A Cherry Pie In The Sky (Finalised Version)

Chapter One 

The robust aroma of freshly brewed coffee hung like a familiar and comforting lure in the doorway of Dolce Dal Cielo dessert café. The sweet, buttery waft of melt-in-the-mouth pastries hinted at the carnival of confectionery delights waiting to be drooled over. A long glass counter full of visual feasts, cakes, pies, puddings, cheesecake gleamed and seduced.

Rik tapped his finger aimlessly on his laptop and rubbed a hand across his eyes. He needed a refill or maybe a whisky. A woman at the nearest table was gorging herself on a rich chocolate cake. Her companion was sipping a tiny espresso. They were arguing over who hadn’t washed the dishes the previous night, swiftly escalating to why he hadn’t grouted the bathroom tiles in over a year. Pleasant enough restaurant conversation. Rik wouldn’t have minded so much but the woman lacked table manners. She spoke with a mouth full of sponge, frequently spraying crumbs across the table. Her partner didn’t flick an eyelid. 

Patrons aside, the cafe was always a welcome haven for Rik. The coffee was really good and he was currently comfortable on a plush seat near a heater. Over their apple tarts and tea, a pair of elderly women nearby discussed doctor’s appointments, dentures and the private lives of their neighbours. Usually he didn’t mind the chatter around him, but today he was moments away from stuffing sugar lumps in his ears. It was not helping his writing. There was little inspiration to be found in domestic squabbles and pensioner problems.  

Leaning forward, Rik squinted at his laptop screen in the vain hope it would improve his concentration. No. Damn LCD crystal clear display. He temporarily blinded himself instead. He groaned and sat back rubbing his eyes. Amid the noise of the restaurant, a laugh caught his ear. 

Long, dark brown hair fell in wild curls, casually clipped back over her ears. Black eyeliner rimmed her eyes. Her top was white with a lace collar and sleeves and she woreblack combat boots with laces and buckles. A girl who dressed feminine and pretty but with some kick a*s boots. Her legs were crossed and her elevated foot swung in time with the music playing. She was still laughing, her smile wide, her eyes bright. Her friend’s black hair was tied smoothly in a braid, slung over her shoulder. Yellow gold chandelier earrings glowed against her warm milk chocolate brown skin. She looked snug in her purple chunky sweater. She was grinning at her friend, the apples of her cheeks glowing.

Cherry pie. The laughing girl was eating cherry pie. The golden pastry crumbled perfectly and the rich redness of the cherries was mouthwatering. She didn’t eat it in delicate little bites, tiny amounts of pie balanced on the tip of her fork, dabbing her mouth with a napkin after every mouthful. Not like the other young women making painfully slow work of their lemon meringue pies. 

She had dug in and scooped up a mouthful, amazingly avoiding smearing cherry juice around her lips. She had a cup of tea, complete with a quaint saucer and teapot which she poured expertly. Every time Rik attempted to use a teapot, a rare occasion as he preferred coffee, the little lid always fell out and usually plopped into his mug, splashing his shirt with tea. Nightmare.

She sipped her tea, looking forlornly down at her empty plate. She spoke to her friend and pouted. Then when the waitress passed, she caught her attention. The waitress returned with another slice of cherry pie. The girl picked up a clean fork, broke the crust and grinned. 

Sat in the extreme far right of her periphery, she never looked in Rik’s direction. She smiled and laughed often. She mimed along to the song playing. Her friend rolled her eyes and shook her head. She shrugged and laughed. Rik tried not to stare. He was not a creep or pervert, he told himself, merely curious.

Rik pressed his finger on the backspace key and followed the cursor, deleting his last ten lines. He glanced back at his scribbled notes again, a few lines of illegible scrawl on the back of a torn envelope. That was the trouble. He had so many good ideas when he was deep in his cups. (That was a phrase he had learnt recently and he loved using it. It sounded far more distinguished than sloshed or wasted.) Recalling these ideas when he was sobre was a challenge. He often jotted them down when he was drunk but, well, hieroglyphics were easier to decipher. He studied one phrase. His mouth twisted to one side. His scrawl looked like, 'the oranges on breeches bang, any collection to us, stretch a diagonal, amy awol udon.' He was baffled. 

Coffee cup in hand, he stood and strode to the counter, passing behind the cherry pie girl. He appraised the rows of desserts, cakes and pastries before him. A sliced black forest gateau smouldered darkly at him, its cream frosting a seductive invitation. A tower of gooey chocolate brownies dared him to choose elsewhere while he could taste the moist golden centre of the chocolate chunk cookies crumbling in his mouth. His eyes lingered on a three tiered chocolate cake, topped with glistening, fresh strawberries, then drifted to a neatly arranged circle of dessert glasses filled with fruit trifle, oozing with layers of custard and whipped cream. This truly was dessert heaven, and hell. His stomach growled its impatience and the barista smiled brightly at him.  

Rik looked approvingly down at the two butter croissants and cinnamon whirl on his plate. He didn't have a sweet tooth but he did have great appreciation for pastry. The croissants would flake and melt onto his tongue, airy and light. He may have to buy more to take home with him. 

The cafe had quietened now, many tables empty. Rik’s nearest companions had mercifully left. The cherry pie girl hadn’t. She was chatting animatedly, a bright grin dimpling her cheeks. 

“ … and thought, what if all the snow on the mountains was ice-cream and it had a fresh minty taste with a few chunks of chocolate.”

“OK,” said her friend, looking sceptical.

No, he wasn't eavesdropping.

“And then underneath the ice-cream,” Cherry Pie continued. “The mountain was made of moist chocolate fudge cake with the occasional spring of melted chocolate and caramel oozing out here and there.”

“Yep, you've sold it to me,” laughed Purple Sweater. 

Cherry Pie refilled her cup from the teapot and stirred in a trickle of milk. 

“So at this point I'm salivating, almost drooling on the counter, trying to focus on what Russel is saying, while my stomach is screaming for some serious sugar indulgence.”

She pulled a face.

“As soon as I clocked out, I walked straight to the supermarket and bought a chocolate fudge cake, chocolate chip cookies, ice-cream and chocolate and caramel sauce. Fast forward a few hours and I'm sound asleep in a self-induced food coma. I couldn't look at a chocolate cake for weeks.”

They both laughed. He liked her laugh, not a high pitched squeal or a loud cackle, and she was even prettier when she smiled.

“Boredom at work is the killer cause of so many food cravings,” Cherry Pie continued. “How many times have I fantasised about burgers and fries, knowing full well I only have chicken and frozen vegetables awaiting me at home. The torture is real.”

“I know,” lamented Purple Sweater. “And I swear hormones play a huge part in it too.”

“They play a huge part in everything,” grumbled Cherry Pie. “Though they are my excuse for keeping my emergency chocolate stash well stocked.”

“Does one need an excuse to buy chocolate?”

“Nope, not in my world anyway.”

“I should think not, especially after eating two slices of cherry pie and the cookies before.”

Cherry Pie smiled coyly and shrugged.

“When in Rome.”

Rik stopped listening. They deserved their privacy. He was amused by Cherry Pie's reinvention of mountains. That was some imagination and one hell of a sweet tooth. He smiled to himself. He even fancied a mountain of chocolate cake with ice-cream now. He picked up a croissant and mauled it savagely.

An hour, three cups of coffee and some incredible code breaking later, Rik sat back and grinned. He had successfully deciphered his drunken scribblings and begun some research. He flexed his fingers and glanced around. Cherry Pie and Purple Sweater had gone, their plates and cups neatly stacked on the table. 

Chapter Two 

Professor Oliver Staunton cleared the board of chalk. The dust clouded in the air. The dean had offered him a brand new interactive whiteboard, but he preferred his traditional chalkboard. Writing equations were easier to rub out and correct rather than mess around with new fangled technology. He was wearing odd socks again, one blue argyle, the other tweed. He frowned. The bedroom had been dark that morning, he recalled. He had fumbled about aimlessly in his sock drawer. He hadn’t opened the curtains or flicked the light on. He hadn’t wanted to wake Lily. Both sleeves of his jacket were smudged with chalk. His hair was an unruly mess, flopping over his forehead and into his eyes. Remembering to book a haircut was one of many challenges lately. 

Oliver’s stomach growled. He had skipped lunch. He glanced at his watch. He had a private tutoring class in half an hour, maybe he could dash to the nearest cafe and grab a sausage roll, or  to the staff room for a coffee.

The door swung open and hit the wall. The eraser in Oliver's hand dropped with a soft thud, a puff of dust settling on his shoes. 

“Hey Ollie,” his visitor called.

The tall American strolled in.

“Mr Clarke.”

Oliver bent and picked up the eraser. 

“Please call me Rik,” Rik insisted. “Mr Clarke makes me feel like I have to act like an adult.”

“OK, Rik.”

“Here I brought you a burrito and some chips.”

He planted them on the professor’s desk. 

“And a cup of real coffee, not that sewage water that gets churned out in the staff room.”

“Oh, thank you.” 

Oliver ruffled his hair nervously. 

“There was no need.”

He couldn't deny the coffee smelled heavenly. He stepped closer to his desk.

“Don’t try to fool me, Prof. You’re either on hunger strike for a sexier wardrobe or you’re just forgetting to eat.”

“Well, yes, there is that, I suppose,” replied Oliver, vacantly. 

He rubbed his forehead. 

“Things have become a bit hectic lately.”

“Sit down, take a load off and eat, man,” instructed Rik. “Nothing can be done well on an empty stomach, except fitting into a size zero dress but I guess that’s not very high on your agenda.”

“Yes, no, of course.”

Oliver sat and reached for the burrito. It was still warm as he unwrapped it.  

Rik was not stupid. Although Oliver appeared to be the stereotypical absent-minded professor, this was not the usual Oliver. Right now, he was struggling.. Toby, the Philosophy lecturer and Rik’s drinking partner, had told him Oliver’s wife had been diagnosed with cancer six months ago. Ever since, Oliver had withdrawn. He was coping, his teaching hadn’t suffered but he wasn’t looking after himself. Rik had struck up a conversation with Oliver one morning while they waited outside the dean’s office. Over a discussion about the misunderstanding of sharks, Rik had taken an instant liking to the reserved, polite professor. 

“Have any plans for the weekend?” asked Rik, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

“Huh, hmm,” said Oliver, wiping his chin with a crumpled tissue. “Marking papers, mowing the lawn. The usual really.”

“You Brits and mowing your lawns,” remarked Rik dryly. 

“Yes.”

“Well, listen, me and a few guys are going out for a few drinks on Saturday night. You should come along too,” Rik suggested.

“Oh, um, well I don’t know,” said Oliver, opening the packet of crisps. “I wouldn’t want to leave Lily alone.”

“Bring her too.”

Oliver chewed slowly, deliberating.

“I’m not sure,” he said, eventually.

“When was the last time you two went out with friends?”

Oliver shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly,” stated Rik. “Now if you don’t ask Lily, then I will. It’s time you blew off some of those cobwebs.”

Oliver sighed, screwing up the crisp packet and threw it into the wastebasket.

“I know. It’s just you get lost in it all, you know.”

Rik nodded.

“I know, buddy. But you need to remember that she’s not dead, she’s still alive and you should both be living.”

Oliver stared at him.

“You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

Rik straightened up from the wall.

“Can’t say that I do. I’m not one for sugar coating anything.”

“No, no one could mistake you for being anything near sweet.”

Rik half smiled.

“So seven p.m Saturday night at McGinty’s in Shoreditch.”

He didn’t give Oliver a chance to reply but strode out of the room singing, “I am a ramblin' man, don’t fool around with a ramblin’ man.”

Oliver stared at the door clicking shut. He was unsure what to make of Rik Clarke. He swept in like a hurricane, whirling around before blustering out and leaving one slightly disoriented and bewildered. But Oliver couldn’t help liking him, even if his zealous behaviour was unsettling.  

McGinty's had become a favourite haunt of Rik’s, with its rustic interior of exposed wooden beams and sturdy oak furniture. He had once fallen asleep on one of their worn but snug leather couches, lulled into a boozy slumber by the soft amber lighting. 

At six thirty that evening the bar was already heaving, people hollering at the football match on the TV and calling out orders to the bartenders. Rik luckily had managed to secure a table in a quiet corner. A lively bar did create a vibrant atmosphere, but today he wanted to hear his friends without them needing to shout at each other like Cockney market traders. Oliver was the last to arrive, easing his way through people, his tweed jacket replaced by a crease-free grey shirt and black jeans. 

“Ollie’s here,” Rik informed everyone.

Following Oliver was a short woman with mousy brown hair, bundled in a yellow jumper.

“Good evening, everyone,” said Oliver, smiling apprehensively.

Rik stood and shook Oliver’s hand.

“Glad you could make it, buddy.”

Oliver nodded.

“This is Lily.”

She smiled at Rik, her eyes twinkling. 

“Great to meet you, Lily,” said Rik, warmly. “Take a seat. What can I get you two?”

After ordering a fresh round of drinks, Rik introduced everyone. Lucy, a petite redhead, was a librarian at the university. Greg was a Scottish carpenter who Rik had befriended on his first night out in London. Dan, an old friend of Rik’s from America, and his girlfriend, Emma. Lastly, Rik’s neighbour Maria, who had recently moved to this city with the ambition to open her own cafe. 

Within minutes the table was alive with chatter and Rik, half listening to Toby insist to Dan that Chelsea’s goal was clearly offside, was glad. He was so preoccupied talking to everyone and ensuring they had fresh drinks, that he was oblivious to the scrutiny he was under. 

Oliver had not told Lily much about Rik, except he was American, very tall and unique. She could see that. With his tattoos, rings, khaki shirt over which he wore a knitted cardigan and his in depth view on certain topics, he was certainly interesting.

“So Danny,” Greg drawled in his light accent. “Have you and your beauty set a date yet?”

Emma giggled.

“We have. June next year,” replied Dan, smiling.

“Oh that’s lovely,” said Maria, beaming at Emma. “June weddings are the best, I think.”

“How long have you been together?” asked Toby, leaning round Rik so he could see them.

“Three years,” said Emma. “Engaged for one so far.”

“Oliver and I had a very long engagement,” Lily piped in. “Five years.”

“Now Ollie,” began Rik. “Don’t tell me you kept this beautiful lady waiting that long?”

“Well, I,” stammered Oliver. 

“He was very cautious,” explained Lily, loyally rising to her husband’s defence. “He wanted to be absolutely sure he’d got the right one.”

“And it took ya five years to figure it out?” 

Greg shook his head.

“Well, it is difficult,” admitted Maria. “People can and do change over time.”

“That is true,” agreed Oliver. “To me marriage was a big deal and I didn’t want to enter into it without being one hundred percent sure. And I also wanted to be able to provide for Lily, not start our marriage in debt.”

“He always was old fashioned and sensible.”

“I imagine you don’t regret your decision?” 

“Oh no, not at all,” said Oliver, turning to Lily. “Never.”

“So Oliver is the only married man here?” asked Maria, wiping the condensation from her glass with a napkin.

“Well, Dan is off the market,” said Emma.

“But the rest of us are available, Maria,” Rik assured her. “But Toby and Greg will have to fight me for a date with you.”

Maria laughed, her cheeks turning red.

“Oh shush you,” she flapped at him. “I’m far too old for all of you.”

“Bullshit,” scoffed Greg. “You’ve still got all your teeth and your tits aren’t swinging between your knees, so you’re still game for me.”

Maria clamped her hands over her face. 

“That’s not nice, Greg, embarrassing a lady like that,” scolded Lucy.

He grinned.

“She knew I meant no harm.”

“Remind me to punch you later,” said Rik. 

“It’s no mystery why you are still single,” stated Lucy to Greg. “If those are the kind of chat up lines you use.”

“I will have you know women love me.”

“The accent, I suppose,” suggested Oliver.

“Mebbe, but I’m pretty good in bed too.”

“Uncouth on the streets,” said Rik, “Casanova between the sheets, huh?”

Greg roared with laughter.

“Very good,” complimented Lucy, laughing.

“Why aren’t you married then?” 

Maria had recovered from her embarrassment and was on the offensive.

“Afraid of commitment?”

Greg looked at her.

“Nah, it’s not that,” he admitted, shrugging. “I just haven’t met a girl I’d want to commit to. None I'd want to give up my independence for.”

He shrugged again and drained his beer.

“Well, I think I could say the same about men,” said Lucy, wrinkling her nose as she caught an overpowering whiff of aftershave from a passing man. “And I really want to get married and have a family. But it’s so difficult to meet someone nowadays and make a genuine connection, despite all the apps and online dating.”

She looked across at the two couples.

“You guys are so lucky.”

“Well, it’s not easy,” said Emma.  “But yeah, I guess we are lucky.”

A huge cheer erupted from the bar and someone began chanting 'three nil'.

“Sure you are,” said Rik, ignoring the outburst. “There are so many people out there, at this table even, who don’t have anyone. You should be grateful you have someone who is happy to put up with your s**t. And I admire you couples, married and going to be married. Surrendering to a life of unhappiness and entrapment.”

That won him more than a few disapproving looks.

“With an attitude like that,” said Dan, “You will die alone.”

“Well, I’ll be dead, I won’t care.”

Lily didn’t need this declaration to know Rik was not a romantic. He certainly didn't scream the flowers-chocolates-champagne-picnic-at-sunset type. But she felt certain he was hiding a lot. 

“So, Rik,” she said, “Why are you single? No one good enough for you either?”

Rik had been waiting for someone to ask, to have the blinding lights of interrogation shone in his face. He turned to Lily.

“Oh plenty but maybe I’m not good enough for them,” he replied honestly. “I wouldn’t be a great partner. I travel a lot so I’m rarely at home, so I wouldn't imagine I'm prime boyfriend material.”

Lily narrowed her eyes.

“I don’t feel like I need anyone special in my life for it to feel complete. I don’t think any woman could tolerate me long term. And if I ever get bored of...” Rik paused, seeking delicate phraseology. “Looking after myself, I can find a date easy enough for some casual fun.”

Lily smirked at this honest admission but still regarded him closely.

“What if you fell in love?” she pushed.

“That’s unlikely.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not what I’m looking for.”

There was a clink of glasses and bottles. A waitress was clearing the neighbouring table. The sharp bite of disinfectant momentarily banished the malty tang of beer. Lily cocked her head.

“Not what you’re looking for? But it could happen despite that. Completely out of your control.”

“I doubt it, I’m not the romantic type.”

“Neither are you the stupid type. Stubborn, yes.”

“Look, it’s not a priority right now. I’m happy as I am.”

“So you’ve already sworn off marriage and children?”

“Hey, some guys want those things, some guys have those things thrust upon them and some guys are smart, like me.”

Lily laughed and shook her head.

“There is one thing you should understand,” she said. “Women are men’s biggest weakness and there will be a girl or girls, perhaps there already have been. And there will be something about her that will charm the socks off you and you will gladly walk miles, barefoot over coals to be the one she likes most, the one she chooses.” 

She sipped her lemonade and then continued.

“But if you prefer to believe there is no woman living that could ever inspire such feelings in you, then fine, you have my pity.”

The sound of chatter, raucous laughter and tinkling glasses was all that was heard for a moment. Lily held Rik’s eyes.

“Did you walk over hot coals for her?” Greg asked Oliver. “Because if you didn’t, I think I just might.”

“Back off, she’s well and truly taken,” Oliver warned. “And yes, I’ve still got blisters on the soles of my feet.”

They all laughed. Rik held up his hands.

“Well, Lily, I defer to your greater wisdom,” he surrendered. “I believe you, there may be someone out there for me but I don’t know if she’ll happily put up with a walking train wreck like me.”

Lily smiled.

“I bet you have hordes of admirers already.”

“If I do, they must be deranged.”

“Which is how you like your women,” stated Greg.

“Hey,” whispered Rik, loudly. “That was supposed to be a secret between you and me.”

“Oops sorry.”

Lily’s face broke into a huge grin and her small frame shook with laughter.

“Right, I’m gagging for another drink,” said Toby. “Rik, help me get them in.”

 

A little before eleven, Oliver stood. It was time he and Lily were leaving. She was visibly tired, half dozing on her husband's shoulder. Maria enveloped Oliver into a bear hug, while Greg slapped his back. Lily looked up at Rik towering over her.

“No hard feelings?” she winced.

Rik’s shoulders dropped.

“Of course not,” he said. “Come here.”

He hugged her and she found herself lost in his cardigan.

“I hope to see you again soon,” he added, releasing her.

Lily smiled.

“Me too.”

Tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter, Rik walked to the fridge for water. He slumped down onto the sofa. This was not how his nights out usually ended. He’d be walking some other poor inebriated bugger home or passing out in the hallway. Lily’s words still echoed in his head. She was unfooled by his brash behaviour. He liked Lily. She spoke her mind and if he judged right, she was pretty fearless. But Lily wasn’t the only thing that had unsettled him tonight. 

Often during the evening he had seen women with long, dark, curly hair. He had looked closer in the hope it was the cherry pie girl from the cafe. He did it unconsciously the first time. His disappointment after the second mistake startled him. He hadn’t thought about her since that day. Was he really pining for a woman he hadn’t even shared a conversation with? 

“Dumbass,” he growled at himself now.

He drained his water, crumpled the bottle in his hand and then switched on the TV. 

Across the city, Oliver gazed down at Lily sleeping. She had told him three times since they had left the bar how much she had enjoyed herself. He had too. Being out with friends again, chatting and laughing had been so refreshing and comforting. Life felt less lonely, less bleak tonight. There still could be good times. Tomorrow they would go out. He’d take Lily for lunch somewhere or they could see a movie or just walk along the river, anything she wanted. 

Monday morning, Rik was surprised to see Oliver walk into his room. Oliver rarely ventured far from his own department.

“Ollie, good to see you.”

He meant it, Oliver looked ten years younger. His hair had been cut and he was wearing an ironed white shirt with a blue tie, no chalk dust in sight.

“Thanks, well Rik I came to say thank you for inviting me and Lily out Saturday night.” 

He watched Rik dab haphazardly at a coffee spill on his desk and then slap his laptop shut. 

“We both had a great time and it’s really helped me see things differently. I honestly can’t thank you enough. Who knows,” he threw up his hands. “I could have been stuck in my bubble of negativity for months which wouldn’t have helped Lily, if it hadn’t been for you.” 

He paused and took a deep breath.

“You showed me that Lily’s cancer battle doesn’t have to be all worry and fear.”

Rik stopped shoving his laptop into his bag.

“Ollie, have you been sniffing glue?”

“What? No, I . . .”

“Then would you please stop thanking me for something I had nothing to do with.”

“But…”

“No.” Rik waved his hand, dismissing Oliver. “I don’t want to hear it, unless you want me to physically silence you.”

“No, but…”

“Good. You want to go get a pizza for lunch? I’m so hungry I could eat an entire cow.”

Chapter Three

 

Reluctantly, Jo peeled her eyelids open. She stretched out and fumbled on the nightstand for her phone. Yawning, she squinted blearily at the screen. It was too early to be awake but if she didn’t get up soon she would be late for work; the same routine every morning. The struggle, the ongoing battle to leave the warmth and comfort of her bed.  Jo cast her phone aside and fell back into the pillows, drawing the duvet back up to her chin.

Jo didn’t hate her job. She hated not having the freedom to spend her time how she wished. She longed to be able to write full time and to live off the earnings. But that dream was far from being fulfilled. She was nowhere near completing the book she had been working on. She may never complete it. Constant doubts and fresh ideas stalled her progress. So for now she would suffer the boredom and monotony of being an underpaid, overworked sales assistant in a fashion store; continue to smile and pretend to be interested in customers’ conversations; carry on walking in circle after circle around the store, tidying rails and picking up discarded shoes; listen to her two-faced supervisor patronise and hypocrosise, all the while assuring herself she wasn’t a shop girl, just a girl who worked in a shop. 

Outside of work, Jo made the most of her free time to enjoy herself. If there were no friends to meet for coffee or dinner, no movies to go and see, or no family to visit, Jo would have quiet days at home. When she felt inspired and motivated she would write. Other times she would get comfortable in front of the TV and knit, or curl up with a book, a cup of tea and a cookie - or a plateful - always nearby.

After a day of clock watching, when every minute ticked by painfully slow, Jo shrugged her bag onto her back and left work. The staff at the bank next door were clocking out and locking up. A few of the ladies smiled, recognising her and then Jamie saw her. Jamie was the twenty eight year old bank manager. He was good looking with chiselled cheekbones, a clean shaven strong jaw and smartly cut hair. His muscular shoulders and toned torso filled his suit perfectly. Customers swooned over him, men and women alike. He was polite and easy going with a warm, friendly smile. It was difficult not to like him.

