Gravitate (38 page)

“It was nothing – any ordinary person
would have done the same thing.
You look frozen, didn’t you wear gloves today?” He’d glanced down and spotted my hands shaking.

“I left them at
Jade’s house last night. And my scarf.
I’m not going there to pick them up, I’ll have to buy some new ones next time I go shopping.”

“Can’t your friend bring them back for you?”

“Then I’d have to e
xplain why I left without them.
She already keeps asking
me what happened last night.
Apparently Tim is in a right state, according to her.”

A flash of ang
er flickered across Sam’s eyes.
“She should h
ave seen the state you were in.
H
e doesn’t deserve any sympathy.
You should tell her what he tried to do.”

“I’d rather just fo
rget about the whole situation.
Where’s this filing you need sorting out?” I spotted the big box in the corner, with ‘to file’ written in black marker pen across the top, but Sam indicated that I should sit down.

“You need a hot drink inside you before you start work – what do you want? I’ll get it for you, you can wait here, it’s the warmest office in the building – don’t tell the others, but I have my thermostat set three degrees higher than anywhere else!” Sam laughed.

“A black coffee would be great, thank you.”

I glanced around the room, taking in the rows of filing cabinets, b
ookshelves, lever arch folders.
Unlike my dad’s office, there weren’t photos everywhere – just a couple in frames on Sam’s desk, which were facing away from me – I didn’t have the nerve to lo
ok at them without permission.

The door creaked as Sam walked back in, bringing the war
ming scent of coffee with him.

“There you go,” he said, handing me the coffee carefully, “so, if you’re still OK to help out, I was wondering if you would put the files in this box into the right cabinets for me?” Sam motioned to the rows of cabinets along the wall, “I’ll be here some of the time if you need any help, but most of the time I’ll be out o
n calls to our different sites.
You’re OK being al
one in here with me aren’t you?
Or you could man the reception desk if you prefer?”

“Why wouldn’t I be OK with being alone with you?” I was surprised at his question and wondered what his thoughts were.

“Well, after what happened to you last night, I could understand if you felt apprehensive about being alone with any man and, well, there are some gossips in this office – you might be the subject of some speculation.” Sam rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed that some members of staff had nothing better to do than share rumours.

“Oh.
Well, you’ve saved me twice now from situations where you could have taken advantage and you’ve been nothing but a gentleman, so I think the first
reason isn’t a problem for me.
As for the second reason, aren’t you married anyway?”

“No, not anymore.
I haven’t
been married for ten years now.
Didn’t Ben mention his step-dad?” He said it so matter-of-factly that I couldn’t see any trace of sadness about the situation.

I scanned my brain and had a dim recollection of Ben speaking of
visiting his mum and step-dad.
I felt bad for r
aising the subject so casually.
“I forgot –
he mentioned him once, I think.
I’m sorry.”

“What for?
Life some
times throws you a tough hand.
You pla
y with the cards you’re dealt.
So now you know you’re alone with a divorced man, is it still OK?”

“Let them gossip.
It’s only for a few days.”

“Great.
I really don’t fancy doing this filing myself, the risk of paper cuts scares me
!” Sam chuckled and I joined in. “B
asically, you just put them in the right file for the letter on the top – you can’t be worse than Andrea – she has to constantly sing the alphabet song when she’s doing it and still p
uts things in the wrong place.
If you have
any problems, just tell me.
I’ve got a meeting in five minutes, but I’ll check back with you as soon as possible.”

“OK, I think I can handle that.” I put my coffee down on the desk and got up to open the box, as Sam gathered up a few papers from his desk and prepared for his meeting.

“I’ll be back soon, finish your coffee first, Claudia, there’s no rush.” He smiled at me as he left and I took h
is advice and sipped my coffee.
I checked my phone to find another message from Jade:

Loo
k I’m really worried about Tim.
He
cried when you text last night.
I’ve nev
er seen him cry before.
He’s jumpy and on edge, and he keeps telling me to tell you he’s sorry.

I didn’t know how to write a reply that
wouldn’t raise more questions.
In the end I settled for typing:

I’m trying to forget about it, tell him to do the same.

I decided to focus on the filing and found the monotonous, repetiti
ve activity strangely soothing.
The only sounds were the rustling of papers and the metallic
gliding of the cabinet drawers.
The work was eas
y, but it made me feel useful.

The door clicke
d and creaked as Sam came back.
I had been bent over, putting a file in the lowest drawer a
nd I turned around to face him.
He smiled when he saw me and I smiled back.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Fine, I’ve put away about half the box so far, how was your meeting?”

“Boring.
Sub-contractors are always moaning ab
out something.
I stopped on the way
back and bought you something.
Just a little thank you for your help today.”

He produced a gift bag from behind his back and beamed at me.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, walking over to take the bag from him.

“I wanted to, you deserve something nice.”

I opened up the gift bag, uncovering somethin
g soft wrapped in tissue paper.
I unwrapped the paper to find a black cashmere scarf with matching gloves and a hat.

“They’re beautiful, Sam, you really didn’t have to, but thank you so much.”

