‘I know,’ she cuts in. ‘A royal prick. Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. I hope it isn’t. We really need this.’
But I know in my heart that it was.
Anis sits for a moment longer and then places her hand gently on my leg one last time and gives me a squeeze.
Over the next hour the rest of the staff finish up, most of them moving quietly around me, unaware of exactly what has gone down, but knowing that obviouslythings did not go well. Everything goes silent, and still I sit. I think about texting Roxy, but I feel like I need to speak to her to her face. I check my phone and there’s another message from Tim.
Call me!
Why is he suddenly so bloody eager?
I hit the Close-screen button and slip the phone into my pocket, and wonder if James is still in the kitchen and if it would be stalker-like to go and say hello. I decide not. After all, I need to say sorry. I pull myself up and head into the kitchen, but he’s not there.
I find him at the bar, having a beer. It’s dark, with only the night lamp on. He’s alone. He must have got changed somewhere else, because he’s in a black T-shirt and looks as if maybe he’s even had a shower. He’s also eating some leftovers from the kitchen – looks like the polenta or maybe the truffle mash.
‘James?’ I say meekly as I walk towards him. I stop just short of sitting down.
‘Hey,’ he says, smiling at me. ‘Are you feeling better? Mum wouldn’t tell me what was going on, and I didn’t want to disturb you.’
‘Ah yes,’ I say. He’s the same as usual. He’s not angry – probably because he doesn’t know how much I messed up – but I want to say something anyway. ‘I’m sorry about the reviewer.’
‘What happened?’
‘I said some stupid things. I got overwhelmed,’ I say truthfully.
‘Everyone did. Mum managed to drop an entire bottle of claret on the floor.’
‘Oh God.’
‘And I fucked up too,’ he says, shaking his head.
‘You did?’
‘Yeah, overcooked sea bream. The pigeon was tough. I totally choked.’
There is a comfort in the camaraderie, but I don’t expect James’s shortcomings are as bad as he claims. ‘I doubt you did,’ I say, wondering if I should sit down or if he wants to be alone.
‘I did,’ he shrugs and spins round on his stool to face me, and I am standing there holding my shoes, feeling as vulnerable as hell. James is different, like a tension in him has dispelled and although he’s definitely pensive, he’s not guarded. It’s almost as though his disappointment in himself has relaxed him somehow. It’s a lesson in how to take failure, I think.
‘James?’ I say quietly as he looks up and holds my gaze.
‘Yes?’ he asks and he’s not looking away, for once.
I close my eyes and then look down at my bare feet.This is not the time. Not the time. Not the time. I’m too anxious. This is a disaster.
‘My feet ache all the time,’ I say, trying to deflect, wriggling my toes and wincing with embarrassment.
‘Come here,’ he says, and I look up and he’s holding his fork out to me.
‘I don’t want any, thanks. I couldn’t eat.’
‘Do I have to come to you?’ he says with the softest of smiles. His voice is low and soft, his eyes not leaving mine.
‘Yes,’ I reply.
We hear the back door shut, and I guess it’s probably Irene leaving the office for the night, but to be sure we’re alone I walk slowly into the kitchen. I can feel James following me. There is only the buzz of the fridge and the smell of industrial soap in the air, as he walks silently across the kitchen until he’s only inches from me. I let out a small gasp at the closeness and shut my eyes for a moment, and James stays silent for as long as it takes for me to get the courage to open them. He’s making sure I’m present.
‘Are we going to have a meeting about the sinewy pigeon or are you going to kiss me?’What are you doing, Birdy?
