The Last Word (18 page)

‘You are an evil genius.’

‘Or just an excellent editor using you for your writing skills. Amongst other things.’ His hands traced the length of her body, and she felt her cheeks warm at the memories of the night before.

‘Yeah, well, I’ll be a vision in taffeta, organza and any other unflattering fabric in various shades of lilac. So it’ll probably just be my writing skills working for me. And my excellent ability to mock.’

‘Bet you a tenner I’ll still think you’re shaggable in a meringue dress from hell.’

She fixed him with her best withering glare. ‘If you can make a girl in an organza bridesmaid dress feel shaggable, they’ll put up monuments in your honour.’

He raised an eyebrow and nudged her with his hips. ‘Better get building, babe.’

Chapter Seventeen

When Tabby went into the office on Monday, Jenna was there again. She supposed she should feel threatened, or nervous or at least irritated on Harry’s behalf. But really, she was just jealous of her shoes.

‘So, Jenna’s here again,’ she said, bounding into Harry’s office and throwing her bag onto the chair.

‘Yeah.’ He shrugged and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Seems so.’

‘Is this the part where I’m mean to be angry and jealous?’

‘I think so. Am I then meant to get defensive and stressed out by the fact that you’re intimidated?’

Tabby sighed. ‘And then I end up reading too much Cosmo, convince myself you’re sleeping with her and whine about it so much that sleeping with her becomes appealing.’

‘And then it all ends in a big finale of tears and drunkenness.’ Harry paused. ‘Or we could just have sex and agree neither of us cares about her.’

Tabby grinned and stroked his cheek. ‘I like that plan. In all seriousness though, do we know why she’s here?’ Tabby’s brow creased into anxiety. She wasn’t so much jealous as she was worried for Harry’s wellbeing. No, really. The new bra was a completely viable purchase. She didn’t think Harry would go running back to Jenna. She just didn’t necessarily want to stand next to the woman in case he saw how many dress sizes they differed by.

‘I believe she wants her old job back.’

‘She used to work here?’

He nodded. ‘An age ago. Or it feels like it anyway. What’s that look?’

‘What look?’

‘Like you’re working out a particularly difficult equation.’

Tabby shrugged. ‘What section did she write for?’ Please be fashion, please be fashion.

‘International relations.’

I hate my life. Tabby sighed and barred her teeth. ‘Of course.’

Harry chuckled, scratching his chin. ‘If it helps, Tabs, she’s a horrible person.’

Tabby shrugged a little.

‘And you’re much better in bed.’

In his defence, she did smile before throwing a pen at his head.

‘Anyway, maiming aside,’ Harry raised an eyebrow, ‘we having lunch today?’

Tabby shrugged. ‘I’ve got my own stuff to do today: plans, errands. Blah. But tomorrow we should go do something.’

‘Something?’

‘Something…date-like. I don’t know, you’re the cultured one. We should wander round a gallery or go see the ballet or something. Something that involves clothes, and opinions on something other than writing.’

‘Is this the part where you realise you don’t actually know anything about me? And then we spend some time together and you realise I’m not actually that interesting, and am really shallow, and it all ends in tears and drunkenness again?’

Tabby smiled softly. ‘I also need artistic stimulation, darling. You wouldn’t deny me that, as my editor, would you?’

‘I’ll think of something fun with added bits of funness.’ Harry’s smiled lessened and he studied her face. ‘Are you OK today? Do any of these errands include your mother’s wedding?’

Tabby sighed. ‘A couple. It’s going to be a long day.’

‘They’re all long when you’re not here,’ Harry said with a childish look on his face. ‘So…how do you feel about cake analogies?’

Tabby wasn’t lying when she said she had plans. She had a couple of the errands involving her mother’s wedding, but mostly, they were just things she needed to do. Things she had done every year on this day, for as long as she could remember, and Tabby was committed to tradition. At least this tradition.

Every year on this day, she would go down and get a bagel from the shop in Golders Green and eat it in Golders Hill Park. Then she’d wander round the Oxfam bookshop in Highgate Village, and not at all chat up the twenty-two-year-old graduate who wanted to be a writer and thought she was amazing. Then there’d be a walk around Highgate cemetery and finally, a drink at the pub on the corner. And she’d buy a really nice glass of red, toast her dad, and hope he finally got everything he wanted.