“Hi Jo,” Jamie called out cheerfully.

“Hey,” she smiled back, noticing the sneer on his female colleagues’ faces.

Jo preferred going home without having to make small talk with hot bank managers, but she didn’t want to be rude. Jamie was kind and always offered to drive her home. She declined, every time. Jamie, however, would still walk with her down the high street until he had to turn left to the car park. Today was no different.

“How was your weekend?” he asked, swinging his bag onto his shoulder.

He never talked about work, not any more. He’d soon learnt that once she left the building, Jo wanted to forget about work. 

“It was good, thanks,” Jo replied, remembering to smile. “I met up with a friend and we went to Dolce dal Cielo.”

Jamie's eyebrows furrowed.

“Dolce dal Cielo?”

“Yes,” stated Jo. “They have the best desserts and free teapot refills.”

“I know. You keep telling me,” Jamie sighed dramatically.

“Well,” grinned Jo. “Why don’t you listen to me and go check them out for yourself?”

“You know I would,” he began, stopping to let an elderly woman with a walking stick pass. “But it would totally ruin my clean eating and training routine.”

Jo rolled her eyes.

“You just have to order one dessert,”she said, smiling at the elderly woman who was winking at Jamie. “Not the entire menu. I’m pretty sure one dessert wouldn’t cause that much damage.”

Jamie winked back at the woman and grinned.

“You say that Jo, but it could be the beginning of a slippery slope,” Jamie cautioned, as they continued down the high street. “A dessert one day, then it’ll be sugar in my coffee, then biscuits with my coffee, snacking on chocolate bars to sneaking cakes into my desk drawer in my office and then going to Burger King drive through after a long day . . .”

“OK, OK, I get the picture,” said Jo, shaking her head. “Still it’s your loss.”

Jamie hung his head. 

“It sure is,” he moaned. “Sometimes I wonder why I do it to myself.”

“No pain, no gain, so they tell me.”

“Yeah,” grumbled Jamie, eyes cast skyward. “Some crap like that.”

The sun had begun to set once Jo arrived home. Jamie had tried to delay her, tried to persuade her to let him drive her home. She had smiled and walked away. She had to admit it felt good to talk to Jamie, to share innocent banter with him. It almost made up for her dreary work day. She stopped off at the supermarket to buy fresh milk and a bunch of fresh flowers too. 

Amy was home. She was rushing back and forth from her bedroom to the bathroom.

“Oh hi,” she said, seeing Jo walk out of the kitchen.

“Hi. Are you in a hurry?”

“Yes.” 

Amy paused briefly in her bedroom doorway, her skirt unzipped and revealing the pink waistband of her underwear. 

“Spontaneous night out. Tom’s idea.”

“Nice.”

Amy vanished back into her room. Jo hung her coat on the hook by the front door. 

“Are you going out tonight?” Amy called out to her.

“No.” Jo eased onto the couch. “Quiet night in for me.”

“Come out with us,” Amy invited.

“No, thanks for the offer but I want to get some writing done tonight.”

Amy strolled in the living room, hair brush in hand.

“I think you should come,” she said, tugging her brush through a stubborn knot. “There’s someone I think you should meet.”

Jo’s head fell back against the couch, sighing as she relaxed. She could easily fall asleep right there.

“If it’s not Henry Cavill or Jason Momoa,” she declared. “I’m not interested.”

“Do you think I’d share Cavill or Momoa with you?” Amy laughed. “No, listen, it’s a friend of Tom’s. His name is Craig and he’s an accountant.”

Jo pretended to yawn.

“Stop that,” chided Amy, pulling her hair up into a bun. “He’s actually really cute. He’d be perfect for you.”

“Amy, we have very different taste in men,” Jo reminded her, shoving a cushion behind her neck. “And you know I don’t like being set up.”

And how did Amy know what was perfect for her when she didn’t even know herself?

“Well, how do you expect to meet any guys?” argued Amy. “You hardly ever go out, you refuse to try online dating.”

Jo hadn’t mentioned Jamie to Amy and she wasn't planning to. She didn’t want the endless questions and unwanted pressure. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him anyway.

“So if your friends don’t try to help, you will always be single and alone,” Amy concluded, checking her hair in the mirror by the front door. 

Jo shrugged. She had considered that possibility many times.

“Perhaps.”

Amy rolled her eyes and padded back to her room. Jo thought she was being a bit hasty. Amy had only been dating Tom for three weeks and here she was trying to involve her with a mate of his. She had met Tom briefly. She wasn’t a fan. Too smartly dressed, too clean-shaven, too tight trousers and he wore loafers with tassels. Definitely not her type. His friend Craig was most likely similar; predictable and mundane. A date with him would be a painful bore. 

Jo watched TV until Amy left, then decided to cook dinner. She enjoyed having the flat to herself. Hopefully Amy would spend the night at Tom’s. Not that she resented Amy’s presence, she just liked having some space and alone time, particularly in the evenings. She welcomed the silence, it gave her brain the space to relax and breathe. 

An hour later, she sat at her desk, laptop open staring at a blank document. Wanting to create an escape for herself and her imagination, Jo had spent months transforming the blank white canvas of her room into a colourful, soothing haven. The colours of the walls, curtains and bedding were pinks melting into purples, flushing to yellows. Her bed was strewn with soft blankets and floral cushions. The desk, piled with notebooks, pens and scraps of paper, was tucked in one corner below two shelves of books. 

Pink rose fairy lights framed a mirror on the wall, a small chest beneath with her make-up and hair brush. A comfy armchair stood by the window beside a wicker basket full of yarn and unfinished scarves and sweaters. A pin board on a wall was crowded with photos and clippings. Her coat hung on a hanger on the door of the bulging wardrobe, her shoes neatly arranged beneath. On every empty surface stood a plant or vase of flowers. She loved it. She had been surprised at the end result. She had feared it would look like a jumbled mess. 

Jo pulled at her lip. The tank was empty again. Absolutely nothing. It was disheartening. How was she ever going to get anything published if she couldn’t even begin to write or complete a manuscript? She heaved a sigh. Some inspiration might help. 

Grimacing and silently scolding herself, Jo pushed back her chair and shuffled to the kitchen in her socks. She poured a glass of milk and piled a few brownies onto a plate. A boost in her blood sugar may help, if not they would comfort her sorry butt.

Biting into a brownie, Jo closed her eyes. The texture was soft and gooey, the cocoa rich and sweet. She chewed slowly, her tongue wanting the delicious taste to linger. It was a brilliant idea to buy some of these before they’d left Dolce dal Cielo. Another bite, another transport to bliss. Jo smiled, her chest vibrating with giggles. She was an idiot, but such a sucker for chocolate brownies. She took a few sips of cold milk and then returned her attention to her laptop screen. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard in anticipation. She licked her lips, tasting the sweetness of chocolate and she began to type. 

Two hours later, Jo leaned back in her chair and stretched, easing the soreness in her neck. Surprisingly, she had made good progress. She scrolled up and down her document. Seven pages. Jo grinned. She deserved another brownie now, she thought. And a cup of tea, of course. 

Chapter Four 

Attempting to tidy the desk, Rik was half aware of the students filing out of the room. A few girls lingered. He looked up. One was smiling at him shyly. Oh great, he thought. He wasn’t sure he knew how to handle any more female students harbouring crushes on him. Lily had been right, he did draw female attention. Some he didn’t mind, but this was awkward. He had to try and be tactful.

“Ladies, can I help?”

One blushed purple, another giggled. 

“Oh um,” another stammered. “We were just wondering if  . . .”

Rik grimaced. 

“Are you doing any lectures for the Culture Festival?” a blonde blurted out at lightning speed.

“I have been asked to contribute, yes,” he nodded, clicking his pen.

“Oh awesome,” beamed the stammering girl.

He smiled back.

“I’ll be speaking at two p.m,” he added.

“Right, yes. Great,” she grinned, fluttering her eyelashes. “We’ll see you there.”

They shuffled past, smiling coquettishly at him. Fawning underage females. He needed a beer. He checked the time. It was only three in the afternoon. He slumped back in his chair and fired an elastic band across the room. It would have hit Orville square on the nose if he had still been sitting there. 

The Culture Festival was open to outsiders, not only students and college alumni. Rik had already invited Maria along. Oliver said he would be there, Lily had insisted they both attend apparently, and had asked if she could invite some friends. 

Rik didn’t bother preparing any notes. Plans meant conformity and restrictions, the like he was loath to approve of. He preferred to wing it, see where the lecture would go. Often during his weekly lectures, he would stray off topic, instead discussing current affairs with his students. They  would ask about his life and America. He answered a few questions, others he replied were nothing a gentleman disclosed, especially not to a horde of hormonal students. 

Dodging through the crowd, Jo spied Ahdia waiting for her at the entrance of the tube station. She waved. Ahdia grinned and nodded back. She was swathed in a thick violet jumper under her coat.

“It's cold, all right? Pretty sure there was frost this morning,” she protested when Jo asked her if she wasn't going to get too hot.

The sun was shining and Jo felt a fine sheen of sweat already coating her spine. She held her hands up in surrender.

“OK, OK.”

Ahdia had emigrated from Pakistan fifteen years ago and was quite familiar with England's unpredictable climate. 

“I'd much rather be at home, snuggled up on my sofa with a warm blanket and a mug of hot chocolate,” Ahdia sighed. “But I did promise I'd come.”

“Well, I think it's a good idea, getting us out and about. I just hope I don't fall asleep.”

“Yes, likewise,” yawned Ahdia. “Now, do you know where we’re going from here? I did check the route to the university online, but as you know I am terrible at finding places.”

The university grounds were busy for a Saturday, spotty and scruffy students milling about in noisy groups, carousing and being obnoxious. A prickle of unease brushed the back of Jo's neck. She never felt comfortable around large groups of young people, especially when they were loping about like a pack of feral hyenas, screeching and cackling.      

They met Lily outside the main lecture hall. 

“Oliver is under orders to save your seats,” she said. “It's a lot busier than anyone expected.”

“That's good,” nodded Ahdia. 

“I'm sure Rik is responsible for the big crowd,” Lily continued. “He's an entertaining guy, though don't tell him I said that.”

Her voice fell to a whisper as she pulled open the door to the auditorium. Ahdia and Jo followed her inside, the rows of seats looming up ahead of them. A man in a blue checked shirt waved at them. Lily's husband, Jo assumed. They climbed the stairs and shuffled along to join him.  

“Jo, this is Oliver, my husband. Oliver, Jo, Ahdia's friend,” whispered Lily.

Oliver stretched over to shake Jo's hand. She smiled and mouthed, 'Nice to meet you'. He was a good looking guy with very warm and friendly eyes. 

The man currently on the small stage - who was clearly not Rik - was exploring the effect of Trump on modern literature. Yawn, thought Jo, as he began his conclusion. There was a lacklustre round of applause. 

“Rik is on next,” Lily said, leaning over. “I'm not sure what to expect, but please don't hold it against me if it's awful.”

Ahdia shook her head and Jo smiled encouragingly. 

“Here he comes now.”

A tall, lean man wearing dark wash jeans and an off white, slightly rumpled shirt, casually strolled out to fresh applause and excited whoops. Jo narrowed her eyes and peered closer at him. Her stomach flipped. She recognised him immediately, not being the type you’d forget too soon. The guy from Dolce dal Cielo. How funny.

 

“Good afternoon. If you don’t know me, I’m Rik Clarke. I’m American and I’m lecturing here for a few months. I’m not actually a teacher or a professor. I’m a writer. Shock horror, right? You were expecting me to say I’m a musician or I own a vape store in Camden or I brew my own ale in my basement.”

Jo smiled and relaxed into her seat. This might just be an unexpected treat. Rik shuffled some papers on the lectern and then ambled to and fro across the stage.

“When I was a teenager, the last thing I thought I would want to be was a writer. At that age, I was most likely thinking how many beers I could sneak into my room without my parents noticing or how much I was going to charge Charlie McKie for cigarettes.” 

There were a few knowing laughs from the audience. 

“The penchant for alcohol and stronger stuff continued into my early twenties. I would try anything that could give me a high or an escape from reality. It was pretty destructive behaviour but it was a steep and painful learning curve. Without those mistakes and lessons I wouldn’t be who I am today. And today I am no Mr Straight-Laced-Perfect. I still drink too much, eat takeout too often, make bad decisions and wake up with regrets as often as I do hangovers. But life is a work in progress.”

Jo shifted in her seat. Ahdia covertly opened a small bag of chocolate raisins in her handbag and popped one discreetly into her mouth.

“When you’ve woken up too many times in a pool of your own vomit with twenty missed calls from your parents or concerned friends, you realise that maybe it’s time to make a change, for your own sake and for others.”

Rik continued to walk breezily along the stage, occasionally clicking a pen he held.

“Despite having little work experience, I got a job as a proofreader at a magazine. A lot of what I read was good, really good writing. One month I heard they were including a feature about addiction. I wasn’t asked to but I scribbled down a few paragraphs which grew into a three page essay. I was surprised how much I enjoyed writing it but also how therapeutic it was for me. It was cathartic, thinking about my past choices and their consequences, writing it down, getting it all out. Somehow the essay ended up on the editor’s desk. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

Rik paused at the lectern to take a sip from a bottle of water. 

“This is water, I promise,” he said, shaking the bottle. “Not vodka.”

A wave of laughter rippled across the audience. 

“After working as a regular writer,” he continued. “At that magazine for a year, I quit to take a road trip from New York to Los Angeles. It was one of the best times of my life. Cruising across America, stopping off at so many different cities and towns, meeting a wealth of different and colourful people, experiencing some great food and some stomach hurling food, drooling over some orgasmic architecture and spending time alone to think and reflect. I discovered I liked travelling. I liked it a lot.”

There was barely a sound from the audience. 

“I’m now a travel writer for National Geographic, which is a pretty neat deal. I get to write about my unique experiences in the countries and cities I visit. It pays the bills, but I also write other stuff. For example, I’m currently working on a comic strip with a friend about a dude called Bog and his adventures through intergalactic space. We write most of the plot while intoxicated. I also contribute to a few different blogs and I have a few novels knocking around in my head.”

Jo smiled. That comic strip sounded a laugh.

  

“For you young, bright faced tadpoles, on the brink of leaving the pond and sprouting legs so you can hop out of the water to pastures new, what I would say is experience everything, take opportunities, push yourself, get out of your comfort zone. Have regrets but don’t let them rule your life or future. Learn from your mistakes and move on. But you should accept now that you won’t be Hollywood actors, Grammy winning singers, supermodels or overpaid footballers.”

OK. Wow, thought Jo. That was a bold move. Many people would say the exact opposite to that. 

“The cold, hard truth is you can’t be whatever you want to be. We all have different talents and strengths. Those combined with opportunities we do or don’t take, shape us into who we can and will become. Instead of trying to be whatever you want, find something that interests you and be great at it. Life isn’t fair, it’s hard, but it’s not impossible to find something you excel at and enjoy.”

Now it made sense. Jo had never thought of life or goals in that perspective before. But Rik was right. Perhaps if she’d had someone tell her what Rik had just said, she’d have made more progress or sooner. She wouldn’t have felt like she was chasing rainbows. She was good at writing, she knew that. Ahdia told her all the time. And she loved it. She knew it was going to be hard work to succeed. But she was always haunted by the doubt she wasn’t good enough to be published. A career advisor at school had told her she couldn’t write a book fresh out of secondary school. She had never forgotten that. Stupidly she had listened to a self-important nobody, who didn't really care about students and who didn’t know her or her talent. 

     

Jo pushed the ball of regret and disappointment deep down and focused on Rik’s voice, enjoying his honesty, bluntness and profuse swearing. In contrast to his predecessor, there was a roaring applause after he said, 

“Well, that’s it. I’m ready for a drink now.”

“Well, well, well,” Oliver greeted Rik, when he finally joined them outside the lecture hall. “The man of the hour.”

“We come to pay homage to the great, wise teacher,” needled Lily, mocking a bow.

Rik eyed her suspiciously. She grinned back.

“Anyway, Rik,” said Oliver. “I thought your lecture was very good, very funny.”

“Yes,” agreed Lily. “And it was nice to have to wait for half an hour to speak to you while your groupies giggled and drooled all over you. Do you need a towel or something?”

Jo laughed silently and Ahdia hid her smirk. 

“You sound jealous,” deduced Rik. “You should join them. Get a free t-shirt and everything.”

Lily cocked her head.

“Including a slice of inflated ego.”

“If you want to take this outside, Mrs Staunton, then let’s go.”

Rik gestured over his shoulder with his thumb towards the exit.

“Be my guest,” invited Lily, motioning for him to lead the way.

“Hey, hey, cool it,” interrupted Oliver. “There are ladies present.”

“Oh yes, Rik, I should introduce you,” said Lily. “This is my good friend, Ahdia and her equally good friend, Jo.”

Rik shook each of their hands. His eyes lingered on Jo before he took Ahdia's hand. 

“Good to meet you. Though I guess you're reconsidering your friendship with Lily after she dragged you along to listen to me drone on for half an hour,” he grimaced.

“On the contrary,” grinned Ahdia, amused. “I found it quite enjoyable.”

“Only quite enjoyable?” Rik echoed.

“Ahdia is always a tough crowd,” explained Jo, good humouredly. “So don't take it personally.”

“You can't please everyone, Rik,” Lily sighed. 

“Yeah and don't I know it.”

“Cheer up, you still have your loyal groupies,” Ahdia pointed out. “I'm sure they'll more than make up for it.”

Rik eyed her for a moment.

“Something tells me that I wouldn't win many battles against you.”

Ahdia burst out laughing.

“Probably not, but you can always try.”

“No wonder you're friends with Lily, you both have sharp, scorpion tailed tongues.”

Lily frowned at him and shook her head.

 “So what are you guys up to now?” asked Rik. “Heading to the pub to eliminate every memory of my lecture with alcohol?”

“Sadly not,” admitted Ahdia.

“We’ll probably go get some food somewhere and then head home,” said Jo.

“Sounds really boring,” said Rik.

Jo laughed.

“It is.”

“Well, Toby and I were going to grab a bite, why don’t you come along too?”

“That would be lovely,” smiled Lily. “I am hungry.”

Rik turned to Jo and Ahdia.

“You ladies?” 

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to intrude,” began Jo, though her stomach felt like a gaping, bottomless chasm.

“You wouldn’t be,” said Rik. “I’d rather have something better to look at over lunch than Toby’s face.”

“We'll be there too, Rik,” said Oliver.

“Well, why have two good faces when you can have four?”

“You flatter us, I’m sure,” said Ahdia.

“When you see Toby, you know I’m not. So what do you say?”

Jo and Ahdia looked at one another.

“I don’t need to be anywhere,” Jo shrugged.

“OK, we’ll come,” said Ahdia.

“Now don’t force yourself to be too enthusiastic about the idea, Ahdia,” Rik said. “I wouldn’t want to think I’m coercing you into eating with me. I’m not some gruesome monster who gets food stuck in his beard, or dribbles beer down it. I promise, you will not be horrified.” 

Jo didn’t try to stifle her laughter. Ahdia grimaced.

“Well, you can hardly blame me for harbouring such fears,” she fired back. “You do exude a crazy, heathen vibe.”

Jo’s slim frame shook with laughter. Rik crossed his arms.

“And what exactly is heathen about me? I’ll accept the crazy, but heathen?”

“Well,” said Ahdia, assessing him. “The whole unkempt look, like you slept in a hedge for starters.”

Rik put his hands on his hips and looked sideways at Lily and Oliver.

“I ask two ladies out for lunch and this is what I get?” 

“Insults and mockery,” nodded Lily. “And you love it.”

The restaurant was tucked away on a side street. Rik opened the door and stood back to allow everyone to walk in. A fragrant waft of garlic hit Jo’s nose. It was tiny but cosy inside, room enough for ten tables and a bar. A young man with jet black hair and olive skin greeted them.

“Hey, ciao Riki.”

“Emilio, my man,” replied Rik, slapping palms with the waiter. 

“How is my tall Americano friend?”

“Couldn’t be better, Emilio. I’ve brought some friends to taste your excellent cuisine.”

“Good, good. Some beautiful ladies?”

Emilio winked at Rik.

“Hey,” warned Rik, holding up his hand. “Hands off, OK? They’re all mine. We’re going to have a sweaty, dirty orgy later.”

Jo blinked, her mouth dropping open.

“Ha, he wishes,” Ahdia murmured.

Rik turned to Ahdia.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea how much.”

Emilio wagged his finger at Rik.

“You are playing me.”

Rik shook his head.

“You’re getting smarter, Emilio.”

“Yes, I’m getting wise to your game, huh? But come, you sit where you like.”

Jo was so glad it was an Italian restaurant. She loved pasta. Ahdia was perusing the dessert menu already and was imagining sliding a spoon into a big slab of tiramisu. Jo’s stomach growled.

“Excuse me,” she said, mortified.

“That’s what I love about you Brits, you apologise for everything,” remarked Rik, finally deciding he would have the spaghetti puttanesca. “You just apologised for being hungry. What the hell?”

 “All right, Rik, just because you all eat out of troughs in America, doesn’t mean etiquette and social niceties have to die everywhere else,” said Toby.

They discussed the merits of Italian food and the origin of many of the dishes served, with Emilio contributing with his expertise. The food was delicious, so many rich flavours in the sauces and the pasta cooked to perfection.

“Can I stay here forever?” said Ahdia, leaning back in her chair. 

“I might join you,” grinned Lily.

“I’m sure Emilio wouldn’t mind,” said Rik.

“I would though,” said Oliver, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. 

“How did you discover this place?” Jo asked.

“Walking home one night, after I’d been in London for a week. I got lost and found myself wandering down this street. So I came in to ask for directions and ended up staying for the rest of the night.”

Jo smiled.

“How much more business have you brought them?”asked Ahdia, laying her knife and fork down.

“Oh I tell everyone I meet, even on the subway.”

Ahdia’s eyes widened.

“You mean you actually talk to strangers on the Tube?”

“Sure,” Rik shrugged.

“Brave man.”

“Isn't he?” agreed Oliver.

“Do other people glare at you?”

He nodded. 

“They look at me as if I’ve asked them if they would like me to pole dance for them naked.”

“You know I think they would be less offended if you did that,” Toby remarked.

“Jo’s imagining it,” said Lily, inclining her head toward her. “How does it look?”

Jo grinned, her face flushing.

“I am not!” she insisted, then laughed.

“I think you would become an overnight sensation,” admitted Oliver. 

“You know I’m actually really disappointed this isn’t true,” said Jo. 

“I know,” agreed Toby. “But Rik, if the travel writing gets boring at least you have a backup plan for world fame.”

“Thanks very much for your kind thoughts. Why am I the butt of all the jokes today?”

“Well,” mused Lily. “You’re thick skinned.”

“You must be with all those tattoos,” said Ahdia.

Rik raised a single eyebrow at her.

“Do I detect a note of derision in your tone, Ahdia?”

“Oh she’s not a big fan of tattoos,” Jo answered.

Rik looked at Ahdia. 

“But they’re on my body, not yours, so why do you care?” he asked. 

“How many do you actually have?” enquired Jo, sensing the slight tension.

“A lot,” he replied. 

Jo shook her head.

“I don’t know how you put up with the pain so many times. But then maybe I do.”

“Wait a minute, do you have tattoos?”

Jo grinned.

“Yep.”

“I never would have thought of you as the type of girl to have ink, but then people are full of surprises. Next Toby is going to reveal he has his n*****s pierced.”

“Rik, I told you that in confidence.”

“It’s OK, Toby, we won’t judge.”

“No, not if you show us,” added Rik. 

“Rik, please.”

Toby pretended to be flustered and embarrassed. 

“He’s always trying to get me naked.”

“I can’t help it. You get me all horny with that sexy British accent of yours. I’m a sucker for it.”

“Shall we leave you two to it?” asked Lily.

“You mean you don’t want to watch?”

Jo covered her eyes with her hands, laughing.

“Heaven forbid, no.”

“Exactly, I think I’m going to be sick now,” agreed Ahdia, looking disgusted. 

“I think we all need another drink.”

Over dessert, Rik entertained them with stories of his sight-seeing; his undying love for the English cooked breakfast and tales of meeting locals and fellow travellers. 

“Rik has no problem making new acquaintances,” offered Lily.

“Seriously?” Ahdia looked sceptical.

