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Chapter Thirty-Four

P hilippa had a headache. It was to be expected, really, given how much she and Charlie had ended up drinking. She pressed her palms to her forehead, remembering the night before.

She rose from her bed, grateful she didn’t have an effervescent child to prepare for school. She was studiously avoiding her phone, dreading what might be waiting for her. Alex hadn’t replied last night, and in fairness, Philippa really didn’t blame her.

Just as that thought passed through her mind, her phone rang. Her stomach turned over and she grabbed it. But it was Paul. Or more specifically, Dottie, video calling her mum, as she did from time to time before school when she was with her dad.

“Hi, Mummy,” said Dottie.

Philippa ruffled her hair and tried to ignore how grey and hungover she looked. “Morning, lovely girl. How are you?”

“I’m good. Are you ok? You look like you’re poorly or something,” said Dottie, bringing her face closer to Paul’s phone to examine Philippa’s face more thoroughly.

“Oh, I’m fine,” said Philippa, throwing on her sunniest smile. “I didn’t sleep too well, so I’m a bit tired. That’s all.”

“Did Alex have another sleepover?” asked Dottie.

Philippa gave a tight smile. “No, not last night.” She knew Paul would be listening, and while she didn’t owe him any explanations, this wasn’t the conversation she needed this morning. “So, are you all ready for school?”

“Yes. I just wanted to ask you about something important,” said Dottie, who seemed to be roaming the house at speed. The movement was making Philippa feel nauseous.

“Ok, ask away,” said Philippa.

“If you had to be any sea creature, which would it be?” she asked. “Daddy said he’d be a crab, so he’d still have pincers to hold his golf clubs.”

“Of course he would,” said Philippa. “And what would you be?” she asked, desperately trying to think about all things nautical.

“I’d be a seahorse, of course,” said Dottie.

“Yes,” said Philippa, “of course. I think I’d probably be a sea anemone. Do you remember when we saw them in the rock pools in Paignton, when we visited last summer?”

“Oh yes,” said Dottie grinning. “They’re all red and smooth when they’re above the water, but when the tide comes in, their little fingers come out to grab tiny creatures to eat.”

“That’s right,” said Philippa.

She came off the call feeling a bit more human, but knew she needed coffee.

She looked at her diary. She didn’t have any meetings until later, which meant there was time for coffee and carbs.

She had a quick shower and headed out. She’d been meaning to go to Jack and Seymour’s cafe, the Jam Pot, for a while.

The walk down the high street did Philippa good. Things felt less overwhelming, and the paracetamol she’d taken was beginning to kick in. She arrived at the cafe to find Seymour behind the counter.

“Morning,” said Philippa, smiling at the woman with blonde hair tied back in a messy bun behind the counter.

“Morning,” said the woman. “You’re Charlie’s friend, aren’t you? I’m Seymour. Charlie’s dating my brother.”

“Yes,” said Philippa, and she introduced herself.

“Lovely to meet you properly, Philippa. Charlie talks about you a lot,” said Seymour. “What can I get you?”

“Well, I’m going to confess that due to Charlie’s intervention last night, I need all the coffee and all the toast,” said Philippa putting her bag down by a table.

“I hear that,” said Seymour. “What’s your favourite flavour of jam?”

“Actually, I wondered if you had marmalade?” asked Philippa.

“Of course,” said Seymour. “We don’t judge here.” They both laughed, and Philippa reflected that Charlie seemed to have really nice friends.

Seymour didn’t take long with Philippa’s order. The marmalade was good and bitter, just the way Philippa liked it. That, along with the wedges of toast and the double espresso, made Philippa feel like a new woman.

She opened her laptop and logged into her work email account.

She needed to start planning for the new contract with Gerry.

Roderick had already begun to besiege her, with four emails sent that morning expounding his ideas for the best way to start that planning.

Reluctantly, she had to admit that some of his ideas were good, but she couldn’t help but get the sense that he was trying to mansplain her job to her at times.

There was nothing from Sienna, which was a relief.

Philippa’s hangover was just one reason not to go into the office this morning.

Sienna was the other. She dreaded being on the receiving end of some kind of long-winded apology for what had happened.

Sienna had already said sorry, and Philippa really didn’t want any embarrassing postmortems.

After an hour of working through various case notes, Philippa’s phone pinged.

This time, it was Alex.

Philippa took a deep breath and swiped her finger across the screen.

A heart had appeared underneath the message Philippa had sent the previous day.

There was another message being typed, if the three bouncing dots were to be believed.

Then the dots disappeared. They reappeared again.

And then stopped. This happened over and over for about five minutes, with Philippa’s stress levels growing steadily higher and higher.

Eventually, she locked her phone and put it away in her bag.

“A watched pot never boils,” said Seymour as she collected Philippa’s empty plate. “I couldn’t help but see you frowning over your phone.”

Philippa smiled. “Caught in the act. When did dating become so difficult?”

Seymour laughed. “My fiancée could tell you some stories about that, especially online dating.”

“Oh, is that how you met?” asked Philippa, her interest piqued.

“No,” said Seymour, a knowing look on her face. “I was her shoulder to cry on after all her disastrous Tinder dates. Eventually she worked out what she was missing.”

“Genius,” said Philippa. “Well, I’m working on the basis that if I ignore my phone for a bit, it’s more likely to bleep at me. But for now, I need to head into town.”

“Good luck,” said Seymour with an easy smile. “I’m sure it will work out if it’s meant to.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Philippa, waving goodbye.

For a change she took the bus into town, leaving her car behind.

The number 50 was an efficient if bumpy way down the A435 into the city centre, and it gave her some time to take stock.

The route took her through Kings Heath, then the cooler Moseley and onto scruffy, arty Digbeth, complete with miles of street art and graffiti on abandoned buildings.

Birmingham was a city of colours, and Philippa loved being part of it.

It was eleven am, but in spite of the time and the strict rules on city buses, there was the distinct waft of a joint being smoked at the back of the vehicle.

Philippa wondered if this might help her chill out a little bit about what Alex might say next.

She was relieved by the heart that Alex had sent, but concerned about the amount of time it was taking her to properly respond.

It seemed unusual for her. Philippa fought the urge to text and ask if she was ok.

She knew she needed to give the woman some space.