‘Josh tells me you did well in Copenhagen.’ Megan sipped at her shop-bought coffee out of a cardboard cup. She had no idea how much better it would have tasted in a pretty blue earthenware mug. Or how well a kanelsnegle would have gone down with it.
I shifted in my seat, it was uncomfortable and that wasn’t just a saddle hangover. Eva’s chairs were comfortable. Everything in Copenhagen had been comfortable.
‘Apparently, they were a tricky bunch.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘He said Avril Baines-Hamilton was a complete diva.’
My jaw tightened. Megan didn’t even know Avril.
‘But of course, the important thing, the real proof of the pud, will be the press coverage. That’s what we’re going to be judged on.’
I nodded more interested in the sunlight slanting in through the window above her head. Outside a patch of brilliant blue sky contrasted with the yellow folder on her desk. The colours of Nyhaven. Those tall buildings along the harbourside. What was the weather like there, this morning? If it was the same as here, it would be glorious. Lovely out on a boat. Bobbing on the water. Past the Opera House.
I looked longingly out the window behind Megan’s head, wanting to throw it open and let in some fresh air.
‘How do you feel the trip went?’ Her pen tapped on the desk and she crossed her legs and then uncrossed them again. ‘Honestly.’
Megan’s patience with my daydreaming was nearing its expiration limit.
‘The trip was great. The journalists all got along well. They enjoyed it.’
‘Of course, they did. Being wined and dined at great expense. Which reminds me, make sure you hand in all the paperwork to accounts.’ Her lips pursed. ‘I’ve been debating the wine cellar business. At least we’ve got Conrad over a barrel … no pun intended … if he doesn’t play ball we’ll send him an invoice for the wine.’
‘I don’t think you need to worry about that. Did you know he’s a renowned expert in furniture design? He got a huge amount out of the trip.’ I smiled to myself. I must drop him an email to find out what he had done about the lecturing idea.
‘Don’t we know it. Several bottles of Chateau Neuf du Pape,’ snapped Megan. ‘And I’m not sure how him being an expert on obscure furniture is going to translate into measurable results.’ She stared hard at me. ‘Are you alright, Kate? You don’t seem very on the ball this morning.’
‘Sorry. Still a bit tired. It was a long week.’
She softened, infinitesimally. ‘Well, you’ll have a lot of catching up to do as well. We’ve got a meeting with Lars tomorrow; you can join us at ten to present the planned coverage report. You’d better make chasing up all the press your priority today.’
I rose wearily to my feet giving the blue sky outside one last longing look. Copenhagen was starting to feel like a very long time ago.
Being back at my desk felt wrong. For the first time ever I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be back in Varme. I hadn’t really been paying much attention to what Megan had been saying. That was a first too. I wanted to talk to Sophie. Or Avril. Or Conrad. Or … or Ben.
Our parting at Heathrow had been shy and awkward as if neither of us wanted to make that first move. Now we were back in England, it was as if the real world had intruded and it was difficult to know whether what happened in Denmark stayed in Denmark.
We’d faced each other, our luggage a barrier between us as metaphysical as physical.
‘Well, thanks for everything. Great trip,’ said Ben.
‘Ditto. Thanks for coming.’ My shoulders had felt very tense. ‘Even though it wasn’t your choice.’
‘Wouldn’t change it now though,’ Ben’s voice had lowered and the meaningful look in his eye gave my heart a quick jolt.
‘No. Right well. I’ll be in touch. About … stuff.’
‘Right.’
Shit, remembering the stilted conversation, before we headed in opposite directions, him to West Ealing and me to Clapham North, I wanted to bang my head on my desk and I would have done but it would have attracted way too much attention from my colleagues. Why the hell hadn’t I just kissed him? Why hadn’t he kissed me?
The phone on my desk rang.
‘I’ve got serious withdrawal symptoms this morning.’
‘Sophie, how are you? How was your weekend?’
She huffed. ‘Bloody James only went and cancelled on me. I could have stayed in Copenhagen with you and Ben. Although I think I might have been a tad green and hairy.’
The phone in my hand felt slippery under my sweaty palm.
‘Kate, you still there?’
‘Yes,’ I found my voice. ‘I’m trying to decide whether to say how did you know or don’t know what you mean. Was it that obvious?’
‘Don’t worry. I caught Ben looking at you a couple of times.’
‘Looking at me. That’s it?’
‘I know these things. Besides, Eva knew.’
‘She knew everything.’ I felt a prickle down my spine. What was it she’d said about Sophie? She worried about her the most.
‘Anyway, it was pretty bloody obvious when he jumped at the chance to stay behind with you. So, what happened? Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.’