“You doubt it?” asked Rik, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. 

“Well, yes. You do look intimidating,” confessed Ahdia, half smiling. “For example, do you scowl all the time?”

Rik shrugged.

“‘Fraid so. It’s far less scary than my smile, trust me.”

“His smile is our grimace,” Jo offered.

Rik huffed a surprised laugh.

“Nail on the head, Jo.” 

“So you make friends everywhere you go?”

“Pretty much,” explained Rik, rolling his shoulders. 

“Just on the constant lookout for unsuspecting victims,” explained Oliver.

“Well, you never know when you might see someone whose skin would look good as a new jacket.”

Jo stared at Rik. Ahdia frowned, her nose wrinkling.

“I think you have issues,” she said.

“Who hasn’t?” Rik replied. “Mine are just more interesting than my boyfriend won’t text me back after I burned his house down, or I still need to lose five kilos before I can squeeze into my new leopard print bikini.”

He glanced around the table. Jo was laughing, bemused. Ahdia was simply staring at him. Toby rolled his eyes, while Oliver and Lily exchanged looks.

Rik held his hands up.

“Hey, you can’t say I don’t make an impression.”

“Yes,” agreed Ahdia. “But not necessarily a good one.”

“Hey, you know I was joking, right?” clarified Rik. 

“Of course,” said Jo, laughing.

“Hey, you can never tell with people. One minute they’re laughing with you, the next they’re slapping your face and telling you to pull your pants back up.”

“Oh no, we wouldn’t do that. We’d sell tickets instead,” teased Jo. “Especially if that leopard print bikini made an appearance.”

“You’d become millionaires overnight.”

“Don’t tempt us,” warned Lily.

“So ‘Rik’, is that short for something?” said Ahdia.

“Yeah, it’s probably the only short thing about me.”

Lily released a loud 'Huh' and Jo giggled.

“I meant my height, nothing else, OK?”

“Yes, of course,” agreed Oliver.

“So short for what?” asked Ahdia, feeling like they should steer clear of the bawdy humour for a minute at least.

“Richard.”

“And you don’t like Richard?”

“Do I look like a Richard?”

Jo‘s mouth squirmed as she fought back a laugh.

“Not particularly, no.”

“Exactly. I’d have to wear a tie all the time and be clean shaven, and listen solely to classical music, drink chardonnay and have a Mom who would say, ‘Richard’, in a really dramatic way every time I cursed.” 

He rolled the “r” in Richard with a British accent. Jo had a fleeting vision of Hyacinth Bucket.

“And you’re nothing like that?” enquired Jo, her face blank, her chin resting on her hand. 

“No. The only time I would wear a tie is if it was tied around my wrists or ankles by a lady in the bedroom. My beard is my best friend.” 

He stroked it fondly. 

“I listen to all kinds of music. I don’t drink wine, I stick to beer and whisky and my Mom, well whenever she’s angry with me, she calls me Dick.”

“Yeah, Mums can be mean,” nodded Jo, in mock sympathy.

Coffees and teas arrived at the table.

“How long are you in England?” asked Jo, pouring her tea. 

“I’m here for six months,” Rik replied. “Been here two already.”

“Just for work or pleasure too?” Ahdia continued the interrogation. 

“Both. I’m not going to take one without the other.”

“So do you have any other lines of work apart from writing? Master pervert? Apprentice creep? All round weirdo?” 

“Those are pursuits I do on the side, along with writing, drinking and exploring. ”

“Jo writes,” said Ahdia.

Rik turned to Jo, intrigued.

“You do?”

Jo glared at Ahdia.

“Yes,” she replied. “But it’s just a hobby.”

“What kind of stuff do you write?” asked Lily.

“Erotica mainly, really sexy, hot stuff.”

“Really?” blinked Rik.

“No,” laughed Jo.

“Damn, you got me excited then. But I’d be interested in reading your work.”

She looked at Rik shrewdly.

“No you wouldn’t,” she stated, dropping her eyes.

“No, I honestly would.”

“It’s not ready for the public yet,” she confessed.

“I’m not the public.”

“We’ll see,” Jo surrendered.

“We definitely will,” asserted Rik. 

“How long have you been writing?” asked Oliver, holding his espresso to his lips.

Jo shuffled in her chair.

“Um, since I was about seven or eight.”

“Right, wow. A lot earlier than I did,” said Rik. “I only started when I was about twenty.”

Jo shrugged awkwardly. 

“So, how did it all begin or happen?”

Jo wasn't sure she liked all this attention and interest, but how often did one have the opportunity to talk to another serious writer.

“Well, I was a bookworm,” Jo explained. 

“Still is,” Ahdia added.

“And I would always imagine I was a character in the story or in a movie,” Jo continued, ignoring Ahdia’s comment. “Then I began creating my own character in the stories. Soon I was making up my own stories.”

“Head is always in the clouds,” said Ahdia.

Jo risked a glance at Rik. His eyes were fixed on her.

“And em well I liked when we did creative writing in English lessons and so I started writing my stories down.” 

She ran a fingertip along the rim of her saucer. 

“I’ve never really stopped thinking up ideas, imagining characters.”

Jo smiled.

“I love it, I really love it.” 

Her shoulders bunched inward towards her chest. 

“Getting lost in a story, creating characters, breathing life into them. And sometimes, sometimes I get such a buzz from it.”

Her voice had softened.

“Same with reading. When you’ve got a book you’re really enjoying, you just love hanging out with the characters and you get such a thrill from it.”

She shook her head, her cheeks glowing. Rik’s gaze never left her face. Jo was surprised at her openness, especially to a stranger.

“She spends more time in imaginary worlds than she does in this one,” tutted Ahdia.

Rik grit his teeth. He really wanted to tell Ahdia to shut up.

Lily elbowed her husband's arm and motioned to Rik and Jo. Oliver looked and smiled, eyebrows raised.

 “You certainly have a passion for writing,” said Rik. 

Jo smiled shyly at him.

“So do you only write travel stuff or do you dabble in other genres?” she said, her voice sounding squeaky.

Rik relaxed back into his chair.

“Oh I dabble,” he said, winking. “Nah, I have written a few comedy sketches, some short stories for magazines. I’m working on three different books at the moment, at different stages with each of them.”

“Yeah, can I ask what they’re about?”

“No,” replied Rik, directly.

Jo laughed.

“Yeah, fair enough. I hate it when people ask me about my work.”

Emilio arrived with the bill and told them there was no rush. He whisked their cups and glasses away before offering them each a chocolate mint.  

“Do you miss home, Rik?” Lily questioned, biting into her chocolate.

“Yes and no,” admitted Rik. “I spend so much time travelling that I’m too busy to miss home. But then I do miss seeing my parents for months. If I sat and thought about it, I could list a lot of things, places and people I miss. But I like to live in the moment and focus on the here and now.”

“Do you feel at home in England?” asked Ahdia.

“Yeah sure. Everyone speaks almost the same language as me, a lot of people like to 

drink as much as I do, eat as much junk food as I do and then try to kill it at the gym the next day. Just like home.”

Oliver and Lily laughed.

“I mean,” Rik continued. “I was expecting to be surrounded by tea drinking, fish and chip eating, umbrella toting, untanned or burnt like a boiled lobster, posh speaking, overly polite, emotionally stunted drunk soccer hooligans who have all met the queen.”

“Wow, those are some big expectations,” remarked Lily.

“And even bigger stereotypes,” claimed Jo.

“Hey, you have just sat there and drunk a gazillion cups of tea. That is one proved stereotype,” argued Rik.

“Conceded,” Jo laughed.

“You know, you drink tea like I drink whisky,” Rik remarked.

“What, from a teacup?”

Rik huffed a laugh.

“You joke but I’m sure I have before.”

“I am not surprised.”

Rik scowled at her.

“I’ll surprise you one day,” he promised. “You’ll see,” 

For a Saturday evening, the Tube was not busy. Jo’s eyes rested on one of the central poles in the carriage. Her lips twitched, remembering the idea of Rik pole dancing naked on the Tube. He really was a good sport, not the least bit offended being made fun of. 

The soothing, hypnotic motion of the train shuffled Jo from side to side and her eyelids drooped. She pictured Rik, his scruffy hair, the myriad of tattoos swirling over his skin, his blue eyes when they looked directly at her. She smiled and wriggled in her seat, a shiver running down her spine. She blamed the wine. It really wasn’t wise to allow herself to be seriously attracted to Rik. That would be a very dangerous path to take. 

She wondered if he was a good kisser. She imagined he would be. She blinked a few times in an attempt to clear her mind. This really wasn’t a safe train of thought. She sighed and thought instead of the cup of tea she was going to make when she arrived home. Did Rik like tea? No, he was American so most likely a coffee addict. So uncivilised those Yanks. She giggled to herself. She was a fool.

Chapter Five 

At the promise of the first warm and sunny weekend of the year, Lucy had swung by Rik’s temporary office, a converted broom cupboard, and suggested a picnic in Hyde Park at the weekend. Not just the two of them, she reassured him, they would invite some friends. In true Rik style, he had replied why the hell not. 

Ahdia had called Jo the previous night.

“So have you heard from Rik again since the picnic invite?” Ahdia had enquired. “I assume you haven’t because you haven’t texted me a hundred times to gush about it.”

“Shut up,” said Jo, before laughing. “I’m not that bad.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“I’m not!”

“So he hasn’t messaged you?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Well, it’s fine. It’s not as if he said, ‘Talk to you soon’, or anything. He made no declaration of his newly awakened passion for me.”

“More’s the pity,” sighed Ahdia. “Are you disappointed?”

“No. Well, yes, well not that much,” Jo confessed. “I mean I have hoped to hear from him and sometimes I feel like I should just go ahead and text him, but I don’t chase guys, do I?”

She could see Ahdia rolling her eyes. Jo sighed.

“I was just hoping to get to know him better. I mean he gave me no impression that I was anyone special, so I shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed.”

“But you are?”

“Well, of course. Have you ever met a guy so funny, smart, weird and totally comfortable with who he is?”

“I have not met anyone like him, but no I’m not imagining myself skipping down the aisle with him in a wedding dress.” Ahdia laughed. “I bet he would look good in a wedding dress.”

“Yes, he probably would. Anyway, I am not imagining that. Well, at least not until you just mentioned it.”

“Ha.”

“But honestly, I do not have any expectations from him.”

“Apart from him falling in love with you,” interrupted Ahdia. 

“No!” exclaimed Jo.

“You can’t fool me.”

“Well, I am telling you right now, no matter what happens I will not think of my relationship with Rik as anything but friendship. I mean how many times have I been let down by men, mainly because my expectations were too much?”

“Or too high.”

“Well, yes. My point is, I’m not going to be as stupid to let it happen again.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“You doubt me?”

“Absolutely. Rik is nothing like all those other peasants. If you spend any time with him at all, I think it’s going to be very difficult for you not to fall for him.”

“Pfft.”

“I know you, Jo.”

“Look, I'm just looking forward to the picnic tomorrow and spending more time with him. So you just shush for now, OK?”

Once they had found an ideal spot, bathed in glorious sunshine, they smoothed the blankets out onto the grass. 

“Greg,” Rik said. “I am offended. Just four beers? Do you not want to enjoy yourself?”

Greg shrugged. Ahdia had made samosas and fruit salad. Jo had two bags full of sandwiches, sausage rolls, scotch eggs, crisps, and cakes. Oliver had been sensible and packed a bag full of plastic cups and plates, napkins and wet wipes. Dan and Emma had a few bottles of wine, lemonade and water. Lucy had cakes, chocolate fingers, crackers and pickles. In his cool box, Rik had beer and ice and more beer. 

“Before we unload all the food, I think it’d be cool for some group photos,” said Lucy, waving her phone.

“Good idea,” agreed Lily.

“Well, everyone gather in together,” said Lucy. “And I’ll take a few.”

Everyone awkwardly huddled together on the blanket. Lily was centre, Oliver with his arm around her. Greg lay resplendently in front of them.

“Snap me like one of your French girls,” he called out to Lucy.

Dan and Emma knelt to the right of Oliver, Jo and Ahdia on Lucy’s left while Rik stood, arms open behind them. Lucy snapped a few shots.

“Funny faces,” she shouted.

Greg pulled the tip of his nose up. Ahdia inflated her cheeks. Jo screwed up her face and bared her teeth. Dan crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. Emma sucked her lips in. Lily squashed her cheeks towards her nose and Oliver grinned like a deranged clown. Rik dropped his arms and folded them, giving the camera a poker face. Lucy tried not to laugh. 

“Group selfie now,” said Lily. 

Twenty selfies later, they collapsed onto the blanket. Lucy quickly shared the photos to everyone’s phones..

“Seriously Greg, your face in this one.”

“Oh that is a beauty.”

“Ahdia, you’re turning me on in this one. If that is your sex face then I’m screwed.”

After howls of stomach aching laughter, the food and drinks were unpacked and plates handed around. Everyone began piling their plates high. Rik discovered his first scotch egg. Stray bread crumbs sprinkled onto the blanket as the pork and egg crumbled perfectly onto his tongue. 

“Hell, I’m taking a whole load of these home Stateside with me.”

“So being a Scotsman,” began Lucy, addressing Greg. “Are you like the Scotch egg? Crumbly on the outside, but meaty underneath with a soft centre?”

“Oh you know it, darling,” he replied. “Especially the meaty part.”

He winked. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh please.”

“Are they a Scottish delicacy then?” Rik asked, adding two more sandwiches to his plate.

“I’m damned if I know,” said Greg. 

“No, eating a regurgitated pig’s stomach is a Scottish delicacy,” said Lily.

“Hey, don’t you be mocking haggis,” cried Greg. “Or I’ll pommell your little arse.”

Lily smiled sweetly at him. 

Spotting the pedalos on the lake, Rik insisted he wanted to have a go. Greg called shotgun immediately and stumbled to his feet. He picked up a fresh beer and went whistling towards the lake. Rik picked up his jacket and followed.

“Uh-oh, that looks like trouble,” remarked Lily.

Jo watched Greg and Rik. Their pedalo floated out toward the centre of the lake, their knees bobbing up and down. They had been pedalling for about ten minutes when Greg staggered upright. The pedalo wobbled. Rik leaned back and looked up at him. He said something. Greg glanced back down at him and shrugged. 

Rik slapped his hand down in dismissal and continued pedalling, ignoring Greg. Greg’s balance wavered. Jo felt her stomach clench. He was going to fall. Greg stretched his arms attempting to steady himself. Rik was oblivious, chatting away to himself, cycling in circles. Greg toppled, rocking back and forth and then fell, forwards, face first into the water. 

The pedalo rocked and Rik shouted something, throwing out his arms. He turned and saw Greg had disappeared. His head spun around, searching for his friend. Seconds later, Greg surfaced, hair plastered to his head, his beer bottle clutched triumphantly like a trophy in his hand. Rik threw his head back and roared with laughter.

Every head had turned at the loud splash. Jo was staring open mouthed. Lucy was in hysterics, head bent and slapping the blanket. Oliver shot to his feet.

“Why does it not surprise me?” he laughed, shaking his head. “I better go and help.”

He snatched up one of the spare blankets and trotted off down to the bank.

“What happened?” asked Ahdia, who had been digging in her handbag for tissues.

“Greg, the numbskull, fell in the lake,” explained Lucy.

On the lake, Rik was pulling Greg’s sodden bulk back onto the pedalo. They pedalled slowly back to shore. Oliver was waiting and offered a grateful Greg the blanket. He flung it around his shoulders and squelched  back to their group. 

“I didn’t know we hired you for the afternoon’s entertainment,” teased Dan.

“Can a man not go for a swim when he so desires any more?” Greg threw back.

“Well, that wasn’t quite a swim,” observed Lucy. “More like a demonstration of the stupidity of man.”

“You should try the water,” he called back. “Lovely and tastes of fish.”

“And there’s me thinking he was going for the Colin Firth swimming in a lake look to impress us ladies,” said Lily.

“He forgot his frilly white shirt for that,” said Ahdia.

Greg eyed them.

“Hey, I know all you ladies would give anything to have a piece of this right now.”

He stroked his hand through his hair and then shook his head, water droplets spraying them. 

“Unfortunately, you resemble more of Swamp Thing than Aquaman,” noted Jo. 

“Swamp Thing?” repeated Rik, rejoining them. “That’s being generous, Jo. He’s more like Swamp Thing and the Thing had hot, steamy sex and he’s their fish smelling love child.”

“I was waiting for you to strip off and dive in after him.”

“Jo, sweetheart, if you want to see me naked you just gotta ask. I’m happy to oblige.”

She laughed, her face growing pink. 

“Damn, you found me out,” she joked.

“You know, any time, just say the word,” he winked at her.

She flipped her middle finger at him. He grinned.

“Wouldn’t be anything to see anyway,” Jo shrugged. “You’re covered in ink.”

“The stuff worth seeing isn’t.”

Jo tried to keep a poker face, but her mouth twisted into a smile.

“Well, I think I’ll be the judge of that,” she stated, folding her arms.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he assured her.

“Oh I’ll be counting on that,” she replied, one eyebrow arching.

Rik’s response was a smile before he turned to Greg. He didn’t want to flirt with Jo in front of everyone. He casually flirted with women all the time. But with Jo it felt intimate. He didn’t want anyone else listening, even if they were only teasing. But there was that occasional sassy defiance in Jo that tickled his curiosity. 

Deciding it was wise to change his sodden clothes, Greg left to return home. Rik accompanied him in case Greg accidentally stepped in a puddle, he would be there to launch a rescue. 

Lucy had seen the look on his face when he flirted with Jo, the way a smile tugged at his mouth. He had never looked at her like that. It was fine. He was a good friend and it was futile mourning over what was never going to happen. Though she had felt a thread of jealousy curdling in her stomach, which was stupid. Rik and Jo were not an item, they had only flirted, not sucked each other’s face off. And Jo had been poking fun at Rik, not throwing out lures. 

Lucy had fallen for Rik the day he had wandered into the library. Oblivious to who he was, he had piqued her interest. The tattoos winding around his forearms were intriguing though his choice of shirt was questionable. The pattern on it was more commonly found on curtains from the nineteen sixties, but he did wear it with confidence. 

Later, Rik had approached her. Lucy almost fell off her stool. He asked, in his deep, sexy American voice, if he could have the password for the WiFi. She had stammered something unintelligible, scribbling on a scrap of paper. Rik, seeming not to notice her embarrassment, had introduced himself. That was it, she was a goner. Now, two and a half months later, her infatuation had cooled. Rik was a great guy but he didn’t return her feelings. 

“Lock up your daughters, Englishmen, we’re back.”

Lucy grinned hearing Greg’s voice. He was dry and no longer looked like a half drowned badger. 

“Did you pass Dan and Emma?” Lily asked.

They had left to drive to Emma's parents' house where they were expected for dinner.

“Yeah,” said Rik. “Quitters. We’ve hardly begun to picnic the s**t out of today.”

“Well, we haven’t played Frisbee yet,” noted Oliver. “And I’m pretty sure I spied a Frisbee in Lily’s bag.”

“You did,” said Lily, plucking a luminous yellow Frisbee out of her bag and brandishing it in the air.

Greg rubbed his hands together. 

“Let slip the dogs of war.”

Ahdia stood, dusting the grass of her jeans.

“I am stunned you can quote Shakespeare,” she said. 

“Yeah, well I’ve got brains and brawn,” he replied.

“But they cancel each other out,” Rik explained to Ahdia. 

She nodded, understanding. Greg rolled his eyes and held his hand out to Jo, helping her stand.

“Oh thank you,” she smiled. “And there’s me thinking chivalry was dead.”

“No, it still lives in Britain, sure it’s rare here, but it’s dead across the pond.”

Rik ignored him but turned to Lucy. 

“My lady,” he addressed her, in his best English accent, bowing at the waist. “Allow me to assist you to stand.”

Lucy giggled and he pulled her to her feet.

“Wow,” said Oliver. “I just had flashes of Dick van Dyke in Mary Poppins.”

Everyone but Lily joined in the game of Frisbee. She was treated to brilliant displays of Greg launching himself upwards, backwards and sideways to catch the Frisbee, flashing his rather toned stomach. Unlike Greg, Rik was playing it cool, never over exerting himself. He reached out a long arm and effortlessly secured the Frisbee every time. And the way he spun it and flew it through the air, Jo found her concentration wavering. Poor Oliver fell over, green grass stains embellishing his tan chinos. But he jumped back to his feet, brushing himself off and grinning widely at Lily. Ahdia couldn’t stop giggling, the Frisbee evading her outstretched fingertips. 

“Stop giggling, woman,” scolded Greg, light-heartedly.

“Leave her be,” said Rik. “She looks cuter when she giggles.”

Ahdia giggled even more. And then Jo outdid herself by somehow throwing the Frisbee behind her. It sailed through the air, narrowly missing a couple and their baby who were strolling past. Cue a fresh outburst of giggles from Ahdia. Jo mouthed ‘Oops’ before jogging to retrieve it. Rik put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

“You goof,” he taunted. 

“Well, not everyone can be perfect all the time,” Jo argued.

“No, but most people can throw a Frisbee in the right direction.”

“It was a blip.”

“Oh right, a blip,” Rik pretended to accept.

Jo stopped still and glared at him. Rik was reminded of a lion cub snarling, fierce but adorable. His trademark scowl crumpled and he couldn’t help smiling. 

“OK, stop looking at me like that,”  he said. “Because I can’t handle it.”

Jo said nothing and threw the Frisbee to Greg. 

One by one, they dropped out of the game, overcome by heat and sweat. Lily handed them cups of cool water. Jo settled herself comfortably and pulled a book out of her bag. Rik threw himself down beside her. He stretched his long legs out and propped himself up on his elbows. 

“I feel almost quintessentially British today,” said Rik.

“I get the impression you don’t picnic much?”

“Nope.”

“Well, picnics are tradition. For me anyway,” explained Jo. “When we were young, every summer holiday we would go for a picnic in the town park with my grandmother. I loved it. Nan would have made pizza and would bring along a huge watermelon. We’d play on the slides, swings and climbing frames, then gorge ourselves on food.”

Rik listened, sensing Jo was reminiscing. 

“Then we’d go explore the surrounding woods, finding little hideaways and secret paths. I hated the walk home though, it felt like forever.”

A short laugh escaped her.

“Those days you had no worries in the world, apart from going back to school in September. We didn’t know how lucky we were.”

“Do you really hate growing up that much?”

“Hmm not really. I can do what I want now. Like I can have Nutella sandwiches whenever I want,” she grinned, mischievously. “And I can read past midnight. But it was a simpler life. Plus I still often find myself wanting to play Cowboys and Indians, or push my doll around in her pink pushchair.”

Rik couldn’t help but smile at this. 

“You know, I miss those days,” he agreed. “I miss my dolls too.”

“Why do I get the feeling you mean voodoo dolls or something similar?”

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he replied. “I’m kidding. No, I had a G.I Joe and a Luke Skywalker figure, until my brother decapitated them.”

Jo gasped.

“I bet you were heartbroken.”

“Devastated. I wanted revenge and I was out for blood.”

“What did you do?” dared Jo.

“I set fire to all his underwear in the backyard.”

“You never?” asked Jo, laughing.

“Oh I did and I was grounded for six months,” he added. “But it was worth it. Mum was really angry but when I explained why I’d done it, I could see my Dad trying not to laugh.”

“Did your brother learn his lesson?”

“Never touched any of my toys again. But he loves telling the story.” 

“Remind me to never mess with you. I’d like to keep my underwear from being barbecued.”

“You’re safe,” Rik assured her. “I don’t have any strong feelings about your underwear.”

“I don’t know whether to be relieved or insulted,” Jo frowned.

“It’s nothing personal. My pyrotechnic days are over.”

“Good, we don’t want a second Great Fire of London.”

“Hey, I didn’t burn down the whole town when I set my brother’s underwear alight. It was a controlled combustion. I did my research before.”

“Watching Fireman Sam doesn’t count as research.”

“Ha. You know you’re quick off the mark sometimes.”

“Well, I can but try. I am a mere mortal compared to your superior humour.”

“Hey, there is no need to blow smoke up my a*s.”

Jo spluttered on her water. 

“I know I’m funny, I don’t need to be told,” continued Rik, as Jo coughed. 

She shook her head. 

“No, you don’t. You know exactly what you are, even if you are such a . . .”

She broke off. Rik turned to look at her.

“I’m what?”

“No, I’m not going to say it. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Sweetheart, how many times do I have to tell you, I have no feelings.”

