Another Cup of Coffee (15 page)

‘Actually, he's not on his own anymore, but yes, that was it really. At least it was at first.'

Jack began to explain.

‘In fact, I had got all geared up to tell them one particular weekend. I rehearsed what I was going to say over and over and over again. I can't begin to tell you how terrified I was. But as soon as I arrived at the house it was clear that something wasn't right. Mum and Dad sat me down and Mum told me about her visit to the doctor. I instantly ditched the idea of my confession. How could I possibly add to their burden then? And I've pretty much clung onto that excuse ever since.'

Amy was quiet for a moment, before asking, ‘Do you like your dad's new girlfriend? It
is
a girlfriend, I take it?'

Jack laughed, ‘Yes, there's only the one poof in the family!'

Amy winced, ‘Please Jack, don't call yourself that. I hate that word.'

‘Surely I should be the one who hates it?'

‘I just hate it, OK. Christ, it makes you sound like a squashy foot stool!'

Jack shrugged, and ploughed on. ‘Anyway, things picked up for Dad a bit when Grandad died.'

‘I take it that's not as dreadful as it sounds.' Amy sipped at her drink, feeling its thick warmth glide creamily down her throat.

‘Oh no, Grandad was very old, and went peacefully and everything. He sold off his business about two years before he died, and left a fortune. Some to Dad, some to me, and the remainder to Susan.'

Amy looked worried. ‘She's not a gold digger is she?'

‘Susan?'

‘No, your dad's partner, silly!'

‘Jane?' Jack laughed. ‘No way! It just meant that the inheritance has allowed him to retire early. They travel a lot. If I did pluck up the courage to tell Dad, I'd have to track him down first.'

Amy toasted her hands around her mug, ‘What about you? Your fortune?'

‘My house, some money to keep me comfortable and safe from the unforeseen, and the bookshop.'

‘Of course. That was pretty obvious. Sorry.' Amy felt silly. It had been such a stupid question.

‘Don't apologise.'

‘Sorry.'

‘Amy!'

The corners of Amy's mouth twitched with amusement, ‘Just seeing if I could still annoy the hell out of you.'

‘Cow!'

‘Moo.'

‘And tatting is?'

‘A form of lace crocheting.'

‘You're insane!'

‘True.'

Twenty-five

October 20
^th
2006

Without really seeing them, they had circumnavigated the entire gardens, talking non-stop. Amy had told Jack about her new home, her housemates, how pleased her parents were that she'd moved back to England, and her quest to find a new career. The fact she was surviving on her fast-disappearing savings and a stop-gap job, and about her Sunday lunch with Rob and Debbie. Jack chattered about how he'd come to London to do a year-long business course after university, that he'd not really known what to do with it until he found his bookshop; of the thrill he'd felt at finding and buying his terraced house in Mortlake, and how he'd designed his back garden.

‘If I hadn't opened the shop, I would probably have gone back to college to train as a landscape gardener.'

‘Why didn't you then? I would have thought a life outside would be more attractive to you than a life in a shop. More flexibility and all that?'

‘My hours are pretty flexible. Rob's my nine-to-five man. Anyway, I didn't want to leave London.' For the first time since they'd left the café, traces of unease returned to Jack's voice. If he answered the question “why,” that Amy was bound to ask next, then they would have to abandon their happy chat in favour of the underlying reason for their meeting. Could she possibly understand his need to be close to the gay scene he was now so much a part of?

Amy asked the question. ‘Why not? There is life outside the big city, you know.'

‘I wouldn't know where to start.' Jack stopped walking, and turned to study Amy intently for the first time in years, before echoing what he'd written in the note he'd sent to her in the summer. ‘I am sorry, Amy. So sorry I hurt you.'

Amy felt her insides contract. Things had been so relaxed ten seconds ago; she'd almost forgotten they were supposed to having a serious discussion. There was no doubt he was sincere, but for a minute she couldn't respond. She feared that all the years of pent up waiting and wondering about what she did wrong would explode out of her mouth in a fit of either tears or incomprehensible babble. It was way too late for any of that to be worthwhile now, but Amy needed Jack to understand her point of view. Somehow it was necessary, so she could finally let the scar heal.

