Despite hours on a flight, Cleo still looked perfectly coiffured. After a few minutes on the Isle of Wight ferry, Regan usually looked like she’d been mauled by hyenas.
‘This is the hotel,’ said Cleo, scanning the phone around a room about the same size as Jarvis’s entire flat.
‘What country?’
‘Dubai.’
‘Is that a bath in the bedroom?’ asked Regan, catching a glimpse as the camera moved past.
‘Jacuzzi bath. So I can lie here and admire the view.’Cleo turned the camera and Regan took in the vibrant blue sea. ‘I’m on what they call the Palm.’
‘It’s amazing,’ said Regan, trying to stop her mouth from falling open. ‘What was business class like? Did you get—’ But her questioning was interrupted by a cough behind her. Regan turned to see Nigel scowling at her and running his fingers down his tie. It was the same tie he wore every day; that, or he had a whole rack of the same one at home, but Regan doubted from the iffy stains on it that that was the case. Nigel poked a finger at her phone. That was the trouble with FaceTime; it was on loudspeaker, so it had obviously alerted everyone around her and now they all looked like meerkats on parade. If only she’d remembered her ear buds.
‘Sorry, got to go.’ Regan hurriedly ended the call.
‘Regan, we’ve spoken before about personal calls. Haven’t we?’
Regan wondered if Nigel went to the same school of condescending arses that Jarvis had studied at. ‘Sorry. Won’t happen again,’ she said, but they both knew it would.
‘If you’re not busy, perhaps you’d replenish the printer paper stocks and get me a coffee?’ He gave her a reptilian smile and she begrudgingly went to do as he’d asked. He wasn’t the worst manager she’d ever had, but he was quite picky, self-important and always seemed to be on Regan’s case, which – some of the time – wasn’t justified.
The meeting with the great and the terminally dull was a lot less taxing than she’d feared. Alex had handed over his notes and figures, so she simply reeled them off when asked, while everyone nodded and her boss gave a deep sigh of relief. Really, these people had no faith.
She nipped out at lunchtime and bought three exorbitantly priced doughnuts, but it was on the magic contactless joint account card so it was fine. She wanted to drop one off with Kevin, though he was trickier to find at lunchtime because he often got shooed away from the market during the day by the manager. Eventually, she managed to track him and Elvis down to the supermarket car park, where occasionally a benevolent shopper would give him something from their trolley.
There was a fancy concrete bench affair outside and they sat there to eat their doughnuts together. Regan liked Kevin. He was probably a similar age to her dad, but it was hard to tell with the beard. Unlike her dad, he had a calm way about him. Like he’d seen it all and done it all. She never liked to ask him too many questions, although it didn’t stop her being curious about his situation.
‘I haven’t had a doughnut for years. That was tasty, thanks,’ said Kevin, letting Elvis lick the sugar from his fingers. ‘It’s funny the things you miss.’
‘Like what?’ asked Regan, trying hard to avoid jam dripping down her top.
‘Eye contact,’ he said with a wan smile. He and Regan exchanged knowing looks. The homeless were somehow invisible to most people. Kevin tilted his head back. ‘I miss my mates, sofas … and those little chipped potato things …’
‘What, chips?’
‘No,’ said Kevin, with a chuckle. ‘Sort of cube shaped. I used to like those.’
‘What about your family?’
Kevin took a deep breath. ‘Goes without saying that I miss my folks, but …’
Regan felt compelled to fill the silence. ‘Families are complicated, right?’
Kevin turned his gaze towards her. ‘I couldn’t bear to disappoint mine again.’
Regan opened her mouth to speak and was surprised by the loud bark that erupted until she realised it was from Elvis, who had spotted someone with a tray of coffees walking past.
‘I best be off. Thanks again,’ said Kevin. ‘Carpe diem.’ And he made his way across the car park, Elvis lolloping after him.
She felt there was so much more to Kevin than just some homeless guy. Regan sighed to herself then looked at her watch. ‘Shitterama!’ Did someone fast-forward her life when she wasn’t looking?
Back in the office she waved the doughnut bag in front of Alex’s face. ‘By way of apology for the earlieraccident.’
Alex’s shoulders slumped. ‘Okay. But that was over the line for a gag, Regan,’ he said, swiping the bag.
‘Not a bloody gag. Why won’t you believe me?’ She was getting irritated now.
Alex looked in the bag. ‘Ooh, chocolate dreamcake. You’re forgiven.’