“Oh right, yes, of course. Heart of stone or no heart at all, like the Tin Man.”

“Yes,” nodded Rik. “I have been known to carry an axe around with me and my joints get stiff every now and then. And I have a scarecrow friend.”

“Oh yeah?”

Rik gestured to Greg who was having a fight with a plastic bag. He was losing. Jo laughed.

“I see. And is there a Cowardly Lion?” Jo asked.

“I think there’s a Cowardly Lion in everyone,” Rik surmised, philosophically. “Except me.”

“Except you,” Jo repeated. “You’re just heartless.”

“Yup.”

Jo threw a banana at him. It struck his chest and plopped into his lap.

“You are so full of s**t.”

“Thanks,” said Rik, picking up the banana.

 He peeled it and began to eat it. 

“You, sir, are deplorable,” she scolded.

“And sexy, don’t forget that, sexy and deplorable.”

“Is that what it says on your dating profile? Sexy, deplorable male with no heart, but up for lots of weird, twisted, couldn’t-write-home-about hanky panky.”

Rik choked on his beer. Once he was done coughing, he laughed.

“It’s definitely going to say that now.”

“Hmm,” Jo grinned.

“Why are you single?” Rik asked.

Jo blinked, startled.

“OK, where did that come from?”

“I’m just curious. I think you could have your pick of a lot of men.”

“Yes, but not necessarily men I would find interesting or I’d consider dating.”

“Hanging out for a Prince Charming then?”

“No. I’m not waiting for any man,” she stated. “I have better things to do, like live my life which doesn’t haven’t to be validated by having a man in it.”

“OK, I feel like I’ve touched a nerve there.”

“Well, I’m sick of people asking and telling me the same thing. It’s my life.”

Rik nodded, setting his beer down.

“People don’t like it when others don’t conform or follow the mould. Makes them question their choices.”

He was sombre now, no laughter in his voice.

“So screw other people and their opinions, including me. You’re not here to please anyone but yourself. Who cares what anyone else thinks. As long as you know what you’re doing, to hell with them.”

Jo nodded in silent agreement.

“May I ask you one question?” ventured Rik.

“Sure,” Jo smiled.

“Is the cherry pie at Dolce Dal Cielo really that good, that you had to have two servings of it?”

Jo was glad she was facing away from Rik and watching a dog chase after a ball, so he couldn't see the surprise flicker across her face. He had noticed them in the café and he had recognised them. She swallowed and swivelled around. 

“You saw me there?”

Rik nodded.

“And watched me eat two slices of cherry pie?”

“And drink I don't know how many cups of tea,” added Rik.

Jo's mouth squirmed as she tried not to grin.

“Who was I with?”

“Ahdia.”

“Why didn't you say anything before? That you recognised us.”

“No need to. But my curiosity over the cherry pie has finally overpowered me.”

“I have to admit I do feel a little creeped out by the fact you were watching me eat.”

“Well, you know, for some guys it's stripclubs, others it's watching other people have sex in cars, me it's watching cute girls eat a lot of pie.”

“You are incorrigible,” dismissed Jo.

“But, c'mon the cherry pie,” Rik urged.

“Oh, it's pie to die for. The best cherry pie I've ever tasted. Hence the two helpings. One just isn't enough. Honestly, I'd buy the whole pie if it wasn't seven fifty a slice.”

“Can't remember the last time I ate cherry pie,” Rik murmured.

“Well, you are definitely missing out.”

“I don't feel like I am. I'm more of a savoury guy. Give me a good steak over a dessert any day.”

Jo laughed.

“Now that, I can't believe. I'm sure you are a sweet guy on occasion.”

“No,” refused Rik. “Cut me open, I'm black inside.”

“That's probably because your body has absorbed so much of that ink that covers your skin..”

Rik grinned.

“No, I'm just badass and mean.”

He frowned and tried to appear evil. Jo's ponytail swished as she shook her head.

“You can't fool me.”

Rik cocked an eyebrow.

“Wanna bet?”

Jo challenged his gaze.

“Yes. I bet you a cherry pie from Dolce Dal Cielo that you are not a mean badass, well not all the time.”

Rik held out his hand. 

“Done,” Jo smiled, shaking his hand. 

The shadows were beginning to lengthen when they prepared to leave. Oliver had to be gently shaken awake, he’d been snoozing for an hour. They said goodbye like old friends. Rik surprised Ahdia by wrapping her up in a huge hug. Then he was striding off down the road. Greg caught sight of Jo’s face. 

“Lovely to meet you, Jo,” said Greg, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “See you again soon hopefully.”

Jo smiled up at him. 

“Well, I had a great afternoon and I hope there’ll be no lasting damage after your deep sea diving accident.”

Greg laughed. 

“We Scots are tough, it’ll take more than wee pond water to hurt me.”

Chapter Six 

Despite her best efforts, Jo could not help over analysing the picnic. Whenever her mind was free, it would drift to her conversations with Lily and Rik; Rik’s smile when she had glared at him.

With regards to Rik and his feelings towards her, she had no idea. He was more difficult to read than Dostoevsky. And Dostoevsky was Russian and a philosopher. Ahdia probed her, needling her, but there had been little to tell. So it was a pleasant surprise when she received Rik’s message asking if she had any plans for Saturday morning.

Jo: I am off to the cinema. Not that I see it’s any business of yours.

Rik: I just flinched. Up all night sharpening your claws, were you, Cherry Pie?

Jo: Yup. And Cherry Pie?

Rik: Fine, I’ve put on my Kevlar vest. Yes, you are Cherry Pie. What movie are you going to watch? I might tag along.

Jo: You must be bored. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

Rik: OK, now I have to come. That is an awesome title.

Jo: Excuse me, who invited you?

Rik: I did. Give me a time and the movie theatre and I’ll be there.

Jo gave him the information, though she doubted he would show. She arrived at the cinema ten minutes early and there Rik was, scowling down at his phone. 

“It’s just you?” he asked.

“Just me?”

“Yeah, no one else.”

“Nope. I planned to come alone. No one else was free or wanted to see the movie.”

“Right.”

Emerging back outside a few hours later, Jo blinked against the daylight. Rik strolled beside her, his shirt rumpled. The clouds were turning a worryingly ugly grey. Rik had at least a half hour journey home. Most likely he would get caught in the rain, he thought and would have pneumonia by the time he arrived home. Jo was eyeing the sky suspiciously too. She turned to him.

“Um, you’re welcome to come to mine,” she offered. “It’s not Buckingham Palace, but it’s clean.”

“Do you have food?” Rik asked, bluntly.

Jo’s lips parted, but she pursed them.

“Yes,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Hurry and make up your mind, I don’t really want to get caught in a downpour.”

Jo sighed, spun on her heel and strode off. A smile quirked Rik’s mouth. He waited a beat before stepping after her. 

Five minutes later, raindrops slid down Jo’s neck and she yelped. Rik merely cursed, muttering something about British weather. The rain soaked into his shirt. Jo tried to flick the water from her eyes. Squinting, she could see Rik still striding composedly beside her, like there wasn’t a mini monsoon thrashing down on him. His face was his usual stoic mask,blinking at the raindrops splatting onto his face. Jo laughed and gave up trying to protect herself from the shower. 

Rik heard Jo giggling. The rain plastered her hair to her head and streaked lines in her makeup. But she was smiling, her shoulders shaking. He frowned at her and when she noticed, she laughed even more, her eyes twinkling. 

“Come on,” she cried, springing into a jog. “It’s not far now.”

Rik frowned and sighed.

Laughing, panting and quite damp, they collided into the foyer of Jo’s building. Rik shook his head, the water spraying Jo.

“Hey,” she protested. 

Rik grinned.

“I have a towel upstairs, you know,” she informed him. “But if you want to dry off like a dog, go ahead, preferably when I’m out of reach.”

“But that’ll ruin half the fun,” frowned Rik.

Jo rolled her eyes and walked up the stairs.

“Cry me a river.”

Jo squelched to her airing cupboard and pulled out a towel. She threw it towards Rik walking through the front door. It smacked against his face.

“Don’t you know how to catch?”

Ice blue eyes glared at her. She laughed.

“The bathroom is in here,” she said, opening a door. “I’ll see if I can find you something to wear. I’m going to get changed.” 

Rik pulled off his boots and padded to the bathroom. He rubbed his hair dry and peeled off his shirt clinging to his skin. He patted the towel over his arms and body. He had enjoyed running and laughing in the rain, splashing through puddles. His jeans were damp too but there was no way he was taking them off. Maybe Jo had a hair dryer he could borrow.

Jo found a large cardigan in the back of her wardrobe. She offered it to Rik. It was grey and soft in his hands.

“It’s not an ex-boyfriend’s or anything like that,” she explained. “I bought it for myself because it felt so snuggly.”

Jo prepared some lunch and Rik had a snoop around her home. He sipped from the beer Jo had handed him cold from the fridge. No matter if he had just been soaked in a deluge, he would take a beer over tea any day. 

Rik returned to the living room where Jo had just laid a plate of sandwiches on the coffee table. 

“Sit and help yourself,” she invited. “Do you want another drink?”

“No, thanks, I’m still enjoying this one.”

He surveyed the mountain of sandwiches.

“I know I’m a tall guy, but I don’t require a hundred sandwiches,” he said.

Jo laughed.

“I’m no fool. I know guys and their appetites. Besides this,” she said, gesturing to the plate. “Is a habit I’ve picked up from my grandma. She always makes a towering plateful no matter how many people are present.”

After eating half of  the sandwiches, Rik offered to help wash up but Jo refused, telling him to have another beer instead. He leant back, sinking into the couch. It was so easy and relaxing to be around Jo. Her quiet nature was soothing, but she was smart and funny too. He glanced around the flat and wondered again why she was still single. Was every man in England blind and stupid? Clearly they must be. Lucy and Ahdia were single too. They were single by choice but also not by choice. Did you have a choice when there was no real choice? 

“What are you scowling at so severely?” Jo asked, interrupting into his thoughts. 

He wasn’t going to confess. Besides, her relationship status was none of his business.

“You haven’t been out with me properly,” he said instead.

Jo’s brows knitted in confusion.

“I haven’t been out with you properly,” she echoed, puzzled.

“A night out,” he explained. 

“Oh.”

“You should come. Have a few drinks, talk, let your hair down,” Rik encouraged.

Jo scratched her neck.

“I’m not one for the night life,” she stated. 

“I’m not asking you to get blind drunk and dance on tabletops, though I would pay to see that,” said Rik. 

Jo’s eyebrows curved upwards, though her lips did twitch.

“We just chat, that's all,” he continued. “Greg is always with me, usually, maybe Toby, Lucy.”

He did not say Ahdia. He didn’t want her to come along this time, not that he didn’t like her but without Ahdia there giving silent approval or disapproval, he thought, Jo might relax and open up more.

“I don’t know,” said Jo. “I think I’d feel out of place, like a spare part. And believe me, I’ve felt like that plenty of times, I don’t need any repeats.”

Rik shook his head.

“It won’t be like that. We’re all a bunch of misfits anyway.”

“I don’t know,” she said again. 

“You’ll enjoy yourself,” Rik added. “It’ll be fun and a laugh. You won’t know until you’ve come out with us.”

“Yes, I do.”

“So, that’s a ‘No’?”

“Yes.”

Rik said no more. Whether it was just shyness or social anxiety, he wasn’t going to push her. 

“So do you have any board games?”

Two games of Ludo and a few lessons in Yatzy later, Rik stood and walked around the living room, rolling his shoulders. Jo had rustled up a pack of chocolate chip cookies that they’d swiftly demolished. Usually he spent his Saturdays exploring, looking for new haunts and trying local cuisines. Playing games on a rainy afternoon made a pleasant change. Memories of his childhood weekends flitted across his mind.

On the days he and his brothers couldn’t play outside due to bad weather, they would all be crowded indoors. His dad sat at the dining room table with Joe, painting model aeroplanes. His mum would be ironing or sewing patches onto jeans. He and Pete would be sprawled on the green threadbare rug in front of the TV, vrooming toy cars, having pretend space battles with galactic cruisers or pouring over a close game of chess. He missed those days. Life was so simple then, living in a bubble of oblivion.

“Do you want another drink?” Jo broke through his silent reminiscing.

“Thanks but, shock horror, I’m going to respectfully decline. It’s time I got out of your hair.”

“You know I thought it was lice, clearly I was mistaken.”

Rik grimaced and shrugged. 

“So I was thinking,” he said, pulling off the cardigan. “Why don’t we go out sometime and do something you like.”

“Is this your way of persuading me to come with you for a night out?”

Jo’s eyes briefly lingered on Rik’s bare torso. The muscles in his back rippled as he bent to retrieve his now dry t-shirt. Her eyes followed the kaleidoscope of tattoos and she became acutely aware of his maleness. 

“It’s not. I think it would just be cool to experience something else.”

“OK then,” mused Jo.

She didn’t dare raise her eyes to his face, knowing her flushed cheeks would betray her. Instead she busied herself folding the discarded cardigan. 

 “Well, how about we go for afternoon tea,” Jo suggested. “Something quintessentially British.”

Rik nodded, pondering.

“Yeah, sure, let’s do it,” he said. 

Jo prayed her cheeks weren’t flaming red and looked up to grin at him.

“Thanks for the beers and sandwiches, and the loan of the snuggliest cardigan ever,” Rik said, after shoving his feet back into his boots.

“No problem. Are you sure you know the way back to the station? I can walk you,” Jo offered.

“It’s not every day a woman offers to walk me home, so I’m touched,” he replied, half smiling. “But I’ll be fine.”

The bread was deliciously soft, the smoked salmon and cream cheese moist and creamy. Rik chewed slowly. This was a really good sandwich. Opposite him, Jo was biting into a beef and horseradish sandwich. She nodded, appreciating the taste. Stood between them was a tiered platter of perfectly cut triangle sandwiches. Below was a spiral of eye pleasing and tongue teasing cakes and scones. It wasn’t quite the afternoon snack Rik had been expecting. 

The Riverside Tea Rooms was a snug little cafe. It was cosy but elegant, with ornate lamps suspended overhead. Rik felt like a giant playing tea parties, looming over his plate and tiny teacup. He was half inclined to take small sips and delicate bites, dab his lips with a napkin; clink cups with wrinkly old ladies dressed finely with strings of pearl and garish drop earrings. It couldn’t be more different. The tables were mainly filled by women, but the atmosphere was casual and relaxed, unpretentious and homely. 

Another smoked salmon sandwich disappeared into his mouth. Jo reached over and picked up the teapot, painted with watercolour farm animals. She tipped it and poured the rich steaming amber tea into her pristine white cup. A sugar lump plonked in next before a splash of milk. She stirred the tea with a silver spoon and rested it on the saucer. There was a correct way to make tea apparently, Jo had informed him. A constant smile twitched her mouth, her eyes beaming. She oohed and ahhed over everything when it arrived at the table. She loved this. She had told him about her passion for tea and how she was collecting tea and teapots. It was becoming an addiction, she confessed guiltily.

“More tea?” Jo asked, her hand hovering by the handle of the teapot. 

His mouth full of half a slice of bakewell tart, Rik nodded. 

“This is such good tea,” Jo continued, pulling Rik’s cup toward her. “I always forget how good it tastes.”

“How often do you come here?”

Rik placed a chocolate cake and a raspberry jam scone on his plate. He put another sandwich and cake onto Jo’s. She smiled. 

“Maybe five times a year, mostly with my Mum or Ahdia.”

“Do you go out a lot with your Mom?”

“Yeah, we go out for coffee regularly or dinner. Sometimes we head out of town to go shopping, hang out in bookstores and chocolate shops. Every so often we head to craft stores and spend hours looking at yarn and such.”

“You knit?”

“I do indeed.”

“Have you made anything?”

“Yeah,” Jo nodded, pausing to bite into a slice of fruit cake. “A lot of scarves and hats, because they’re easy. A bag, a coin purse, some little bunnies and bears, slippers.”

Rik raised his eyebrows. 

“Impressive.”

“I really want to try my hand at a sweater,” added Jo. “That really would be a project and pretty cool if it turned out half decent.”

“Yeah, a lot of skills involved. My Mom used to knit when I was a kid. I remember being mesmerised at how fast the needles moved in her hands.”

“When I first started it was hopeless. It took me weeks to get the hang of the basic knit stitch. I had to buy different needles and finally I managed a few rows.”

She stopped and laughed. Rik’s hand halted halfway to his mouth, crumbs tumbling down from his half eaten cupcake. 

“My first practice piece got wider and wider until it had doubled in width. Somehow I had been adding stitches. I still don’t trust myself now and have to count my stitches.”

“Well, I think it’s great that you’ve taught yourself something completely new. Many people are too lazy to take the time to learn.”

Rik finished his cupcake. 

“I love that I can actually create something,” Jo added. “I get a scarf or a cute bear, or slippers I can wear. It makes it worthwhile. And it feeds my creativity when I’m not writing. I always like to have something I can be working on.”

“How often do you write?” Rik asked, his cup clinking onto its saucer.

“Sometimes every day and then I can go weeks without writing anything.” Jo shrugged. “A lot depends on my moods and energy levels. I do try to write regularly but often there is just nothing there. Other times my imagination is dreaming up three stories at once.”

“Yeah, I can understand that.”

Jo’s mouth twitched.

“At work if I’m really bored, I make up stories just to alleviate the boredom, and I get annoyed if a customer disturbs me and breaks my train of thought.”

“Well, it’s a good way to keep the creativity ticking. Do you remember any of them?”

Jo thought for a moment and grinned.

“There is a story based on my work colleagues and myself. I had been reading a lot of fantasy novels at the time.”

“Now I’m intrigued. Tell me.”

Jo laughed and sipped her tea.

“OK. Well, the main character is based on me, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Her name is Jorinda. Jorinda is a brave young warrior who possesses magic. She has been captured by an evil lord, Ergasia,” Jo explained, her cheeks pinking. “He forces her to fight in a band of mercenaries.”

She chewed for a moment. Rik helped himself to another honey roast ham sandwich.

“Their leader is Malfoy. Malfoy is a creature who spends most of his life underground and away from light,” Jo continued. “He is pale and hairless, with big, deep eye sockets. Miraculously, for such a creature he has a lover, Izis a witch who can shift into the form of a cat.”

Her nose wrinkled.

 “Izis pretends to be kind and friendly but she is selfish and mean. She is often cruel to the other team members. None of the others like her or Malfoy.” 

Her expression softened.

“Then there is Trixie, a small elf who spies for Malfoy. Mot is a troll who is a bit slow mentally but he is very kind, despite Malfoy and Izis beating him.” 

She plopped a sugar lump into her tea and stirred it in.

“Ruby is another warrior, built like a tree. She is really strong and fearless. Sabara is a sweet natured, kind nymph who tends to everyone’s wounds, cooks and mends their clothes.” 

She sucked sticky icing off her fingertip and then wiped it on a napkin.

“Gritt is a handsome fairy youth, he is cocky and arrogant but has a good heart underneath. And then there is Humph, a human. He is friendly to everyone but can be very stupid.” 

She added more milk to her tea. 

“Some of the team are Jorinda’s friends but others she hates because they conspire with Ergasia’s goons, her enemy.”

Rik was enjoying this, following the trail of Jo’s imagination. He bet if he walked into the store where Jo worked, he would recognise all the characters she had described. He loved how her mind worked, delighted in this fictional world she had created.

“Jorinda is planning her escape so she can travel and see the world. She longs to be free,” Jo summarised. “To feel the wind on her face in a meadow, the cool water of the sea on her feet, to fall asleep at night with no shackles and the ache of her hunger in her stomach.” 

She smiled, her cheeks dimpling.

“Perhaps she may meet the legendary Sigfried on her travels, the great warrior. She could join his legions and fight against the evil lord, Ergasia.”

She held up her hands.

“That’s how far I got.”

“It’s a good start. I sure would like to know what happens next. How Jorinda escapes.”

“Yeah, me too,” agreed Jo. “But she may be stuck there for years. I have an entire folder full of scraps of stories I’ve jotted down and never got back to. Some I don’t even remember writing.”

“I think most writers are like that,” observed Rik. “I have notebooks of ideas, concepts, plot lines. I doubt I’ll ever get round to revisiting them all.”

“Too many ideas, too little time.”

“Yup, you said it.”

Jo’s phone chimed. She glanced at it briefly. It was Jamie. She’d reply later. Rik  poured himself a glass of water.

“I snuck a peek at your bookshelves the other day,” he said. “You’re a woman of contrasts. There were Batman and Justice League comic books right alongside Jane Austen and Little Women.”

“Yeah,” Jo agreed. “I like period romance and superhero action and angst.” 

She cocked her head to one side.

“I also like classical and rock music. And I’m a rugby fan who often goes to the theatre. I knit, go for afternoon tea and enjoy high paced action movies. I’m a curious girl,” she shrugged. “I have a lot of varied interests.”

“It’s cool. The world is full of lots of amazing and wonderful things, why not explore as much as you can.”

Rik leaned forward.

“How about a crossover?”

“A crossover?” Jo echoed, confused.

“Yeah, a Jane Austen superhero comic.”

Jo laughed.

“That would be fun and interesting.”

“And the women would be badass,” suggested Rik. “Elizabeth Bennet punching out the Joker. Catwoman seducing Mr Darcy in the shrubbery.”

“Forget the Batmobile, it’s the Bat Barouche,” chuckled Jo, pleased with herself. 

“The Dark Knightley rides in the Bat Barouche,” added Rik. “Darcy, the man of steel.”

"Hey, I've got it,” Jo burst out enthusiastically. “Darcy lives with his sidekick, Bingley at Pemberley.”

“The Dynamic Duo.”

“Yep,” she grinned. “Can you just imagine him galloping along on his black horse, his cloak flying out behind him, pistols blazing on a night fighting crime.”

“Right.”

“And Wickham is this crazy loon who creates havoc with his equally crazy wife, Lydia,” she said, excitedly.

“Joker and Harley Quinn,” nodded Rik.

“Oh and Knightley is a close friend of Darcy’s. Sometimes they team up but sometimes they disagree and fight. Ooo, ooo and Wentworth is the hero of the seas,” she suggested eagerly.

Rik sat back and watched the cogs of Jo’s mind wheel and whirl.

“And not forgetting the women, Lizzie and the Bennet sisters are a band of badass, sword twirling, a*s kicking warrior women. Oh and Caroline Bingley is a poisonous, jealous, spiteful delusionists who brews potions and poisons,” she laughed. “Seriously, the possibilities are endless. This would make such a good comic. Maybe you should pitch it to someone.”

“Hey, it’s a joint effort,” argued Rik. “We both pitch it.”

“Deal.”

Jo drained her cup and flopped back on her chair.

“Wouldn’t you like a slice of cherry pie right now?” Rik suggested.

Jo blew out her cheeks.

“No,” she moaned. “Being this full right now I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it as much as I’d want.”

“That is a tragedy,” mused Rik.

“Isn’t it just?” 

Chapter Seven

No, Jo told herself, she wasn’t nervou. That would be silly. This wasn’t a date. It was just a gathering of a few friends, including Rik. Rik who she was finding it difficult not to become obsessed with. Their afternoon tea had been a great success. That was two weeks ago. She hadn’t seen him since, but he had been in touch.

What's the story, Cherry Pie?

I think I need to change my profession and become a black cab driver.

Scrap that. A Jack the Ripper tour host. There will be blood on my tours. 

Does it do anything but rain here?

Greg has consumed so much alcohol I’m unsure how he is still alive, let alone singing Dancing Queen word perfect. 

Know anywhere that would deliver chocolate cake at two a.m.

Her stomach leapt excitedly every time Rik’s name flashed up on her phone screen. 

The image of him standing shirtless in her flat refused to leave her mind. The undercurrent of masculinity in the deep tone of his voice, his confidence, his blink-and-you’ll-miss-it protectiveness and his definite sex appeal made Jo’s mind wander. She blamed her hormones for her wanton lusting. The reality was she’d be out of her league with him. It was no secret Rik was a well travelled man. He’d done a lot of weird and wonderful things. She knew he’d been heavily involved with drugs in his early twenties. 

They were worlds apart. In her early twenties, Jo would be snuggled up in bed watching period drama serials in her pyjamas. And though they shared many similar views on life, their ideas of love, dating and relationships differed. Besides Rik could have any woman he wanted, he had the looks, the intelligence and even the charm if needed. Why would he consider her anything more than a friend?