It was a self-indulgent day, no doubt, one filled with a sad acceptance, and sweet nostalgia, and an overwhelming belief that everything was really OK. He left a long time ago, but they were fine, no one was hurt, and he wasn’t a bad man. She wished him well. Really.

Besides, daddy issues were so 2009.

When Tabby got home, she was faced with a severely strange scenario. Harry was sitting drinking tea with Rhi. They were in the garden and they were laughing. The world was clearly ending.

‘So, she decides she’s going to see if she can take off from the ground, because people always decide to jump off buildings. She builds this…contraption out of black bin bags and gaffer tape…looked like a penguin trying to fly. It was the cutest thing ever.’

Harry cackled and flicked the lighter on a cigarette Rhi handed him.

‘What?’ Tabby said, too tired to form full sentences.

They both turned and smiled at her. Harry reached out a hand to drag her over to them.

‘Hey you,’ he pulled her into his lap, ‘it’s good to see you.’

‘It’s weird to see you…here…in my house…without me in it.’ Tabby frowned. ‘Also, what’s with the smoking?’

‘Bonding experience.’ Rhi shrugged, and Harry shrugged too.

‘OK…is this some sort of intervention? Because I haven’t eaten chocolate for three days…’

Harry and Rhi exchanged a look. ‘No, look, I was slightly worried about you, today, you seemed weird. Plus I missed you, so I thought I’d come by and we could order pizza and watch movies or something.’

‘Huh.’ Tabby wasn’t sure whether it was time to be irritated about something, or just collapse with exhaustion and be glad he was there so she could use him as a human pillow. ‘Right…why do I get the distinct feeling you guys have been discussing me, and it’s not just my awesome penguin impersonations?’ She shuffled on Harry’s lap slightly and looked between the two of them for confirmation.

‘I just said that this was a day that has meaning for you, beyond the solstice. That was all. And that you might be drunk when you got back.’ Rhi stood and stretched. ‘I have not broken any friend rules, and now I’m off to celebrate the solstice myself.’

‘Dance round a maypole?’

‘Beer in the park.’ Rhi grinned.

‘You have friends I don’t know about?’

‘No, I have a conquest you don’t know about. You will soon.’ She gestured to Harry, ‘Deal with yours first.’ She waved and walked back into the house.

‘Hey! I’m not a conquest! I’m already quested, or captured or whatever!’ Harry called to Rhi’s retreating back, but settled for squeezing Tabby slightly. ‘So, today’s your Dark Day…’

Tabby shifted into the seat Rhi had vacated and sighed, stealing the remainder of the cigarette burning away in his fingers. ‘We’re really doing this?’

‘Look, I was worried because you didn’t seem yourself, and we were doing all that joking about Jenna, but I thought maybe it was actually bugging you.’

‘Jenna’s not bugging me. And even if she was, what does it matter? We’re casual, it shouldn’t matter.’

Harry frowned. ‘And what does that mean exactly, “casual”?’

‘Well, you’re my editor, Harry. I was pretty clear about what happened the last time I got involved with my editor.’

‘And I was pretty clear that I’m nothing like him.’ Harry’s jaw clenched, that nerve pulsed and Tabby wondered why she’d ever enjoyed arguing with him, when all it ever did was exhaust her.

‘And I’m nothing like her. You think because you downgraded to an average looking girl I’m going to spend all my time being intimidated by her?’

‘And you think that because you slept with an arsehole three years ago, every guy you sleep with is out to ruin your life?’ Harry exploded. ‘I am trying to do everything I can to show I care. Do you think I usually drive people on stupid trips to Brighton when I’m mad at them, or unceremoniously drop by so I can ask their friends if something’s up? No. I do it because you’re special. And I’m really fucking tired of being treated like I’m sub human just because I’ve slept with more people than you.’

Tabby took a moment to process this, and pursed her lips. She knew she was being irrational. She knew, logically, that nothing Harry had done had been wrong. In fact, he had done everything right. That was the problem. She needed Harry to be his normal, casual fling self, so she could leave at the end of her contract. Except now there might not be an end to the contract. And then there wouldn’t be an end to Harry. And then…she might get hurt again.

Was that it, really? All the anger and stress and irritation, and it was because things were going too well? Hadn’t she spent years bemoaning the lack of good, attractive, funny men who actually liked her? Hadn’t she spent for ever wondering why there was never an easy solution and everything had to be difficult? And hadn’t Harry gone out of his way to be the sweetest and kindness person she knew since they’d got together?

