CLAUDIA
‘Have you decided what we’re doing tonight yet, my gorgeous Salad?’
I grinned. He really was the most ridiculous man. I’d never had a nickname before but John had made short work of that, progressing from Claudia to Coleslaw to Salad before I could stop him. He was even starting to call me Crunch, sometimes.
‘Why Salad?’ I had asked him the first time he said it.
‘Because you’re a particularly crunchy salad,’ he replied, moving swiftly to nibble my earlobes while I shrieked.
To start with, at the beginning of last week, I had made pathetic efforts at hiding the relationship at work but it was futile, as the truckloads of chemistry between us was impossible to shove under the carpet. Even having Mara in hospital couldn’t dampen my excitement when I was around him. I knew people were watching us and talking about us but I was so deliriously happy that I didn’t give a rat’s bum.
‘I don’t mind, we could see that film you want to see, whatsit? Or . . .’ I bit salaciously into a large piece of cherry chocolate cake.
‘Or?’ He cocked an eyebrow at me. ‘Not another night in. Are you sure Salad doesn’t need some fresh air? You don’t want to get wilted leaves.’
I slowly wiped away a sticky chocolate deposit in the corner of my mouth. ‘Oh, I don’t know, I happen to know someone who is good at spritzing,’ I said, then spoiled the whole effect by snorting into my plate. Through my giggles, I noticed a neat, grey pencil skirt hovering next to our table.
‘Hi, Claudia. Erm, hi, John.’
I wiped the grin off my face with my napkin.
‘Hello, Rebecca, how are you?’
‘Oh fine, thanks. You?’ Rebecca smiled her thin smile, her eyes flitting back and forth between John and me.
‘Great, thanks!’
‘How’s Mara doing?’
‘Really well, thanks. She’s on a ward now and should be home in the next couple of days.’ I eyed Rebecca shrewdly. ‘Has Sam been telling you about Mara?’
Rebecca’s cheeks pinked slightly. ‘No, it was . . . Mum.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘Anyway, John, I just came to tell you that your one thirty is running half an hour late so you don’t have to rush your lunch after all.’
John laughed. ‘That’s lucky because I’d completely forgotten I even had a meeting at one thirty. Brilliant news,’ he said, adding, ‘thank you, Rebecca.’
Rebecca nodded and hurried off, obviously keen to get away. We giggled together. How gorgeously hilarious everything was in his company.
‘How’s Rebecca working out for you anyway?’
‘She’s very good at her job . . .’
‘I can hear a but coming . . .’
‘She’s hard to read. I have no idea what’s going on in her head.’
‘Plastic?’
‘No, too bright for that. Extremely reserved. I never hear about life outside of work.’
‘I think her main objective is to be at the right places with the right people, as far as I can tell.’
‘Actually’ – John put a finger in the air as he remembered – ‘last week she did tell me about a concert she’d been to. Surprised me. Seemed a bit rocky for her or something. Who was it . . .’ He looked heavenward as he thought. ‘I know! It was Coldplay.’
‘Oh really? Sam was going to that. But . . .’ – my thoughts ticked backwards to the previous week – ‘with Mara and everything, I haven’t heard her talk about it. Maybe she didn’t go . . . What night did Rebecca go?’
John shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I was only half listening. A Friday or Saturday I think.’
I thought back. Mara got knocked off her bike on the Friday and Sam came straight to the hospital. We were there until quite late. Then, as we were leaving, Sam’s phone started up – ping, ping, ping. It was Charlie, wondering where she was. The night they were meant to see Coldplay. How interesting, I thought, how very interesting indeed.