Greg sailed by, oblivious, but Jack saw it and bit back a grin. He looked over his shoulder at Rachel, mirth dancing in his eyes.
She froze her face, refusing to smile.I know how you work, remember?
He looked away as he held the door open for her, then walked ahead in step with Greg.
One–nil to me, she thought, staring daggers at his back.
On the train back to central London, all attempts at post-meeting chat had petered out. Rachel, Greg and Jack were glued to their phones, skim-reading emails and checking social media feeds. On the approach to London Bridge they stood to gather their things; time to change for the Tube.
Greg turned to face Jack and Rachel as the train slowed. ‘Right. It seems I have a last-minute meeting to get to this afternoon – potential new client on the South Bank. Rachel will see you back to the office from here, Jack. And great work again today, Ray; you smashed it as always. Have a good weekend, guys.’
He threw Rachel a searching look that made it clear he’d noticed something was up, but he was halfway to the train door before she could protest at being left in charge of Jack. She groaned inwardly.
This was hideous: the last thing she wanted was to be alone with her awful, smarm-oozing ex. To boot, there was now no doubt she was going to have to confess at leastsomeof the truth to Greg next week.
Greg waved as he disappeared onto the platform. He was soon swept away by a surge of travellers heading for the station exit. There was pushing, shoving and grumbling from the carriage, and Rachel realised she was standing in people’s way. She looked down to see Jack watching her expectantly, already off the train.
‘Come on, Ray.’ He grinned, offering her his hand.
‘You can stop the performance now, Jack. I am not your audience.’ Rachel held her palms up as if to ward off an evil spirit, then pushed past him.
Something inside her had snapped: her voice was icy and more confident than it had been all afternoon. Now they were alone, the sheer nerve of his friendly cajoling was glaringly in focus – and with Greg gone, so was Rachel’s willingness to tolerate it.
She sidestepped him on the platform, then began walking towards the Tube. She didn’t bother to make sure he was keeping up.
‘Rachel!’ He was suddenly next to her. ‘Rachel, please.’
‘Pleasewhat?’
She turned to face him, aware her eyes were blazing. She was livid with him for being so smug, sohim– for being there at all. At the same time, she felt the sting of impending tears and cursed her treacherous eyeballs.
They were standing in the centre of a moving crowd, obstructing other people’s progress towards the Underground. Before she could stop him, Jack placed a hand on Rachel’s arm and steered her towards the tunnel wall. She felt as though she’d been burned, despite the layers of clothing separating his skin from hers.
‘Please listen,’ he said, looking less than sure of himself for the first time all day. It was as if Rachel had managed to sneak backstage at the Jack show: this was his face, minus the sheen of self-assurance it usually wore.
Rachel slumped against the concave tiles, signalling that she had no intention of running off again.
‘Okay,’ he said, pushing his hands through his hair. She knew he was working out what to say next. ‘I didn’t know. I had no idea. You have to believe I was totally unaware you worked here until today.’
She didn’t reply. It seemed too obvious to ask why she should ever believe a single word out of his mouth.
‘And then – when I saw you – I just … I was shocked. I washappy. I was confused … I didn’t know what to do. So yes, I reverted to type. I guess it seemed easier to turn on the charm than give a big speech about what a dick I was to you all those years ago.’
Rachel’s stomach flip-flopped at the thought that he was pleased to see her, and she immediately felt compelled to punish herself for such feebleness. If she were Dobby the house-elf, she’d whack herself in the face with a frying pan right now.
‘I was stupid,’ Jack went on. ‘Cowardly. I should have found a way to talk to you properly this morning, before you were stuck with me coming along to that meeting. I should have been more respectful of your feelings instead of trying to slink out of dealing with them. I can understand why you’d never want to see me again after what happened … And now here I am, turning up in your workplace.’
He paused for a few seconds that seemed to stretch on interminably.
‘Rachel. I’m sorry.’
He looked right at her, determined to maintain eye contact even though Rachel said nothing.
‘Not as sorry as I am,’ she finally replied.
He looked for a moment as if he was going to try to take her hand in some grand gesture of contrition, so she shoved it in her coat pocket.
‘When I say I’m sorry … I don’t just mean about now. About today.’
