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JEM

Three months, three weeks and four days later

The move to London went more smoothly than I’d anticipated.

At least practically.

Jeff came through on his offer of a position in his company and was incredibly generous with his time as I settled into my new role there, first as a software engineer to learn the ropes and the products, then as a product manager heading up my own team.

While I’m still intending to set up and run my own business one day, this job is the perfect way to keep the money coming in for Mum’s care whilst also giving me real-world business experience that I’ll find incredibly helpful in the future.

My mum initially settled well into her new assisted-living home when we first got here, but as time went on, it became clear her health was deteriorating more rapidly than before. I’m trying not to think about how little time I might have left with her.

At least she’s nearby and I can visit her on a regular basis, even though she’s recognising me less and less frequently.

You’ve just got to keep moving forwards, right?

And considering how I’ve landed on my feet with this job, I should be satisfied with the way things have turned out. And I am. It’s just that since leaving Bath, I’ve been left with a nagging feeling that I’ve walked away from something – or someone – really important.

And I don’t mean Bea.

She and I have kept in touch and I’ve been relieved to hear she’s getting on so well with her new career. It’s not one I would have guessed she’d love like she does, but there you go. People surprise me all the time.

Information about how Dee’s getting on is more of a black hole. I don’t feel able to ask Bea about her and I’m not sure Dee would read a message from me without immediately deleting it after the way I behaved the last time we saw each other.

It was a little harsh of me – okay, very harsh – cutting her dead like I did the day we got back to Bath from our Greek adventure. But at that point, I had nothing left. I was exhausted, emotionally drained, worried – scared, even.

I hadn’t wanted her to see that, though. Because if she had, she might have tried even harder to persuade me to do the thing I really wanted, but knew I didn’t really have the option, to do.

Stay.

With her.

Instead, I pushed away what I wanted, got real and did the most practical thing I could.

And so here I am. In a much stronger position than I was four months ago.

Though considerably lonelier.

* * *

I’m coming out of the glass-fronted skyscraper near Aldgate Tube station in the City, where Blackmore Business Partners’ headquarters are situated, thinking about what I’m going to eat for dinner tonight, when a movement and a flash of colour in my peripheral vision catches my attention and makes me slow my pace.

There’s something about it that shoots a shiver of recognition straight down my spine.

‘Hello, Numbers,’ a voice says behind me.

I’d know that voice anywhere.

‘Dee? What the hell are you doing here?’ I say, turning to face her.

She looks good. More than good.

‘What? Here in London? I didn’t realise you’d bagsied the whole city,’ she says, but with her usual playful grin lighting up her face.

It’s impossible not to smile back at her.

‘I meant here, outside my place of work.’

‘You work here?’ she teases, throwing her hands up in mock-surprise. ‘Well, what a coincidence!’

Impossible not to laugh at that too.

It hits me that I haven’t laughed in a very long while. Not properly. Not since I was last with Dee, in fact. Because, as I’ve come to realise, it’s impossible not to find the fun in life when she’s around.

‘You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you,’ I say, pretty sure that’s the case.

‘Yeah. You’ve got me there, MENSA Man.’ She’s still grinning at me, her eyes alive with mischief.

I assumed that after the way I left – particularly the last contact I had with her that day in Bea’s flat – that I’d never hear from her again.

I guess that makes me an ass.

‘So? Why are you here, waiting for me?’ I ask her. Clearly, she’s going to make me work for any sensible sort of information.

She gives a nonchalant shrug. ‘Actually, I just thought I’d come and see what you gave up that lovely, dank basement office for.’ Looking up at the monolith of a building that Jeff’s filled with his expert workforce, she lets out a low whistle. ‘Impressive gaff, Jem.’

‘Thank you,’ I say, supressing another smile.

‘Anyway. I didn’t mean to bother you,’ she says, folding her arms and rocking back on her heels. ‘I was in the area and thought I’d do a stroll-by. I didn’t think I’d actually see you.’

I look at her for a beat, my heart thumping against my ribcage.

‘Okay. Well, since you have seen me, do you fancy going for a quick drink to catch up? It’ll be good to hear what you’ve been up to. I’ve been wondering.’

She blinks at me, shocked. ‘Um. Err. Yeah? Sure. Okay. I could do that, I guess?’

