Another Cup of Coffee (35 page)

Amy stood next to the kitchen calendar. She had called Phil as soon as she'd got home from work. Now Amy was staring at the black circle drawn around the fifth of February. It was only twelve days away. The familiar uncertainty of change consumed her. What if she couldn't do it? What if she let everybody down? Would Peggy and Scott take her back if she hated it? Would Kit ever speak to her again if she screwed up?

Through Amy's rising wave of self-doubt, her phone announced the arrival of a text.

Chilli bubbling! Student kitchen bit naff though! See u in 1hr. Can't wait. xxxx

Paul. Amy felt the tension which had been gathering inside her relax a little. In the half an hour she had to spare, Amy stood under the shower, wondering if Paul's self-control would snap tonight. Maybe hers would. Amy wasn't sure if she was ready to sleep with him. She knew it was unusual in this day and age, not to jump straight into bed with your bloke.

‘But then,' she told the showerhead with a certain amount of pride, as it pounded wet heat against her shoulders, ‘I am unusual.'

Sixty-one

January 25
^th
2007

Rob had already served three customers that morning, and it was only ten o'clock. Each had been a mother returning home after depositing at least one child at school, lured into the shop by the chance to purchase a fluffy toy from the window display to keep their younger offspring quiet for ten minutes or so. Two of them had also bought a children's natural history book. Feeling satisfied with the small upturn in early morning custom, Rob was silently thanking Phil for his foresight, when Paul came in.

‘I wondered if you'd come by today.'

‘And here I am.' Paul beamed from ear to ear as he lounged against the counter.

‘You look like the Cheshire Cat,' Rob wriggled his eyebrows playfully, ‘I would say, judging by that expression, that yesterday's chilli was a success.'

‘I think that would be an accurate assumption.' Somewhat self-satisfied, Paul sat down. ‘I've come to say thanks for crying off the other day. I also thought I'd better see Jack; make sure he's cool with all this. It's bloody mad really, I mean it's been years since he was with Amy, but I feel I have to clear it with him, as he's a friend, y'know?'

‘He'll be in shortly, or so he says.' Rob inclined his head in understanding and began to sort through the morning's letters, ‘he has been known not to turn up.'

‘An ironic edge to your voice there, Robert?' Paul glanced at his friend knowingly.

‘I can't think why!'

Jack had woken up feeling guilty. He was surprised by how shaken he was by the knowledge that Amy was going out with Paul.

He mulled over what Kit had said, about how the way he was feeling right now was precisely how Amy had felt when he'd abruptly introduced Toby into their lives. It didn't make accepting it any easier though. Kit had thought that it was probably a good thing that it was Paul seeing Amy, who already understood his history and tenacious, but lasting, connection with Amy. Jack wasn't so sure that that was such a good thing.

Maybe,
Jack thought as he stood waiting for the train,
I should speak to Paul. See if he is serious about Amy or just sampling previously forbidden fruit
. Jack felt a surge of anger. If Paul pissed Amy about, he'd kill him.

By the time he reached Kew station, Jack had convinced himself that Paul simply saw Amy as an easy lay, a target for a bit of post-dig comfort. His forehead thumped with tension, and he was spoiling for a fight. He had to call Paul, sort this out. No way was he going to let anyone hurt Amy. No way.

‘The very man.' Paul came forward and enveloped Jack in a hug as soon as he stepped through the shop door.

Feeling the wind blown from his sails, Jack allowed himself to be briefly engulfed by the bigger man, before stepping deliberately back, ‘I was about to call you. Rob said you were in town.' Jack's voice wasn't as friendly as usual. Rob eyed him suspiciously.

‘I almost emailed you,' Paul also recognised the hectoring tone to Jack's voice, but ignored it, ‘then I thought, it's been so long, it would be better to come straight here instead. That's OK, isn't it?'

Disappearing for a moment, Rob reappeared with a mug of extra strong, fully caffeinated coffee and pushed it into Jack's hands. ‘Here you go, mate. Come on, I think it's time we all caught up. So much has happened since Paul last dropped by, don't you think?'

Rob bought the extra chair out of the kitchen, and they all sat together, grouped behind the counter. The air between Paul and Jack was tense, but Rob no longer had the feeling that he was about to witness a showdown at the OK Corral.

