She flips around her computer and I’m confronted with an image of what I think was once a cat. While it is unclear what the exact cause of this poor creature’s demise was, I could only guess that it involved a few billion volts and an excursion around an electrical pylon. It has moth-eaten fur, demonic button eyes and a tail that has been coiled into what I presume is supposed to be an artistic flourish. Unfortunately, it gives it the look of one of those creepy Victorian effigies – in this case, half feline, half pig – in which two animals were sewn together and passed off by unscrupulous explorers as a newly discovered species.
‘Be honest. What do you think?’
‘Anyone fancy a green tea?’ pipes up Calvin.
‘Great idea; must be my turn,’ I say, leaping up. ‘We’ll have a good chat about it later, Daisy.’
I smile at her encouragingly, but her face falls. She already knows this will not be a goer. That no matter how much encouragement I give her when we have one of our private feedback sessions, or how many times I tell her to keep at it, she will still be wide of the mark. Sometimes it’s only slightly. More often, it’s the width of the Suez Canal.
I head across the office with three empty mugs in my hand. I don’t make as many beverages as the others – largely because I have three times the workload – but like to show willing every so often, especially if it buys me a convenient bit of time. I turn thecorner to the kitchen area at the exact moment when someone closes the fridge.
That someone turns out to be Zach. He’s wearing a pale blue shirt, open at the collar, rolled up to the elbows and tucked into sand-coloured trousers. He looks as if he’s wandered in from a photo shoot on the Italian Riviera and I am assaulted by yet another vivid flashback of the muscles that are hiding right underneath that cotton fabric.
‘What are you doing here? I’m sure this isn’t your fridge,’
I say, as lightly as possible.
‘We’re all out of milk on the fifth floor, so I’m afraid I borrowed some.’
I tut and shake my head. ‘You know they chop people’s hands off around here for stealing milk? It’s a cardinal sin.’
‘I can imagine. Don’t tell anyone, will you?’
‘Consider it between us,’ I say, as we simultaneously seem to realise the double implication of the sentence.
He clears his throat and moves closer towards me.
‘How you doing, Darling?’ he says quietly.
I turn away to flick the kettle on. ‘I’m fine. You?’
‘I’m okay.’ He shrugs. ‘A little . . .weirded out, if the truth be told.’
I nod, keeping my eyes on the teabags. ‘Yep,’ I say.
‘Part of me wishes I’d kept my mouth shut . . .’
‘But then I might have been pissed off with you the following morning . . .’
‘Yep . . .’
‘Still. Part of me wishes you’d kept your mouth shut too.’ I glance up, as he releases a laugh.
Then suddenly, I’m looking into his eyes again and can’t turn away. Not merely because of the goosepimples that have swept up my arms. But because I can see almost exactly what is reflected in mine. His hands on my thighs. His lips onmy collarbone. The heat of our kisses, like one endless, heart-stopping swoon . . .
‘Need a hand with those teas?’ asks Calvin, appearing at the edge of the kitchen.
Zach and I look up at him simultaneously.
‘That would be great!’ I say, before he takes two of the mugs and I quickly follow him back to my desk, without a second glance.
Chapter 37
It was around the middle of a particularly difficult month when I first realised I was in perimenopause and had been for a while. I wasn’t justfeeling a bit down; it was PMS but supercharged, with the kind of migraine that made me never want to get out of bed. Things have improved vastly since I started HRT, but there are still a couple of days of my cycle when I feel as if I’m getting a cold that never materialises, am bone-tired, achy and would rather not have to deal with anything as bothersome aspeople.
These are obviously the ideal conditions in which to find myself at a PTA Bounce-a-thon, having been assigned the dual duties of ‘Safeguarding and Socks’.
‘How many kids are there again?’ Nora asks, as we stand on the edge of the trampolining park, watching children hurl themselves off equipment like wild salmon attempting to swim upstream.
