Claire was supposed to be doing some work on Peggy’s Paris proposal trip. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed in her pyjamas. Her laptop was balanced—unsurprisingly—on her lap and the TV was on low, switched to a baking show.
What she was actually doing instead of working or watching the towering sugar-work creations on the screen was fretting about Nick. It had been a lovely surprise to see him the day before. She’d really missed their chatty little email conversations when they stopped, and she hadn’t realised just what a rush of endorphins she’d get at seeing him in the flesh again. She went a little bit tingly just thinking about it.
This isn’t the right time to be planning a romantic trip.
That’s what he’d said, hadn’t he? But what the heck did it mean? The question kept chewing away at her, preventing her from concentrating on anything else for more than five seconds. She was driving herself crazy.
At first, he’d just been a nice-looking guy. Maybe a little bit shallow, but attractive all the same. Someone she’d have been happy to flirt with, maybe go out on a few dates with. For her, that was big, big progress. But then he’d gone and ruined it all by revealing he was a nice-looking guy with a girlfriend. A serious girlfriend, if he was going to expend all that money and time and energy booking her a surprise trip.
That had been fine too. She’d been able to handle that.
Or at least she had until he’d gone and started opening up to her, showing her just what was under the ‘nice-looking, but shallow’ tip to his iceberg, until she’d really started to like what she’d seen.
He could be thoughtful and intuitive. He was very observant, although she’d bet he didn’t realise that was one of his strengths, and, when he put his mind to it, he could be very romantic indeed. It was strange … He possessed all these qualities, but it was obvious that he was more than a little rusty in using them, even though he was in a serious relationship. Why?
She sighed. She really shouldn’t want to know. Because the more she thought about him, the sicker she felt that some other cow had got to him first. But …
It’s not the right time for a romantic trip.
Did that mean there was trouble in paradise?
And was she the lowest form of human scum for being just a little bit elated at that thought?
She buried her face in her hands and let out a frustrated shout. Between her fingers, on screen, she could see that someone’s spun sugar tower had crashed to the studio floor. She rubbed her face, breathed in and sat up straight, returning her fingers to her keyboard.
She’d just fire off an email to him.
Not to ask about the girlfriend, of course. That would be truly unprofessional. However, if he got a little chatty with his reply and let something interesting slip … Well, that could hardly be considered her fault.
From: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
To: nica453@monstermail.com
Subject: Sorry
Dear Nick,
I wanted to apologise again for dashing out on you yesterday. It was lovely to bump into you …
Claire bit her lip. ‘Lovely to bump into you?’ Did that sound too keen? She backspaced.
What a coincidence seeing you there.
Yes. That was better.
I would like to ask you a couple of things about your upcoming holiday, especially now …
She’d been going to type ‘it’s not going to be a romantic holiday’, but that sounded far too blunt. Heck, how did she put this without sounding either insensitive or nosy. Or both? She sighed and carried on.
… especially now the focus …
Yes, that was a good word.
… of your trip has changed. You can either email me back, or you can call me or drop in at the office, whichever is more convenient.
Claire
P.S. I realise I forgot to ever tell you the story of why those chips were so romantic. If you want to know, you just have to ask …
She resisted the urge to add a little ‘x’ after her name and pressed send. There. A totally cool and professional email – mostly. Her halo was still intact.
About a minute later, her inbox pinged. She instantly clicked on the reply.
From: nica453@monstermail.com
To: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
Subject: RE: Sorry Hi Claire,
Seriously, there’s nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t as if we’d arranged an appointment. Take me up on a rain check for that coffee, though. I mean it.
Claire, who’d leaned forward to read Nick’s reply, sank back against her pillows. He was asking her out for coffee? Did that sound like a guy who was currently involved with someone else? Or was he just trying to be friendly? Maybe he just wanted to keep her sweet so she got the best possible deals for him. Argghh! Who could tell?
So what disaster of Doug’s took you away from me? I’d bet a hundred quid and my left kidney that it had something to do with his mother. Have you ever met her? Picture me shuddering!
P.S. I am practically exploding with curiosity about the chips! You have to put me out of my misery.
Claire’s heart soared at the sight of that extra letter after his usual sign-off. Calm down, she told herself. Maybe he does that all the time. Maybe he just forgot he was talking to you and not someone he was close friends with.
But, still …
She smiled as she typed her reply.
From: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
To: nica453@monstermail.com
No, I’ve never met her, but I feel as if I have! Not only does Doug go on about her constantly, but I’ve been (un)lucky enough to see the holiday pics. Doug emailed me loads to prove what a wonderful time they’d had.
This latest crisis was to do with the first-class menu on the airline I was proposing, one that Mrs B. had never used before. She’s always a bit wary of aeroplane food after being served something yellow and spongy she couldn’t identify on a trip back from Indonesia. Apparently, the uncertainty of what lay on her plate spoiled her whole journey and much of the rest of her year.
I’ve tried to explain to her that one can’t get airline menus three months in advance, but she’s not taking no for an answer.
C.
Her finger hovered above the ‘x’ on her keyboard. His might have been a throwaway gesture. Completely platonic. Knowing hers was not made her chicken out.
Nick’s reply pinged back quickly.
From: nica453@monstermail.com
To: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
Did you manage to solve the problem in the end? And please don’t leave me hanging about the chips. It’s the sort of thing a guy like me might actually be able to pull off!
Claire typed again.
From: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
To: nica453@monstermail.com
I’m hoping providing some sample menus may soothe her worries. Otherwise she wants to book with someone else, which is doable, but it’ll cost more and involve an extra connection, which means they’ll lose another half day of the holiday.