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and looked back at Harry with contrition. ‘I am really sorry. About everything. About today, and about not trusting you in general, and for just now.’

Harry looked wary, and ran a hand through his dark hair. ‘Then tell me what’s going on.’

Tabby closed her eyes. ‘You make me happy. Like, really, really happy.’

‘And that’s a bad thing?’

‘That’s when I start preparing an exit strategy. And panicking. Also, today, my Dark Day, I wasn’t really ready to share that with you. Because if I did, it would mean we were…a thing. A real thing. And I’m not ready for that, either.’

Harry dragged a hand across his face. ‘So, what, we can keep doing what we’re doing, but I don’t call you my girlfriend? OK, if that makes you feel more secure, that’s fine. Your mother might stress out at her wedding, but…’

‘Today’s the anniversary of my Dad leaving,’ Tabby spat out. ‘He left a really long time ago, I don’t even remember him saying goodbye. Him and my mum argued a lot. I can’t even remember if she was different back then, or if she’s so highly strung because of him…’

‘Tabs, you don’t have to – ’

‘No, I do. So he left, and then I get a call years later, I was about twenty-three and it was just after the whole injunction thing. I was…I wasn’t at my best. My dad’s girlfriend, called to tell me he’d died. Cancer. And that they’d already had the funeral, but she thought I should know. And that was it, really. Done. Gone. So I just have a day to myself where I mourn and do some of the stuff I remember doing when I was a kid, and just some stuff I like doing for me. I use one day to wonder about who he was and why he left and what it would be like if he was still here. And then the rest of the year I don’t worry about it at all.’

‘Compartmentalising.’ Harry nodded.

‘So that’s it. Besides having daddy issues, abandonment issues, workplace boundary issues and an inability to trust men who happen to be editors, I’m really quite the catch.’ She smiled half-heartedly. ‘You still want to get pizza?’

‘Yes. And I have so many issues that you don’t know about that yours start to look normal, so don’t even worry about it.’ Harry’s eyes seemed to glow. ‘Can we kiss and make up now please?’

‘Funny how you’re always in a rush to get to that part.’ Tabby moved back to his lap once more, and kissed him, grateful and relieved.

‘Well, if there’s not going to be hate sex, there’s really no point in pissing you off, is there?’ Harry grinned and kissed her again.

***

‘Harry?’ They were in her bed. It was the first time he’d stayed over, and he looked somehow so exotic under her polka dot duvet. Her arm was slung across his chest, almost in the realm of sleep, but she couldn’t let it go. She knew she should, but she couldn’t. She had shared, she had told almost everything, it was his turn. ‘Harry can we – ’

‘Again? I really don’t think I have the energy,’ he grumbled, but rolled on top of her.

‘Oh stop it, I was looking for meaningful conversation.’

Harry frowned, his eyes blurry from the sleep he’d nearly had. ‘What is it with women wanting to talk in bed? Sleep and sex. Maybe movie watching. Possibly napping. No talk. Sleep. Now.’

He settled back, putting her arm back as it was, but kissed her palm.

‘Fine,’ Tabby huffed.

‘What did you want to have an incredibly meaningful conversation about, darling?’ His eyes were still closed, and as she looked at him in the dim light, stubbled and sleepy, somehow hers, she wondered at herself. Why did she have to cause problems, why couldn’t she let casual be casual?

‘I wanted to know about you and Jenna.’

Harry opened one eye and looked at her. ‘Are we having a jealous moment, Tabs? Because I swear, I’m really liking where we are, and – ’

She put a finger to his lips. ‘For once, I’m not freaking out, I’m not huffing, or running off. I’m not intimidated….OK, well I’m massively intimidated but I’m not jealous. I just want to know about you…back then. I’m curious.’

‘Ah, this is the sharing part.’ Harry sat up, beat the pillow into submission and settled back down, arm out for Tabby to snuggle into. ‘Well, come here, little girl, and I’ll tell you a bedtime story. It’s about a poor, hardworking, greedy boy from Yorkshire, and how he met a beautiful, rich, cold-hearted bitch.’

‘Well, don’t editorialise or anything.’ Tabby rolled her eyes.

‘Hey, you hear me making snuffling noises when you tell me Dick the Prick was a prick? Settle down woman!’

Tabby raised an eyebrow. ‘I apologise. Continue.’