Authors: Rhoda Baxter
Tags: #Romance, #England, #Patents, #Contemporary Romance
"I won't take no for an answer," he said.
Deciding she had nothing to lose by getting to know him a bit better, Jane went with
him.
They passed the row of high street shops and bagel bars where she normally bought
lunch. Keith ushered her past an impressive looking, pink stone building and down a lane. It
opened into a crowded streetmarket. There were stalls selling cheap jumpers. A man in a
tracksuit shouted his wares, his breath condensing in the cold air. Men and women in suits
rummaged through stalls selling imitation designer goods. Stallholders stood around
chatting.
"Leather Lane market," Keith said. He led her past various stalls, and finally guided
her through a gap between a man selling jewellery and a dreadlocked woman who was selling
dried fruit.
The front of the Moroccan café bore brightly coloured sheets of paper
announcing meals for a few pounds. When the door opened to let a group of women out, Jane
and Keith squeezed inside.
The shop was beautifully warm and the air was heavy with the smell of cinnamon
and cumin. On one side was a counter with steaming tureens of stew. Opposite it plastic tables
were crammed together, with people huddled around them, laughing and chatting as they
tucked into plates heaped with couscous and sauce. The place was filled with voices and the
clatter of cutlery.
Keith leaned close to speak in her ear. "What would you like?"
Jane pointed at an appetising looking vegetable stew.
"I'll get it," said Keith. "You find us a table. There's more room at the back."
She headed in the direction he pointed. The back room was small and equally
crowded. As she hovered by the doorway, a couple finished their meal and stood up. She
immediately grabbed their vacated table.
As she waited she stacked up the used plates and wiped the table. Doing so reminded
her of having been a waitress in her student days. Looking 'round, she felt a wave of nostalgia.
This was the sort of place she and Ashby would have gone to for lunch as a treat. He had been
fun and interesting, not the self-absorbed pop brat he now was.
Jane imagined Marshall here with her. She could see similarities between him and the
Ashby she'd fallen for all those years ago. It was an unsettling thought.
A waiter whisked the stack of plates away. He wiped the table down with a wet cloth,
leaving a slippery smear behind. "Enjoy your meal," he said.
Jane folded her hands on her lap, not touching the tabletop. She knew she shouldn't
compare Marsh to Ashby, but she couldn't help it. She thought about the night before. In some
ways, Marsh and Ashby were very different indeed.
She was still smiling when Keith arrived with two heaped plates. She reached for her
purse to pay for hers, but he dismissed it with a wave. "I know you've got cashflow problems
until your new cards come through. So, tuck in. It's on me."
"Thanks." Just as she raised her first forkful to her mouth, her phone rang. Marsh's
name came up on the display. Mouthing "Excuse me" to Keith, she answered it.
"Hi, it's me. Marsh." He paused, as though unsure what to say. "Um...are you in the
office at the moment?"
"No."
"Great. Listen, I was wondering..."
"Yes..." Jane prompted.
"Would you like to come over to my place for the weekend? We could loaf around
town a bit and...do stuff."
Keith was making a great show of pretending he wasn't listening. She wondered how
much of what Marsh was saying was audible to Keith. "That sounds good."
There was a short silence from the other end. "Is there someone else there?"
"Oh yes." She felt oddly guilty that she was out with another man, and reminded
herself that she and Marshall weren't really an item yet. And she was only having lunch with a
colleague. It wasn't like a date. She knew Marshall and Keith didn't see eye to eye, but that
was no reason for her not to interact with Keith. After all, Marshall's dislike could be
misplaced.
"Okay. I'd best let you go then," Marshall said. "I'll call you after work this evening
and we'll sort out a time to meet. See you later."
"Yes. Thanks for calling," she said, trying to sound casual for Keith's benefit.
"Bye."
"That was the estate agent," she said as she put her phone away. She hoped it
sounded convincing. "I'm looking for a place to stay."
"Really? I thought you were staying with a friend."
"I am, sort of. It's her spare room; she normally uses it as a study, so it's really tiny.
There's barely room to walk around the bed. It's a bit like being a student again." She picked
up her fork and started to eat. The food was surprisingly good. "This is lovely."
"Isn't it?" said Keith. "I come here a lot. Although, it's much more fun in company. I
usually end up getting a takeaway and having it back at work."
Again Jane wondered if he was lonely.
"I bet you don't get this sort of diversity up in Yorkshire," he said.
"Lancashire," she corrected. "I'm from Manchester. That's in Lancashire."
Keith shrugged. "Sorry, I've never really got to grips with the difference. I'm a
London boy, you see. The rest of the country is just 'not London' to me." He grinned, as if to
take the sting out of his words.
As the meal went on, they talked about work and life. For some reason Keith had
stopped trying to make a pass at her. Without the threat of lechery, Jane found he was
surprisingly good company. When it was time to go back, she was genuinely sorry.
"You know Jane," said Keith, as they walked back to the office, "I think we got off
on the wrong foot. I know I can come across as a little...brash. It's like a nervous tick I have
when I meet new people. I open my mouth and this horrendous crap comes out. It takes me a
while to relax and be myself, if you see what I mean."
She had suspected as much and felt sorry for judging him too hastily. She was glad
she hadn't let herself be influenced by Marshall's prejudices and had taken the time to talk to
Keith. "That's okay. I wasn't offended by your anti-Northern stance."
"Oh that was for real," he said, grinning. "Can't stand Yorkshiremen."
Jane laughed too. "Nowt good never came out of Yorkshire," she said solemnly.
"'Cept road to Lancashire."
Keith roared with laughter. "Is that a real saying?"
"Oh yes. Us Lancashire folk don't get on with Yorkshire folk. Well known fact."
"What, county rivalry? Like Kent and Essex?"
"If you like."
"Brilliant. I shall have to remember that," Keith said, as they arrived at the entrance
to their building. "Now, alas, I have to love you and leave you. I've got to get this opinion
written by tomorrow and I haven't read half the documents yet." He held the door open for
her. "It was nice talking to you properly. We should do this again sometime."
Jane nodded. "That would be nice," she said. And meant it.