Another Cup of Coffee (19 page)

As she walked to work Amy had resolved to try extra hard to get on with Kit. She was under pressure, worried about Scott, and was evidently having her own personal crisis Jack-wise. If she was involved in creating that, then Amy was sorry, but it wasn't her fault. Amy was determined to prove to Kit that she was a nice person.

As she approached the café door Amy noticed that the kitchen light was already on. Kit must be here. ‘Here we go,' Amy mumbled into her scarf as she crossed the café's threshold.

Stepping off the train, Jack reflected on the evening he'd shared with Amy. They'd overindulged on spicy chicken pizza with anchovies, drunk too much wine and watched
The Bodyguard,
laughing and groaning at its sheer corniness in turn. It had been so comfortable, he'd been reminded of the apt, but wholly unflattering, ‘pair of old slippers' metaphor. Now it was morning. Time to work with Kit and Amy in the same space. He desperately hoped that it would be frantically busy, so that they wouldn't have time to talk to each other. The last thing Jack wanted was for Kit to find out about their cosy night in. There was nothing wrong with it, but he didn't think Kit knowing about it would help right now.

Although the initial greetings between herself, Amy, and Jack had been rather stilted, Kit had to admit that the day was going well. Morning coffee had come and gone without a hitch, and now the last lunchtime customers were tucking into her sandwiches. Amy was wiping over the tables as each one emptied, and Jack was charming the customers at the till. Kit had barely had time to think, which she considered, was probably a good thing.

Jack encroached on her thoughts. ‘Is this a good time to call the hospital?'

‘Could be, I'll give them a try.' A new wave of guilt washed over Kit. She'd been so consumed with feeling bad about upsetting Phil, that she'd almost forgotten why she had been making sandwiches in the first place.

The phone rang for ages before it was answered. The nurse sounded even sleepier than Kit as she reported that there is no change in Mr McIntyre's condition. Kit bit back her frustration. She wanted proper news.

‘Would you tell Mrs McIntyre that Mrs Lambert will be in to see them both later?'

‘Of course, I'm heading that way soon anyway.'

‘Thank you nurse.' Kit hung up, and went back into the now much quieter café.

‘What news?' Amy paused in her labours.

‘Nothing really. He's the same.'

Amy felt awkward, not sure what to say. It all sounded like platitudes, but the gap in conversation made her speak anyway. ‘Well, that's good, isn't it? Better than being worse.'

‘I'm going to head to the hospital later. I'm sure Peggy could do with some company.' Kit spoke quietly, her eyes cast to the floor.

Jack came over and took hold of Kit's hands as they hung limply at her sides. ‘What else is up? Apart from Scott.'

‘Else?' Kit rubbed her forehead, ‘Well, I've got a splitting headache for a start.'

‘I'm not surprised. You've probably got severe caffeine withdrawal. Comes from serving it, and not drinking it,' Jack poured her a mug brimming with coffee, ‘but I didn't mean that. You've hardly said a word all day.'

Jack gestured to Amy to see if she would deal with two customers that had were steering laden shopping bags towards a table, and lead Kit back into the privacy of the kitchen. ‘This is silly, Kit. Let's call a truce. You and I have a great friendship. Why are you so determined to ruin it?'

‘Me? You're the one. Why didn't you tell me about her?' Kit pointed an accusing finger towards the main café.

‘Oh for God's sake! Change the bloody record. I told you,' Jack's expression reminded Kit of Phil when he was trying to keep his temper, ‘Amy was the past. My business. My guilt. Something that I have to deal with. And I
will
deal with it. On my own.'

After a brief pause Kit spoke, so quietly that Jack had to strain to hear her. ‘I tried to explain how I felt to Phil last night, about all this.'

‘And?'

Kit stared at the floor, shame filling her, ‘I didn't put things very well and he stormed out.'

‘What!' Jack couldn't believe it. Phil was such a level-headed guy.

‘He came back about midnight and slept on the sofa. When I got up this morning, he'd already gone out.'

‘What on earth did you say to him?'

‘I'm not that sure anymore. I think I told him I was jealous of Amy.'

‘Well, I think we've established that. Why did that upset Phil?'

‘He got it into his head that I'm in love with you.' Kit mumbled the words, unable to meet Jack's gaze.

