Charlie stopped, hovering inches from Jessica’s soft face, taken aback by the sharp tone of Steve’s voice. She turned to him, surprised.
“She needs to sleep and if you wake her, it’ll take hours to get her dow—”
“All right, all right,” Charlie responded, straightening up and brushing past Steve without another word. It was a childish response and she knew it. She had no cause to be shirty with Steve, whatever she felt about missing out on quality time with Jessica—but still his chiding irritated her. She was fed up with compromise and making do. She wanted her life to be simple, straightforward and satisfactory—but in reality it was none of these things. These days she seemed to lurch from one minicrisis to the next, achieving little, pleasing no one, forever facing choices that left her the loser whichever way she jumped. Would she get better at this? Or was this how it would always be? Perhaps the brutal truth was that, whatever she did and whatever she tried, this was one circle that Charlie would never be able to square.
30
The noise assaulted you as soon as you stepped inside. Helen let it roar over her, enjoying the sensation, as she stood in the doorway of the bar. It was close to last orders now and the place was packed. There didn’t seem to be a quiet night in the city center anymore—Southampton was full of young people who wanted to chat, flirt and drink—and as soon as you stepped inside, you were struck by the warmth, energy and excitement of the place.
“Tonic over ice, please,” Helen shouted at the barman as she pushed her way to the bar. As he obliged, she took in the scene, her eye wandering over the first daters, the groups of friends, the hangovers-in-waiting and more besides. Helen didn’t drink—hadn’t done for years—but she liked these places. Things could turn ugly where drink was concerned and Helen had had to intervene on a couple of occasions to defuse unpleasant situations, but young people as a rule seemed to be drinking rather less than previous generations—the whole scene was more a socialthing than an excuse for binge drinking. That was especially the case around here, so close to Southampton University, where the pubs and bars were full of twenty-somethings who couldn’t afford vast rounds of drinks even if they’d wanted to.
Helen had come here straight from work, as she couldn’t face going back to her flat. Her meeting with Gardam was still bothering her and if she went home she would only obsess about it further. Better to be here, enjoying the buzz, than stewing alone.
As her eyes swept the crowds, she became aware of someone waving sheepishly to her from a table on the other side of the room. It took her eyes, her brain, a couple of seconds to process the sight, but there was no doubt about it.
Jake. Helen had never seen him in a social context—barring one exception, she had only ever encountered him in his workplace, where he played the role of dominator to perfection, never letting the real Jake through. He was on his way over now and for a second Helen was surprised to find that she was panicking, wondering what to say to him in a conversation that she hadn’t paid for.
“I thought it was you.”
He leaned in and kissed her gently on the cheek. Unlike her, he seemed completely at ease. More than that, he seemed happy.
“I didn’t expect to find you somewhere like this,” he continued lightly.
“Neither did I, but it’s been a tough day, so I thought I’d come and inhale a bit of youthful optimism.”
Jake smiled, but the accidental subtext of Helen’s reply was lost on neither of them. Previously Helen had run to Jake when work had got to her, but not now.
“How about you?” Helen continued quickly.
“I’m on a date,” Jake said, pretending to be embarrassed, as he nodded toward a handsome young man, who smiled awkwardly back at them from across the crowded room.
“Good for you,” Helen responded, though her brain was still playing catch-up. She knew that Jake was bisexual, but such was his interest in her that she’d always assumed he was more romantically attracted to women.
“Is this a new thing . . . ?” she went on.
“Not really,” Jake answered diplomatically.
“And it’s going well?”
“Well, tonight is our sixth date, so . . .”
“Wow.”
“Yes. Wow.” Jake laughed at himself easily and confidently.
Helen smiled but couldn’t think of the appropriate way to respond, so she said nothing. She knew so little of Jake’s romantic history that she didn’t really know if this was a big development or not. She suspected it might be.
“And you’re okay?” Jake queried.
“Oh, you know. Same old same old.”
Jake smiled and nodded. He knew an awful lot about Helen and understood exactly what she went through during a major investigation. For a moment, the conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, and then Helen said:
“Don’t let me keep you, Jake. I’d hate to sabotage young love...”
“You’re right, I’d better go. Take care of yourself, Helen.”
He leaned in and kissed her once more, this time giving her a brief hug. She responded, but felt a sharp and sudden stab of sadness as she did so. This felt very much like Jake finally cutting loose.
