4. DO NOT agree to further dates with Laurence. Remember: it’s no use having a boyfriend who is good on paper if you do not actually fancy him.
4. Forget that Laurence even EXISTS.
5. Try to remember Mum means well, even during phone calls where she implies I am doomed to a lonely life of penury because I am thirty with no partner, hardly any savings and no mortgage.
6. HOWEVER,do not(!!!) speak to Mum when suffering PMT. Set phone alerts for likely spells based on period tracker intel.
7. Try to address ‘hardly any savings’ situation.(If promoted, set aside extra earnings for future house deposit instead of spaffing it all on ASOS.)(Do not spend entire pay rise on ‘cheer up’ treats to distract from heinous ex-boyfriend mess.)
8. Try to eat my five-a-day. (Remember horrid rule that potatoes do not count.)
9. Start using proper night cream with retinol.
12
Rachel had never considered herself a pessimist, but as January dissolved into February she realised that, somehow, she’d adjusted to living as though a piano were permanently suspended above her head.
Like the lead player in a farce, she fully expected that something ridiculous or dreadful could happen at any moment – though she’d given up trying to predict how life might kick her in the balls next. Even if shehadtried, she’d never have foreseen that the next assault on her sanity would take the form of a day trip to the Cotswolds.
‘Sir Humphrey wants to meet you both in person,’ Isaac announced on Wednesday afternoon, gesturing at Rachel and Jack as he breezed by. ‘He’s invited you for tea at his country pile this Friday. It’s a very good sign … The initial phone call with him must have gone well. It’s a bit of a trek, so let’s say you’ll both work remotely for the day. Just check in with your emails when you can and be back in the office with a full report on Monday.’
He clapped Jack on the back, pulled a trilling iPhone out of his pocket and then strode towards a vacant meeting room, his mobile already clamped to his ear. Rachel stared after him.
‘Whereare we going?’ she said, peering at Jack over the top of her computer monitor. Thanks to Isaac’s reorganisation of the pro-social corner of the office, she now sat opposite her partner-slash-nemesis. They were separated only by screens, mugs full of pens, and piles of paperwork. Jack’s nearness was unsettling in ways Rachel couldn’t successfully explain, even to herself – but she was working on becoming blasé about it.
He looked up from his laptop. ‘Humphrey’s house. He did mention to me when I called to introduce myself that he thought an informal meeting might be nice before we present our plans. I told him we’d have to check our availability withAbraham.’ He grinned and made air quotes with his fingers.
‘Humphrey’shouse?’ Rachel cried, ignoring the joke.
Jack’s green eyes flashed with amusement, crinkling at the corners as he smiled at her. ‘Exactly what is it about the concept of visiting someone’s house that you’re struggling with?’
Rachel shot him a dark look from behind a stack of notebooks. ‘What I mean is, what’s wrong with the BHGH office in Chelsea? It’s a tad more convenient for us, wouldn’t you say? Not to mention more professional – more appropriate.’
Jack arched a thick, chestnut-coloured eyebrow and said, ‘I don’t think Humphrey cares much about what’s convenient for people. Still less about what’s appropriate.’
Rachel sighed and scrubbed a hand across her forehead. ‘Yeah. I’m getting that …’
‘His place is right in the centre of the Cotswolds, I think. Nice area. Not too far from Bourton-on-the-Water.’
‘What?’
Jack was laughing now. ‘Rachel, did you bump your head on the way to work this morning? Do you need your ears syringed? You’re being strange.’ He cupped his hands around his mouth as though he were speaking to someone very far away, then repeated: ‘Bourton-on-the-Water.’
Irritated, Rachel threw a scrunched-up Post-it note at him and then immediately wished she hadn’t. To anyone watching – and there was alwayssomeonewatching, she’d noticed – it would look like she was flirting.
‘My point,’ she said, ‘is that Bourton is bloody miles away! I went there once with my family for a weekend. It seems like a long way to go for a chat and a cuppa.’
Jack shrugged, his whole body radiating indifference. ‘Clients make ridiculous requests all the time … Humphrey’s are just more obviously ridiculous than most. Anyway, it’ll be nice; it’s a day out of the office. A trip to an area of outstanding natural beauty, no less. What’s not to like?’
Rachel decided not to answer this question, which felt deliberately provoking. Instead, she set about researching how long it would take them to get there. Jack was smirking in a way that suggested he was perfectly relaxed about the idea of an outing with her, at the same time as highly entertained by her discomfort at the prospect.
‘Oh my God, I’ve just googled …’ Rachel moaned. ‘There isn’t even a train station nearby. It’s going to be an absolute ass-pain of a journey.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll drive us. We can work out the details tomorrow.’
He smiled again, then looked down and resumed typing before she could argue.Of coursehe had a car, Rachel thought. Probably some ridiculous gas-guzzling beast of a four-by-four. Now he’d suggested driving within earshot of several colleagues, though, it was impossible to decline travelling in it. Taking the train to the Cotswolds would doubtless be more expensive and less convenient – and Isaac would never sign off on paying for rail fares if a cheaper alternative was on offer.
Rachel turned back to her computer and mapped the journey from North London to Bourton-on-the-Water, then felt her mouth fall open in horror as she stared at the results. By the fastest route it was a four-hour round trip – and that was if they got lucky and didn’t hit much traffic.Fuck. Ing. Hell.