Monday to Friday Man (20 page)

‘Oh, don’t worry, it was just a thought.’ I twist the telephone cable, wishing I hadn’t asked.

‘I’ve got this family thing on and…’

‘It’s fine,’ I repeat. ‘Really, it was just a thought.’

‘Maybe another time, OK?’

‘Of course,’ I say, hiding my disappointment. While I love our evenings, I want to have some slow time with Jack. No racing to work but breakfast in bed, coffee and a walk in the park, a film and a pizza. I want the opportunity to tell him about my birthday party.

‘Got to run. See you Monday.’

I hang up. ‘Yep, see you Monday.’

Later on in the afternoon I open the writing book Guy gave me. Since he’s been away I’ve barely picked up my pen. I read his message inside again.
Maybe this is your something
. I can hear him ticking me off, asking me what I’ve been doing with my time. Why haven’t I started? Why am I so scared of failure? I open the book, determined to make some progress when the doorbell tinkles and in he comes, Mr Platter Man. Ruskin barks, but I pull him back onto the sofa. Today the old man’s wearing a diamond-checked tanktop over a pair of mustard-coloured trousers and he’s carrying a canvas bag with bumblebees on it. ‘Oh … er … hello,’ he says, ‘I was just … er … just …’

‘Yes?’

‘Wondering … um … do you … er … sell … er … irons?’

‘Onions?’ I mishear.

He chuckles. ‘No, dear … er … irons?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, no. We sell antiques, unless you’re after an old iron? You might find something in the Portobello.’

He’s not sure.

‘How about Peter Jones?’ I say, showing him to the door and directing him to the department store again. ‘Did you find your plates, by the way?’

‘Platters? Er … no.’ He looks confused, loses his balance and staggers back, grabbing hold of the doorknob.

Next thing I know, I’m ushering him back into the shop and offering him a cup of tea and a custard cream, and telling him to come and meet my Ruskin. Over tea (lots of slurps) I discover his name is Dennis. He’s seventy-nine and he lives in Victoria. Ruskin attempts to sit on the man’s bony lap, ‘He wants to give you a kiss,’ I tell him. Dennis blushes profusely, gently stroking my boy.

‘You’re a man, Dennis, I need some advice,’ I say, when we’re on our second cup of tea.

‘Oh … I’m not … very … er … qualified.’

‘Oh yes you are,’ I say, not allowing him to get out of it. I tell him about Jack, more to get it off my chest than expecting Dennis to understand. I find myself confiding that Jack never wants to stay at the weekend. I leave out no detail. ‘I have no idea what he gets up to, Dennis. Would you ask him outright if he’s got a family or some deep dark secret? What would you do?’

Dennis takes a long time considering this, as he munches his biscuit. He rests a hand against his ear, thinking deeply.

‘I don’t … er … know,’ he says.

‘Don’t worry.’ I smile, putting him at ease. ‘Here, have another biscuit.’

He refuses another, winding himself up to say something more. ‘I think … er … Gilly … he sounds like … er … a bad … er … egg.’

On Sunday afternoon, curled up on the sofa,
Eastenders
omnibus playing in the background, I call Jack, but his phone goes straight into answer machine mode. I decide against leaving a message. I try to picture what he gets up to at the weekend. Why would I even doubt that he lives in Bath? That he has made up this excuse of having a ‘family thing’ on?

Later on that evening Mum calls, telling me there’s a heatwave in Perth, unusual for this time of year. Then she wants to know my news. I find myself describing Jack to her, though I don’t go into all the detail. ‘What is it?’ she asks. ‘Something’s worrying you, I can tell.’

If Mum were sitting on the sofa next to me, I’d probably tell her; or if she lived a couple of hours’ drive away I might even get into the car, but … ‘Nothing’s worrying me,’ I say. ‘Really. I’m having a great time.’

31

Susie, Anna and I are out at Susie’s local pub, the Owl and the Pussy Cat. It’s a lively place, with candles on wooden tables, comfortable leather sofas to sink into and a fireplace where the owner’s cat, Pickles, is always found sleeping. Anna is filling us in on how it’s going with Paul.

‘Love that by the way,’ Susie says, gesturing to my turquoise top that I’m wearing with jeans.

‘I thought it was new,’ Anna smiles, and briefly I tell them about my shopping trip with Nancy.

But back to Paul!

She’s still in a dream, Anna says, in that she’s hankered after him all this time but never believed it would happen.

‘What’s he like?’ Susie asks. Unlike me, she hasn’t met him yet.

