Page 73 of Wild About You

‘And I thinkyou’llfind no one here is going to be bullied by you. Not Tally, not Tobias, not Fiona, and not me.’

Lucinda held my gaze for approximately three seconds then flounced out.

‘That might be the best thing I’ve ever seen,’ said Tobias.

I sat down, feeling suddenly drained. ‘Well, I wouldn’t try to emulate it. It’s not the smartest move.’

Fi crossed the office and gave me a hug. ‘I think you were very brave.’

Tobias carefully removed a croissant the size of his head from his satchel and bit into it. ‘When the temping agency rang me and told me about this gig, I thought it would be dull, but I love it.’

‘No need to mention the temping agency. I told you, you’re staying here forever,’ said Fi, stapling a handout together. ‘Once you’ve finished that croissant, you’re coming with me to do a volunteer briefing.’

‘Will Beryl be there?’ said Tobias. ‘I really like Beryl. We danced at the ball.’

‘Beryl is the local MP’s wife, Tobias,’ said Fi gently. ‘Not one of our volunteers. So she won’t be there.’

‘Moving in exalted circles already, T,’ I said, smiling at him. ‘You little social climber. Maybe you’ve learned more from Lucinda than you have from us.’

I left the room as Tobias threw a pack of Post-it notes at my head.

I wasn’t over my conversation with Lucinda. As I went into the cold bathroom, I gripped the sink and looked at my white knuckles. The annoyance was coursing through me and it wasn’t dying down: a heart-scouring amalgam of sadness, jealousy and anger. There would be more days like these, I knew.

I thought of what it had taken to get me here; the change I had wanted to make in my life. I thought of the view frommy kitchen window: the mist lying low on the ground, the sun low and bright, lighting up the windows of the cottage, the pinkish orange light picking out every detail of every tree and plant. I had come to Stonemore to find that serenity, that calmness. I thought of the photograph of me and Fi, as teenagers. I’d printed a copy and kept it inside the cover of my journal. I thought of our shining faces; the hope in my eyes.

I didn’t want this level of anger and frustration. I was free in life, and wasn’t life a game? I didn’t have to stick if I wanted to twist.

I looked at myself in the mirror and wiped a stray spot of mascara from below my eye, doubled up the soft woollen scarf around my neck, and met my own gaze, standing tall.

It was time to twist.

I thought about messaging, making an appointment, but my blood was up. So I marched the now-familiar route up to Jamie’s flat. As I passed through the back corridors, my fingers trailing along the walls with their peeling green paint, I heard the distant sound of Fi’s voice as she addressed the volunteers.

The moment I rapped sharply on the door, I heard Hugo’s volley of barks and I smiled, it was so bittersweet. It was his ‘big dog’ bark, incorporating a slight growl, just in case there was someone scary at the door.

Luckily I’d managed to put the smile away by the time the door opened. I saw the look of surprise on Jamie’s face, but it lasted milliseconds before he read the expression onmy face and steeled himself. That was fine – I could be steely too. In fact, I felt like pure steel at that moment.

‘Can I speak to you?’ I said. ‘It won’t take long. It’s about work.’

‘I didn’t doubt it,’ he said flatly. His hand on Hugo’s collar, he opened the door wide and let me past.

In the morning light, the flat looked more dishevelled than I remembered. There were piles of books and papers on the dining table, a couple of wine glasses left unwashed from the night before, and Hugo set about shaking a piece of newspaper in his jaws. ‘He’s been in the recycling,’ said Jamie.

That wasn’t quite like the Hugo I knew. The faint scent of Lucinda’s perfume hung in the stuffy air. I found myself tipping my head to try and see into the kitchen.

‘My intended has gone to visit her mother,’ said Jamie, a shade of sarcasm in his voice.

He gestured towards the dining table but I shook my head. ‘This won’t take long.’

‘Okay,’ he said. He folded his arms, and glanced out of the window at the first tranche of arriving visitors.

‘I’m leaving,’ I said.

His gaze snapped back to me. ‘I’m sorry?’

I shrugged; there really wasn’t much more to say. ‘I’m giving my notice. Today.’

His lips had parted in shock. I made a mental note not to look at his lips and fixed my gaze two inches above his head instead.

---