Another Cup of Coffee (12 page)

Nineteen

October 16
^th
2006

Hearing the shop bell, Rob abandoned checking his email, and turned the radio to a more customer friendly volume. ‘Hi Phil, haven't seen you for ages. How's tricks?'

‘No need to turn it down on my account,' Phil gestured towards the shop's sound system. ‘I'm fine, but work's been mad recently, you?'

‘Yeah great, although work isn't so much mad, as on a life support machine. You killing time before a viewing?'

Phil's usually gentle voice rapidly lost its friendly tone, ‘No, I'm hunting down Jack.'

‘Jack?' Rob instantly felt wary. This had to be about Kit.

Phil peered around the small empty space, ‘Is he here?'

Rob shook his head, ‘I doubt I'll see him this side of tomorrow. He's currently taking the phrase “burning the candle at both ends” as his code of honour.'

‘I see.' Phil sounded blunt as Rob continued.

‘When Jack is here he's either so damn tired and miserable that he merely grunts into the computer, or he's so angry that he snaps at everything and everyone.'

‘A regular delight to be around then.'

‘Absolutely.'

Picking up a Christmas promotional leaflet from a pile next to the till, Phil began flicking through it, noticing the well-constructed mix of gardening books, children's natural history sticker books, and easy-to-follow nature spotters guides, ‘You've got some nice stuff here.'

Rob smiled. He'd worked hard on getting the balance of that pamphlet right. ‘Thanks. Hopefully other people will think so, like the odd paying customer.'

Phil looked about him, ‘Have you ever considered expanding the range a bit further, you know, cuddly toy robins and coal tits next to the British Birds section, model hedgehogs by the Natural History shelves?'

‘We've considered doing that sort of thing in the past, but it's a question of finding the room.' Rob gestured around the shop-floor, ‘Space is a bit of a premium here.'

‘True. The joys of being your own boss I guess.' Phil considered saying something else about the shop, but drew himself back to the matter in hand. ‘Kit's in a bad way. I don't think she's writing.'

‘Ah,' Rob nodded, ‘I wondered how she was. I was going to call her, but I took the cowardly option and decided to keep out of it as much as I could.'

‘Very wise,' Phil inclined his head towards his friend, ‘Jack hasn't said anything then?'

‘Beyond that he'd, and I quote, “cocked up with Kit,” he hasn't said a thing. I've just heard the occasional self-pitying murmurs. All I know for sure is that ever since he sent that tape back to his ex-girlfriend, all hell's broken loose.'

‘Jack has another female ex!' Phil was stunned.

‘He has a fair collection of them actually.' Rob sighed, realising he was going to have to tell the whole story all over again. ‘I think we should have coffee.'

‘Tea, if that's all right. Had I better sit down for this?' Phil pulled one of the counter's stalls out far enough to accommodate his long legs.

‘Quite possibly,' Rob left Phil studying a selection of books waiting to be parcelled up and posted; the first successes from Jack's website.

Leaning against the patchily painted magnolia wall, Rob shook his head as he waited for the kettle to boil. How could one man, one
gay
man for God's sake, have this much disruptive influence over two otherwise perfectly sensible women?

Returning to the shop floor, Rob presented Phil with his tea. ‘Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.'

*……*……*

‘So, if I follow you correctly, Kit is upset because she didn't know about this particular ex?' Half an hour later Phil was still struggling to work it out.

Less than convinced, Rob replied, ‘I think so.'

‘Why? We all have exes.'

‘True, but I think it was a shock, you know, that he loved one particular woman, rather than just bonking them in general.'

‘As opposed to a man you mean?'

‘I think that's it.' Rob shrugged ‘Hell, I don't know, there was something about music too.'

Phil ran a hand through his short black hair, ruffling it out of its usual neat office style into tuffs and spikes. ‘Music? The tape you mentioned?'

‘Yes.'

Phil finished his tea, and put the mug on the counter. ‘Well, this has all the common sense of a Whitehall farce. Kit's a married woman now, for Christ's sake. Married to me!
I'll
make her a damn tape if that's all this is about.'