‘He’s creative, ambitious at work,’ Anna replies. ‘He’s quiet too, but not in a boring way,’ she’s quick to add.

We tell her he needs to be fairly quiet as Anna can talk enough for two.

‘He asked me if we should move in together, but I’m not sure. I want to, but his divorce isn’t even finalized,’ she says.

‘Don’t rush,’ Susie advises her. ‘Are you sure you’re ready to take on his son?’

‘I know it’s not going to be easy,’ Anna answers, ‘and I didn’t dream of meeting someone divorced with a child, but that’s just the way it is.’

‘All I’m saying is don’t rush it,’ Susie insists now. ‘There’s so much time for arguing about whose turn it is to put out the bins.’

‘I’m thirty-five. There’s not
that
much time to …’ She stops, turns to me. ‘Oh God, listen to me. I’m sorry, Gilly.’

‘Yes, you’ve deserted me!’ I say, followed by, ‘Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. I’m happy for you, Anna, really happy. You’ve waited long enough for Paul and I know it’s been hard at times.’

‘What about Jack?’ they both ask at the same time.

I tell Susie and Anna about my evening with Jack last night, confiding how I can’t stop thinking about what Jack’s brother, Alexander, had said to me.

We were at an art exhibition, organized by an old family friend of Jack’s. I was deep in conversation with one of the guests when a man interrupted me. ‘I’m Alexander,’ he said. ‘I think I saw you arrive with my brother.’

It dawned on me then how little I knew about Jack.

As far as I could recall, Jack hadn’t mentioned he had a brother since he’d lived with me.

‘Hi. Yes, I’m Gilly,’ I said, offering my hand and he shook it. ‘Jack’s living with me at the moment.’

Alexander was tall like Jack, but had darker hair, and dressed more like my father or Nick, in his suit with cufflinks. He looked me up and down before saying, ‘So you’re his latest victim.’

‘Latest victim?’ I’d smiled, trying to make a joke of it, but he didn’t smile back.

At that point Jack joined us and Alexander excused himself with a curt nod. I couldn’t imagine Jack being related to him; they seemed completely at odds with each other. ‘What were you talking about?’ Jack asked, and appeared relieved when I said we’d only just had time to introduce ourselves. When I asked Jack to tell me about his brother he said he worked in the civil service. ‘Don’t you get on?’ I asked.

Jack shook his head. ‘He’s boring. Conservative and always telling me what I should do.’

He had stiffened when I’d told him about the latest victim comment.

‘That’s typical Alexander,’ Jack said, and leaned in towards me. ‘Truth is, Gilly, he’s jealous that I get all the beautiful girls like you.’

I caught Alexander’s eye again.

Now I try to picture his face and hear his tone of voice again.

‘Maybe he meant it in a light-hearted way?’ Susie suggests.

‘He didn’t.’ I shake my head. ‘I just have this feeling …’

‘Oh no, not one of your feelings,’ Anna rolls her eyes.

I think of Dennis, who can’t seem to understand that Mari’s shop doesn’t sell platters, but who can probably see a whole lot more than most people. Ruskin loved Dennis and dogs always know when a person is kind and real; they can sift the good from the bad in an instant. When Jack picks up Rusk, he wriggles and does his best to get away.

‘There’s something I don’t know about Jack. What if he’s hiding something?’

‘Look, he can’t be married or anything like that,’ Anna states. ‘I wouldn’t read too much into it.’

‘You’re right,’ I tell them. ‘It probably meant nothing, but … I just don’t know that much about him, although he doesn’t ask me anything either,’ I tell them.

‘Does he know about Ed?’ Susie asks.

‘No, not really.’ All he knows is that he left me two weeks before the wedding, but he has no idea of how it affected me.

‘Men don’t ask that many questions,’ Anna reasons.

‘Yes, but Jack’s Gilly’s boyfriend,’ Susie interrupts. ‘Isn’t he, Gilly?’

‘I think so,’ I say, ‘from Monday to Friday.’

‘Has he asked you about any other relationships?’

‘No! You shouldn’t talk about your exes anyway,’ Anna argues. ‘Although it is true to say I’m longing to know more about Paul’s ex-wife,’ she admits.

‘What about your family?’ Susie continues. ‘He does know about Megan, doesn’t he?’

I shake my head. ‘Not really.’ That means no.

Equally, I haven’t asked him about his past or his family. When I’m with Jack it’s as if we’re both blank pieces of paper, up until today not wanting to blot our problems into the sheets, but I want to know more about him now.

