I looked up and watched Phil. He was checking over my final presentation. I’d worked hard on it. I’d thrown myself into work because Jack had continued to be a bastard and I wanted to show him I was good at this. But I ignored him, like he ignored me. He didn’t deserve any of my attention.
‘That all looks great. I think they’ll love it.’
We’d had a couple of meetings with the Berkeley people and narrowed my ideas down to three, around one theme – we were doing the final pitch to them next week.
‘Do you want to practise the pitch this afternoon?’
‘If you have time…’
‘Yes.’
Phil had been good; he’d played the role Jack would have done, checking my stuff and coaching me, and he hadn’t tried to take my project over.
‘Have you thought about how you’re going to go through it?’
‘Yes, I have it all planned out.’ I smiled at him over the desk divider.
Jack picked that moment to come out of his office; he was pulling his coat on. I guessed he was on his way to lunch. I focused on my computer.
‘Hey, Jack.’ Phil caught his attention. ‘Did you see this stuff Ivy’s done for Berkeley?’
I didn’t look up.
‘Yeah, looks good,’ Jack said. I sensed him glance at me, but I still didn’t look up. I was done with looking at him; my lust had died. He’d put out my flame, but not with sex, just because he was a dickhead.
Jack walked away.
‘When do you want to run through the presentation?’
‘Two?’
‘Okay.’
After I’d gone through the presentation with Phil and ironed out some of the weaker points, I shut myself in the creativity room and went over and over it. I thought if I went through it a few times each day around my other work, I’d know every word and be ready to do it with no cards and no ums and ahs, or hesitations.
It was six o’clock when I came out of the creativity room; everyone other than Jack had gone. He was in his office, working.
I bit my top lip as I walked over to my desk to put my stuff away, hoping Jack wouldn’t decide to suddenly start talking to me. I didn’t want to talk to him any more. He’d made it clear what he wanted – to forget he’d had any relationship at all with me outside work. All I was interested in was doing my job.
I locked my pedestal, threw my bag on to my shoulder and then walked across the room to get my coat. I was going to carry it out, to get out as fast as I could. I hated it when it was only Jack and me left – it was too uncomfortable.
‘Ivy!’
Shit.
I turned around; he was standing outside his office. His hand lifted and ran over his hair. ‘You okay?’
My expression twisted into something that must say, what? Really… Why are you talking to me?
‘I wanted to say—’ he began.
‘You don’t need to say anything.’ You saying nothing has given me the message well enough.
‘I know but—’
‘Look, if you want sex, I’m not in the mood.’ I turned to leave.
‘Ivy! That wasn’t what I was going to say.’
I looked back. He started walking towards me. ‘I’ve been sorting things out with Victoria, over Daisy and—’
‘Whatever, Jack. I need to go.’
His face twisted in an expression that said he didn’t understand. I turned away again and walked out, my fingers gripping my coat like it was a rope attached to the top of a cliff.
I breathed out in the lift as I travelled down and put my coat on.
I wondered if Jack felt guilty.
He didn’t act as though he felt anything.
When I got downstairs I walked out through the revolving doors and looked along the busy street, then turned towards the tube station. Ever since Christmas I kept getting a feeling that someone was following me, but not here – it was at the other end of my journey, when I got off the tube and walked from there to home. I think it was because I kept seeing the same guy.
I gripped the strap of my bag tighter as I walked down the steps to the tube station, then pulled my card out of my pocket and pressed it against the sensor. The gate opened to let me into the system. I glanced around as I travelled down the escalator, standing on the right, letting the people in a hurry run past me.
I knew where to stand on the platform for the quiet carriages, so I got a seat.
I pulled out my phone and started playing games, to take my mind off the pitch, and Jack. No matter how much I ignored him, he still danced around in my brain.
It was New Year’s Eve that had ruined any hope of me being able to feel normal at work. I didn’t regret Christmas, but New Year – I shouldn’t have gone when he’d called. It had been that one last element of control that had tipped the scales too far his way. He’d completely controlled how things were between us that night and ever since. He’d called me into the office, played out his desk fantasy that he’d told me about in the cottage. He’d told me about it even before our affair had really begun, and then fulfilled it before he let our affair end. Then he hadn’t let me go back to his, and since leaving mine he hadn’t spoken to me.
Until this evening, nearly three weeks after he’d left me in bed.
The whole thing had a nasty feeling about it, which was not exciting and adrenaline-pumping; it made me feel dirty.
When I got off the tube, I glanced around at the other people. I didn’t see the big guy who’d kept smiling at me.
I breathed out and slipped my phone into my bag.
When I travelled up on the escalator I glanced around, looking at everyone. I think I was getting paranoid. But when I walked out of the tube station, the guy was there, on the other side of the street. He was about to come over the crossing. I turned, holding the shoulder strap of my bag tightly, and walked quicker.
But I was being stupid – how could he have known I was about to come out of the tube station?
Unless he’d been waiting – and what were the odds of us happening to keep seeing each other? Lots. You live in the same area.
I glanced back. He was walking the same way as me. Mostly I saw him walking the opposite way, but one way must be home and one way must be back. He had to go the other way at some point.
He was walking quickly. He was a big guy. He had long strides. So I walked quicker. I didn’t want him to catch up with me. I didn’t want him to prove it was nothing and he wasn’t following me – in case I was right and he was following me. The street was busy. Lots of people were coming home from work.
I breathed out. Stop panicking.
I glanced back. The guy was still behind me. I half-ran around the corner into my road, then looked back to check no cars were coming and crossed over. I walked on down to the house where my flat was and reached the door as the guy turned into my road. He walked past the steps as I keyed in the code to get in, my hand shaking.
Oh, this was stupid. If he was following me it was probably because he fancied me. He’d smiled a few times when I’d seen him. He didn’t speak and I didn’t look back. When the door unlocked I pushed it open and hurried in. Then breathed out a deep breath and went over to check my post. I was looking forward to a glass of wine, some brain-numbing TV and maybe a phone call to Milly – anything normal.
‘Hello, Ivy.’
I looked over. Greg stood in the doorway into his place, holding the door as if he hadn’t been planning to come out – he’d just seen me and opened the door to talk. ‘Have you only just come in from work?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good day?’
‘Yes, okay.’ Why? Every time Greg talked to me there was an undercurrent of ulterior motive in the tone of his voice and his manner.
‘Are you doing anything tonight?’
Shit, I wished he’d get the hint. Maybe if I said, ‘I’m far too busy painting my toenails’. ‘I have stuff from work to catch up on. I’ll be staying in. I don’t have time to go anywhere.’
‘You work too hard. You’re young – you need to enjoy it while you can.’
I nodded, but I was too tired and worried about work and Jack to hang around to be nice and listen to his diatribe. ‘See you, Greg. Have a good evening.’ I left him where he was and ran up the stairs to get out of there.
Annoyingly, when I got up to my room, the first thing I thought of was Jack – because he’d left memories in my room. It was as though when he’d come back here he’d managed to set things up so he’d control my mind forever. If I could turn back time I wouldn’t go into the office on New Year’s Eve and I wouldn’t let him come here.
Wine. TV. Don’t think.
My phone vibrated. It was a text from Rick. I wouldn’t get back with him. But at this moment in time Rick’s niceness was a comfortable place. He hadn’t been over the top since we’d talked. We’d kept to our agreement, friends. And as a friend, he was a good consolation. We’d started sharing texts in the same way as I did with Milly, although not as many, but he helped me keep my mind off Jack. We were helping each other get over our breakup. I was helping him with a slow withdrawal; he was helping me forget the mess I’d made of things since I’d left – only he didn’t know it. The mess I was in was my secret.