‘So?' Jack dispensed with small talk. ‘Amy?'

‘Yes.' Paul's reply was a statement, not a question.

‘What do you mean, yes?' Jack could feel his hackles rising again, ‘What is she to you? Another notch on the famous Paul Donahue bedpost?'

Rob winced, waiting for Paul to explode. Instead the archaeologist put down his mug and said calmly, but with an underlying finality, ‘Amy is the woman I love. The woman I have loved since I was twenty. What is she to you, Jack?'

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but Paul jumped in, answering his own question. ‘I'll tell you shall I? She's your friend. A loyal girl who, despite being treated like shit by you on more than one occasion, loves you anyway. That's a fact. Nothing will change that. It also has nothing to do with how I feel about her, and how I hope she will grow to feel about me. End of story. Now, tell me mate, what's Toby like?'

Jack's face had flushed dangerously red, but he'd held his tongue and listened while Paul had spoken. Now it was so quiet that only the background ticking of the shop's clock filled the silence as they each digested what Paul had said.

Rob, who desperately wished he'd turned the radio on that morning so it wouldn't seem so quiet, ran his eyes from one friend to the other. He felt rather awkward being there to witness this conversation, but didn't see how he could gracefully exit without highlighting that fact.

Eventually Jack spoke; needing reassurance on one point, ‘She's not another conquest then?'

‘No. She isn't. Is Toby?'

‘No!'

Paul looked expectantly at Jack, his voice returning to its normal pitch, ‘Well, tell me about him then. I want to know about the man who's making one of my oldest friends happy. The one Amy describes as having made you see sense and tell your father about your lifestyle. Good on you for that by the way, can't be easy planning what to say.'

‘Thanks.' Instantly capitulating under the compliment, Jack spoke eagerly about his boyfriend. ‘Toby's great, you should meet him before we go.'

‘I'd like that. Perhaps,' Paul glanced at Rob for support, ‘we could all go out for a drink or something before you fly out. Spain, isn't it?'

‘Amy did tell you a lot.' Jack looked Paul straight in the eye, as if still assessing him.

‘I asked her about you. And, like I said, she's your friend.'

Rob, unable to face them going round in yet more conversational circles, stood up and said, ‘How about we all get a pint tonight then?'

‘Oh, I'm sorry, I'm seeing Amy tonight.' Paul smiled in happy expectation.

‘And I'm seeing Toby.' Determined not to be outdone, Jack fished out his mobile so he could set up a date with his boyfriend as soon as Paul had gone.

Rob nodded, ‘And I'm probably on bedtime story duty! Oh what it is to be the only grown-up amongst so much teenage angst. Tomorrow night then?'

‘Sure!' they both replied at once, ‘no problem.'

‘Great,' Rob grinned at his friends, ‘Now, Paul, bugger off will you? We've got loads to do before Jack disappears to Europe.'

Kit re-read the dozen paragraphs she'd written that morning. The novel's plot was getting a bit complicated and confusing. She scanned it again, considering how she could make it less intricate.

Bess sighed. How could this be happening? Just when she'd finally accepted that Lee would never, could never, love her, she'd found someone of her own and was feeling genuinely happy for the first time in years, and he'd done a total about-face.

Her best friend, whose advice was always well-meaning, but frequently flawed, had muttered catchphrases and clichés about Lee wanting to ‘have his cake and eat it' and ‘only wanting her when someone else did.' Maybe this time she was right. Perhaps Lee had enjoyed the silent power he'd over her, and now it was gone, he was desperately trying to claw it back ...

Leafing through the pages she'd written that week, Kit scrutinised her words. The story was certainly moving forward, but it was somehow contradictory. She looked up and saw Amy's happy demeanour as she served a regular customer with a tuna salad and chips, and felt reassured. Life
was
complicated and contradictory, not to mention utterly confusing.

Sixty-two

January 26
^th
2007

‘There's no doubt, we are going to miss her.' Scott rested his weight on his crutches, talking to Kit and Peggy as he watched them refilling the salt and pepper shakers. ‘Amy's a star worker, not to mention a big hit with the customers.'

