Chasing What's Already Gone (Second Chances Book 1) (6 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Jessica Bethan Roberts was born and raised as an only child. Theirs was a wealthy family and had been for four generations and more. Her childhood lacked for nothing but parental love, and by the time Jessica was seven years old, she was fully aware that her father craved a son and her mother wanted nothing more than a bit of peace and quiet. Her parents’ announcement that Jessica was being sent to boarding school, as soon as she turned eleven, was greeted with an inner joy by the young child.

There were four other girls named Jessica in her class and by the third year, to avoid any further confusion, she was known universally as JB. At school, it was obvious she was destined for greater things and the announcement that she was to be head girl in her final year was greeted with muted approval by her family. She was wanted by both Oxford and Cambridge, but to everyone’s amazement, she chose Bristol University. Jessica was becoming her own person. She resisted the easy routes in life available through her family connections, but she still remained in touch with her father, who frequently offered her an open position in one of his companies when her university course was over.

However, a chance meeting at the university Debating Society changed everything. Thomas Griffith stood out in any crowd; tall and thin with an unruly, monochrome green-coloured beard that made it impossible to overlook him. Jessica took an immediate dislike to her fellow student as he wandered around the room, drawing attention from all. Jessica’s obvious efforts to completely ignore him backfired; her disinterest sparked Thomas into performance.

“You are by far and away the most attractive girl in this room or attending this university. I am smitten by you and always shall be.”

Jessica was disgusted by his arrogance, by the sexist tone to his voice. They were married ten months later.

Jessica’s family were outraged. “Love? What has love got to do with anything?” Her father exploded when he heard the news.

“Well, if nothing else, it saved you quite a few thousand pounds that it would have otherwise cost if Mum had known about the wedding and got involved.” Even twelve years after the divorce, Jessica’s mother never missed a chance to extract money from her ex-husband’s coffers. Whilst acknowledging the truth in Jessica’s analysis, her father could find nothing redeemable about his newly acquired son-in-law.

“The last time I saw him, he had a green beard and hair down his back. He turns up today with no hair at all and a ring through his nose. Has he any clue whatsoever what he wants to do with his life? How does he intend to support you?”

“Pardon me, Father? How does he intend to support me? What am I, some sort of handicap to him? You’re living in the Dark Ages. At this point in time, I think it is far more likely that I will be supporting Thomas than he’ll be supporting me. I like that he’s a dreamer, but he has a fantastic mind and one day he will amaze the world.”

“‘Amaze the world.’ I must make a suitable note of that comment, Jessica.”

Within ten minutes Jessica and Tom had left the house. She did not see her father again for another six years.

***

All those years later, Julian Roberts was horrified when he answered the door to his only child. If she had not warned him with a phone call, he would not have recognised her. There was hardly anything of her. She weighed next to nothing, her hair and hands were grubby, her clothes pathetic. There were scars on her upper arms. For the first time in his life, he was overcome with love for his daughter. Some paternal instinct guided him into making no comment about her appearance. He brought her up to her old room, drew the curtains back, and left her alone for two days. They had experienced grief within the jaws of its greatest power. They had something in common—there was no rush needed to build bridges between them.

***

Jessica’s father’s younger brother, Colin, had married a girl, Donna, who worked in the local factory. The family were most unhappy about the arrangement, but thirty years later, the couple was still content and together. Donna had always been Jessica’s favourite aunt. The older woman was devoted to the young girl and soon had installed herself in the house. Her haphazard whistling and singing brought a crack of joy through the gloom.

During her “missing years,” Jessica was unaware that her mother had died a slow, painful death, eaten away by cancer, and that her father had loved her to her dying day. Similarly Julian was unaware, until Jessica told him the story, that Thomas’s life had ended within seconds of being hit by a motorbike whilst ambling across a zebra crossing. They now had something tangible to share

They never managed to communicate with words—neither could say the right thing at the right time—but they learnt to comfort each other with hugs and long cuddles. Both regretted the wasted years, and neither had the slightest interest in replacing the people they had lost. When Julian offered his daughter the chance to work for one of his companies, he met with no resistance—just the firm proviso that she would not use his name and he would have no influence upon her career. It was easy to agree; he sensed that the ambition to succeed was burning in her, and he was confident in his only child’s abilities, especially with no distractions to halt her progress.

