Page 58 of The Do-Over

I sink down at the table and bury my head in my hands. ‘George came to find me,’ I tell her.

‘I know. We sent him. We were worried about you.’

‘Yeah, well. We had a chat, I had a bit of a cry, and then we ended up kissing.’

‘Oh, wow! Wait, why would he be in such a hurry to leave though? Didn’t he like it? You didn’t bite him or do something weird, did you?’

‘Of course not,’ I snap. ‘It was lovely, if you must know, but then he pulled away, said he had to go and vanished.’

‘Maybe it caught him by surprise. Give him an hour or two to cool down, and then call him. It’s funny; I would have sworn he was gay.’

‘Based on the way he kissed me, I’m pretty certain he isn’t.’

‘You don’t think he’s married or has a girlfriend, do you?’

‘I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who would kiss someone behind a partner’s back.’

‘What exactly did he say when he broke it off?’

‘He apologised a lot, said he had to go, and then ran off. The stupid thing is that, if anything, I took advantage of him. It was me that started the kiss.’

‘Hmm. Definitely sounds like he’s just spooked.’

‘You’re probably right.’

I’m struggling to concentrate on my work as my mind grapples with the events of the morning. I’ve called George’s phone a number of times, but it’s gone to voicemail. Ben and Rebecca are wisely working on lagging the pipes and keeping out of my way, but I know I also need to come to some sort of conclusion about the family farm idea and I just don’t know what to do. When my phone rings after lunch, I snatch it up hoping that it’s George, but I’m instantly disappointed.

‘Hi, Thea, it’s Charlotte from HIBT,’ she tells me when I answer. ‘I’ve just had a call from George to say that he’s been taken ill suddenly, but you need help with submitting application forms for a family farm business. Is that right?’

‘Umm, I don’t think it’s hugely urgent,’ I reply, unable to summon enthusiasm for either Rebecca’s idea or more form filling unless it brings George back. ‘It can probably wait until he’s feeling better.’

‘The thing is,’ she continues, ‘this isn’t really his area of expertise. I suspect he would have leant heavily on Ernest for advice and, as it happens, Ernest has just finished hisassignment in Norfolk. I gather the mill restoration is nearly complete?’

‘Yes, not far off.’

‘Great. This is probably a good time for George to step aside and Ernest to come back on board to get you over the finishing line. I’ll ask him to contact you.’

‘Oh, OK.’ This is disastrous news, and my mind is whirling, trying to think if there’s anything else I can do to get in touch with George so we can straighten this out one way or another. ‘Umm, Rebecca and I would like to send a get well card and a small token of thanks to George. You wouldn’t happen to have his address to hand, would you?’

‘I can’t give you his home address because of GDPR,’ Charlotte tells me firmly. ‘You’re welcome to send something here though, and I’ll forward it on for you.’

‘OK, thanks.’

‘Fuck,’ I mutter vehemently once I’m sure the call has disconnected.

‘What’s up?’ Rebecca obviously heard me on the phone and has come to check up on me.

‘That was Charlotte. George has called in sick and she’s decided to replace him with Ernest.’

‘Sick?’ She laughs. ‘Bloody hell, that’s a bit extreme. Are you sure you didn’t bite him?’

‘It’s not funny,’ I tell her crossly. ‘How am I supposed to get to the bottom of this if he’s not coming back?’

‘Call him.’

‘I’ve tried that. Voicemail. I’ve left messages too but nothing. I don’t buy the sickness story for a minute.’

‘Me neither. He’s avoiding you.’

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