Jack spoke cautiously. ‘But you're not. Are you?'

‘No. Not anymore. But I was, years ago, and lately, well, all this forever-suppressed stuff is coming out, and it seems to be preventing me from thinking straight.'

‘Bloody hell, Kit, you're such an idiot.'

‘I know.' Kit thumped down on the stool next to the sink. ‘Jack?'

‘Yes, honey?'

‘I do love Phil. I love you too though, but not like I did.'

‘I know that.' Jack held her quivering body as Kit dissolved into the tears she'd held back all day. Through her sobs Kit said, ‘And I feel so guilty about being so self-centred when Scott is lying in that hospital bed.'

Amy came into the kitchen to ask for two toasted teacakes, but Jack put his finger to his lips. Instantly understanding, Amy quietly retreated, politely telling the customers in question that there was a small problem with the toaster. Perhaps they would like some fruit cake instead?

‘Kit,' Jack eventually prised her away from his shoulder, ‘we're here for Peg.'

‘I know. I shouldn't be doing this. I should be thinking about Scott.'

Jack passed her a tissue. ‘Why don't you head off to the hospital now? Peggy will be pleased to see you, and it'll put your own problems into perspective.'

‘Can you guys cope here?'

‘Of course we can. Go on. Go and tell them that Pickwicks is still standing.' Without waiting for Kit to reply, Jack left her alone, while he told Amy that they would be two handed for the remainder of the afternoon.

‘Give them our love, won't you.' Amy called out a few moments later, as Kit pulled off her borrowed apron and grabbed her coat.

‘Of course,' Kit headed to the door, turning as she got there, ‘and thank you. Both of you. See you tomorrow?'

‘Definitely,' Amy smiled. Perhaps Kit wasn't so bad. Tomorrow she'd try and find five minutes to talk to her properly. Maybe she'd ask her about her writing? Peggy said she wrote really good stuff.

Thirty-three

October 25
^th
2006

Jack carried the last tray of dirty cups and saucers into the kitchen, and passed them to Amy, who stacked them in the dishwasher.

‘Have you got the number for Home Hunters on you?'

‘Sure. What do you want it for?' Amy stood up and punched the washing up machine into life.

‘Kit's husband, Phil. I want to talk to him.'

Amy dried her hands across her apron and fetched her bag. ‘It's in here somewhere.' Rifling through the entire contents of her bag, she eventually found the business card she was looking for squashed next to a half-eaten packet of mints, crumpled and inexplicably damp. ‘Here you go.'

‘Thanks.' Jack flicked the card between his fingers, ‘I may be about to help Kit out.'

‘Or?'

‘I may be about to drop her even further into the shit.'

‘Ah.' Amy regarded him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

He beamed back at her, ‘You aren't going to tell me to keep my nose out are you?'

‘Nope. But if you need someone to bandage your soon-to-be-broken nose, then come round later.'

Jack laughed as he hung up the last tea towel of the day and checked he'd secured the takings correctly. ‘I may well do that.'

Phil hadn't sounded too thrilled with the prospect of meeting up after work, but then why would he be? Jack tapped the coaster his coffee should have been stood on against the edge of the table; he knew his charm wasn't going to work this time, but he had to say something. He owed it to Kit. She'd bailed him out enough times over the years.

When Phil eventually appeared, twenty minutes late, Jack was reading an ancient Sunday supplement that someone had left on the table.

‘Sorry; last-minute call I couldn't ignore.' Phil sat down, keeping his coat on in a clear, “I'm not hanging around” gesture.

Noting the unspoken statement, Jack asked, ‘Drink?'

‘No. What do you want, Jack?'

Jack put his own mug down with a thump, ‘What I don't want is my best friend and the man she loves, i.e.
you
, to be arguing because once upon a time I screwed up.'

‘You really are an arrogant bastard. What gives you the right to …?'

‘Nothing gives me the right. Not a thing,' Jack raised his voice over Phil's cracking temper, ‘except that I know that Kit loves you and the twins more than anything.'

‘More than you?' Phil accused sharply.

‘Christ, yes!' Jack snorted, ‘Don't get infected by her insanity, Phil. This is all a confidence thing, or lack of. None of it is about how she feels about you. I don't really think it's about me either.'