Don’t suppose you fancy a trip to the Cook Islands? That would solve all our problems. I could do you and Doug a great group discount rate. You could share a villa ;-)
And if you want to know about the chips you may well have to bribe me with wine …
She closed her eyes and pressed ‘send’, then winced. Had that been too much? Had she been too cheeky, too forward?
From: nica453@monstermail.com
To: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
Ha ha. I think I’d rather take a three-week tour of the London sewer system than spend that amount of time with Doug’s mother.
Besides, I’d like to go somewhere I’ve never been before. And I reckon the wine thing is totally doable. :-)
Claire’s pulse did a little skip. They’d always been playful and chatty in their emails, but did this mean they were now flirting? It was a pity she couldn’t type lying down, because suddenly she’d come over a little dizzy.
From: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
To: nica453@monstermail.com
You’ve been to the Cook Islands? I’m so jealous. Is it really as lovely as the pictures in the brochures?
Btw, the sewer tour could be arranged, if you really want it. ;-) And you could take me out for that drink afterwards.
Oh, Lord. She hoped her instincts about the disappearing girlfriend were right, otherwise she was being very, very bad indeed.
From: nica453@monstermail.com
To: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
Yep. It really is that lovely. White sand, waving palm trees, crystal water. The one place I’ve been where the brochure pics really don’t need any retouching. Unless you’re there during monsoon season. Then it’s not quite so much fun.
Btw, let’s forget the sewers and just do the wine.
From: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
To: nica453@monstermail.com
I could see that about the Cook Islands! Anyway …
Claire paused. She needed to ask this question. Even from a professional point of view she needed to ask this question, but the fact her request for information also had a personal edge made her feel a little shaky. She had to know for sure before they kept going like this. She took a deep breath and carried on typing.
… When you said you were changing the type of trip you wanted to book, was it just the overall feel, the romantic element? Or are there other changes?
From: nica453@monstermail.com
To: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
What kind of changes?
Claire swallowed.
From: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
To: nica453@monstermail.com
Like the number of people going.
There. She’d said it.
Are we still booking for two?
She pressed send.
A minute or two passed. Gran’s big old sunburst clock on the wall seemed to tick extra loudly. Claire began to get worried that she’d overstepped the mark. Had she? It had seemed an obvious question to ask, given the way the conversation had been going. She’d tried to tell herself she’d have asked it anyway, even if she hadn’t been nursing this silly crush, but she wasn’t sure if she was kidding herself or not.
Quite a few minutes slipped past and it got to the point where she suspected she’d just prompted another patch of radio silence from Nick, maybe even lost herself a customer, so when her email alert pinged quarter of an hour later she almost jumped out of the little dent she’d made for herself in her stacked-up pillows.
From: nica453@monstermail.com
To: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
Good question. And one I really should have made clear before now. I didn’t realise I hadn’t.
Yes, things have changed.
Claire’s heart began to beat double time.
I’m looking at a trip for one now.
She punched the air in triumph, but then realised that was a really insensitive thing to do, even if Nick couldn’t see her.
Oh, Lord, she wanted to ask a million questions. All of them nosy. All of them inappropriate. Her fingers itched to commit every single one of them in writing. Instead, she composed something that sounded sympathetic rather than predatory, because, seriously, what guy was going to respond to a girl who threw herself at him when he was at his most low?
Okay, so a lot of guys would take that opportunity, but Nick wasn’t one of those guys, was he? He wasn’t shallow, only out for a quick fling; his devotion to his ex while he’d been trying to plan her dream holiday had proved that.
Stupid woman. Didn’t she know what she’d thrown away?
From: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
To: nica453@monstermail.com
I’m so sorry to hear that.
And, despite her personal interest, she truly was. She knew how hard it was when a relationship you’d invested your whole self in ended, even if it wasn’t a good one. Even if it was a toxic one.
She exhaled and sank further into her pillows.
Wow. She hadn’t realised it before, but she could feel the ripples of that pain still reverberating from her break-up with Philip, even though she’d known it was the best thing for both of them, even though she’d felt so free at the time.
She started to type again, this time not thinking about what she wanted from Nick, but about what she could give him.
I know I can’t make the situation any better for you, but I can book you a wonderful relaxing holiday to help give you time to lick your wounds and come back refreshed and ready to get on with life.
In that case, I recommend we stick to Europe. No long-haul flights. Pretty easy choices with currency. Lots of great culture and perfect weather this time of year, before the summer starts to bake too hard. What do you think?
And, Nick? If you ever … Well, if you ever need a friendly ear, someone to talk to. You know I’m here.
C. x
She didn’t know why she’d written that last bit, but she’d hit send on automatic before she’d been able to stop herself. It was out there now. Nothing she could do to call it back.
She waited again. The show on the TV had changed to a nature documentary while she hadn’t been paying attention. Darn. She was going to have to go and see who won that round of the baking show on catch-up.
From: nica453@monstermail.com
To: clairebixby@farfaraway.com
Thanks. N. x
His last email was proof enough that he was still feeling raw. Just that one word. And he’d proved himself a pretty chatty guy up until that point. It was time to draw this to a close this evening, wasn’t it? She’d said enough.
She composed one last email, saying she’d be in touch during the week with some ideas for his trip. She signed it without the ‘x’ she’d boldly added to her previous message and then closed down her laptop and put it on her dressing table without waiting for a reply, then she picked up the little throw cushion she kept on her bed and hugged it to herself.