Page 4 of The World Outside My Window

‘Could you—?’ We both started to speak at the same time and laughed. Then he glanced up and smiled nervously. ‘Seriously, would you mind putting that thing down?’

That was when I remembered I was holding a bloody great knife in front of me like a weapon. I dropped it onto the worktop with a clatter and his shoulders sagged in relief. ‘That’s better.’ When he smiled his eyes twinkled.

I stuck my chin out, defiant.

‘How can I help you?’ I kept my voice clipped, because his handsome face didn’t detract from the fact that he’d stormed into my kitchen uninvited.

‘I’m really sorry to barge in like this, I can see you’re busy. It’s just I wanted to give my compliments to the chef and they wouldn’t let me come in so I sort of – sneaked in.’

‘Oh, I see.’ With those words my anger fizzled out, and I noticed the anxious faces of my team watching me. I shrugged, trying for nonchalant. ‘Well, you’re here now. And good, I’m glad you enjoyed your meal. What did you have?’

‘The duck. It was exquisite.’

I smiled. ‘Thank you.’

Unsure what else to say, I turned back to my chopping board and picked up my knife. But he was still hovering expectantly. I opened my mouth to ask him to leave.

‘Would you like to come out for a drink when you’ve finished here?’ he blurted.

‘Oh. I—’ I stopped, completely thrown. For a moment I didn’t recognise myself – I wasn’t the sort of person who had men throwing themselves at me, asking me out on dates left right and centre. I felt the room tip as I tried to formulate a response.

‘That would be lovely,’ I found myself saying before I’d even decided I was going to say it. ‘But it won’t be until at least eleven, once I’m done here.’ My hand was shaking and my voice wobbled but he didn’t seem to notice.

‘That’s okay. I’ll wait.’

‘Well, if you’re sure, then I’ll see you later.’

‘Great. I’m Jim, by the way.’

‘Laura.’

‘See you soon, Laura.’

As he made his way back into the restaurant I found a smile creeping onto my flaming face. I couldn’t believe I’d agreed to a date with a man I’d never met before, just like that. What was Idoing?

But there had been something about Jim that I’d liked the look of. Something kind, trustworthy about him.

And I was right. Later that evening he stayed behind for a drink after hours, and he was everything I’d hoped he would be, and more. We talked and talked. I found out he had a secret love of cheesy musicals, that he’d been close to his aunt Bess who had taught him to sew (although her death a few years ago had left him heartbroken), that he worked for a hotel chain, and that he hadn’t believed in love at first sight until today. In return I told him about my love of cheese and Marmite toasties with brown sauce – ‘And you a chef!’ he’d said, laughing – the fact that I’d always wanted to be a chef, that I’d only ever kissed three boys and that I did a great impression of Margaret Thatcher. I even found myself telling him that my dad had walked out when I was young and that I missed my mum, who lived with her boyfriend, Brian, who I couldn’t stand, something I rarely talked about with anyone. ‘I’ve never believed in love at first sight before either,’ I added, coyly. He held my gaze for a few seconds and I felt my body flush with heat. Then his eyes flicked to the clock.

‘God, I’m sorry, it’s crazily late,’ he said, draining his whisky and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He was tantalisingly close to me, and I could make out the dark chestnut of his eyes, flecked through with gold, searching my face. I studied him back, wondering what it was about this man that made me feel as though I’d known him for months, years even.

‘When can I see you again?’ he said, twirling a piece of my hair with his finger. His voice was low, gruff, and I felt it in my bones.

‘Tomorrow?’ I said. He hesitated just a fraction of a second, then closed the gap between us and planted a gentle kiss on my lips. My whole body buzzed.

‘That sounds perfect.’ Then he stood and held out his hand. ‘I’ll make sure you get home safely.’ True to his word, he found me a taxi, paid my fare upfront and waved as we drove off, leaving him on the pavement all alone. And that was that.

I finally believed in love at first sight.

3

NOW – 17-18 SEPTEMBER 1992

The police don’t care. Laura has told them Jim hasn’t come home but the young police officer on the other end of the phone dismissed her concerns before she’d even got to the end of her sentence.

‘I’m sorry but we don’t class an adult as missing until they’ve been gone for at least forty-eight hours,’ he said.

‘Yes but—’

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