Jo regarded her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t want to go overkill and wear a smoking hot dress and heels. She wanted to look classy, but also casual and comfortable. She’d decided on a red top with a black lace vest underneath, twinned with her usual black jeans. She’d scrunched her hair into curls and clipped it back, letting it cascade down between her shoulders. She smoothed her hands down her stomach. Time to call a cab before nerves completely gnawed through her gut. 

In contempt of her reiterations to Rik over her reluctance to go out to a bar with him, Rik hadn't given up. Ahdia had told her to stop being such a coward and just go. She’d finally relented her stubborn stance when Rik guilt tripped her into agreeing. He had told her that Greg needed cheering up. His latest date had crashed and burned, blockbuster style.

So here she was, sat in a cab, palms sweating, breathing deeply. She should have had a glass of wine or two before she left, to kill her nerves. She told herself she was being stupid. There was no reason to be nervous.

Since that morning, Rik had been expecting to receive a message from Jo with a last minute excuse. He checked his phone again, strolling back from the Gents. No message. Greg was standing at their table hugging a woman. They broke apart, Greg keeping his arm around her. It was Jo.

Damn, did she look good in red, especially against her dark curls. She was smiling, her eyes sparkling. His eyes were drawn to her slender bare arms, the way her clothes clung to her curves, the splits of her top revealing slashes of black lace over her skin, that gorgeous hair curling against her nape. No wonder Greg didn’t want to take his hands off her. 

When Rik returned to the table, Jo was seated. She was relieved he hadn’t been there when she’d arrived. Greg had waved her over and engulfed her in a bear hug. Then he introduced her to Maria. She smiled warmly at her and Toby raised a hand in greeting. Suddenly, there was Rik. He was wearing a black shirt embossed finely with a floral pattern, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the collar unbuttoned. He looked smoking hot.

“Cherry Pie, you made it,” Rik greeted her.

Jo met his eyes, the heat flooding her face. 

“I am a woman of my word,” she replied, smiling softly. 

Rik nodded.

“You look great,” he added.

“Thank you, so do you. I love your shirt.”
Rik looked down.

“This old thing. It’s a recycled tablecloth from a goth convention.”

“Well, I hope you look better than the table did.”
“I think it’s a close call, but I like to think I’ve got the better legs.”

He winked at her then asked her what she would like to drink.

Jo sat snug between Rik and Maria, the former dwarfing her but she wasn’t complaining. His aftershave was tempting her to bury her face in the enticing warmth of his neck. Maria was friendly and the alcohol had hit her head already. She sipped her white wine and giggled intermittently. 

Lucy appeared at the table.

“Evening, folks,” she grinned.

Jo smiled widely. Lucy looked amazing. A black halter neck jumpsuit flowed effortlessly from her shoulders. Her red hair was sleek straight and in a high ponytail. Greg turned in his seat. He stood, eyes widening and pecked Lucy on the cheek.

“I think we are going to be the envy of every man in this bar tonight,” said Greg, making room for Lucy to sit. “We are with the three sexiest ladies in this place.”

“The alcohol is talking early,” said Lucy, flicking a glance across at Jo.

“Or,” surmised Jo. “Maybe it’s allowing his genuine charm to surface.”

“I think all the women will be jealous of us girls,” said Maria, hiccuping. “I’ve been watching women pass us and their attention is definitely drawn to this table.”

“It’s Rik,” remarked Toby. “Happens everywhere.”

Rik shrugged.

“You know I was thinking maybe I should start charging for this freak show,” he suggested, pointing to himself.

“He loves all the female attention he gets,” scoffed Lucy.

“He wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t,” joked Jo.

“You’d be the same,” said Toby.

Jo looked at him.

“No, I wouldn’t,” she disagreed.

“I find that hard to believe,” replied Toby.

“Well, some attention would be flattering, but I wouldn’t want to be ogled and leered at by every man in here all night.”

“But you dress to make yourself attractive,” Toby challenged. “So aren’t you inviting and encouraging attention?”

Jo shook her head vehemently.

“No,” she rejected, half annoyed, half bemused. “I’m not even going to try and argue my point. If you’re so arrogant to believe that women can do nothing without men on their mind, then fine, good luck in your deluded world.”

“Jeez, chill out.” Toby held up his hands. “You don’t have to be so touchy.”

“Oh like you weren’t leading or provoking with that statement,” scoffed Lucy. 

“Not cool,” slurred Maria, wagging her finger at Toby.

“Look, just forget I said anything.”

“Yeah, the night is still young,” remarked Greg. “And I for one don’t want it to be ruined.”

Once their plates had been cleared and more alcohol consumed, the mood relaxed. Jo, feeling the fourth mojito hit her head, was swaying gently in her seat, not listening to anyone’s conversation. Opposite her, Greg was turned slightly towards Lucy who was flicking her gaze between his eyes and mouth. Toby’s arms were braced on the table, having a deep discussion with Rik. Maria had bravely popped to the Ladies alone, zig zagging her way through the tables, hiccuping and laughing apologies along the way.

“You look really good tonight,” Greg repeated for the tenth time. 

Lucy grinned, blushing a little.

“I know, you’ve told me,” she replied. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Greg was usually a lazy dresser. He’d throw on jeans and the first wrinkled t-shirt he found in his wardrobe. But tonight, on Rik’s suggestion, he’d made a conscious effort to look a little smarter. His scruffy blue jeans had been replaced with a black pair. He found a white shirt, which he’d even ironed. Lucy didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that he looked gorgeous, but she found herself picturing them pulling each other's clothes off.

“Thanks,” Greg beamed, breaking into her fantasy. 

“You should dress smarter more often,” Lucy added.

“I will in future now, if it gets you looking at me like that.”

Lucy blinked.

“Like what?”

He rested his hand on her knee and stroked his thumb across it.

“That you’re considering what’s underneath the clothes.”

This time she really blushed, then laughed. She shrugged.

“Maybe I am.”

Greg leaned his head closer to hers.

“Maybe I should show you.”

Lucy’s chest rose and fell, her eyes again returning to his mouth. She hadn’t noticed before what yummy lips he had.

“Maybe you should,” she replied, breathlessly.

Greg grinned.

“Later,” he whispered in her ear. 

She shivered as his breath tickled her neck. 

“Ahem,” someone coughed.

They both looked up and saw Maria, Jo, Rik and Toby watching them. Maria’s grin spread ear to ear. Toby was pretending to gag while Rik looked horrified.

“Would you like us to leave so you can get busy on the table?” Rik asked, his look of horror fading into annoyance. “I think I might have to leave anyway to vomit.”

“Hey,” said Jo, frowning at him. “Leave them alone.”

“Yeah,” chimed in Maria. “Leave them alone.”

She smiled affectionately at them like a pleased mother hen.

“He’s just jealous,” said Greg, swivelling in his chair to face the table.

“Jealous?” echoed Rik. “Why would I be jealous? If I wanted to schmooze and get cosy, I have a gorgeous woman right here.”

To Jo’s shock and delight, he slung his arm around her shoulders and tugged her gently closer. The weight of his arm was comforting, his fingers lightly dancing on her skin. She liked that, she liked that a lot. She smiled across at Greg. Greg rolled his eyes, then narrowed them.

“Rik, you don’t schmooze.”

“You’ve never seen me in action, bro,” Rik argued. “You don’t know anything about my schmoozing capabilities.”

Rik didn’t remove his arm from Jo’s shoulders. 

“I’d put my money on him being able to reduce a woman to a puddle in minutes,” said Maria. 

“Maria, your faith in me is truly humbling,” said Rik, placing his free hand on his chest and bowing at her.

Maria giggled.

“Oh shush, you sexy thing.”

“See,” pointed out Toby. “That was less than a minute.”

“Hey, let’s not turn this into a competition, OK,” said Jo. “You know, comparison between guys is never good. Let’s just appreciate you both have qualities that women will like.”

Rik’s hand squeezed her shoulder. 

“Yup,” agreed Lucy. “Leave the comparisons and judging to us women, we’re better at analysing and dissecting.”

“Bring out the scalpels,” gurgled Maria.

Lucy laughed.

“And the microscope,” she added.

“Yeah, you might need that, Lucy, if you decide to get naked with Greg,” said Rik, before he drained his glass.

Toby spluttered and Maria howled with laughter. Jo chuckled.

“That was fast,” she said quietly to Rik.

“Even after five beers,” he replied, winking at her. 

Rik’s arm began to retract across Jo’s back. His hand slid slowly across her shoulder then stroked down her spine. She forced a mundane expression on her face to hide the overwhelming sensation. Heat crashed over her. His hand paused and rested momentarily on the small of her back. Then his touch was gone. She carefully let out a breath. Her skin was singing, the warmth of his hand lingering on her back. She picked up her glass and took a few sips before a gulp. 

After dropping his arm from Jo’s shoulders, he noticed her glance at him. He didn’t look at her. Women had a habit of reading way too much into looks and gestures. Instead he picked up his sixth beer and sipped it. He could feel the fuzziness creeping across his consciousness. The night was still young, he thought, and tipped his bottle up. 

An hour later, and a few trips to the Ladies and Gents respectively, everyone was tipsy if not drunk. They had unconsciously played a game of musical chairs. Lucy was now perched on Greg’s knee, who sat in Toby’s vacated chair. Maria had stretched herself over two seats so now Jo was seated in Lucy’s while Toby and Rik stood. They were laughing, at what Jo had no idea, everything was funny. This was her last drink, she decided. It would be water from now on. She was already slurring her words and found herself swaying whether she sat or stood. She smiled to herself and looked up at Rik and Toby.

Rik’s head was bobbing with the music. His shoulders dropped and he joined in, singing the lyrics. Jo had not pegged him as a Bon Jovi fan, not weird or hardcore enough for Rik. But here he was singing along to ‘Bed of Roses’, rocking side to side, his beer bottle rising and falling in time with the beat. Jo loved it. He caught sight of her watching him. The corners of his mouth kicked up and he smiled, still jostling about. Jo stared in awe. It was such a spontaneous, beautiful smile. Rik held out his hand and pulled Jo to her feet. Surprised, she laughed and stumbled into Rik.

“Oops,” she giggled.

Rik caught her against his tall frame.

“Steady girl,” he chuckled. “You were the last person who I’d thought would throw themselves at me tonight.”

Jo shrugged, leaning back to look at him.

“What can I say? I’m intoxicated.”

Rik smirked.

“Touché, Cherry Pie, touché.”

“Did I ever tell you, you remind me of House?” Jo asked, clutching Rik to stop her from wobbling. 

Rik tightened his hold around her waist. The weight and heat felt nice, Jo mused.

“I think it’s the whole grumpy, miserable but rugged and sexy thing you both share.”

“I assume you’re referring to Greg House from the TV series.”

“The one and the same,” replied Jo, thinking she should really sit down. 

“Well, I am extremely flattered,” bowed Rik.  “That guy is incredibly smart.”

Four zeros blinked at Jo from her phone. Midnight. She was wondering whether she should leave. She didn’t want to disappoint the others by leaving too early, but she didn’t feel much like talking any more. She had had an eager discussion with Greg about the different interpretations of Batman on screen. She had joined Lucy and Maria in rating every man in sight, excluding those in their own party, from one to ten which was a laugh - Maria clearly wearing her beer goggles. And she’d even had a few moments with Rik. 

The buzz had worn off. The seductive allure of a cup of hydrating tea and her warm bed tugged at her senses; the promise of a soft pillow, after the ordeal of cleaning off her makeup, brushing her teeth and changing into her pyjamas. 

“Hey guys,” called Rik, suddenly appearing and startling them. 

Jo’s stomach plummeted. Rik was grinning, his arm around a tall red haired woman. 

“Meet Donna. Donna, meet the guys.”

Donna had pale skin, big apple cheeks and a roman nose. She peered loftily down at them. She was dressed sophisticatedly in black with gold jewellery. Jo immediately disliked her.  

“Hello,” Donna said, in a clipped voice, looking unimpressed.

She did, however, lean into Rik and curve her body around him. In her heels, she was the same height as him. A glance at Lucy told Jo she wasn’t the only one who thought Donna was not a welcome addition to their party. Toby stood and offered Donna his chair. Her nostrils flared slightly.

“I’m not staying,” she stated, her lips curling. 

She dismissed Toby with a wave of her hand. 

“This looks like the desperate and trying too hard table anyway.”

Greg’s brows shot up. Lucy’s mouth gaped. Jo blinked. Toby shrugged. Rik was busy hollering at someone at the bar and hadn’t heard. 

“At least we’re happy,” said Maria, looking Donna in the eye. “We don’t need strangers groping our tooshies to enjoy ourselves.”

Donna sneered and turned her back to them. She whispered something in Rik’s ear. Jo’s skin crawled. Greg raised his middle finger at Donna’s accentuated rear. 

“Ignore her,” Jo mouthed to him.

Lucy swivelled around.

“So Maria, are you sure you still want Jo and me over for brunch tomorrow?” 

“Yes, definitely,” asserted Maria. “I’m really looking forward to it. And don’t worry I will not be hungover.”

Rik disappeared again without a word, taking Donna with him. 

“Were they handing out sticks at the bar or did she walk in with one stuck up her arse?” said Greg, glaring at the retreating Donna.

“Years of walking with such an impediment leaves you with a face like that,” said Lucy. “Sour faced cow.”

“Looking down her nose at us like that,” scoffed Maria.

“Well, it must be difficult not to, it’s big enough,” laughed Greg.

“Should we be judging her so soon? First impressions can be wrong and Rik seems to like her,” moralised Toby, suddenly emerging from his drunken sulk.

“Rik is drunk and American. Don’t credit him with good judgement,” joked Lucy.

“Yeah, that woman is a major league b***h with knobs on,” concluded Greg. 

Chapter Eight

The  infuriating, buzzing drone of a lawn mower cut through the sweet, peaceful silence of Sunday morning. It was like an incessant wasp hovering perpetually close to Rik’s ear. He rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head, silently cursing the British and their insane obsession with well trimmed lawns. He was tempted to storm to the window, throw it open and hurl a stream of expletives at the moron. But that involved standing and if he tried to, his head would feel like a jackhammer was drilling into it. 

Amazingly, Rik drifted back to sleep, waking some time later. The savage mauling of grass had ceased and he didn’t feel quite as groggy any more. He stretched out an arm and fumbled on the nightstand for his phone. Peering through the sticky slits of his eyelids, he read the time. Eleven thirty. He needed coffee but water first. His mouth felt like he’d been eating a cocktail of ash and sand. Thankfully as he swung his legs over the bed, his head wasn’t pounding too bad. Still he needed to hydrate and head to the gym soon. He didn’t want this hangover lingering for hours. The toilet flushed and the bathroom door opened and closed. 

“Oh great,” he muttered to himself. 

He swivelled to see a discarded dress hidden by the duvet. The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was the woman he’d brought home last night. He couldn’t even remember what she looked like. Random flashes of nakedness, sweat and heavy breathing flickered across his consciousness, but nothing more. The bedroom door pushed open and she walked in. Rik pulled the bed sheets across his lap. 

“Good morning, Rik,” she smirked at him.

“Good morning . . .” he replied.

“Donna,” she finished for him.

She was wrapped in one of his towels, another twirled up in a turban. She had made herself at home. 

“Last night was great,” she grinned.

He couldn’t say the same, he couldn’t remember. He just nodded.

“Do you want to get some breakfast? Or brunch?” she asked, eagerly. “I mean it’s almost lunchtime.”

No, he didn’t. He wanted her out of his apartment.

“I couldn’t eat anything right now,” he said. “And I usually hit the gym round about now. So I’m going to take a shower and head out.”

“Oh, OK,” she said, disappointed.

“Help yourself to coffee or some food if you can find any. When I’m dressed, I’ll call you a cab.”

No, he wasn’t going to let her get any ideas. He was certain last night he hadn’t made her any promises. He grabbed a pair of jeans, pulled them on and padded slowly out of the room.

The water streaming down his back and splashing onto Rik’s face felt so good. His eyes were less gritty and his skin had lost the sheen of dried, slept-in sweat. When he left the bathroom, fresh and more awake, the flat was empty. Donna was gone. Flicking on the coffee maker, he saw a note stuck on his fridge. Call me 07983364575 Donna xxx He plucked it off, screwed it into a ball and threw it in the bin. He wasn’t usually so harsh. Most of the women he slept with he tried to stay on friendly terms with, even if he wasn’t interested in pursuing anything long term. But with this Donna, something felt like she was a mistake. 

Stomach growling, Jo buzzed Maria’s flat. The deep circles around her eyes were still visible in the reflection in the door pane, her skin was pasty too. The litre of water and pot of tea this morning had refreshed her. Shame it didn’t show. She prayed Maria hadn’t overslept and forgotten she was having company for brunch. Jo waas ravenous.

“Hello!” Maria called cheerfully from the speaker.

“Maria, it’s Jo.”

“Jo, how wonderful, come on up.”

The door whirred and unlocked. Relieved, Jo entered. Maria’s flat, number six, was on the third floor. No elevator. That was good, Jo thought. She could do with the extra exercise, as long as she didn’t faint. She was beginning to feel light-headed. Well, it was almost midday and she hadn’t eaten since ten o'clock the previous night.

“Jo!”

Maria greeted her with a beaming smile and a warm hug. 

“Sorry I kept you waiting downstairs. I couldn’t leave the pancakes to burn. Come in, come in.”

Maria glided back into the kitchen. Delicious wafts of pancakes and bacon flirted under Jo’s nose. Mouth watering, she turned to close the door. She stopped. The front door to number five opened. That was Rik’s flat. She waited, wanting to say Hi to him. A tall woman walked out. A tall red haired woman, in a black dress. Jo shut the door. 

The kitchen counter was a mosaic of plates and dishes of food. Jo’s stomach sang a chorus of hallelujahs. Besides the pancakes and bacon, there was a mound of scrambled eggs, stacks of sausages, a plate laden with buttered toast, blueberry muffins, fruit salad, curls of smoked salmon, cream cheese and bagels. The coffee maker was hissing and spitting, the kettle boiling and a jug glistened with orange juice.

“Maria, this is a feast,” chuckled Jo. “We won’t have to eat for the rest of the day, or week even.”

“Well, I haven’t made a brunch like this in years. I did go a bit crazy, I suppose.”

“Let’s hope Lily and Lucy have big appetites.”

“If not, I’m sure Rik won’t mind receiving leftovers,” chuckled Maria. 

Jo rubbed her palms on her arms.

“So do you need help with anything?”

“They were almost snogging on the table, right in front of all of us.”

Maria piled more scrambled eggs on her plate and then reached for the bacon.

“No, we weren’t,” disagreed Lucy, eyeing up another pancake. “I don’t know how you remember anything, Maria. You were drunk by the time I arrived.”

“Doesn’t mean my observational skills disappear.”

“I thought it was cute,” interjected Jo. “You made a really good looking couple.”

“Now I’m disappointed I missed it,” lamented Lily, sipping her water. “So Lucy, did you go home with Greg? Or he with you?”

Lucy’s cheeks turned pink.

“Guilty,” accused Maria, laughing.

“I did not!” Lucy claimed. “I left him on the pavement after my cab arrived.”

“But something did happen before the cab arrived?” probed Jo, picking at her blueberry muffin. 

Lucy bit her lower lip and avoided looking at any of them.

“Well?” urged Lily.

Lucy’s shoulders fell.

“OK,” she sighed. “We kissed.”

Maria squealed and nearly upset the coffee pot. Lily pushed her plate aside and folded her arms on the table.

“Spill,” she ordered. “I want details.”

Lucy squirmed.

“Come on, Lucy,” encouraged Jo.

Lucy surveyed them and a coy smile twisted her  mouth.

“OK, well I waited with him while he saw Maria and Jo had left safely. Then Toby wouldn’t get lost. Kept going on about Rik abandoning us and Jo not talking to him.”

Jo frowned but let Lucy continue.

“Eventually Toby wandered off somewhere and we were alone.”

She sneaked a peek at her friends. They were all leaning in, eyes wide. She laughed.

“So Greg puts his arm around my waist, slides his hand onto my butt, leans in close and brushes his nose up my throat.”

Maria shivered audibly.

“Oh my,” she wheezed. 

Jo blinked lazily, temporarily hypnotised. Lily smiled wider.

“And then,” Lucy continued. “He whispers in my ear.”

“What did he say?” Maria burst out.

“Don’t interrupt and I’ll tell you,” scolded Lucy.

Jo flipped another pancake onto her plate and drizzled it with syrup. 

“So, he whispered . . . ?” prompted Lily.

“Oh no, I can’t tell you that,” Lucy shook her head. “I have to have some secrets.”

“Fine, but what happened next?” 

“Well then he kisses just below my ear,” she raised her hand to the spot. “And then along my jaw to just below my mouth at which point I’m shaking all over.”

“You’re telling me, I’m going to be a puddle in a minute,” swallowed Maria, fanning herself.

“And then . . . ?”

Lily wasn’t letting anyone get too distracted.

“Then he slides his other hand across my belly to my hip and tugs me closer. I sneak a look at him and God...”

Lucy inhaled deeply, placing her hand on her chest.

“I swear his eyes were smouldering.” 

A blush bloomed across her cheeks. 

“And he leans in and kisses my neck and I thought my legs were going to give way.” 

“Mine just might,” wheezed Maria.

“It felt so good that I couldn’t take it any more,” Lucy sighed. “I flung my arms around his neck and kissed him.”

“On the mouth?”

“On the mouth. Sure he tasted of beer but wow, I couldn’t stop kissing him.”

They were all grinning like lunatics at her now. 

“I honestly didn’t think Greg had it in him,” said Jo. “It’s like he just stepped off the page of a romance novel.”

“How did you not go home with him?” asked Maria, half incredulous.

“Because I think it was a silent but mutual decision to not rush it.”

“Exactly. You’re good friends, you don’t want to spoil that by rushing headlong into sex.”

“No,” agreed Lucy

Jo shook her head.

“What?” asked Lily. “You don’t think that?”

“Oh no, I do. I just can’t get over Greg being that sexy.”

“I know,” chimed in Maria. “I have to be careful I don’t develop a crush on him now.”

She picked up the blueberry muffins and offered them around. Only Jo took one. 

“This has been amazing, Maria,” said Lily. “I can’t remember the last time I ate so much for breakfast.”

“I’m glad,” smiled Maria. “How have you been feeling lately?”

“The same as always, thank you. There are good days and there are bad days.”

“You look great,” remarked Lucy. “I hope you’re coming to the fancy dress party.”

“I always go. Oliver makes a fuss about having to find or make a costume, but I know he loves it. A few months back though, he would have insisted we both stay home.”

“So what’s changed?” asked Maria, stacking up the empty plates.

“I think he gained a new perspective. That I may be sick but that doesn’t mean I have to be an invalid,” Lily explained. “After my diagnosis, I didn’t feel like going out much. I had to quit work and I just became numb, going through the motions, appointments, treatments. I didn’t want to go shopping, out for dinner, or visit family and friends.”

Lily stared at the table cloth.

“And then one night, Oliver had gone grocery shopping and I was alone. I put some music on and then our first dance song came on.” 

Lily heaved a sigh. 

“And suddenly, it was like I was reconnected to the old me, the me before I got sick.” 

Her fingers curled gently into a fist. 

“I woke up and remembered who I was. That I was Lily and the cancer, it was just a small part of me and I was letting it rule my life.” 

She sipped her coffee to clear her clogging throat. 

“By the time Oliver got home, I had changed out of the grey, baggy clothes that I had worn for months into something a lot more colourful and suggested to Oliver we watch a movie.”

Jo had left half of her muffin on the plate. Lucy had stopped munching through the last of the sausages, Maria’s hands rested on the pile of dirty plates.

“I think he barely heard me. He slumped on the sofa and was asleep within minutes.” 

Her face fell. 

“Of course, I was really disappointed. I had made a breakthrough and he’d just dozed off.” 

Her breath caught. 

“I cried, I cried a lot. And I resented him for weeks.” 

She looked tired and defeated. 

“He couldn’t see that I’d changed. He didn’t notice my clothes were different, nothing.” 

Her jaw clenched. 

“I was the sick one and yet he was the one walking around half alive.”

Lily’s voice wavered. Maria’s hands tightened on the plates. 

“But it broke my heart, to see him so tired and trying so hard to keep up with work, how could I be angry at him. No one is prepared for the reality of cancer. So I stopped resenting him and tried to be supportive.”

Lily swallowed and took a deep breath.

“And then finally he tells me a friend from work has invited him out for a drink, would I like to come too. And everything changed again.” 

A small smile brightened her face. 