‘Have you advertised for a replacement yet?' Kit asked, before failing to hold in a sneeze caused by a cloud of spilt pepper, ‘Oh, rats, sorry.'

‘Not to worry,' Peggy deftly swept the whole mess into the bin, removed the now unhygienic pepper pot and continued to attend to the salt. ‘We haven't, but I think we'll have to soon. It's good of you to help out now and again, Kit, but by Easter, when the first real wave of tourists arrives, we'll need permanent help.'

‘You always managed before.'

‘Yes, but business has improved so much lately. You must have noticed how busy we are these days.'

Kit supposed she had noticed, but her own work, fine-tuning the anthology, writing it a synopsis, streamlining her ideas for the novel, and outlining future chapters, meant that lately she was largely unaware of what was going on beyond her own coffee cup.

Scott agreed with his wife, ‘Part of that success is due to Amy. Word of mouth from our regulars. The pensioners love her. I hope we can find someone as reliable and helpful, not to mention socially acceptable, next time.'

‘Socially acceptable? I never thought I'd hear such talk from you, Scott!' Kit was teasing, but nonetheless she wondered at his choice of words.

‘I know, I know, but a lack of body piercing and pink spiked hair is a help. Not that such things prevent good table-waiting skills, of course, but those attributes do tend to scare off the over-sixties, and we rely on their custom. This place fills the void left by the fast-turnover coffee house trend that the younger generation seem to favour for some reason.'

‘Oh thanks Scott! How old do I feel now?!' Kit pretended to be insulted, but she could see the logic of what he was saying. Amy was about as unthreatening and inoffensive as you could get. Should any of the retired regulars find out that Amy had once dated a man who was now gay, they would probably have had apoplexy. ‘I'm afraid I don't know anyone after a job at the moment, but I'll keep my ears open outside the school gates.'

‘Thanks,' Peggy wiped a cloth over the counter to catch any stray condiment granules, ‘a mum who wants a school hours job would be a good start, then we could get a student once the summer holidays start.'

‘I'll do my best!' Kit funnelled the last grains of pepper into a waiting pot, and went to wash her hands. ‘Now, however, I'd better go and be a customer myself. I have heaps to get done before the publishers can print my book.'

Amy came and sat with Kit for the duration of her ten minute break. ‘How's it going?' She gestured to the large pile of notes separating Kit from her cup of coffee.

‘Not bad, thanks. My editors sent me some tasks to do this morning. Just lose ends to tie up really, and then I can concentrate on the novel. I have to decide on a jacket cover.' Kit pulled out an envelope. ‘While there's no one on this side of the café, it's probably safe for you to have a peek.'

The first proof was of a black silhouette of a woman holding a whip. The second was far more garish, adorned with a scantily-clad couple leaving no mystery whatsoever. The last jacket proof was much simpler. Amy let her fingers run over the embossed cream card, which simply proclaimed the title,
The Anthology of Forbidden Secrets
in neat copperplate writing, next to Kit's pen name, Katrina Island.

‘I like this one.' Amy returned the cover to Kit, who surreptitiously pushed them back into the envelope as if she was hiding a controlled substance in a public place. ‘It's simple, and leaves everything to the imagination. Always the best way with erotica, don't you think? Also, it's sort of classy.'

‘I totally agree.' Kit nodded, ‘I was torn between that one and the black cover. No way was I going with the bizarre couple on the other one. I've no idea what possessed them to even consider it. But if you like it too, then I think I'll go with the cream one. After all, the customer is always right!'

Amy giggled. ‘And I'm a customer all right! I'm so pleased all this is happening for you. I can't believe I've been reading your stuff for ages without realising you were a serial coffee-drinker and mother of two. I wonder if …' She stopped and found herself blushing crimson.

Kit finished the sentence for her. ‘You're wondering if Paul likes pornography, and if he'll mind the fact that you read erotic fiction?'

Amy's face flushed somewhere between scarlet and maroon, ‘Well … yes.'

‘He's a man, honey. Show me one who doesn't! It will probably turn him on even more than he is already when he finds out you like it too.'

‘Really?' Amy felt a bit alarmed at this. Although nothing had happened between them in that area, Paul had made his intentions pretty clear on their last meeting, and the thought of inflaming him further seemed daunting to say the least.