Rachel tucked her new chocolate-brown woolly scarf more tightly around her neck and curled up her fingers inside her mittens. As she passed Ladbrokes’s window she noticed that they were giving six to one odds on snow for Christmas this year. It felt like a good bet.
Someone grasped her shoulder just as she opened the restaurant door. ‘I thought I recognised that hair. Fancy seeing you here!’
She spun around. ‘Hi Janet, hi Donald, perfect timing!’ She kissed her parents’ best friends as they all shed their coats for the cloakroom attendant.
Donald gestured behind them. ‘You remember Jonathan, don’t you?’
Rachel would know their only son anywhere. His hair was still dark, though thinning, and his small eyes still looked suspicious. How could she forget him? He’d stuffed her favourite teddy down the loo. Her parents said she shouldn’t hold a grudge. They’d washed it and declared it good as new. But it was never the same again.
‘Of course. Hello Jonathan.’
‘Jonathan drove us over. With my knee acting up we didn’t want to take the train, and we wouldn’t have missed this restaurant! Darling,’ Janet said to her son, ‘they’re supposed to have the best black cod in London here.’
‘Maybe the best in Wimbledon, Mum, but I doubt it’s the best in London. You haven’t been to Nobu.’
So he was just as arrogant as she remembered.
Janet laughed and shook her head adoringly. ‘My worldly son.’
Rachel had a different adjective in mind.
‘Jonathan, please join us,’ said her mum, Genevieve, as she sprang up from the table.
Rachel felt her excitement slipping away. She’d avoided her mum’s questions about the Zigler project all week, just so she could see her parents’ faces when she told them in person. She couldn’t care less about seeing Jonathan’s face.
‘You’ll love it here,’ Rachel’s mum continued, grasping his arm. ‘The black cod—’
‘Is delicious I’ve heard,’ he deadpanned.
‘Oh yes, please do stay, Jonathan,’ Janet piped up. ‘You did say you had no plans tonight.’
No surprise there, thought Rachel.
‘And you can drive us home later,’ added Donald. Always practical, was Donald.
‘Look, there’s room for six anyway,’ Rachel’s dad said. ‘Next to Rachel.’
‘It must be fate,’ murmured her mum.
‘You look nice, Dad,’ Rachel said. He’d swapped his paint-speckled builder’s jeans for a jacket and tie and his sparse greying hair was neatly combed.
‘Thank you, love, so do you. All set for the renovations to start?’
Inwardly she cringed. ‘All set, Dad. The builders come the first week in January. Thanks again for getting Nate in for us.’
She picked at her napkin.
‘I’m just glad he can do it,’ Genevieve cut in. ‘It’s such a big job. Your clients would never have been able to do without you for that long.’
Rachel flashed her mum a grateful smile.
Her dad nodded. ‘I do have a lot on. I’ve got to get that kitchen wall rebuilt before Christmas. And the retiling.’
As much as Rachel hated even thinking it, her dad wasn’t the greatest builder in the world. It wasn’t that he was unscrupulous. Quite the opposite. He seemed to spend most of his time fixing his mistakes. That was the problem: there were so many to fix. She just hoped his mate Nate would be better.
‘Rachel, you and Jonathan have a lot in common,’ Janet said. ‘You know, Jonathan, Rachel is an architect.’
He didn’t look up from his menu. ‘Mmm.’
‘And Jonathan is an engineer.’
‘Oh? What type?’ Rachel asked, less out of interest than to force him to say something.
‘Architectural.’
‘You practically have the same job,’ said Janet. ‘Isn’t that interesting?’
Jonathan mumbled something.
If she wasn’t already tetchy about him being there, Rachel might have kept quiet.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,’ she said.
‘Nothing.’
‘No, really. What did you say?’
He finally looked at her, his grey eyes unblinking. ‘I said it’s hardly the same job, is it?’
‘Meaning?’
‘Who’s ready to order?’ her dad asked.
‘Meaning that I design buildings and you …’ he smirked, ‘draw with coloured pencils.’
Everyone at the table straightened up at this. Especially Genevieve, who happened to be one of the pre-eminent architects in the country. Jonathan knew this.
What a twat.
‘You’re right, Jonathan. I draw buildings that I’ve designed from the ground up to satisfy my clients. You make the calculations about how close the electrics can go to the sewage pipe. It is hardly the same job.’
She held his gaze. She’d do it all night if she had to.
Finally he looked down.
‘Actually, Mum,’ he said. ‘I don’t see anything here I want so I’m going to take off. I’ll pick you up in two hours. Or you can call me and I’ll come back.’
Without another word, he got up and left the restaurant.
Everyone stared at Rachel like it was her fault.
‘What?’ she said, knowing how defensive she must sound. ‘Shouldn’t I have said anything?’
‘Oh, no, darling,’ Janet said. ‘That was uncalled for. I’m terribly sorry. We just thought that you two might …’
‘Because of your work,’ added Mum.
Rachel stared between them.
So it had come to this. Her parents were trying to find her a date. The sooner she joined RecycLove the better.
The spectre of Jonathan hung over their table after he left, like the smell of boiled Brussels sprouts.
‘So, I have some news,’ Rachel said, handing her menu to the waiter. ‘I’ve been asked to design the building for Zigler.’
‘Oh that’s wonderful!’ Janet cried, clapping her hands even though she probably had no idea what Zigler was.
But Rachel’s mum knew. She pushed her chair back and came round the table to kiss her. ‘Darling, you got it. That is terrific, congratulations!’
Rachel felt her face glowing. Jackass Jonathan was forgotten. It was terrific. The Zigler buildings were getting to be icons in London, not quite on par with the Gherkin or The Shard or some of the buildings her mum had designed. But well-known enough to make her tummy flip every time she thought about it.
She’d worked for almost ten years for this chance. Studied at school till her head ached and said no to second glasses of wine and stayed at the office when everyone else went home. All the stress and sacrifice would be worth it. Finally, she’d prove that she’d inherited some of her mum’s design genes.
She just had to convince James that her idea was better than his.