‘As long as I’m not inconveniencing you,’ I say, raising an eyebrow at her apparent reluctance.

Is she regretting doing her stroll-by now?

There’s a moment where she stares at me, her brows furrowed and her gaze piercing, then the expression in her eyes softens. ‘You’re not.’

We continue to look at each other for a few more beats and something profound passes between us.

Tacit understanding.

Something I’ve never experienced before with another living soul.

I feel like Dee just gets me.

I think she always has.

‘Okay, let’s go. There’s a decent bar a couple of streets away,’ I say, waving my hand in the general direction of it.

‘Great,’ Dee says.

* * *

Thankfully, it’s pretty quiet in the pub I’ve chosen and we easily find a free table. I go to the bar for drinks while Dee settles herself onto a seat by the Edwardian etched-glass window that runs along one whole side of the pub.

When I return with the drinks, she takes hers from me with a nod of thanks and has a sip of it while I pull out a stool next to her and sit on it.

‘So? How’s life treating you?’ I ask.

‘Pretty good.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And? Is there more information forthcoming?’

She lets out a snort of amusement. ‘You always did get straight to the point. I like that.’

‘You know me, I’m an information guy.’

‘So you are, Numbers. So you are.’

I wait for her to continue, watching with interest as she takes a big swig of her wine.

‘Okay, so… as you probably know, I lost my job at the hotel and I needed to find something else to keep me afloat.’

‘Yes?’

‘And I figured it was a good opportunity to change the way I’d been thinking about how to get where I wanted to go.’

‘Okay.’

‘A friend of mine from college had just moved to London and let me sleep on her sofa for a couple of weeks while I looked for jobs, in exchange for me cleaning the flat and cooking all the evening meals.’

‘Oh yeah?’

I take a swig of my beer, intrigued to know where this story is going. It’s so good to see her, I’m feeling a rush of what I think must be endorphins. I certainly feel happier than I have in a long time.

‘I knew I needed to do something new. Something different. Away from the comfort of my family.’ Her eyes widen, like she’s asking me for my understanding of the situation.

I nod.

‘And I decided it was time I got my shit together and started looking after myself.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Because you were right.’

I blink at her, surprised by this admission. ‘I was? About what?’

‘About how selfish I was being, expecting other people – mostly Bea’ – she holds up her hands in deferential recognition – ‘to take care of me and fix the mess I was making of my life. It wasn’t fair for me to expect her to do that.’

I nod again slowly. ‘I see.’

‘And I decided not to take the money from my dad, since I didn’t really feel like I’d earned it. It would have been another easy route and I figured it was better to challenge myself and see if I could get by on my wits instead of his money.’

She runs a hand through her hair and her familiar scent hits my nose, sending my body into overdrive. I’ve missed the smell of her – as weird as it is to admit that. There’s something so comforting and so thrilling about it.

‘So I made a plan,’ she continues, luckily oblivious to my mini-meltdown.

‘One I stuck to, as best I could, and it seems to have paid off. I juggled a couple of different jobs for a while when I first moved here, working in a cocktail bar in Soho at night and a posh restaurant in Kensington during the day, and managed to scrape together a decent amount from my tips and pay. I’ve managed to land a new role recently though, which is really exciting.

And I’ve worked on my paintings in every spare minute I’ve had.

When my friend’s flatmate moved out to go and live with her boyfriend, I took her room and scrimped and saved every penny I could.

If I never eat another noodle in my life, it’ll be too soon. ’ She grimaces.

‘I can’t lie, it’s been bloody hard work,’ she goes on, clearly on a roll now, ‘but I’m proud of myself. I’ve not lost a job since the one at the hotel and everything I’ve landed since then has been on my own merit.’

‘Impressive.’

I’m not bullshitting her either. I’m seriously impressed.

‘Not really,’ she says, the corner of her mouth lifting, as if she’s taken my response as joshing. ‘It’s what everyone else does, right? I’ve just joined the real world.’

I can’t help smiling back. ‘And how are you finding that?’

‘Exhausting, if I’m honest.’ Lifting her hand, she yawns behind it. ‘See?’ she says, waving a finger towards her mouth to illustrate her point.

‘So where are you working now?’