‘Then what the hell is it about?'

‘Her. Everything around Kit seems changed to her. She thought she understood and accepted her past, Amy turns up and she begins to question it all. Not us, but herself.
Her
role in her own life.'

‘That's all bollocks, Jack.'

‘No it isn't. You know it isn't.' Jack got up from his seat, ‘I'm going to get you some tea, now sit down for a minute and think about it.'

When Jack returned with his pot of tea, Phil inclined his head in thanks, but sat silent. What Jack had said made no sense, but he had a nagging feeling that it was at least partially true.

Eventually, as he poured out his tea, Phil spoke, ‘One of the things I first loved about Kit was that she was the most illogical woman I'd ever met.'

‘Sounds about right.' Jack couldn't help but smile as Phil continued.

‘When we first got together, she said I'd saved her from a road to nowhere.'

Jack knew that that had been a long ago reference to his relationship with Kit, but simply said, ‘Talking Heads'

‘Sorry?'

‘Kit loved that song, “Road to Nowhere”, it was by Talking Heads.'

‘Ah, yes. You and your lyrics.' Phil sipped his tea, ‘I made Kit a CD, you know. Thought it might help. I expect she told you.'

‘No. She hasn't told me much lately. I bet she loved it.'

‘She did.' Phil's eyes twinkled as he recalled their wonderful evening together.

Sensing that he was beginning to win the argument, Jack pushed further, ‘You don't want to give up on all that do you?'

‘Of course I don't.' Phil heaved a sigh as he put his cup down.

‘Phil?'

‘Yes?'

‘As I'm here, putting my life on the line by speaking out of turn, tell me, when are you going to give up the business?'

‘What?' Phil was surprised by the sudden change of subject.

‘You're bored.'

‘How the hell do you know that?'

‘That was something Kit did tell me.'

Phil studied the table, concentrating on the tan liquid shimmering in his mug, ‘I didn't think she'd noticed.'

Jack sat up decisively, ‘It's time you two had a proper talk to each other. Is Kit going back to the hospital tonight?'

‘I don't know.'

‘How about I babysit and you go out for dinner? Actually spend some time together as Kit and Phil, and not Mum and Dad.'

‘You?' Phil was unable to keep the shock out of his voice.

‘Yes, me.' Jack was affronted, ‘I have a niece and nephew about the same age as your two, I do know the drill. Anyway, I'm their godfather. I should spend more time with them.'

‘I'm not sure, Jack …'

‘Look Phil,' Jack put down his empty mug, ‘call my mobile if you want. It's a genuine offer. If not tonight, one night very soon.'

‘OK. Thanks. It'll depend on Kit; and on Peggy of course.'

Jack pulled his jacket back on as he asked, ‘Heard anything new about Scott today?'

‘Not a thing. Each time I dialled the hospital the line was engaged. I'll ask Kit when I get home.'

‘You are going home then?'

‘Of course I am.'

‘Good.

Phil added, only semi-grudgingly, ‘Thanks, Jack.'

‘Any time.'

Phil pushed his chair back to go. ‘I still think you're a shifty bastard though.'

Feeling as if they'd called a truce after years of uncertainty, Jack laughed as Phil downed the remains of his tea, ‘Oh I am, Phil. I am.'

Thirty-four

October 25
^th
2006

Kit looked guiltily at the takeaway boxes slowly heating in the oven. Since she'd been so mixed-up over Jack, as well as working all day at Pickwicks, she hadn't cooked much at home beyond the twins' beloved fish fingers and potato waffles for quite some time.

Glancing at her watch, Kit stood at the kitchen window watching for Phil. It was nearly eight o'clock already. Where was he? Surely he'd come home tonight? The twins had already had their bedtime stories and were tucked up for the night. Kit had told them that Daddy had a late meeting and that he'd see them in the morning. She hoped that was true.

The fresh notebook, with her novel in progress safely scribbled inside, sat by the kettle. Picking it up, Kit thumbed through the pages. Re-reading snatches of her work she felt a rush of satisfaction. Kit knew what she'd written was good, and she badly wanted to get back to it. Sitting at the kitchen table, Kit took up a pen and began to write.