‘What you need to do is spend more time with him when the show’s over,’ Anna advises. ‘Once he’s moved out, you’ll both know if you want to keep the relationship going.’

I nod, realizing Jack will leave by Christmas and that the thought terrifies me. I’m having such a great time with him that I don’t want to have these doubts. ‘The sex is great too,’ I confide.

They laugh. ‘Sex? What’s that?’ asks Susie. ‘Mark falls asleep on the sofa these days, it’s a miracle if we even
go
to bed together, let alone have sex.’

We smile at that.

‘Jack’s coming to your birthday, isn’t he?’ Anna asks.

I nod.

‘How about Guy? What does he think of Jack?’ she asks.

Guy. I miss Guy. ‘He hasn’t met him,’ I tell them. ‘Yet.’

32

‘Hi,’ he says. He was the last person I expected to see at the shop. Ruskin and Basil bark and wag their tails as he approaches me.

‘Guy! How are you?’

‘Great. I was passing by … This is an amazing place,’ he says, gingerly making his way through the obstacle course to reach me. Guy didn’t really have time to explore the shop when he last visited. ‘How do you find anything?’ He touches a lamp vase and a layer of dust coats his fingers.

‘Is that Hatman?’ calls Mari from the basement.

‘Yes!’ he calls down to her.

‘Welcome home!’ she shouts back.

I am taken aback by how lovely it is to see his familiar face. ‘You look …’ He analyses me, attempting to work out what it is that has changed. ‘Different.’

Self-consciously I touch my hair.

‘It suits you,’ he says.

Ruskin jumps up against Guy, wagging his tail.

‘I’ve missed your big head and that long snout of yours Rusk,’ Guy strokes him before looking up to me and asking if I have time for lunch.

‘Go on,’ Mari calls. ‘I’ll hold the fort.’

I pick up my coat. ‘Let’s go round the corner,’ I suggest.

‘How did the work go?’ I ask Guy as we eat toasted-cheese sandwiches in Manuel’s coffee shop.

‘Work? Forget about the garden, Gilly. I’ve discovered far more about their relationship,’ he claims.

‘What do you mean?’

‘OK, so it’s like this. To begin with I’m dealing with Mrs Morris. “Call me Sarah,” she insists. Sarah’s the one who rang me in the first place, wanting me to redesign the garden and put in a new terrace. So I meet Sarah, carry out a basic survey of the site, she really likes my designs and together we think up some ideas. Won’t go into them, boring for you. She then tells me that her husband Tim needs to be at the second meeting, just to make sure he’s happy to go ahead with the plans. Now, Tim’s a lawyer.’

‘My father’s a lawyer,’ I say, before he’s rude about them. ‘And my brother.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t like to work for your family. Lawyers are the worst clients! Their favourite word is “clause”. So Mr Morris strides into the kitchen wearing shades, pushes little wife out of the way, glances at my plans, doesn’t get them and says, “Where’s the house?” He then starts firing questions at me, as if we’re in court. “What did you do before you designed gardens?” and “What qualifications do you have?” Sarah is dealing with their screaming children, nose massively out of joint because Tim is now taking over and demanding more options.’

I smile, remembering option is another favourite word.

‘These lawyers, they don’t want to commit to anything,’ Guy goes on. ‘All Tim’s interested in is stuff like, “What if the roots interfere with the drains?” “What if we sell the house?”

‘So I say, “Are you going to sell?”’

‘“Well, it’s an option,” he replies.’

I laugh.

‘Tim doesn’t like the red that Sarah suggested. You know it’s pretty basic, if you have a red flower you can incorporate another plant that has a red vein in its stem. Tim is afraid of colour in case it’s not commercial when it comes to selling. Instead he wants me to put in cream and neutrals because it’s a safer “option”.’

‘Frustrating,’ I sigh.

‘Exactly. When Tim’s at work the following week and the children are at school, Sarah talks to me while I’m doing the planting, right, and she confesses how much he drives her insane, that her husband’s so unimaginative. I tell you, Gilly, her skirt hitched up another inch by the day, and then there was this one time … do you remember that really bad storm we had last week?’

‘Oh yes! I had to give Ruskin a bath.’

‘Well anyway, I went inside to dry off and she … she … you know …’ Guy adjusts his hat.

Of course I know. I know, exactly. ‘But you didn’t…’

‘She’s a lovely woman, but so lonely, Gilly. She’s the kind of person who’d call out the boilerman, just to have the company. I’d watch her in the kitchen, staring into space. God that house felt so empty.’

It makes me think of Nick and Nancy, even my own parents.