Rob began to feel guilty for saying anything, ‘Sorry Phil, I really didn't mean to make trouble. I …'

‘It's OK Rob, I'm not cross with you, or Kit really, but it's so petty. So, so, so damn Jack!''

Rob spoke more softly, hoping to calm Phil down a bit, ‘I think they know that too. They just don't know what to do about it.'

Twenty

October 16
^th
2006

‘Amy doesn't know about you either.' Jack had tried small talk, but it hadn't worked, so he dived back into the fray between mouthfuls of cake.

Kit sounded exhausted, ‘What does she know?'

‘Very little.' Jack tried to take her hand, but she moved it out of reach, ‘Kit,' he sounded almost pleading now, ‘you did know I had girlfriends at university.'

‘I did, but until our last discussion, I was under the impression they were of the snog-'em, shag-'em, leave-'em variety. That for you, loving a woman was totally out of the question. Period.'

‘That's mostly true.' Now it was Jack's turn to sound tired.

‘But not her.'

‘No, not Amy, but so what?' Jack was getting fed up with this now. He wasn't used to having to justify his actions. ‘You must have been in love with someone other than Phil surely, otherwise how did you know that you loved him?'

Kit swallowed. The cake she'd eaten suddenly transmogrified to lead in her stomach. In ten years she'd never given herself away. The truth was now dangerously near exposure; it could change everything. She'd probably freak Jack out so much she'd never see him again, and as the past two weeks had shown her, that as a permanent prospect, was something she didn't like at all. She daren't even contemplate how Phil would react if he found out she'd felt. So she simply said, ‘I'd have said.'

Jack watched Kit, his growing temper dying as quickly as it had risen as realisation dawned. He knew he'd been stupid, now it seemed he'd been blind as well. Yet she hadn't said it. Why not? Choosing his words carefully he said, ‘I don't want a life without you in it.'

Kit acknowledged his words with an inclination of her head, but ignored the obvious response, saying instead, ‘Have you seen Amy yet, since she's come south I mean?'

Jack took the change of tack gratefully, ‘No. I don't know where she's living.'

‘I do.'

‘What?' Jack abruptly lent forward again, ‘How on earth do you know that? Rob hasn't told you has he?'

‘Rob knows?' Kit frowned as she spoke.

‘Yes, but he's not saying. Apparently she'll find me when she's ready. Very bloody mysterious.'

Good for her,
Kit experienced an unexpected second of respect for her unknown protagonist. ‘Phil knows too. Although he has no idea he knows of course.'

‘Phil? How on earth…?'

‘She's renting a room through Home Hunters.'

‘Small world.' Jack let out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair.

‘Isn't it.'

Letting silence fill the gap between them for a moment, Jack rubbed the tension from his forehead before saying, ‘You and Amy have quite a lot in common.'

Kit didn't want to hear it, and certainly wasn't sure if she liked that fact or not, as the tone of her voice clearly indicated. A nuance completely lost on Jack. ‘Really.'

‘Sure,' Jack attempted to move closer to her, but Kit lent back. ‘You both fidget when you're nervous or uncertain about something. You're both kind and generous. And you're both far too good for me. You both let me get away with murder.'

Kit grunted a begrudging response, ‘That bit sounds right anyway.'

Jack was warming to his theme; the more he thought about it, the more similarities there were. ‘You like the same types of music, neither of you care much about clothes beyond comfort, and despite your angelic faces, you're both dirty beggars in the bedroom.'

Kit stared at him in disbelief, ‘A thought too far Jack.
Much
too far.' Kit scowled, ‘At least now I know why you were attracted to me; I was just like her.'

Jack's mouth dropped open. He'd walked straight into that one. ‘Don't be ridiculous, I liked you for you, but you're right, I went too far with the comparisons. I was trying to help. Sorry.' Jack began to shred the napkin he'd absentmindedly been playing with into haphazard strips.

Kit watched him carefully, unable to prevent a tiny smile hitting the corner of her lips, ‘Amy and I aren't the only ones who fidget when we're uncertain then.'

‘Well, I have a fair bit to be uncertain about right now.'

