Page 59 of Anything but Easy
Barclay chose that moment to swing the door open and push his way back into the kitchen. The door swung back on its hinges and he stalked over to the island, put both his hands up on the granite and let his head hang down between his shoulders as he contemplated his feet. I heard a few muttered expletives, some of which were drowned out by the kettle boiling. He held that defeated pose for so long that I thought it best to get on with making some tea. Who knew how long he could brood for? And I hadn’t had a cup since leaving Libby’s house. My teaspoon clattering onto the granite seemed to snap him out of it though and his head came up.
“I’m sorry,” he said to me. I smiled, hoping he couldn’t see through it.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” I looked back at the kettle, away from his searching gaze. “I don’t butter everyone’s bagel and that’s fine.”
“There was no need to be so rude to you,” he went on. “He’s not usually …” He didn’t complete the sentence and my stomach roiled. I knew what he was going to say, and the fact that I had brought unusual amounts of unpleasantness out in his dad was not something to be celebrated.
“He’s being a total dick, Kira,” Henry put in, flashing his brother an annoyed look. “Ignore them. If Mum hadn’t been one wrong comment away from blubbing all over me again, I would have chucked Dad out.”
“Look, I’m not bothered okay?” I said, going for a breezy casual tone. “I’m rhino-skinned when it comes to disapproval. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”
Barclay was rubbing the back of his neck and contemplating his shoes again. In my perfect scenario, he would have strode over to me, snogged me silly and told me his dad was a narrow-minded twatbadger and that he could bog off. But that wasn’t what happened. Instead, he kept his distance, muttered something about having a conference call and shuffled out of the kitchen. He spent the next hour doing Very Important Things in his office. By the time he emerged, I’d made Henry putFootlooseon and despite my aching heart, or maybe because of it, I pulled a few shapes in the living room during the bar scene. Barclay’d laughed, pulled me off the coffee table and down next to him on the sofa. He’d even kissed my temple, making my stomach hollow out and my heart feel like it was too big for my chest. But I didn’t miss the tension around his eyes, and I had to wonder whether he was considering that there might have been just alittlebit of truth in his dad’s words.
Chapter 23
The way the world works
Kira
Even more reporters outside the sexual health clinic entrance today.
Not ideal.
After Barclay’s parents’ visit I was feeling a little raw. Barclay had managed to relax after they left. He’d then scrambled my mind so effectively in bed later, that I managed to sleep without thinking about the day before. I’d even managed to make the broody tosspot laugh after I broke my promise to never use the wordpenetrationagain by muttering it in his ear mid-sexy times – he’d choked out a laugh, breaking the tension and making me smile. Later, when I was lying with my head resting on his chest and my leg slung over his thigh, he’d told me that he’d never laughed in bed with a woman before.
“Never?” I’d asked, truly surprised. “What kind of boring bastards have you been boinking?”
“Okay, boinking is another word that is officially off the table.” He grimaced. “And I didn’t think those women were boring at the time. Not everyone can crack jokes mid-shag, Kira. But I must say, that now I’ve experienced it I don’t think I could go back to those ‘boring bastards’, as you put it, ever again.”
But come the morning, as I perched on the bathroom counter watching him shave, I knew something was still a little off. He was just that bit quieter, there were a few more worry lines around his eyes. Something was weighing him down. I really hoped that something was the massive weight of political responsibility on his shoulders, but I had a sneaky suspicion it may also have had to do with his dad’s opinion of me.
There were some journalists outside Barclay’s house as I’d left in the morning, but I’d blown them kisses, promised them tea later and left them behind. I could handle them there, athishouse, inhisenvironment. But the paps camped outside the hospital . . . this was a problem. The last thing I needed this morning was Barclay-related hassle at work.
I had assumed that the press interest would only focus on Barclay. After all, I wasn’t the one making massive changes to our energy industry or having meetings with political leaders. But it seemed that a disconcerting number of reporters didn’t give much of a shit about the environment-saving aspect, and cared more about the ‘Barclay shags Sex Doc’ angle. I didn’t smile attheseguys. Instead, I ducked my head and pushed my way through the crowd – an endeavour that was not easy until Sam forged a path for me (I hadn’t realised that he was following me, the sneaky bastard). Sam and I made our way into the department and the first thing I noticed was the dearth of patients in the walk-in clinic waiting room.
“Rather an elaborate way to ensure a quiet clinic, don’t you think?” Mark joked as I stepped into the department. “Make sure you’re banging Mr Politician of the Moment so that the clinic is swamped with paps and no fucker wants to come in to get their dodgy bits and bobs given the all clear.”
“Dr Murphy,” Smarmy Simon’s voice cut off my reply. He was standing in the doorway to his office with a benign expression on his face. “Could I have a word in private?”
My stomach sank. I’d had enough ‘words in private’ with this guy to last me a lifetime. Sam had slunk back outside to deal with the reporters, but Mark stiffened beside me and took a step forward.
“Hey, don’t you –”
“It’sfineMark,” I said, laying my hand on his arm to stop him and giving him a small shake of my head. Mark didn’t need to get on the wrong side of Dr Wankpuffin on my account, and I’d never been very keen on having others fight my battles for me. Mark pressed his lips together and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly unhappy but knowing how stubborn I was. Wankpuffin opened his office door wide and swept his arm out in a sharp impatient movement for me to go in. I sighed and walked over to him then through the door (he stayed in the doorframe so I had to squeeze past him – standard creepy Simon behaviour), and when we were both inside, he slammed it behind us.
“Can we do . . . er . . . this,” I gestured between us, “later. I should really start the clinic.”
“How long have you been fucking him?” Simon’s voice was still even, his tone conversational, which somehow made his words even more shocking. What was this guy’s problem? He was married for badger’s sake. Why did he care whoIwas with?
“I don’t really think that is an appropriate question,” I told him. I was on the far side of the desk and he was between the door and me. The room started to feel very small.
“Oh really?” He raised his eyebrows and took a step towards me. I took a corresponding one backwards but came up against the wall. “I wonder, is itappropriateto drag a load of paparazzi to a sensitive clinic and discourage half the people with potentially serious communicable diseases not to attend? How many cases of pelvic inflammatory disease causing infertility and chronic pain will result from your press pack scaring people away?”
“I didn’t bring them here,” I said. “It’s not my fault they chose to stake out the hospital.”
“Maybe if you’d have kept your legs closed, they wouldn’t have a reason to stake it out.”
“Y–you can’t speak to me this way,” I said. Ugh! Why was my voice shaking and why did I stutter – Ineverstuttered. But he seemed too huge in that tiny office and he was my boss. My reference would come from him, my appraisals were written up by him. I was frozen as he stalked even closer. A slow smile spread across his face.