‘It's just …' Amy faltered, unsure how to continue. ‘It was all so confusing, Jack. There are so many questions, you know? And I'm not sure I know how to ask you any of them.'

‘Try?'

Amy looked at Jack for reassurance as they started to stroll again. His expression was attentive and serious as she launched into what needed to be said. ‘It's like, when we were together, we'd be fine, then maybe we'd have a particularly good day and the next minute you'd disappear. I wouldn't see you for days. Nothing would be said. You wouldn't take calls. Your housemates made excuses for you as you struggled to cope with each fresh wave of Amy-induced panic. Then, when we did meet up, everything would be fine again. Until the next time a day went particularly well, and the whole damn cycle would start again.'

Amy shook her head as she spoke, in disbelief at her stupidity at putting up with his behaviour as much as at Jack's treatment of her. She risked a glance in his direction. He was looking away from her, but she knew he was listening.

‘Other times, of course, you ended it properly. But never for long. Never for a real reason. So when it did end because, as you told me, “it was going too well,” I didn't really believe you. I assumed it would be all right again.'

Amy steered them towards the Victoria Terrace Café and sat Jack down, leaving him to ponder what she'd said while she ordered sandwiches for them both, giving herself the chance to gather some courage for the next bit of their conversation. Returning, Amy continued as if she hadn't paused, ‘Then I saw you with that Tina.'

Jack's head snapped up, ‘You saw that?'

Amy was almost whispering now, the facts still hurting after all this time. ‘Oh yes. Unintentionally, but I saw.' She took a tiny bite of her sandwich and watched Jack's stricken face. She had always thought he'd done it on purpose to convince her they were over. Apparently this had not been the case.

Chewing her bread, Amy pressed on with her side of the story. ‘So, I went home. I cried, wrote an essay and did some more crying. Revised, cried, did another essay, and cried. Passed my exams, cried, booked a ticket to Scotland on the sleeper, and cried. I spent a couple of nights in a youth hostel, cried, found cheap lodgings in Aberdeen's student quarter and cried. I got a part-time admin post, which grew into a full-time marketing position and, about two months after that; I found I'd been so busy I'd stopped crying.'

Jack's voice was small ‘I didn't know you were there, in that pub, to see the Tina thing … you know … I mean, she just happened to be there, and she'd made it very clear she liked me. It was so easy. It was nothing. And I'm sorry. I truly didn't intend it to hurt you.'

‘Does that make it better or worse, Jack?' Amy managed a weak smile. She hadn't found him again to start hating him. She'd tried to do that years ago, but hating him just didn't seem like a possible option. ‘Jack, we were students. Kids, really. It hurt like hell, and I never
ever
want to feel like that again, but what did we know of life then? Nothing. The point is this: it's selfish of me, perhaps, but I need you to understand how awful it is to live with the fact that the person you loved left because everything was going
too well
! Where is there to go relationship-wise after that?'

Jack shook his head sadly, ‘Did I really say that?'

‘You did.'

‘But you're saying this like … um … like it's so matter of fact. Aren't you
angry
with me?' Jack felt bewildered as he tried to understand the facts from Amy's perspective.

‘I was, but I was angry with me more.'

‘What the hell did
you
do?'

‘I let you walk all over me. I was so damn blind when it came to you.'

Amy reached out a hand to reassure Jack, who was staring into his rapidly-cooling coffee. ‘Are you OK?'

‘I didn't deserve you.' His face was drawn as he looked back up at Amy.

‘Don't talk rubbish.'

‘I assumed you'd rip into me today. I thought you'd accuse me of using you as an experiment or something.' Kit's bitter words rang out, echoing in Jack's ears.

‘Jack, I have a million questions about the gay thing, and I may well ask you some of them one day. And I confess that my first reaction on receiving your note was to feel a bit lab-rat like, but not for very long.' Amy stretched her hand out to Jack as she spoke. ‘Like I said, we were young. If you suspected you were homosexual back then, I doubt if you knew for sure, and you probably didn't want to know anyway.'