Peggy finished serving the group of pensioners, who had come into Pickwicks for their regular pots of tea and toasted teacakes, as fast as possible, and scooted back to within earshot of Kit and Jack. This was better than a soap opera! To think she'd thought that Kit, despite all literary evidence to the contrary, was a goody-two-shoes in the men department. She'd known Kit and Jack were good friends, and that Jack was gay. Peggy had always joked that they were like the characters from the nineties sitcom,
Will and Grace
, without realising how close to the truth she was.

Making a play of wiping the counter, Peggy felt troubled as she listened.
Amy?
It had to be the same girl that waited here. Kit had been so self-involved recently that she'd barely noticed the new waitress, and why would she? Peggy always served Kit and the other regulars herself, leaving the passing-trade clients to Amy.

Thanking whichever God was on patrol that morning that it was Amy's day off, Peggy picked up some freshly brewed coffee, headed into the currently-hushed war zone, and topped up their mugs.

Taking a sip of her fresh drink, Kit savoured the hot bitter liquid as it slid down her throat. ‘So, why did you let us go on for so long?'

‘Why did you stay with me once you knew the truth?' Jack countered.

‘I asked first.'

‘Don't be childish.'

Kit slammed her cup into its saucer, ‘Just answer the sodding question, Jack.'

‘Poison.'

‘I'm sorry?' Kit's eyes rolled menacingly in their sockets, in a blatant warning to Jack that he should explain himself very, very carefully.

‘The song, Alice Cooper, you know, “Poison”
,'
Jack explained. ‘Everything about you had me caught up, like … well, like “Poison”‘

‘Am I to be flattered or supremely insulted? Anyway, those words make no sense in this context.'

‘Look. I'm trying to tell you, I was addicted if you like.' Jack leaned forward desperately trying to work out how to make her understand.

‘Addicted! Oh great, first I'm poison, now I'm fucking heroin.' He'd never seen Kit so cross or offended.

‘Kit, will you shut up and listen for a second, I'm trying to explain.'

Forcing herself not to use some of the words she never spoke out loud, but frequently wrote down, Kit hissed, ‘Then tell me, preferably
without
the aid of lyrical references.'

‘OK, OK.' He sat up straight and prepared to explain himself as best he could.

Jack spoke without drawing breath for at least ten minutes. He was afraid to stop just in case Kit jumped in with a comment, and right now he had to get out what he wanted to say without interruption. He knew he was repeating himself, and that he'd already apologised at least three times for being selfish, and mentioned how comfortable he had felt with Kit, five times after that. He stressed how he hadn't wanted to let go of a good thing. That that was what he meant about being addicted. He'd told Kit more than she ever wanted or needed to know about the past fortnight, and how he'd used the men he picked up to block out the mess he'd made of his life; was continuing to make of it.

‘So,' Jack concluded, ‘here I am, thirty-five years old, with no special partner and no prospect of kids. I'm sat here opposite my closest friend and I feel sick to the pit of my stomach that I've upset her. I'm sorry Kit. Sorry for my behaviour then, sorry for my behaviour now, sorry for not understanding how you felt or how you feel. Sorry for always putting myself first. Sorry.'

Jack collapsed back into his chair, aware he'd probably raised his voice rather too loud for a private conversation, and waited for Kit to react. She was cradling her massive cup, her pen and notebook lay open before her, the meagre amount of words she'd managed that morning had been scribbled out viciously in red pen.

Eventually Kit spoke, ‘Did you mean it?'

‘Which bit?'

‘You said you didn't want a life without me in it.'

‘I meant it. I also meant all the other stuff as well. I need you, Kit.'

She nodded, a resigned expression across her hurt face, ‘and you even wanted me once upon a time, but more than that? Ah, I guess it's back to that old Meat Loaf number, isn't it, Jack. “Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad”, huh?

‘Ouch.'

‘That's exactly what I thought at the time.'

‘But you didn't react then,' Jack could feel his hackles rising, his hands whirling in frustration, ‘you just carried on.'

‘Phil always says I have one major character flaw. He says I'm too nice.'

‘Don't flatter yourself! You're not too nice; you're just taken selflessness to a bloody ridiculous level. You were allowed to argue with me, to tell me off. You were such a fucking martyr. You still are.' Jack was one decibel short of shouting now, earning him a black look from Peggy.