“We’ve talked about that dark time and cried and apologised and promised.” 

Another deep sigh. 

“Now I think I love him even more. So many sick people have no one, I am very lucky to have Oliver.”

Maria reached across the table to squeeze Lily’s hand. Lucy wiped her cheeks. 

“Sorry to kill the mood after Lucy’s sexy story,” Lily sniffed, laughing. 

“No, it’s fine,” Jo assured her. “We're here to listen. 

“You are happy now, though?” Lucy asked Lily, tentatively.

Lily nodded.

“Oh yes,” she assured them. “Apart from the meds and the hospital visits, life is good. I’ve decided to be happy.” 

She shook her head. 

“Wallowing in self pity and dread of what may come tomorrow is such a waste of time. I am not delusional, however,”she said, frankly. “I’m not expecting a miracle cure or a long life. Nor have I come to terms with  . . . dying. I just choose not to focus on it. I want to enjoy my life while I still can. Live while I’m alive.”

“I think you are the bravest and most inspirational person I know,” said Lucy. 

“Oh please,” dismissed Lily. “I’m just handling what life throws at me. Plenty of people do that every day. So can we please talk about something else now.”

Trudging from the station to her flat, Jo yawned. She was considering taking a nap. Brunch had been extremely satisfying and emotional. She had enjoyed hearing about Lucy and Greg’s moonlight kiss, but Lily’s story had been harrowing and humbling. Jo had heaps of respect and admiration for Lily, but it made her own problems seem small and insignificant. That was wrong. Her life shouldn’t become marginalised because she had a terminally ill friend. Lily certainly wouldn’t think or want that. 

Halting on the curb, Jo checked for oncoming traffic and hurried across the road. Thanks to the diverting conversation at brunch, she hadn’t much time to think about that Donna woman spending the night at Rik’s. There was no way she had just crashed there for the night. 

The door squeaked shut behind her and Jo jogged up the stairs. Yes, she was disappointed, not exactly jealous. Rik could sleep with whoever he wished but she expected better from him. OK, she knew it was just sex, Rik wasn’t interested in a relationship, but still. She was afraid it would warp her perspective of him, that it wouldn’t feel the same when she was around him. Last night he had been sweet and kind. His hug goodbye had felt so good, she hadn’t wanted him to let go. And he had smiled at her, his eyes lingering on her. It had felt so intimate and special. She had drifted off to sleep thinking about him, that hug and smile. Now it felt silly, her romantic fantasies childish and whimsical. 

Throwing her keys on the coffee table, Jo huffed a sigh and pinched her nose. She knew, she’d known from the beginning and still she had let herself do it. 

“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” she cursed, kicking off her shoes. 

Emptying her pockets, she saw her phone blinking with a message from Jamie. Rolling her eyes, she flung it onto the sofa and strode for the bathroom. 

Chapter Nine 

A steady stream of colourful characters flowed into the transformed university canteen. The sombre eating area had morphed into a throbbing, flashing night club. A cowboy and James Bond were mixing drinks and serving beers. The Village People were obligingly posing for photographs on the dancefloor. Crocodile Dundee and Ron Burgundy were flirting with a nurse and a six foot tall Poison Ivy, while the Terminator and Indiana Jones were filling up at the buffet table flanked by Darth Vader and Supergirl. 

Easing past Elton John, in a fabulous glitter suit with matching star shaped glasses, and behind Thor, twirling a huge foam hammer, Lucy and Maria rejoined Greg who handed them each a cocktail. 

“Ooo thank you,” Lucy grinned.

Maria took a sip.

“Mmm this is good.”

Someone waved at them through the throng of people. Oliver emerged, tugging Lily behind him.

“Haha, nice costumes,” approved Lucy.

Lily fanned herself.

“It’s so hot in here.”

“Lots of people,” explained Greg.

“Well, thanks for that observation,” laughed Lily.

“Oh thank goodness, we’ve found you. Ahdia, they’re over here.”

“Jo, hello. Ahdia, wow looking good,” nodded Greg.

Ahdia had loosened her long black locks and braided a few, under a bandana and tricorn hat. She had tucked a flowing white shirt into brown leggings and strapped on knee high black boots. A gold hoop was thread through one ear, a beard painted onto her face. Lastly, a plastic cutlass swung at her hip.

“Yes, you make one sexy pirate,” agreed Rik, who materialised suddenly. 

Ahdia bowed theatrically. She straightened and squinted at him, scrutinising his blue shirt, blazer, jeans, trainers, cane and stethoscope. Jo immediately remembered her comment to Rik the last time she had seen him. Ahdia tapped her chin.

“Gregory House?” she guessed.

“The one and only,” Rik declared.

Jo said nothing.

“And you two look great,” continued Ahdia, turning to Lily and Oliver. “Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Waston.”

“Yes, but boy is it hot under this deerstalker,” puffed Lily, removing the hat.

“Greg, I’m impressed,” admitted Jo, motioning to his red Haiwian shirt, jeans, curly wig and fake moustache.

“Thomas Magnum.”

He winked at her. 

“I think Lucy is the cutest,” said Maria.

Lucy’s hair was tied into two plaits under a straw hat. She wore a flowery dress with a white apron and carried a carpet bag.

“Anne of Green Gables?” asked Jo.

“Yes, of course you would know, Miss Book Nerd,” sighed Lucy.

“Well, top marks for not going for all the obvious choices,” said Oliver. “Same to you, Maria.”

Maria looked down at her simple white wrap around dress, white beaded necklace and reached up to smooth her orange wig.

“Oh my god, you’re Wilma from The Flintstones,” chuckled Ahdia. “You look great.”

“Thank you,” blushed Maria. 

“But Jo, I’m not quite sure who you are,” frowned Greg.

Everyone turned to look at Jo. A long white tunic swirled around her body, a brown leather corset cinching her waist. She had wound an elaborate gold belt around her hips and crowned her head with an impressive red plumed helmet. A matching red cloak flowed behind her. She held a well crafted  spear in her right hand and a plush brown toy owl perched on her shoulder. 

“Wonder Woman?”

“Boudica?”

Ahdia grinned smugly.

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head.

“Roman warrior woman?”

“Xena warrior princess?”

“The bird on a fifty p?”

Ahdia laughed.

“Close, but no,” she told Greg.

“Athena,” stated Rik, his eyes fixed on Jo.

Jo didn’t look at him but nodded.

“Finally,” scoffed Ahdia. “Doesn’t she look amazing? When she walked out of her room I couldn’t believe it.”

“We all look amazing,” said Jo, trying to deflect the praise. 

She could feel Rik’s eyes on her.

“I can’t believe how many good costumes are here. People have actually put some real effort into it,” said Maria.

“It’s a big tradition at the university,” explained Oliver. “The annual fancy dress party is thirty years old. It’s a big deal.”

“Is Toby not here?” asked Ahdia, glancing around.

“Yeah, apparently he’s some mystery doctor,” said Rik, finally turning his attention from Jo.

“He’s Doctor Who,” Oliver told them. 

“Oh.”

“I’m hungry,” Lucy blurted out. “Who wants to come get some food?”

“Are carrots on the menu?” teased Lily.

“Oh go smoke your pipe!”

“Now ladies, play nice,” soothed Greg.

“Well, I spied some gorgeous looking chocolate cake,” said Jo, “So I’ll come.”

“Me too,” said Adhia.

“I’ll see if we can wrangle a table,” said Greg.

“If anyone can do it, Magnum can,” Jo winked at him. 

Keeping in character, Rik limped to the table and slumped down.

“Students bored of you now?” asked Lily, nibbling from the plate of food Oliver had brought her. 

“As the world’s most famous detective, you’re not very good at observing,” Rik threw back.

“I am preoccupied at the moment. This pizza is delicious.”

“If you must know, I escaped.”

He saw Jo across the room, standing with her arms around Ahdia and Lily while the event photographer snapped shots of them. She looked so good tonight. He loved the way her hair fell from the helmet, brushing her shoulders. He glimpsed flashes of her sleek legs through the slit in her dress. And those eyes lined in black and shadowed with purple. But she hadn’t looked at or spoken to him at all. It was strange. It had been just two weeks since he’d last seen her at the bar. What had happened since then? 

“Hi Rik.”

Rik reluctantly turned, expecting to fend off another female student flaunting herself at him. No, it was worse. 

“Oh s**t,” Greg murmured under his breath.

Catwoman stood there, ginger hair escaping from her mask.

“Hi . . .”

“Donna,” she finished for him.

Rik cursed himself. He vaguely remembered inviting her to the party when they had met at the bar. He had completely forgotten until now. He was surprised she’d come after his cold rebuff the morning after. Apparently it hadn’t been cold or clear enough.  This was going to be awkward.

“Great costume,” he said.

“Thanks,” she purred, arching her back.

Greg glared across at Rik. Rik stood.

“Want to get a drink?”

“Who was that?” Lily asked after they had left.

“No one important,” replied Greg. “Are you going to eat that sausage roll, or can I have it?”

Jo sat down, pulled off her helmet and shook her hair. She rubbed her nape.

“This may have been a bad idea,” she conceded to Maria now alone at their table.

“Oh I don’t think so,” Maria disagreed. “You look so good in it. In fact, I love the costume, Athena, goddess of wisdom. It’s bitchin’.”

Jo laughed.

“Thanks. I wanted to be some kind of badass woman.”

“You nailed it and there are a lot of men here who are drooling every time they look at you.”

Jo rolled her eyes. 

“If all they can do is drool, then I’m not interested.”

“Good for you. If they’re intimidated by your heart skewing spear and badass stare, then they’re clearly not worth much.”

“How many cocktails have you had?”

“This is my fifth,” said Maria, tapping the rim of her half full glass. “And I have no intention of stopping any time soon.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” said Jo. “You are a lot of fun.”

“Happy to be here, with a group of friends almost half my age.”

“You’re only as old as you feel.”

“Well, right now, I feel twenty five and I have been eyeing up that Robin Hood for the last half an hour.”

Jo followed Maria’s gaze. Robin Hood’s muscular legs looked fantastic in green tights. Silver flecked beard covered most of his face, but Jo thought he was definitely handsome.

“Yeah? Thinking of making a move on him?”

Maria deliberated.

“Perhaps after number eight or nine of these.”

“Well, if you need a wing girl, let me know.”

“Thank you. And if he turns out to be an unsavory gentleman you can stick him with your spear.”

Jo bowed.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Well, if you're unsure about anything, just give me a call. I’d be happy to help any way I can.”

Ahdia and Oliver returned to the table with drinks. Jo eyed her mojito greedily. 

“What kind of help is she offering?”

“Oh, it was just much of what the doctors tell me and Lily is overwhelming and can be confusing. Ahdia knows so much more than we do.”

“Is there anything she doesn’t know?” Jo asked, rhetorically. 

“Not much,” said Ahdia, removing her cutlass so she could sit comfortably.

“Maria, I have been meaning to ask, Lily said you’ve found a place for your cafe.”

Lolling slightly, Maria sat up straighter.

“Yes, Oliver I have. I get the keys next week so I can have my designer in and start getting things moving at last.”

“That’s fantastic.”

“It is,” Maria smiled serenely. “Finally my dream is becoming a reality, although I know I may regret undertaking such a task a few weeks or months down the line.”

“Yes, but it will be worth it, I’m sure. From the plans you showed us, you’re well on top of it all,” said Jo.

“Yes, all the hard work will pay off. For now you can play just as hard.”

“Oh I am,” she assured Oliver, draining her glass and licking her lips. 

Rising on his toes, Rik scanned above the crowd for Catwoman. He had managed to shake Donna twenty minutes ago after hinting he wasn’t interested. Still he wasn’t taking any chances. She could pounce unexpectedly from anywhere. No sign. He lurched forward into the mass of bodies.

Stomach aching from laughter, Jo stopped to gulp in a few deep breaths. She had accompanied Maria to waylay Robin Hood at the bar. Her defensive scowl had crumpled immediately after Maria’s opening line.

“Are arrows the only thing you shoot?”

Maria had raised an eyebrow and smouldered at him. He had spluttered into his drink.

“I’ve got something for you to aim at if you’re up for target practice.”

Jo had to clamp her hand over her mouth. The man had blushed and blinked several times.

“Or you can introduce me to Little John and we can play in Sherwood Forest.”

Jo couldn’t believe how fast Maria was conjuring up these lines. 

“Let’s put the naughty in Nottingham.”

Still the man had blinked and said nothing. He held up his left hand. A gold ring flashed on his finger. Maria pretended to be shocked and disappointed.

“Too bad, Robin, we could have had plenty of rolls in the hay.”

She had linked her arm through Jo’s and, throwing him one last look over her shoulder, sashayed away. 

“Such a shame,” Maria mourned. “He had such a tight butt, a pair of yummy buns too good to miss.”

She had released Jo’s arm and slurred something about the Ladies before swaying off across the dance floor.

“What’s the joke?”

Jo's laughter vanished. Rik. She had been successful at avoiding him so far. 

“Maria,” she said. “She was just chatting up Robin Hood over there. She is drunk and hilarious.”

“Robin Hood?” repeated Rik. “That is the dean of the university, you know.”

A fresh bubble of laughter choked Jo.

“Oh it only gets better.”

“He’s married.”

“Yes, he told us, well showed us. He was rendered speechless by Maria.”

“Sad I missed it.”

Jo nodded and began to walk away. Rik reached out and touched her arm. 

“Jo, wait.”

Biting her lip, she stopped and turned, but stared past him. Rik’s hand dropped.

“Is everything OK?”

She hadn’t been as discreet as she’d thought.

“Yeah, sure.”

“You’re not avoiding me?”

“Why would I be doing that?”

“You tell me.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” she lied. “We are at a party, there’s a lot of people.”

Rik eyed her shrewdly for a moment. She still would not look at him.

“OK,” he accepted. “Well, enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks.”

Jo forced a smile and walked away. 

Rik wasn’t buying it. She was avoiding him. But, did he want to be around her. He wanted to touch her, tangle his hand in her hair. Hell, he thought. Spinning on his heels, he strode to the bar, cane hanging in his hand and ordered a whisky, and then another. 

Lurking in a corner, Donna narrowed her eyes. Jealousy twitched her nostrils and soured her mouth. Invisible claws sliced out from her fingers and she hissed.

Tearing a paper towel from the dispenser, Jo dabbed it on her face to remove the oily sheen glossing her skin. Ahdia leaned her back on the sink next to her.

“So why are you giving Rik the cold shoulder? And don’t deny it because you’ve barely mentioned him the past few weeks and I want to know why.”

Jo shrugged.

“Maybe I have better things to do.”

“Don’t give me that. Either he did or said something or there’s someone else who’s taken his place.” She turned to the mirrors and scrutinised Jo’s reflection. 

“And the only other guy on the scene is Jamie and you’re moving nowhere fast with him, not that you’re complaining. So just tell me what happened.”

Jo dropped her hand and threw the towel in the bin.

“You know that Donna woman I told you about?”

“Yes, the one who is here as Catwoman tonight.”

Jo couldn’t believe Donna was here. Rik was the only one who could have invited her. 

“Rik slept with her.”                     

Ahdia pushed off the sink.

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, when I went to Maria’s for brunch, I saw her leaving his flat.”

“So? That doesn’t mean they had sex.”

“No, then why is she here tonight, if not for seconds?”

“Don’t you think Rik may deserve the benefit of the doubt?”

“No, I know he did.”

“Have you asked him?”

“No, why would I do that? Without coming off jealous and bitter?”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“Not jealous. I’m upset because she’s a b***h and I thought he could do better.”

“But maybe a little jealous too? Because if you weren’t then you obviously don't like him.”

“Well, OK a little jealous,” admitted Jo. “But it also opened my eyes. Rik would never go for someone like me. So I’m staying away from him. Call it self-preservation.”

Ahdia rubbed Jo’s arm.

“I think you may be wrong, but I understand.”

“Thank you. Enough now, I want to enjoy myself tonight.”

Ahdia shoved her tricorn crookedly on her head.

“Let's do it.”

For the third time in a minute, Greg tugged on one of Lucy’s pigtails. She was chatting to a work colleague and glared at him. He smiled and blew her a kiss. She rolled her eyes and ignored him. Greg swigged his beer and pulled her pigtail again. This time she didn’t react. So Greg lightly tapped her backside. She spun to face him.

“I swear, Greg if you don’t . . .”

“Don’t what?”

“Infuriating man, go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere, not without you anyway.”

Lucy’s friend smiled and excused herself.

“Now look what you’ve done? That was rude.”

“She did us a big favour.”

Greg slid his hand into Lucy’s and edged her into the shadows. Lucy didn’t resist.

“How long did you think I was going to wait to steal a kiss, huh?”

“Um uh.”

“Exactly.”

He cupped her nape and kissed her slowly. The tension left Lucy’s body. Her arms twined around his neck. 

“Mmm hmm,” Greg murmured into her neck, kissing her below her ear. “I like you in pigtails.”

“I don’t like your fake moustache,” complained Lucy. 

Greg ripped it off his upper lip and shoved it into a pocket. He rested his hands on Lucy’s hips.

“You’re so sexy and beautiful,” he breathed, huskily. 

“Shut up, smooth talker and kiss me again.”

Greg’s mouth kicked up into a grin.

“Your wish is my command.”

“Are you jealous?”

On another trip to the bar, Maria and Jo had spied the loved up couple making out up against the wall. 

“No,” laughed Jo “I was just thinking how Magnum or Tom Selleck kisses women. Phew, what a man.”

“I agree with you there,” said Maria, dreamily. “Such sexy athletic legs in his younger days in those short shorts.”

“Maria, I do believe we are kindred spirits.”

“Disappointed Rik isn’t pawing at you?” asked Donna, slinking in front of them.

“Excuse me?” Jo blinked.

“You’re wasting your time,” Donna informed her. “A guy like him wouldn’t be interested in you.”

She looked Jo up and down.

“I think your costume didn’t do what you wanted it to.”

Maria began to respond. Jo put a hand on her arm.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said. 

“Well, you should know, Rik slept with me.”

Jo’s brows furrowed.

“And? You’re not the first and only notch on his bedpost.”

“Well, you haven’t even made it as far as the bedroom, I imagine,” Donna sneered, derisively.

“Is that supposed to upset me?” challenged Jo. “Rik is a good friend and I believe he regards me likewise. And I’d rather be that than just  a drunken one night stand.”

“Whatever,” Donna lifted her chin. “You’re still jealous.”

“Why? It was just sex. It doesn’t mean he’s into you, that he likes you or he’s fallen in love with you.”

“Yes, well . . .”

“Look,” interrupted Jo. “I don’t know why you’re trying to pick a fight with me, maybe you’re the jealous one but honestly you’re wasting your time. I have better things to do than exchange barbs with someone as bitter and pathetic as you.”

She strode away, her red cloak billowing behind her. Maria grinned widely. She approached Donna.

“You seem to be wearing the wrong colour, love. Green would suit you much better.”

Jo’s hands were trembling slightly. She had returned to their deserted table. Maria handed her a drink.

“Here, this will help.”

Jo took it and gulped it down.

“I can’t believe I said all that,” she wheezed. “I have no idea where it came from.”

“Oh it was beautiful to watch, you sure told her. Who does she think she is? Trying to stir things up. Something tells me she didn’t get the reception from Rik she was hoping for.”

Maria wobbled and finally sat down.

“Woops,” she giggled. 

“Maria, are you drunk?” asked Ahdia, taking a seat next to her.

“Shhh,” slurred Maria, holding a finger to her lips. “Don’t say it so loud.”

“I don’t think you’re fooling anyone,” snorted Ahdia. 

Maria proceeded to tell her about Jo’s confrontation with Donna. Ahdia was impressed and high-fived Jo. However, she decided not to tell Jo that she had just overheard Rik telling a friend he was returning to America in six weeks. No, she didn’t want to be the one dropping that bombshell. 

Over the heads of the group of students clustered around him, Rik watched a pirate, Wilma Flintstone, Athena and Anne with an E sway, shimmy and whirl to Dancing Queen. He almost wished he was with them. Greg pranced into the centre of them and began jiving. Twirling on his heels, he grabbed Lucy’s hand and pulled her to him. She shrieked with giggles and threw her arm around his waist. Thomas Magnum and Anne Shirley certainly made an odd couple, but Greg and Lucy, well there was no denying the chemistry between them. 

Hot after the intense and exhilarating dancing, Jo took an unsteady trip to the Ladies and then outside from a breath of fresh air. Feeling cooler and more comfortable, she returned to the party. Toby stretched his arm across the doorway, blocking her path. A nervous sensation prickled the back of her neck.

“Oh Toby, I didn’t know you were here.”

“Been here all night,” he replied, his head lolling.

Jo reared back. His breath reeked of alcohol. 

“Hey, you look really good tonight.”

He leaned in closer.

“Jo, why don’t you and me get together? You’re seriously hot and damn we could have a lot of fun.”

Jo swallowed, repulsed. 

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Look, forget about Rik,” Toby mumbled. “He’s not going to give you what you want. Come on, you know you want to.”

He ran his hand down her bare arm. Jo drew back, brushing him off.

“No, I really don’t want to,” confirmed Jo. “Just leave me alone and let me pass.”

“Jo, why are you being like this?”

His hand clamped around her upper arm and squeezed. 

“Just one night, babe, or one kiss, come on.”

His horribly hot breath crawled across her skin. Sick with revulsion, she struggled to move away. His hold tightened.

“Will you stop being a jerk and let me go?”

“Nuh uh.”

“For f**k’s sake, Toby, you creep, let me go.”

She shoved against him hard. He stumbled back. Falling over a chair, he clattered to the floor. 

“Jo, what happened? Are you OK?”

Oliver was suddenly there, Lucy not far behind. 

“I’m fine, it was nothing,” 

Toby staggered upright.

“You b***h,” he snarled, wavering on his feet. “You f*****g uptight b***h.”

“Hey that’s enough,” ordered Oliver, catching onto what had happened.

Lucy put her arm around Jo’s shoulders. 

“Maybe you should go home,” Oliver suggested to Toby.

“Maybe you should go to hell,” Toby spat back. 

“That’s enough, Toby.”

Robin Hood had arrived, the dean of the university. 

“Leave now or you’ll be escorted off the premises. Go home and sleep it off.” 

Toby glared at the small crowd that had gathered. He grumbled, swearing and swaggered off. Jo inhaled sharply through her nose. She wasn’t going to cry in front of everyone. 

“Let’s go sit down,” said Lucy, drawing her away.

They found a quiet corner and Oliver fetched a cup of tea. 

“Can we pretend that didn’t happen?” Jo said, massaging her temples 

Lucy and Oliver nodded.

“You sure you’re OK though?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Hey, you guys, why the long faces?” 

Maria slammed her hands down on the table. Lucy could see Greg warbling along to Sweet Caroline. She covered her eyes with her hand, laughing.

“Come and dance,” Maria sang. 

Moving around the table she dragged Oliver up. 

“I’ll be back for you girls in a minute,” she warned. 

Using her wits as a consulting detective, Lily rescued her partner from the energetic clutches of Maria’s drunk dancing. She drew him away to a quieter area of the dance floor, just as the first few bars of Unchained Melody began to play. They swayed to and fro in time with the music, Lily’s head resting gently on Oliver’s chest. Her eyes fluttered shut, Oliver’s hand softly stroking her hair. He dropped a kiss onto her temple and hugged her closer. They moved slowly, everything around them fading away. 

 

The night air was chilly. Jo burrowed deeper into the warmth of her jacket. She hoped the cab wouldn’t be too long. She strode to the road.

“Jo, wait up.”

She didn’t know if she was pleased or annoyed that Rik had followed her. She had hoped to leave with no one noticing or asking questions. She had told Ahdia who had understood. 

“Are you leaving already?” Rik asked, jogging to her.

“Yes, I am.”

“But it’s not even midnight yet. Is everything OK?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired.”

“Look, I heard Donna was giving you some trouble. You know you should pay no attention to her.”

“I’m not,” she shrugged, nonchalantly.

“OK, don’t tell me what’s wrong, that’s fine.”

Jo wanted to tell him, tell him about Toby, wanted him to offer to punch the lights out of him for her. But right now she couldn’t handle his sympathy, not when she felt so vulnerable. So she said nothing.

“So I don’t know when I’m going to see you again, but I want to let you know I’m flying back to America in six weeks. My contract and the lease on my apartment is up.”

“OK.”

She didn’t want to hear this now, she couldn’t process it.

“I’m planning on having a leaving party, so I’m inviting you in advance.”