‘It wasn't really obvious to me at the time. I just knew something wasn't quite right. I mean, I'd had heaps of girls, and I was in love with a woman. I loved
you
, so how could I be gay?' He almost pleaded with Amy as he sat opposite her, hating himself more than ever for how he'd hurt her all those years ago, but knowing he'd had no control over it.

‘Did you?'

‘Of course I did! It's like that Edwyn Collins song, “A Girl Like You”, and sometimes I wish …'

Holding up her hand, Amy interrupted. ‘Well, in that case your current sexuality status doesn't matter, does it?' She didn't think it would help if they started on the “what ifs.”

Amy almost moved to hug him, but held back as she said, ‘I loved you too, and I wouldn't have missed my time with you, not for a second. Now, come on, drink your coffee before it gets cold.'

Jack paused, not sure if he should continue, but they'd come this far, ‘It wasn't just the gay thing. As you said, I wasn't sure anyway.'

‘It wasn't?'

‘I didn't finish it because I thought I might be gay. How could I have? I didn't know for certain then, did I.'

Amy's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. His uncertain sexuality had seemed to have answered all her questions so neatly. She could even have forgiven him the salt he'd rubbed into her wounds in the form of Tina. But now?

‘No, I didn't admit that to myself for another few years. I went to this club in Nottingham and …'

Amy wasn't listening. A blanket of new confusion was smothering her. Noticing that Amy wasn't really with him, Jack stopped talking. He moved directly in front of her, and took both her hands. ‘You scared me.'

Dragged out of her illogical musings, Amy felt her blood chill a little. ‘Scared you?'

‘You loved me so much. I know you never said it, but I knew. It was sort of overwhelming.'

‘Well, as I said,' Amy hid her face, staring at nothing in particular out of the window, ‘everything was potentially scary back then.' She wiped her wounded expression away in a manner that reminded Jack scarily of Kit. ‘Come on you, we've got more walking to do, I want to see the Palm House.'

Returning home several hours later, Jack felt light-headed. He had been prepared for shouting, crying, disbelief, fear, and resentment – in fact, pretty much
anything
from Amy. But not acceptance.

None of his friends had given him a rough time when he came out, and for that he knew he was very lucky, but Amy had simply dismissed it, like being gay was normal. Which it was, but that still wasn't a common reaction, even in these enlightened times. Relieved wasn't even close to how he felt. He was happy. The spectre of Kit vied for his attention, but now he began to dare to hope all would be well there too. Now he had Amy. He had a female friend to help him understand.

They'd left the gardens once the cool afternoon air had begun to stretch its damp grasp beneath their coats, turning walking into a chore and not a pleasure. As Jack sat in his own small garden, breathing in the sharp evening air, he reflected on the day now past. They must have circumnavigated Kew so many times they could have been going for the world record, before they had passed through the exit and, arm in arm, ambled towards his shop.

Amy had told him that she'd been past the door of Reading Nature a couple of times already, and had admired and praised the shop exactly as he'd hoped she would. They had chatted to Rob who, thrilled to see them so comfortable together, was most effusive about how nice it was to see Jack smiling after being such a misery for weeks. Jack had interrupted Rob, not wanting him to raise the subject of Kit. That conversation could happen next time he met Amy; now that he was confident that there would be a next time. More walks, more coffee stops, more chats. He could hardly wait.

The best bit of the day had happened as they'd said goodbye. Amy had turned to him, ‘Jack?'

‘Yes?'

‘The tape. The music you added at the end.'

Jack cautiously asked, ‘Was it OK?'

‘It was perfect. Thank you.'

He had hugged her then, and the tension of the past weeks began to un-knot and drain away.

Crawling into bed, without the idea of clubbing even crossing his mind, Jack smiled to himself. Amy. He still loved her. She still loved him. But it was a different kind of love now. Better even.

As sleep claimed him, Jack's brain began to flick through his vast mental catalogue of music.
There must be a song that sums this situation up perfectly...