‘No, I can’t,’ said Hugh, with characteristic bluntness. ‘I have a college dinner this Saturday.’
‘Oh, well, not to worry,’ I sighed. ‘I realised it was very short notice.’
‘Have you recovered from Friday night?’ he asked. ‘That was an unusual experience.’
I leaned forward on my desk and experienced a sudden urge to massage my temples. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it was quite unusual.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I hope you manage to rearrange your Saturday evening. Who else is going to dinner?’
‘As of last night, Jon and Romy. I was going to take Stephen but obviously…’
There was a pause before he spoke. ‘Obviously what?’ he asked.
My grip tightened on the telephone. ‘Obviously, Hugh, I can’t take Stephen because I’ve told him to piss off.’
‘I see, yes.’
‘Sorry,’ I said, rubbing my eyes, ‘I’m just a bit tired.’
‘Hmm,’ he sounded distracted.
‘Go on. You must be busy, with patients to see,’ I sighed. ‘I won’t keep you.’
‘All of my patients, as you call them, are dead,’ said Hugh. ‘They’re in no hurry.’
I smiled but it was beyond me to reward him with laughter. ‘That’s funny, Hugh,’ I said. ‘And I’m being sincere.’
‘You sound disgruntled,’ he said.
‘I am disgruntled,’ I replied.
‘I’ll come,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘I’ll come to dinner with you on Saturday.’
‘But what about your thing?’
‘I’ve thought about it and I would rather come to your thing,’ he said. ‘Now, I have to go because, although all my patients are dead, there are several people waiting for me who are not. Text me all the details and I’ll arrange a taxi for us from your flat.’
‘You don’t have to come just to be nice, you know,’ I said. ‘I don’t want you cancelling something important just because I’m being moody.’
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he said. ‘I would rather come to dinner with you than go to the college dinner, so that’s what I’m going to do.’
‘Oh… OK.’
He said goodbye and, before I could reciprocate, I heard the dialling tone.
I put down the phone, lowered my head and placed my cheek on the cool surface of the desk. It was a surprisingly calming sensation. I took several deep breaths and reflected upon my conversation with Hugh. Perhaps I should be more like him; more straightforward, simplistic, direct. He judged a situation, considered the options, reached a conclusion and then told it like it was. Yes, he could do with a little more humour and tact at times but he had acknowledged these shortcomings and worked hard to address them. Hugh had a clarity of purpose and approach which I envied. He spotted problems and potential problems early and sought speedy, or even pre-emptive, solutions. In contrast, my issues seemed to crash down on me like pianos from first floor windows. By the time I spotted them and thought about dealing with them, they were usually crushing the life-breath out of me.
I lifted my head as I heard Sophie and David climbing the stairs: no conversation, just footsteps.
I smoothed my hair and attempted to appear busy and brisk. ‘Good morning,’ I said brightly as they entered. ‘How did that go?’
David looked at me. ‘Very productive, thank you.’
I looked at Sophie. She offered me a smile and nodded.
‘Marvellous,’ I said.
David went into his office and closed the door. Sophie turned on her computer. I suppressed a rising urge to scream.
‘Your Saturday’s sorted then,’ said Sophie suddenly.
I looked at her. ‘Who told you that?’
‘No one,’ she shrugged. ‘I was just wondering.’
‘Oh.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Yes, it’s all sorted.’
‘Good. So you found someone to take?’
I frowned at her. ‘How did you know that I was looking for someone to take?’
‘I didn’t,’ she smiled. ‘It was an enquiry not a statement. God, I really must work on my intonation.’
I had a sense that she hadn’t quite answered the question posed, but as I didn’t have the energy for arguing semantics, I let it go. ‘I’m taking Hugh, and Jon is taking Romy because he and Suzanna are no longer together.’ Sophie nodded. ‘In any sense,’ I added significantly. ‘She will not be visiting him this weekend.’
She nodded again. For someone so intrigued by the topic just twenty-four hours earlier, she now seemed to be teetering remarkably close to the edge of disinterest.
‘Well,’ I sighed, turning in my chair to face my screen, ‘I’ll be getting on then.’
‘Nothing else to report?’ she asked.
I looked up to find her now peering at me intently. I knew I could trust her implicitly, both to give sensible, considered advice and to be entirely discreet and maintain a confidence. I could, if I chose, confess to her my feelings for Jon, and share the crushing sense of defeat and disappointment I felt upon realising that they weren’t reciprocated. But what would be the point of that? She couldn’t change the situation any more than I could and besides, she had enough worries of her own.
‘Nothing else,’ I said, shaking my head and forcing a smile. ‘Just business as usual.’