He was clutching at straws, anything to keep the conversation going. How had things become so forced and awkward between them?

“OK, well I’ll definitely try and make it.”

She turned away, checking the road. Rik reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Jo.”

She looked back at him, the lamplight casting shadows across her face. Instead of speaking, he hugged her. Surprised, Jo breathed in his shirt. She desperately wanted to cling to him, glean some comfort. But she didn’t. It would only hurt more later. A car drew up behind them and she broke free of Rik.

“Goodnight, Rik. Thanks for inviting me tonight. I had a really good time.”

She managed a small smile.

“Take care, Jo.”

He watched Jo hurry to the cab. She eased her spear and helmet into the back seat, then shuffled in and the door clunked behind her. He half wished to call out to her, delay her. The cab drew away from the curb. It was too late. She was gone.

Disappointment sank heavily in Rik’s stomach. He regretted not trying to talk to Jo more, encourage her to tell him what was wrong. Not knowing what was happening with her irritated him. He grimaced and turned away. Hands thrust in his pockets, he trudged back inside.

Chapter Ten

“Cos I’m your lady and you are my man. Whenever you reach for me, I’ll do all that I can.”

Rik winced, his shoulders bunching up towards his ears. Greg was murdering Celine Dion’s ‘The Power of Love’. He punctuated each verse with a belch, swaying in Rik’s living room, beer in hand. No one else was paying much attention to him. It was a shame Lucy was missing this. She may reconsider dating Greg. Serenading was clearly not his forte. But love was supposedly blind, so perhaps for Greg’s sake, it was deaf too. 

“Love lifts us up where we belong, far from the world below.”

Greg was now butchering Joe Cocker. Rik had no idea who had selected this playlist for his leaving party - top soppy love songs of the century- it certainly hadn’t been him. The songs were not to his eclectic taste. He picked up a few empty bottles littering the counter near the sink and placed them in the recycling box. Maria was washing her hands and pouted at him. Her shoulders sagged. 

“What am I going to do without you, Rik?” she sighed. 

Rik rested his hand lightly on her back.

“Maria, you’ll be fine,” he reassured her. 

Maria had finally started decorating and furnishing her cafe. Rik wished he could stay for the grand opening but that was scheduled in six weeks time. Not having Maria for a neighbour any more would suck. She was always dropping off cupcakes and muffins, not to mention mugs of her to-die-for hot chocolate.  

“But, honey, I’ll miss you,” she continued, drying her hands. “You were my first friend in London.”

Rik put his arm around her shoulders.

“Maria, you are the sexiest woman of my acquaintance, how much do you think I’m going to miss you?”

Maria laughed.

“You charmer. You’ll probably forget me as soon as you arrive back home.”

Rik shook his head.

“A man never forgets his first real true love.”

Maria pushed him away laughing and shaking her head.

Rik squeezed his way through a group of junior lecturers. Oliver wasn’t among them sadly. He had whisked Lily away on holiday. A friend had loaned them his villa in Tuscany for the summer. Lucky buggers. So Rik had been enduring the stifling hot spells in sweltering London, interspersed with grey stormy days, while Oliver was sipping red wine in vineyards and indulging in brilliant cuisine and views of sun kissed, rolling hills. 

Picking up a hot dog, snug in its bread roll, Rik did a circle of his flat, tearing large bites and gulping his beer. He spotted Jo perched alone on the edge of his couch, a glass of wine in her hand. Ahdia had sent her apologies with Jo. She hadn’t been able to swap her shift at work. Jo was swinging her leg and staring aimlessly out the window. He walked over.

“Now I’m not going to flatter myself into thinking you look so miserable because I’m leaving,” he joked. “But why are you sitting here all alone?”

Jo tipped her head to look up at him, the hoops in her ears swinging. She forced a smile.

“The only people I know are Maria, Greg and Lucy,” she replied. “And I don’t feel like following them around all evening.”

“You know me as well,” pointed out Rik. “You could have come and chatted to me. Especially as I haven’t seen you for six weeks.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Hey, I came over to talk to you,” he protested. “I’m right here now, ignoring my other guests to talk to you.”

“Now I’m the one who’s flattered.”

“Seriously Jo, how have you been?”

She shrugged and sighed.

“The same as always. Not much changes.”

“How’s the writing going?”

“Again the same.” 

She tugged at the cuffs of her grey shirt.

“Slow progress. And now with work getting busier for the summer I’m too stressed and tired to get much done.”

Rik noted Jo’s drawn face, the hollows beneath her eyes. 

“Yeah, that sucks. But you should try and get some done,” he advised. “Even if it’s a few lines every day. I find it often inspires me to do more and makes me feel better about my writing. Small progress is still progress.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said, defeatedly.

“Suppose?” mimicked Rik. “Jo, sweetheart, you know I’m always right.”

Jo lifted an eyebrow.

“Really?”

Rik cocked his head to one side.

“Well, almost always,” he conceded. “But with regards to writing, I think I know my stuff. And honestly, Jo,” iterated Rik, his voice serious. “I think you’ve got what it takes. People will want to read your work.”

“That’s a bold statement from someone who has never read any of my work,” remarked Jo, watching the wine swirl in her glass.

“I don’t need to. I can just tell.”

“Oh so now you’re psychic as well as always right?”

“Yeah, just a few of my many talents,” brushed off Rik.

“Yep,” nodded Jo. “Your biggest one being talking bullshit.”

“Hey!” Rik pretended to be offended.

Jo laughed.

“I’m joking,” she said, her eyes rolling beneath her pretty lashes. “Before you get all upset and rush off to soothe your punctured ego.”

“Hey, leave my ego out of this, it’s sensitive.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. I think it has impenetrable skin and bulletproof armour.”

“Well,” Rik cracked his neck. “It definitely isn’t impervious to the occasional stroking.”

Jo’s eyes narrowed.

“I hope we’re still talking about your ego.”

Rik huffed a laugh, genuinely amused. 

“I’ve missed you, Jo.”

He tugged at one of her curls.

“You shouldn’t have stayed away.”

Jo pulled her hair free from his hand.

“Well, you should have told me that sooner, not days before you fly across the Atlantic.”

He looked down at her. He wanted to ask her to dance with him. To join the others gyrating in the middle of his living room. So he could touch her, draw her close, flush colour into her pale cheeks. 

“Rik, will you please end this argument for us,” Fran, a colleague asked, appearing beside him. 

Robert and Val flanked her. Rik groaned inwardly. Their timing could not have been worse. 

“Is California the largest state in America?”

Rik regarded them sceptically.

“It isn’t, is it? Texas is way bigger.”

Rik’s forehead wrinkled. 

“Or Montana.”

“You’re all wrong,” confirmed Rik. “It’s Alaska.”

“Alaska. Of course. Why didn't we think of that?”

Rik turned back to the couch but Jo had slid away. 

Riding the bus home, Jo fidgeted and wished the lights weren’t so bright. There were no shadows to retreat into. Sadness nudged her. She sighed. She wished it had been a better goodbye with Rik. She had managed to resolve the conflict and confusion over him in her head. She hadn’t wanted her feelings for Rik to rise up and complicate things again. But tonight his concern and kindness seemed genuine, more than just keeping up appearances. She felt ashamed by her behaviour. She regretted being cold and avoiding him for weeks, that was immature. She had told herself it was for the best. Tonight it had hit home how much she’d missed Rik; his banter, humour, the serious thoughtful expression and the way his blue eyes would smile while his mouth didn’t flinch. 

Jo had been relieved he didn’t seem to know about Toby’s indiscretion. She did not want to offer an explanation. It was bad enough when Ahdia had confronted her about it. Lucy had apparently dropped a hint.

“Why didn’t you tell me about it before?” Ahdia exclaimed, irate.

“Because it was no big deal,” Jo diffused.

“Jo, the man assaulted you,” Ahdia stated, crossing her arms. 

Jo shrugged.

“I’m over it.”

“Why aren’t you angry?” Ahdia demanded.

“I was and I am, but to be honest, the only thing that was really hurt was my pride. Now I just want to forget about it.”

“Is that why you left the party early?” Ahdia wondered. 

“And Donna was trying to start a fight with me. I just wanted to get away. Felt like everyone was out to get me that night.”

“I wish you had said something to me,” Ahdia sighed. “Now I feel like a b***h for letting you deal with this on your own.”

“Seriously, I am fine,” Jo insisted. “I was emotional that night, a bit hurt and upset but I just decided to forget about it all.” 

She sighed. 

“I could have let it get to me but I decided neither incident was worth it.”

Ahdia never mentioned it again. Though she had told Jo that she was making a mistake staying away from Rik. You could hide all you wanted, she had said, deny what you felt, that didn’t change reality. 

Now she had no idea if she would see Rik again. Their blossoming friendship had already begun to wither before it had set down any deep roots. Maybe once he returned to America he would forget about her, he wouldn’t bother to call or send a message. She leant her forehead against the bus window. She was never going to see Rik again. He was leaving and she’d screwed up everything. She felt sick with regret, disappointment and sadness. There was no turning back time. Only the future lay ahead, a future she had to accept would be lonelier and gloomier without Rik.

The clock blinked two thirty eight on the microwave by the time Rik had said goodbye to the last of his guests. The party had been great. He’d been hugged a hundred times, kissed and his butt even got pinched; Greg and his roaming hands. The flat felt eerily quiet now after the buzz of the evening. 

Splashing cold water onto his face, Rik thought how much he was going to miss Greg. Though Greg didn’t have as much time nowadays to goof around with him. He was too busy snuggling up on Lucy’s couch watching rom-coms or sticking his tongue down her throat and his hand up her blouse. Yes, it was nauseating. He was happy for them, of course he was. And they never made him feel like a third wheel. He couldn’t really complain, he’d had Greg all to himself for two weeks. Well, almost, Toby had gone too.

Grinning in the mirror recalling their trip to the north, he flicked off the light and padded to his bedroom. Scotland had been really fun. They had crashed around Edinburgh and Glasgow before heading up to the Highlands. 

Glencoe had been a visual feast. They had been blessed with good weather, a rarity in Scotland apparently. Rik had been glad he had bought a brand new camera. There had been so many stunning, otherworldly views to capture. Then there was the night the three of them had got really drunk. They had returned to their B&B near Loch Leven and couldn’t find their key to the front door. 

They had teetered on the doorstep, giggling like schoolboys, emptying each other's pockets. Toby had fallen over at one point and Greg had to stifle his outburst of laughter, not wanting to wake any guests or staff. Their rigorous search was unsuccessful and Greg had to resort to climbing through an open downstairs window. He had got stuck, his toned butt and flailing legs protruding from the window frame. 

Rik had attempted to take a photo. He could barely stand straight or hold his phone still, with one hand clamped firmly over his mouth to muffle his own laughter. With some help from Rik and Toby, Greg tumbled inside and crashed into something. He let out a muted yelp, then burped and laughed.

Greg had staggered around in the dark. It was five minutes before he unlocked the front door. Toby and Rik snuck inside. They tiptoed upstairs as quietly as they could, all three of them squeezing up the narrow staircase, every step creaking. How they didn’t wake the entire house, Rik didn’t know. His stomach still ached the next morning from all the laughing. 

Resting his head lightly on his pillow, Rik smiled. His stay here in the UK had turned out better than he’d imagined. The natives, well some were complete a******s, others dead bores, but there were a few, friends and strangers alike, who were great. Oh, he wanted to go home, there was no debate in his mind over that, he just wished he could take some people and places with him. 

Rik was not usually sentimental but he was going to miss his new friends. Greg promised he was going to visit, maybe bring Lucy with him. But Maria would be too busy with her new cafe and Oliver would be back at the university soon, Lily too sick to travel such a long way alone. And Jo wouldn’t be able to afford the flights to New York. But that was what he always had to accept with his life on the road, forever meeting new people, making good friends and having to leave all them behind.

His thoughts lingered on Jo. Disappointment and regret turned his stomach. He hadn’t got the chance to say a proper goodbye to her. A brief hug before Judy, the landlady from the local pub, had thrust his face into her cleavage and not let go for five minutes. By the time he had surfaced for air, Jo had gone. He couldn’t blame her. In the bundle of overexaggerated personalities present in wishing him a fond farewell, she would have been lost.

In the past six weeks, Jo had often been on his mind. He had wondered why she had changed towards him so suddenly. He had missed her. Missed that unimpressed, you’re-really-not-funny look she gave him; the way her cheeks dimpled and her eyes brightened when she smiled; how she blushed, giggled and laughed. He missed listening to her in her complete nerd mode, gushing about comic books and Bon Jovi lyrics. And he was sad things were going to end like this, that they had drifted apart so fast. 

Rolling over under the duvet, Rik wondered just how Jo had got under his skin. He had met lots of smart, funny, kind women. They were great but he never lamented the thought of never seeing them again. He’d get over it, he thought. Once he was home and busy with planning new trips, surrounded by his family and old friends, Jo would be forgotten. 

Days before they left Scotland, they had enjoyed drinks in a quaint pub in Glasgow. Greg had mentioned wanting to buy postcards.

“Jo asked me to send her one,” he explained. “She loves getting letters and postcards.”

Rik had nodded, that sounded like Jo.

“So the two of you talk?” Toby asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Greg replied.  “Lucy sees her at least once a fortnight and I call her now and again, to see how she’s doing.”

“Pfft,” scoffed Toby. “Don’t know why you bother. She’s an uptight b***h.”

The last word was laced with such bitterness and malice, Rik balked and Greg stared at him, his pint held frozen in mid air.

“No wonder she’s single,” Toby carried on. “Probably get offended if any guy wanted to screw her.” 

Furious, Greg began to rebuke him but Rik spoke.

“If you’re going to sit there and insult a friend of ours, Toby, you can f**k off,” he said, his voice icily controlled. “Just because you don’t understand a woman and her complexities doesn’t mean she’s an uptight b***h. It just shows that you are an immature, whinging, pathetic, f*****g loser.”

Face smarting, Toby shrugged.

“Have you heard from her lately?

“Why do you care?” Greg asked, interjecting. 

“I don’t,” Toby shrugged again. 

“Just leave Jo alone,” said Greg, his anger simmering. “You don’t really know her or her life, so stop making judgements and bloody grow up.” 

“Wow, I’ve really hit a nerve, haven’t I, with both of you?”

“Well, excuse us for defending a woman, who we respect and like and count as a good friend, who isn’t here to defend herself, you shite,” growled Greg. “A woman you forced yourself onto and who, when she rejected you, you hurled abuse at. So f**k you, Toby.”

Rik, confused, looked from Greg to Toby.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his words staccato. 

“Greg doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” said Toby, hurriedly.

“Oh I don’t?” seethed Greg. “Our charming friend here tried to feel Jo up at the fancy dress party when he was drunk.”

Rik had gone so still. He recalled some commotion at the party, assumed someone had gotten a little too drunk. He had not bothered to investigate. No wonder Jo had left early. He had known she was upset about something. Not just Donna, but Toby as well. Why hadn’t she said anything?

“She overacted,” Toby tried to defend himself. “I didn’t even touch her.”

“No? Lucy saw the bruises from your hand on Jo’s arm the next day,” growled Greg. “So don’t try to deny it.”

“Hey, she was asking for it. Didn’t you see how she was dressed?”

Rik had exploded from his chair and punched Toby square on the jaw. Toby had tumbled backwards, his head thudding on the floor. Greg grabbed Rik’s arm to restrain him.

“You f*****g prick,” Rik ground between gritted teeth. “You go near Jo again, even say her name and I will f*****g destroy you.”

Toby’s hand shook as he wiped it across his mouth, smearing the blood. 

“Get out,” Rik spat. 

It had not been one of his best moments, Rik concluded on reflection. But he was glad he had hit Toby. It had felt good, landing a blow on behalf of Jo. He was usually a good judge of character. He had not expected behaviour like that from Toby. He had been wrong. He had been mortified for Jo. He hadn’t mentioned it to her, he didn’t want to embarrass her. He wished she had told him. He wanted her to trust him. Perhaps that was the reason she had drawn away, because Toby was his friend. He had not spoken to nor seen Toby since they had returned from Scotland. The university had hinted to Toby that he should look for alternative employment for the next academic semester. 

Then Rik had been angry at Greg for not telling him. And Lucy and Oliver who had known as well. They had all replied with the same answer. Jo didn’t want him to know. But why? Was she afraid it might change things between them? Or between him and Toby? His own furious reaction to finding out had frightened him somewhat; the force of his rage and the depth of his failure at not protecting Jo. He was usually such a cool character, prided himself on it, being able to keep his emotions in check. 

And the overwhelming feeling of regret at not seeing Jo again, for not apologising for Toby’s behaviour, for not telling her he cared about her. But what good would it do? It was obvious she didn’t want to be around him any more. He would just make a fool of himself. Hell, he already was. 

Groaning, he turned onto his back and stared into the blackness. All this thinking was pointless. He needed to get Jo out of his head for good. Maybe he needed to get laid. It had been a few months. What kind of a*****e was he? As if that would make him forget Jo. 

Once the sky was beginning to pale and the birds began their dawn song, Rik eventually fell asleep. At one in the afternoon on Monday, his tall figure was strolling through the corridors of the university. He was leaving on Tuesday and wanted to bid the university a last farewell. He reached his office and pushed open the narrow door. It got stuck halfway as it always did. He shoved it back and it crashed into his tiny, makeshift desk. 

The room still smelt of cleaning fluid and mouldy, damp mop buckets, despite the car air fresheners he’d hung up. He fumbled for the light switch and the bulb blinked and fizzed into life, millimetres from his head. 

There was a white box on his desk. An envelope laid on top with his name handwritten elegantly . Another leaving present. He picked up the envelope and put it to one side. He opened the box. He felt a kick to his gut.

Inside the box was a pie with a beautifully golden crust. The sweet tang of cherries teased his nostrils. A cherry pie. There was only one person who could have sent it. Suddenly, the memory of his bet with Jo months ago came flooding back. A cherry pie for him if he proved he really was all badass and mean. Wow, that was a punch below the belt. Forehead creasing, he reached for the envelope, opened it and read.

Hi Rik,

Don’t worry, this doesn’t mean you won the bet. You didn’t. Yes, you are badass at times, but you’re not mean and definitely not black inside. You are the most inspiring, wise and inadvertently kind man I have ever met. I think you give so much more than many people realise and try to hide your big heart behind all the badass lone wolf gimmick. Most of us wear masks for self-preservation, so no judgement on you there. 

Anyway, I just felt it would be a crime if you left the country without tasting something so delicious as this. You’ll thank me later, you’re welcome, and curse me for a new addiction, again you’re welcome.

I wish you all the best for the future. It’s been a pleasure to get to know you a little. Take care and have a safe flight.

With love,

Jo. 

Rik stood in his cleaning closet staring down at Jo’s note. His body blocked the light, shadowing the letter. He read it again. She wasn’t angry at him. She did care. And the cherry pie, the cherry pie taking him back to the first day he'd seen her, how her laugh made him perk  up and listen. He slid the letter back into the envelope and closed the pie box. He picked them up, flicked the light switch off, firmly tugged the door shut and left. 

Chapter Eleven

“London cannot be sufficiently explored in a day, nor a week or even a month. There is simply too much history, culture, art, architecture, food and alcohol to consume in this two thousand year old metropolis for it to be experienced in any short amount of time. Once you have suffused your senses with the sights, there are theatre shows to be seen. When you’ve tired of actors treading the boards, there are museums and galleries to be visited; live music to hear; tours to join; stadiums and sports events to attend; historical landmarks to snap a selfie with; markets and high streets to browse and spend your pounds sterling in; restaurants, street food, burger vans to tantalize your taste buds. If that gives you a thirst for the city then there are plenty of pubs to drop by to wet your whistle in. How could anyone be bored in London? From its cobbled streets, across the murky depths of the river Thames, to the pinnacles of its cathedral spires, London is bursting with a cornucopia of opportunities to educate, entertain and satisfy the curious tourist.”

Rik paused typing. This article was due at the end of the week and he knew it could be so much better. They’d been airbourne for two hours now and he had written one paragraph. 

Shortly before four that morning, he had gathered his bags and placed them at the front door. Looking  around the flat, there was a tinge of sadness. It was a strange and uncomfortable feeling. He was usually eager to leave places, anxious to be on the move. It was different this time. He felt homesick suddenly, wishing he was home without the long journey to endure. He shook it off. It was time to call for a cab. The intercom beeped. Surprised and confused, he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey Rik, it’s Lily and Ollie.”
Rik smiled. It wasn’t going to be such a lonely and pathetic morning after all.

“We intended to surprise you and always planned to come back this weekend,” Lily explained. 

She sat in the back of the car, leaning forward between the front seats.

“Didn’t want you to have to travel all the way to the airport on your lonesome,” she continued. “We would have felt terribly guilty and sad if you had.”
“Well, I greatly appreciate the gesture,” said Rik, turning to smile at Lily.

Her skin had a warm brown glow and she had filled out a little; all that sunshine and delicious Italian food, no doubt.

“And seeing as we missed your goodbye party, we thought it was the least we could do,” added Oliver.

“From Lucy’s photos, it looked like a good party,” said Lily.

“Of course it was,” Rik assured her. “It was my party.”
“Did everyone turn up?” she asked.

“Not everyone. Although I did invite half the university faculty, I think a lot of them still hadn’t warmed to me.”

Oliver chuckled.
“Oh and what about Jo?” Lily ventured. “Did she come?”
Rik nodded.

“Oh?” gleamed Lily, intrigued.

“Yes, but Ahdia couldn’t. She had to work.”

“That’s a shame,” noted Oliver.

“I thought you and Jo hadn’t been in touch lately?” probed Lily. 

“We haven’t,” Rik replied.

“So what did she say at your party?”
“Not much, it did get kinda hectic. But she did send me a letter and a pie.”
“And? What did she say?”
“Just good luck, really.”
Lily lifted an eyebrow.

“Stop bullshiting me, Rik,” she warned. 

“I’m not. She wished me good luck, maybe paid me a few undeserved compliments and said I needed to taste the cherry pie she sent.”

“And did you call her or send her a message to say thank you?”
“Not yet.”

“What? Why not?”
“I’ve been busy, what with packing and leaving, it slipped my mind.”
Lily eyed him shrewdly.

“Either you’re incredibly stupid, Rik or you’re playing dumb.”
“Oh I dabble in a little of both, I’m sure,” he said, glancing sideways at Oliver, who needed in determined agreement. 

“I’m being serious,” Lily scolded. 

“So am I.”
Lily huffed and sat back.

“I think you’re running away.”
Rik let out a short laugh.

“Oh yeah, from what?”
“From yourself or your feelings.”
“OK, you’ll have to explain this because you sound all kinds of crazy. Too much Tuscan sunshine, perhaps.”
“Joke all you want, Rik. I know I’m right.”
“So, explain.”
“I think you realised that you might feel something for Jo and it scared you. Leaving is a good excuse not to explore that feeling.” 

Rik kept his eyes focused on the road.
“Girls like Jo don’t come along every day, Rik,” said Lily. “And I think you know that but you’re afraid of disappointing and hurting her.”
She fell quiet for a moment. She hadn’t planned a speech like this. She just knew Rik was potentially making a big mistake.
“You’re a fool, Rik,” Lily continued, quietly. “If you ever feel that way about someone, you don’t ignore it. You race towards it, with everything you have and give it the best chance you can.”
Oliver heard the tremor in his wife’s voice.
“It may never come along again,” she warned. “You may never feel that way about anyone else ever. And if you give it up, there will come a day when you regret, it that you stupidly wasted so much time due to your pride and stubbornness.”
Lily swallowed.

“You have to close your eyes and look with your heart,” she said, quietly. “Even if your mind tells you it makes no sense, just do it and never look back.”

Lily’s words had burned into Rik, subduing his usual upbeat nature. He pulled his bags from the car, hugged Oliver telling him they were welcome in America any time. And then he’d turned to Lily. Lily who he may never see again. God, he hoped he would. She looked up at him, her eyes glassy.

“Stay well,” he said, before sweeping her up into a bear hug.

She laughed.
“Stay humble,” she replied, once he had released her. “And Rik?”
He met her eyes, no retreating here.
“Think,” she said, taking his hand. “Think and feel and don’t be afraid. It could be the biggest risk, greatest challenge and the best adventure you ever take.”

Rik rubbed his hand over his chest. The other drummed on the keys of his laptop. Lily had seen through him right from the start. He didn’t know if he was ready to accept what she had said. He had focused his mind on returning home. Whatever he felt, Jo was not a priority right now, he told himself. He needed to get a lot of writing done and scout about for new work. But Lily had whittled him down to bare bones, exposure he wasn’t used to nor comfortable with..