“Now you don’t have to worry about the stuff you left at your friend’s house.”

“Thank you,
it’s really thoughtful of you.”
I felt overwhelmed – they were clearly expensive pieces and, considering I’d only put in a couple of hours of work, I wasn’t sure I deserved them.

“Did you stop for lunch?” Sam asked.

“Oh, no, what time is it?” I hadn’t even realised that I was hungry.

“It’s gone two – you should have stopped to eat.”

“Did you stop to eat?” I had a hunch that he hadn’t, he looked worn out.

“Well, no, but…point taken.
Come on then, grab your coat
, I’m taking you out to lunch.”
Sam put his briefcase down on the desk and headed for the office door again.

“Then people really will start gossiping.”

“What was it you said this morning
? Let them gossip?”

“Point taken,” I echoed, and smiled, “where are we going?”

“I know just the place.”

With me in a less delicate state, Sam’s driving was
flashier than the night before.
He overtook on lanes where I didn’t think it was particularly safe and went much fast
er than the speed limit stated.
At first, I felt nervous, particularly when he pulled out a junct
ion with a lorry coming along.
I was on the verge of telling him to slow down, to remember how my parents had died, but then I got used to the pace of
his driving and relaxed a bit.
It even became fun wh
en we overtook the slower cars.
I noticed the glances of jealousy that some people, mostly men, gave
to the speedy, red convertible.
We pulled up in the car park of a quaint looking pub.

“Do you always drive like that?” I asked him, as I negotiated walking on the gravel surface in my heels.

“Not when I have distressed ladies
in the car, but otherwise, yes.
Do you need a hand?” Sam watched me wobble towards the entrance.

“I’m fine, nearl
y there. Who invented gravel anyway?
Who thought – hmmm, let’s make a floor covering out of little pebbles and make it impossible for women in heels to walk on it?” I stretched my leg out to stand on a paving stone, grateful for its stability.

“The grave
l guy must have been an idiot.
Have you been here before?”

I shook my head.
“It’s looks cute.”

“Don’t let the appearance fool you, the food is exquisite, and wait until you try the dessert. The crème brulee is to die for.”

“Sounds great.” I smiled.
I hadn’t been o
ut for a nice meal for months.
I’d always enjoyed going to restaurants with my parents and, on occasions, with my friends, but recently I seemed to be staying in all the time.

We walked through the entrance into a bar area that wouldn’t have looked out of place in
London
, excep
t for the fact it was deserted.
There were marble bars, stone floors and subtle down-ligh
ts providing a soft, warm glow.
Comfy looking, but
smart, sofas adorned the room.
One man was behind the bar, writing in a large book, he glanced up at us and appe
ared to recognise Sam at once.
He smiled brightly.

“Sam, welcome again, how nice to see you.” The barman held out his hand to Sam, who warmly shook it. 

“Darren
, here, is the manager of the Black Horse, I worked with him quite closely when we designed the extension and
renovation work, two years ago. Darren
, this is Cla
udia Lee - Claudia, this is Darren
.”

I smiled as Darren
shook my hand. “Ah, Bobby’s daughter?” he said.

I nodded, but Sam rescued me from having to talk further. “She’s learning about the company and I thought we’d come here for lunch so she could see the changes for herself – combine business and pleasure, if you will.”

“Certainly, Sam, we haven’t any other diners at the moment, you missed the lunchtime rush, so you can take your pic
k of tables in the restaurant.” Darren
walked out from behind the bar and led us to
a bright, airy restaurant area.
I didn’t notice the furniture at first, as my eyes were instantly drawn to the glass ceiling – a combination of clear and blue glass had been used, and th
e effect made the room sparkle. Darren saw me looking at the ceiling.
“That was your dad’s idea – nearly everybody has
their breath taken away by it.
Where would you like to sit?”

Sam led the way to a table for four, slightly to one side, near full-length windows looking out over a frozen lake surrounded by a ba
ckdrop of weeping willow trees.
The view could have been used on a Christmas card.

“Picturesque, isn’t it?” Sam asked me and I nodded, slightly lost for words
. “Y
our dad wanted to make sure all the diners could appreciate the views, so he insisted on the windows being full-length – it cost more, but
you can’t buy views like this.
Do you like it?”

“I love it,” I whispered, even though we were the only ones in the ro
om.
I wasn’t sure
where Darren had disappeared to.
I realised that Sam and I were standing quite close together – the carefully maintained space he’d kept between us, last night and at the office, had disinte
grated in this relaxed setting.
He seemed to notice at the same time as me and automatically moved away from me, but his closen
ess hadn’t had an impact on me.
It didn’t make me feel excited, like being close to Marty, but it also didn’t repulse me
as being close to Tim had done.
I just felt nothing.

Darren
reappeared from a doorway, accompanied by a man in black and white checked tro
users and a white chef’s tunic.
I’d never seen a chef leave the kitchen to come into the restaurant before.

“Claudia, this is Marcus
, he’s the head chef here.” Darren
introduced me to Marcus, who held his hand out to shake mine.