Chapter Twenty

“Ah, JB. Sorry, I haven’t collected the car yet. I have been talking to this gentleman. Oh, let me do the introductions.” Gemma turns to face me. “This is my boss, JB.” She then turns away to say to her smiling boss, “And this is Mr. Pearson—Daniel Pearson.”

JB reaches across and shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you, Danny.”

Gemma seems confused. Had she said Daniel or Danny? Me, well I have lost the plot. Not only do I have no words, I have lost all use of most of my body parts. JB remembers my name from a ten-minute meeting six months ago. And I have actually touched her; I have physically made contact with her. She exists. After ten seconds or so, I can tell she is waiting for me to release her hand. It’s a wrench, but I manage it. I need to show my dexterity with the English language.

“JB?”

Shouldn’t a question have a verb in there somewhere? She is obviously enjoying my discomfort but that is okay.

***

Gemma Barrow is by no means a stupid girl. There is something happening here—she is observing something, isn’t she? A few minutes ago Daniel/Danny came across as an attractive, decent young man, but now it looks like she has introduced her boss to an imbecile. But there again, her boss, under whom she has worked for more than three years, is acting strangely. JB hardly ever smiles during the working day; if something does not directly involve the workings of the company, her eyes tend to glaze over within minutes. She is most definitely not interested in men, that is for certain. When she gets a chance to belittle someone of the opposite sex, she never shows mercy. But Gemma cannot fail to notice that her boss is still smiling. She has had ample opportunity to embarrass him further but she just stands there looking…looking radiant.

***

JB eventually speaks. “Gemma and I were just nipping into town for an ice cream. We have had a hard day. Do you like ice cream, Danny?”

“I once served six years inside for knifing a man over a dispute involving a caramel fudge sundae. I am quite the connoisseur if left to my own devices.”

JB instantly gets the joke, and so does Gemma after a couple of seconds.

JB asks, “Shall we go in your car or take Gemma’s?”

My old sign-painted van? Not in a million years. Any excuse will do.

“Mine would be awkward. I’ve left it parked on the other side of town. I needed the exercise.”

“Come on, then. Gemma’s car it is.”

We walk across the car park three abreast. Some sort of small talk is going on, but all I can focus on is the sight of my van, which is parked two spaces away from Gemma’s Peugeot. I avoid making eye contact with the van. If it had feelings, it would be heartbroken at my dismissive nature. I feel bad—I know what it is like to be spurned. I am ushered into the back seat, where I feel I might get a chance to gather my thoughts and work out a plan of campaign, but JB has other thoughts. She turns around in the passenger seat and faces me.

“So what are you doing in our neck of the woods, Danny?” Her eyes are twinkling with mischief. I get the feeling this is a seminal moment. She is trying to establish whether I am man or a mouse.

My eyes lock into hers. “I’m trying to find a girl. Ella Chamberlain is her name. I thought there might be a chance she worked for your company.”

She turns around and looks out of the windscreen. She was not expecting that; fifteen—love to me, I think.

There is a parking space only a few metres away from the ice cream parlour, which has a seating area with three tables neatly arranged outside. One of the tables is empty.

“What will you have, Danny?”

“Oh, anything with chocolate in it.”

JB passes Gemma a ten-pound note. “I’ll have a caramel fudge sundae, and get something for yourself.”

I have very quickly learnt three things: 1) She is the
boss
, 2) she has a very good memory, and 3) she has a wicked sense of humour.

There is a queue at the counter, so we have time for something a bit more meaningful than small talk.

“Over the last few months, for me your name has changed several times, from Ella to Gemma to JB. So…what does JB stand for?”

There is a hesitation before she answers. “Jessica Bethan.”

“Nice names—both of them. The thing is, and it might seem crazy to you, but you have been so elusive, so hard to track down and then when I find you, you’re hiding behind a mini-acronym. Jessica is a lovely name and so is Jess. Okay. This may or may not be my only chance to make an impression on you. Whether we share an ice cream together and never see each other again or…or you start to believe I am genuinely committed to wooing you.”

