Page 5 of The Retreat
As she left the meeting, which had not gone great, she cursed her own feet. How could she be confident in Chimmy Joe’s? Talia was not a fan of mistakes. Particularly her own.
She decided not to head back to the office immediately. She spotted a little café tucked away on a quiet corner. No one from work would be there because, frankly, it was a little too grubby.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside. The place was even more of a dive from the inside. But that was exactly what she needed right now. It was just her and the comfort of this tiny, empty shithole.
She chose a table in the corner and glanced around, wondering if anyone would serve her. After a few moments, she spotted a waitress, an hourglass-shaped blonde in an apron, moving quickly behind the counter, facing away. Talia kept looking, hoping to catch her eye. But she wouldn’t turn around.
Talia sighed impatiently. She was the sole customer. Talia would have thought they’d been all over her.
Moments later, the door to the kitchen opened, and an older woman came out, spotted Talia, and said something intothe waitress’s ear. The waitress turned slowly, with regret, and Talia found out the reason for the bad service.
It was Imogen.
She slowly approached Talia, looking down. As well she might. Finally, she reached her, her hands fidgeting with the apron strings nervously. Talia’s heart pounded, and she could feel the heat of anger rising in her chest.
‘What can I get you?’ Imogen nearly whispered, her doe eyes skittish.
‘What?’ Talia scoffed.
Imogen flinched, but only for a second. ‘What can I get you?’ she replied, the flatness of her voice making Talia’s blood boil.
Talia’s eyes narrowed. ‘So this is where you’ve landed up, is it? Guess the gallery didn’t work out.’
Imogen’s gaze flickered with something. Shame? Annoyance? Talia couldn’t tell.
‘No, it didn’t. What can I get you?’ she repeated once more.
‘I’d have thought you’d have a job for life given what you did for the boss,’ Talia said.
Imogen took a slow inhale before speaking again. ‘It closed. OK?’
Talia felt her heart flood with warmth. ‘The gallery went bust? Oh, poor Flora. Hate to hear her dreams didn’t work out.’
‘Actually, she was offered curator of The Vespar in Paris,’ Imogen told her, as though it was a win. ‘She packed up the place by choice.’
But it didn’t take Talia long to put two and two together. ‘Oh, Isee. Did she leave you behind for greener pastures? Howsad.’
Imogen didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. She just set her jaw and met Talia’s gaze head-on. ‘I wasn’tyourgirlfriend, Talia. If you’re still angry, take it up withher.’
‘Take it up with her?’ Talia spat, feeling the frustration building to a boiling point. ‘But you were so integral to the whole thing, and you’re right in front of me. So I think I’ll take it up withyouif it’s all the same.’
Imogen’s face twisted, and for a second, Talia thought she saw something like guilt cross her expression. But then it was gone, replaced by something colder.
‘It wasn’t my fault,’ she snapped.
‘No? Flora screwedherselfin our bed, did she?’
‘I’m not toblame,’ Imogen shot back, her voice barely above a growl.
‘Oh no, you were such an innocent in it all,’ Talia spat, her breathing shallow as rage pulsed through her.
She couldn’t believe how angry she still was, even after all this time. Five years had gone by. She should have let all this go by now.
But looking at Imogen, nothing had been let go.
Without thinking, Talia stood up suddenly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She was too close now, their faces inches apart.
‘You really think you’re not responsible?’ Talia hissed, her voice shaking with a combination of fury and desperation.
