ I spluttered, seeing that the lift was on its way up. ‘Gotta go.’
I turned and fled, watched by a considerable proportion of the office staff, pleased to have some minor drama to lift the Monday-morning blues.
The lift display counted up inexorably. I was so close to the toilet door. So close. Did I have time? Could I shut myself in there and pretend acute diarrhoea for the duration of the meeting?
The lift doors opened. I wasn’t going to make it. I made a sudden dramatic drop behind the desk of one of the advertising sales people and huddled there in a ball while Keane’s loud voice carried over the bleeping of phones and tapping of keys that provided our habitual sonic landscape.
‘…absolutely outrageous,’ he was saying.