Her face screws up into an uncomfortable-looking frown.

“Make all the faces you want. I
am
wooing you. And it starts with your name, Jess. It’s not up for discussion. If you want every other person on the planet to call you JB, that is your privilege. My one and only singular privilege is to call you Jess from now on.” I wait expectantly for her response. The frown is still there, but there is a question locked up in her eyes.

“You’re married.”

“I’m not.”

“You cheated.”

“She cheated.”

“I don’t know anything about you.”

“I don’t know anything about you.”

“I’ve got a career.”

“I’ve got a career.”

“I don’t want children.”

“You’ll bloody well do what you’re told!”

We both crumble into our seats with laughter. She brings out the best in me!

“Wow, you two seem to have hit it off.” Gemma passes over the ice creams, giving Jess a questioning look that she thinks I cannot see. Jess shrugs her shoulders and questions me.

“Where do you live, Danny? Bristol, wasn’t it?”

“Chepstow, actually. Bristol is the nearest place with a big shopping centre.”

“So it’s an hour to get here and an hour to get back. That’s two hours out of your life you cannot get back.”

“Absolutely. And as luck has it, I’m opening a new depot for my company only fifteen minutes away from here.”

“That’s a long commute every day.”

“It won’t be; I’m moving into the area. I will be looking for somewhere to live locally. Maybe the two of you could give me some advice.” I’ve included Gemma in my comments, but I’m actually thinking,
Jess, can we go house-hunting together?

She has no time to answer. Bloody mobile phones!

“JB here. Sure. Yes. We will both be back within ten minutes. Please calm down—it’s no big deal. Ten minutes.” She turns to Gemma. “Beresford has got his knickers in a twist. Is that man useless or what? We’re going to have to get back to the office.” We get out of our chairs, and I follow them back to Gemma’s car. I start to get in through the back door.

“I thought your car was parked on the other side of town.”

God—she does not miss a trick. I walk around to the driver’s side and shake Gemma’s hand. “I hope to see you again, Gemma.” By the time I get around to the passenger side, Jess is sitting in the car, but the door is still open. I lean closer. “It is so nice to meet you, Jess.” I squeeze her hand very faintly. “Until the next time.” The fact that she has not corrected me feels like a major battle has been won.

***

“It’s been a strange day,” Gemma says.

“Yes, it has that. Still, once the dust settles, people are going to understand the Glasgow closure was inevitable. Seven-thirty. I should be knackered after a day like this.”

“But you’re not?”

“No. Weird, isn’t it?”

“It is, because I am absolutely all in. Wherever can all that energy have appeared from? It is almost like something has infused life into your system.”

JB understands that this is more than a throwaway comment. Gemma is gently prodding away at her, and JB feels herself on shaky ground. Gemma is more than an employee; she is, and has been for quite some time, a confidant. For one thing, she is the only person on earth who actually knows the truth about the horrendous episode with Paul Clement. But how does she answer her PA? Obviously, Gemma guesses that there is some sort of history between Danny and herself, but if she told her the truth, it would make JB out to be no better than a love-struck thirteen-year-old.
I have not even spent an hour in the man’s company, for God’s sake,
she thinks.
The whole thing is preposterous and best forgotten.

“No, not really,” JB finally says. “I slept well on the train down this morning, and the adrenaline kicked in as soon as the day started.”

“Of course it did. So nothing to talk about then. Just another day at the office.”

“Yes, of course. Just another day at the office.”

“And just another three days before the weekend.”

“Yes…?”

“With no plans to do anything special this weekend?”

“Special—what do you mean, special?”

“I don’t know…how about, say, a bit of house-hunting?”

“Gemma, don’t be so bloody ridiculous. Mr. Pearson can go and find his own home for all I care.”

“Of course he can. I couldn’t agree with you more. I’m off home. Oh, by the way, do you want Finlay and Munro’s property list to read at home tonight?”

“Gemma, are you winding me up?”

“I certainly am. Oh, well, see you in the morning. By the way, you’ll find the
Estate Agents Weekly
is next to my desk.” The roll of thrown cello-tape comfortably misses Gemma’s back as she closes the door, leaving the mini-mystery behind her…for the present.