‘Sophie, you’re dreadful.’
‘I know,’ she said cheerfully. ‘But I need something to cheer me up. Bloody bloody James. I know he’s a good bloke, a really good bloke, I mean how many of them look after their mum like him, but seriously, her timing is … is rubbish. Although I did end up having a good weekend. I went to Avril’s.’
‘Really?’ Disbelief echoed in my voice. I mean I had grown to like Avril over the week, and she was a lot nicer than I’d originally thought but even so she didn’t strike me as one for a girly heart to heart.
‘Yeah, she wanted me to help her make pastries to take into work this morning.’
‘Avril did?’ That didn’t sound like her either.
‘She’s got a plan.’
‘OK,’ I said warily. That would make much more sense but Sophie didn’t give any more away.
‘I met her husband. He is super gorgeous … and nuts about her. Honestly. She wasted no time. Judging by the strange places I kept finding walnuts – see, nuts about her – she did some baking for him on Friday or Saturday. Seriously, the way he looks at her makes your toes curl.’ Sophie gave a lovelorn sigh and I could almost picture her face, dreamy and hopeful. ‘It must be lovely to be the centre of someone’s universe. The most important person to them.’
Ben’s face popped into my head. Those intense blue-grey eyes fixed on me as he said, ‘Sometimes being scared is good. It makes you more careful.’ Would he be careful with me?
By eleven I’d pretty much cleared down my inbox. I’d spoken to Conrad, David and left a message for Avril, while Fiona, Lord love her, had already emailed me a detailed blog post plan for the next couple of weeks. Which just left Ben.
I picked up the phone. Put it back down. Picked it up again. Put it down. I went to the loo. Made myself a cup of tea.
I took a quick peek at Facebook. Twitter. Checked my emails.
It was now eleven thirty. I couldn’t put off phoning Ben any longer.
‘Ben Johnson, speaking.’
Hearing the sharp bark, I couldn’t help myself. ‘Ah Mad Fox is back, it’s Kate. Kate Sinclair. How many seconds have I got?’
He laughed. ‘That depends. Are we riding roller coasters? Kissing? Or is this a business call?’
I tightened my grip on my phone. Kissing would be good.
‘It’s a five seconder. I’m calling … not for me, Kate, but … this is awkward because I don’t care one way or the other, for me, well I do but I’m calling because I have to ask … it’s my job, but you know that, but it’s not coming from me, if you know what I mean.’
‘To be perfectly honest, and,’ he paused and I could almost hear the laughter in his voice, ‘thousands wouldn’t, that was the most inarticulate ramble I’ve ever heard. But strangely I do. I get it. I’m writing a feature on hygge and Lars as we speak.’
‘You are?’ I squeaked in surprise.
‘Yes, Kate, I am.’ He sounded a bit put out.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you but …’
‘You don’t really think that I’d go all that way, enjoy Lars’ very generous hospitality and not write anything?’
I paused, thin fingers of guilt twisting my conscience. No I didn’t. Ben was a good guy - that wasn’t his style at all.
‘Sorry, no I …’
‘I’m not sure when the feature will go in but I’ve nearly finished writing it. But I could do with a bit more information.’
‘Oh, right, what do you need?’ I asked.
I heard him make a kind of tutting noise. ‘I’m not sure it can be done over the phone.’
I let the smile break out, ‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ he sounded as if he’d given it a great deal of thought. ‘We need to meet.’
An image of pretending to be stern and serious while his eyes teased filled my head, making me fidget in my chair, idly doodling on my notepad.
‘Meet?’ I wanted to draw out the playful flirtation.
‘Definitely,’ his voice lowered, ‘And soon.’
Mexican jumping beans took up residence in my stomach doing a full-on samba and I knew I had a goofy grin on my face.
‘Sounds as if it’s a face to face, over a drink in a bar job,’ I said suddenly feeling bold.
‘When? I can’t do today I’ve got a meeting but how about … tomorrow?’ My heart lurched at the hopeful lift at the end of his sentence.
‘Done.’ It took us all of two further seconds to settle on a venue.
I spent the rest of the day with a silly smile on my face, unable to concentrate on much. At half past five on the dot, my desk was the tidiest it had ever been. I’d even cleaned off the coffee rings and emptied the pen tidy thing, and found one pound fifty-six in loose change. Officially it was the end of the working day, although apart from going to the dentist once, I couldn’t remember finishing at this time. Ever. I’d done as much as I could on the report for tomorrow’s meeting with Lars and was only waiting for Avril to get back to me. So far so good. I hoped he was going to be pleased with the promised results.