The next day Rik was still unpacking and cleaning his apartment. He was interrupted by a phone call from Oliver who wanted to reassure him Lily had not meant to pry or cause any harm with what she had said to him.

“Our time in Tuscany made her very reflective,” Oliver explained. “I think she became more aware of her mortality and it made her view people’s priorities differently. She only lectured you because she cares about you and Jo. She wants you to be happy. I hope you don’t resent her for interfering.”
“It’s fine, Ollie, really it is,” Rik assured him. “I appreciate everything she said. It’s not often my friends have the guts to say what they really think about me. I know it came from a good place.”
“I wish she would stop fussing about other people, she has enough to worry about herself.”
“How is she doing? She looked a lot better from the holiday.”
“Yeah, it did her good but she’s very tired now we’re home. We have an appointment with her oncologist tomorrow. I’m dreading it,” Oliver confessed. “I always do. There’s never going to be good news.”
“Well, you know I’m here if you need anything. If only to talk.” 

Four days later and fourteen hours of uninterrupted sleep, Rik arrived at his parents’ house. His Mum greeted him with an excited squeal and fierce hug. He bent low to wrap his arms around her and kiss her cheek. 

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, feeling like he was twelve years old again and he had just come running home after digging up bugs with his buddy, Solomon. 

“Lasagne,” Mum replied, beaming at him. “Come and get a drink and tell me all about England.”

Once Mum had slid the lasagne dish into the oven, Rik climbed the stairs up to the attic and lightly rapped on the door. His dad was an architect and had claimed the attic for his own working space. The study twinned as a workshop with a work bench strewn with tools and shaved curls of wood, opposite the pristine desk pinned with sketches. Rik breathed in the scent of sawdust, immediately transporting him back to afternoons spent watching his father’s intense concentration and expert hands building wooden toy cars for him and his brothers. 

“Hi Dad,” Rik called out, stooping under the beams.

“Rik, is that you?” his dad replied from under the arches.

“Sure is. Where are you hiding, you old coot?”
His father’s grey and white head appeared from behind a stack of boxes. He peered over at Rik.

“Yeah, it’s you,” he grinned. “Still as ugly as ever, I see. I thought the Brits might have smartened you up a bit. Still, we live in hope.”
“I guess you were expecting me to come back wearing a top hat and monocle, to have grown a curled moustache and be twirling a cane.”
“Why? Are they all hipsters in Britain?”
“You have no idea.”
They laughed and his dad clapped him into a hug.

“Good to see you, though you look a little pasty.”
“And you look like you haven’t been to the gym since I left,” said Rik, pointing a finger at his dad’s stomach.

“Your mum likes me with a bit of padding, makes me more fun to cuddle,” Dad replied, protectively guarding his belly with his hands. “Anyway, I don’t see any of your muscles rippling through your shirt.”
“That’s because you’re practically blind when you’re not wearing your glasses.”
Rik shook his head. 

“I leave the country for a few months and you turn into a blind, fat old man who stole his clothes from a hobo.”
“You know I missed you. Now you’re back, I’m not sure why.”
“Yeah, I love you too, Dad.”

Later, after dinner, Rik and Dad sat out on the front porch, nursing a few beers.

“Sounds like you met good people in England.”
“I did.”
“Any you’ll really miss?”
Rik looked at his father. 

“No more than I miss any other friends. You know me always on the move, doing something new, no time to miss people.”
“Well, that may sound like an ideal life to some, but it sounds pretty lonely to  me.”
“Don’t worry, Dad, I don’t get lonely.”
“Hmmm you will,” Dad nodded. “A man’s soul gets a hankering to be home, to have someone to call home. No matter how diverting the world can be, there will be that longing.” 

He rubbed his jaw. 

“And sometimes, you refuse to listen to it for so long, by the time you do hear it, it’s too late.”
“God, Dad, I’ve been here for three hours and you’re getting mushy on me already.”
“I’m only looking out for you,” Dad reassured him. “I see you jet off to all these places, have a great time and you always come home alone.” 

He drank his beer. 

“I think you’re missing out, no matter how many hot broads you bang.”
Rik rolled his eyes and wished he’d brought more beers out from the fridge.

“I know you, Rik,” he sighed. “You’re not stupid. You’re stubborn.” 

Rik humphed. 

“You think you know what you want from life, what’s best for you. You’re so busy living this lifestyle that you’ll walk straight past something great that could transform your life. You’re always looking for the next bar to hit.”
Rik groaned silently. Two dressing downs in a week. What was with people lately? Was he unwittingly sporting a sign reading, ‘I know what’s best for me. Change my mind’?

“Honestly, Dad, I know what I’m doing.”
“Rik, I just don’t want you to look back one day and regret what you didn’t do. Your Mum and I, we want you to be happy.”
“I am happy, Dad,” Rik emphasised. “Now can you end the lecture before I hurl into Mum’s flower beds.”

Sprawled in his favourite armchair, the old cuckoo clock ticking towards midnight, his parents playing cards with a neighbour on the back porch, Rik typed a message on his phone. He pressed Send, easing his conscience a little.

Belated thanks are in order. You were too kind and generous. It was a very good pie. May even tempt me to grace your rainy shores again one day. Take care, Jo. Don’t stop writing or dreaming. Rik.

Chapter Twelve

The sun was peeking out from behind the rooftops, the night melting away around Maria. The birds were singing and the air smelt cool and fresh. The slight chill in the air heralded the end of summer and the ascent of autumn. The breeze blew away the fatigue in Maria’s limbs. She sucked in the refreshing air and wriggled her shoulders. 

Today was the opening of Maria’s cafe. She had paused briefly outside Rik’s flat and heaved a little sigh. It was occupied now by a smart middle aged woman who never stopped to chat. It had only been six weeks and though she had been super busy with the cafe, she missed Rik. He was always so encouraging and supportive when she shared her plans about the cafe. The move to London had been daunting. She feared she’d be heading back north before the end of the month. Within weeks of meeting Rik, her confidence had grown and her ambitions had no longer seemed foolish. She was in London to stay. 

So here she was. Her cafe, bright and shiny and new. Maria fumbled with the keys, her fingers trembling lightly. She stepped inside, punched in the code to deactivate the alarm and headed for the kitchen. Half an hour later, there was a tap on the door. She was still shaking a little, unable to get her jitters under control. Maria hurried out.

“Morning,” her caller said, cheerfully. “Delivery for Maria Summers.”
The courier handed her a huge bouquet of flowers, filled with roses, lilies, carnations, sweet peas, chrysanthemums and gerberas.

“Oh my,” she breathed.

They were beautiful.

“Thank you.”
The courier winked at her.
“Special occasion?” he asked her.

“Well, sort of. My cafe is opening today,” Maria explained, clearing her throat.

“This is your cafe?”

He peered in through the window.
“Yes.”
“It looks great,” he said, smiling. “What time are you open to?”
“Five o’clock.”

He was quite handsome, she thought, with a warm brown tan and gorgeous blue eyes.
“Well, I’ll come back once I finish my shift. Save me a glass of champagne,” he said, spying a few bottles on a table inside.

Maria blushed and smiled. She felt like a teenage schoolgirl. 

“I’ll try.”

“Atta girl,” he grinned. “I’ll catch you later. Good luck.”

Flushed, she closed the door and cautiously set the bouquet on an empty table. She took a deep breath to calm the nerves squirming in her stomach. She plucked the small note card out from the foliage. Quickly tearing open the little envelope, she read the message. Maria laughed, her eyes wet. Biting her lip, she read it again.

Maria,

You’ve got this. Today is the start of a new adventure. You made it happen. You are incredible. I miss you and that squeezable a*s of yours. Knock ‘em dead, gal. All the best, Rik.

Arriving at the cafe, Jo looked around wide eyed, smiling. The yellow colour scheme Maria had chosen bathed the cafe in warm sunshine. The rich walnut brown tables were topped with small vases of pretty synthetic orchids. Long shelves lined with glass jars filled with coffee beans and loose leaf tea decorated the walls. Below them, in military stance, spouts facing right, glass teapots held blooming tea flowers.

Yellow and white gingham curtains framed the bay window. Two high backed patchwork pink and floral armchairs sat in the window, a low table between them; a cosy little nook with an amber floor lamp and crocheted throws. A huge bouquet of brightly coloured flowers stood on the only empty table. Maria hurried over to greet her, Lucy waving from a table near the counter.

“Wow! It all looks amazing, Maria,” Jo gushed. “It’s just perfect. I love it. You must be so proud and happy.”
Maria was glowing with glee. She clapped her hands.

“I am and I’m so glad you like it,” she beamed. “Now, come and sit. What can I get you?”
Jo slid into a chair next to Lucy and scanned the cakes perfectly arranged in the glass counter.

“Well, a cup of tea, of course and . . .” she deliberated for a moment. “Damn all the cakes look so good, I can’t choose.”
“I’d recommend the apple cake,” offered Lucy. “It ‘s so light and airy, but delicious. The apples just melt into your mouth.”
“Apple cake it is then.”
“Great. Lucy, can I get you anything else? Another coffee?”
“Please.”

When Maria brought Jo her tea, she had squealed with delight at the small glass teapot and the pristine white cup and saucer.

“These teapots are so cute,” Jo raved.

“Look at her getting excited over a teapot,” scoffed Lucy. “Girl needs to get out more.”

Jo stuck her tongue out at Lucy.
“I think I like her how she is,” said Lily, walking over to them.
“Lily, Oliver, hello,” greeted Maria. “So glad you could come.”
She embraced them both.

“We wouldn’t have missed it,” claimed Oliver, pulling out a chair for Lily. 

“Me neither.”
“Ahdia.”

She had snuck in unnoticed.
“Hello Maria,” Ahdia smiled warmly. “Can I just say this place is amazing. You definitely have a creative eye,”
“Thank you. It feels unbelievable to see it all how I imagined.”
“How has it been?” asked Oliver, checking his watch. “You’ve been open since ten o’clock, a lot of customers in six hours?” 

“We’ve had quiet and busy spells, but generally a steady flow. I was terrified we’d get one customer an hour.”

“I’ve shared photos online already,” said Lucy. “Hope to bring you some more customers. And I will tell everyone at the university too.”

“Thanks, that would be a great help. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll close up in an hour and we can have a good chat then. Lily, Ahdia, Oliver what can I get you?”
“Maria, who are the flowers from?” Ahdia asked, once Maria had taken their orders. “A secret admirer?”
Maria laughed.

“An admirer, perhaps, not so much secret,” she replied.

“Ooo, I’m intrigued now,” said Lily, eagerly. “Do tell.”
“You certainly kept quiet about him,” said Lucy.

“Oh stop it!” Maria chuckled. “Rik sent them.”
“Rik?” echoed Lily.

“Oh, that was a nice gesture,” said Oliver. 

“Rik is full of surprises,” admitted Lucy.

“So it would seem,” said Lily, her eyes lingering on Jo’s face.

The smile was frozen on Jo’s face. Her heart had skipped when Maria said his name and then sank. She swallowed the mixture of disappointment, bitterness and jealousy. She had not heard from Rik since his thank you message six weeks ago. But she would not begrudge Maria her flowers. She would be happy for her friend. 

Jo poured her tea then picked up her fork. It slid effortlessly into the moist sponge. She looked at the cake and licked her lips.

“Oh I have been waiting for you my whole life.”
Oliver laughed. Jo’s eyes shuttered, the cake melting in her mouth.

“And you’re everything I dreamed you’d be,” Jo finished, digging her fork into the cake again.

“While we’re on the subject of dreamy,” said Lily. “Jo, how are things progressing with you and Jamie?”
“Who’s Jamie?” asked Oliver, blowing on his coffee.

“The guy Jo’s been seeing for the last couple of weeks,” Lucy informed him.

“Oh.”
“So?” urged Lily.

“I don’t know,” fidgeted Jo. “We just hang out.”
“Having dinner at Maurice’s is not hanging out,” disagreed Ahdia.

“Wait, you never told me he had taken you to Maurice’s,” exclaimed Lucy.

“It was no big deal,” shrugged Jo. 

“So where else have you been?” continued Lucy.
“Er nowhere since,” replied Jo. “We meet for lunch sometimes and he drives me home now and again after work.”
“But do you like him?” enquired Lily. “Like, like like him?”
“Yeah, he’s a really nice guy, not to mention easy on the eye.” 

“Have you kissed him yet?” demanded Lucy.
“What? No.”
“Why not? If you like him, what are you waiting for?”

“I don’t know. It’s never felt like the right moment.”
“It never will feel like the right moment,” Ahdia muttered to herself.

Lily heard her but said nothing.

“What about you, Ahdia?” Oliver asked, after briefly studying Jo. “How are things with you? Has any sexy surgeon swept you off your feet yet?”
“Huh,” laughed Ahdia, abruptly. “Some chance. In my experience, there is no long, lustful gazing in the OR during open surgery, while removing a poor guy’s spleen. Or being dragged into an empty patient room by a doctor, to roll around on the bed. Finding an empty room would be one thing.”
“Hospital beds don’t scream sexy to me,” contemplated Lucy. “Though the adjustable headboard would help achieve some interesting positions.”
“Yeah, OK, Miss Kama Sutra,” Jo blinked, laughing. 

“Anyway, finding a doctor to get bundled into a room would be a fine thing,” continued Ahdia. “Or maybe that’s why you can never find a doctor when you need one. They’re all busy copulating in the cleaning closets.”

Jo chuckled.

“Surely, there are some nice doctors,” suggested Lily, encouragingly. “I’ve met a few.”
“All the nice doctors are married, taken or gay,” explained Ahdia, stirring her iced coffee. “And the young, good looking ones are always arrogant and so far up their own arse that they’ve perfected the DIY colonoscopy.”
Oliver choked on his glass of water and Jo sprayed crumbs into her tea.

“And don’t get me started on those that treat nurses as glorified cleaners or on the misogynistic and racist doctors,” Ahdia added, grimacing. “The amount of times I wish I had a scalpel or a catheter on hand.”

Oliver stared, worried.

“I don’t know how you do it,” admitted Jo. 

“Me neither,” agreed Ahdia.

She shrugged.
“But as long as there is chocolate cake, I'm happy.”

“Here, here,” cheered Jo.
Lily and Lucy nodded in agreement. Oliver smiled.
“Talking of happy couples,” said Lily. “How are you and Greg getting along, Lucy?”

A smile rippled across Lucy’s face.

“We’re doing good,” she grinned.

“More moonlight smooching?”
Lucy placed a finger on her lips.

“I’m not telling.” 

“Where is Greg today?”
“Oh he’s working out of town. Has a job in Chelmsford for a week or so.”

The door to the cafe opened and Ahdia spluttered her hot chocolate. 

“Are you OK?” 

Oliver placed a hand on her shoulder, concerned. She pressed a napkin to her chin and nodded. Her eyes were fixed on the door. Jo followed her gaze and turned around. She shot up out of her chair.

“Jamie,” she stammered. “What are you doing here?”
Jamie put an arm around Jo’s shoulders. Ahdia’s nose wrinkled.

“Well, you mentioned something about a new cafe,” he explained. “And then I happened to see a flyer about the opening when I popped to the supermarket.” 

His arm dropped from Jo. 

“I figured you might be here so I thought I’d drop by and see.”

“Stalker much,” whispered Lucy to Ahdia.

“Oh. Well, this is Jamie everyone,” introduced Jo. “Jamie, this is Lucy, Lily and Oliver. Ahdia you already know.”
“Lucky me,” mused Ahdia, returning to her hot chocolate.

“And Maria, who is busy in the kitchen,” added Jo.

“Nice to meet you all,” smiled Jamie. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“You are,” Ahdia mumbled into her cup.
“Of course not,” dismissed Lily. “Pull up a chair. Oliver, budge up and make some room.”

“Thanks. This is cosy, isn’t it?” Jamie smiled, friendly. “I can’t stay long though, Jo. I have football training tonight.”
“Thank God for that,” Ahdia murmured behind her hand.

Lily observed Jo who seemed as relieved as Ahdia and not at all disappointed. Oliver drew Jamie into conversation. Now and then he caught sight of Ahdia staring daggers at Jamie. Oliver was confused. Jamie was polite and friendly, just the kind of guy for Jo.

The last few customers trailed out just after five o’clock, including Jamie. Maria flipped the sign around to 'Closed' and joined her friends.

“Champagne everyone?” 

“Here’s to Maria, businesswoman of the year,” Lucy beamed, raising her glass.“Best cake baker and coffee maker.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement. 

“And to her cafe, may it be a great success for many years to come. To Maria!”
“To Maria!” they all cheered in unison.

Toast over, Oliver swivelled around to Ahdia.

“I got the impression you don’t like Jamie,” he began, ensuring Jo didn’t overhear.

“Ha really?”
“Yes, you weren’t good at hiding it.”
“It’s not that I don’t like him,” sighed Ahdia. “I mean he is a nice guy. He’s just too nice and boring.”
“Some women would take too nice even if it meant boring too.”
“I know, but Jo isn’t one of them,” said Ahdia, lowering her voice. “There is no way Jo could ever fall in love with him.”
Oliver frowned.

“Why do you say that?”
“Because she’ll always be comparing him to someone else,” Ahdia explained. “Jamie will never be what she wants, because he isn’t who she wants.”
Oliver nodded slowly, unsure if he actually understood. He suspected she was alluding to Rik but didn't ask.

“So that’s why you were glowering at him?” he continued.
“Sort of. And because I don’t think he’s right enough for Jo. Nice guy or not. I don’t think he could ever really understand her. He’s a very two dimensional guy.”
“But what if he makes her happy?”
“He won’t because she won’t let him.”
“OK, I’m getting confused.”
Ahdia patted his hand.

“You’re not the first or the last man to be confused by a woman, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

There was a tap on the door. They all turned. A figure stood outside waving at them. Maria stood, blushing.

“Oh.”
She opened the door, recognising the visitor.

“Hi, I hope I’m not too late.”
“No, please come in,” smiled Maria, her cheeks flushing pink. “I thought you’d forgotten.” 

“Are you kidding?” he chuckled, stepping inside. “That I would forget the beautiful woman I delivered flowers to at the crack of dawn.”
It was the delivery man from this morning, still wearing his courier uniform. 

“Oh shush,” she giggled. “I think you’re in luck. We still have some champagne left.” 

She handed him a glass.

“Everyone this is . . . er . . .”
“Tony,” he finished, holding his hand up. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Have a seat,” gestured Lucy.

She caught Jo’s eye. They grinned approvingly at one another. Tony sat and tasted his champagne. He nodded approvingly and looked around.

“Thanks. Now please tell me there is some cake left too. I have been daydreaming about it all day.”

The sun was setting by the time Maria had cashed up. Jo and Ahdia had stayed to help sweep up. Maria popped her head out of the kitchen.

 “Jo, can I talk to you before you leave?”
“I’ll wait for you in the car,” said Ahdia. “Goodnight Maria and congratulations.”

Jo joined Maria in the now spotless kitchen.

“Well, here’s the thing,” she began. “I wanted to offer you a job, as a manager of the cafe.”
Jo’s eyes widened and she started to speak. Maria held up a hand.

“Now hear me out first,” she said. “I want to spend as much time as I can in the kitchen making cakes and helping Julie and the other girls at the counter.” 

Jo could understand that. 

“I want a manager who can see to the accounts, orders, promotional stuff and who could cover staff breaks,” she explained further. “You have retail and customer service experience which is vital. And I think you’d be a lovely addition to our little family.”

Jo was overwhelmed. A new job, a management position, working with Maria in this gorgeous little cafe. It was incredible.

“Maria, I don’t know what to say,” Jo gulped. “I mean it’s an amazing offer. But can you afford it?”
“Oh yes, I have a new investor so that will help cover your wages. What’s your hourly rate now?”
“Well, I’m on minimum wage,” Jo grimaced.
“I can do better than that. And you’ll definitely have every Sunday off because we won’t be open,” Maria assured her. “Plus I was thinking during the quieter periods you could always work on your writing here and I’d still pay you.”

Jo rested her hand on her chest.
“I don’t know what to say. It just keeps getting better and better.”
“You don’t need to give me an answer right now. Go home and think about it,” advised Maria. “I know you’ll probably have to give a month’s notice at your current job and that’s fine. If you’re willing you could always come in for training or work a few hours until you’ve left your other job.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m going to say yes, I’d be stupid not to.” 

“Well, I think it would just make for a nicer environment if we had a manager who actually cared about the business and wasn’t likely to lord it over the staff,” admitted Maria. “I don’t want working here to be a daily struggle and chore. I want it to be enjoyable and easy. I’m not going to say it’s going to be plain sailing, it won’t,” she warned her. “Look I’m not going to say any more tonight. The job’s there for you if you want it.”

Across the Atlantic, Rik stood waiting on the subway platform. His hands were slung lazily in his pockets, his bare arms seemingly unaffected by the cold. He was back in the city again after travelling to Mexico for a week. After drinking too much tequila in many different cantinas, he’d flown north to Texas. A brief stay in Dallas, catching up with a few friends and consuming more alcohol, he headed homeward via Philadelphia. He stayed in New York for three days and then he was off again. New Orleans. The city hosted him for two weeks inspiring the completion of a few projects and even more hangovers. Now he was home again for his Dad’s birthday. 

The train screeched to a halt. Rik walked on, bending slightly so he didn’t hit his head. He pulled out his phone. He had a few messages he needed to reply to, including one from his Mum. Filial duty done, he scrolled through a few social media apps. A photo caught his eye. It was of his friends in England, gathered around Maria, a big bouquet of flowers behind her. Lucy had captioned it with, “Hurray for Maria and the opening of her cafe, ‘The Broken Teacup’. Flowers standing in for an absent friend, they’re much prettier than he is anyway.” 

Rik smiled. He had received a thank you message earlier from Maria. He’d call her in a few days. Looking closely at the photo, he saw Oliver and Lily were there, Ahdia and Jo too and a guy he didn’t recognise. Lucy had uploaded more photos. He swiped across. Maria, rosy cheeked, outside the cafe laughing and waving at the camera; Oliver and Lily clinking champagne flutes; an elderly customer kissing Maria on the cheek; Ahdia holding a plate with a large slice of cake on it, eyes bulging; Jo grinning while she poured a cup of tea.

Rik stared down at the screen. That smile. And her eyes. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed her. It struck him now like an anvil crashing into him. He had purposely spent the last six weeks not thinking about her. He wasn’t ready to admit to himself what he had truly felt. 

Yawning and waking from a nap, Rik glanced around. His brother, Joe was stretched out on the couch with his daughter’s head in his lap. Tina was fast asleep, her chubby cheeks resting on her hand. Jack, his son, was also asleep on the rug. Rik’s other brother, Pete, was in the kitchen with his girlfriend, Lizzie tidying up. Rik could hear their whispering and giggling. Curled up together on the other couch, like young sweethearts, were his parents, murmuring softly to one another. They had shocked Rik by telling him that last week they had gone roller skating in Central Park. They showed him their bruises and scratches and the videos of them squealing and laughing as they zoomed around the park. Rik had shaken his head but was unable to suppress his grin. His parents were pretty special.  

Rik suddenly felt isolated, shut out. He was the only one here alone. He was always alone at family gatherings like this. Joe would have the kids with him and Kate, his partner. Pete never came without Lizzie. Sure they all had a good time together as a family but everyone else had someone to fall asleep next to, to go home with the following day. He didn’t. He did nearly everything in his life alone. 

Rik had told himself being in a relationship wouldn’t work with his lifestyle. He was always travelling. But wouldn’t it make his life better, knowing there was someone waiting for him at home? Someone he could wake up early to make breakfast for; someone to snuggle on the couch with; someone to tease and laugh with. Perhaps even travel with him. After all, what was life with all its experiences, lessons, wonders, adventures if you had no one to share it with? 

To never have what his parents had, that deep bond and understanding. To never have what Joe had, two great kids and all the challenges and joys that brought. Had he never realised how lonely he was? Did he busy himself by crowding his life with constant distractions so he wouldn’t have to admit to that loneliness? 

Right now, he wouldn’t object to a woman walking into the room, sitting down beside him, laying her head on his shoulder and snuggling into him. No, it would feel pretty damn good. Had he really been stumbling about in a dense fog of his own arrogance? Was it finally clearing, allowing him to see with crystal clear clarity at last?

Rik stayed at his parents’ house. He buried himself in his writing; his fingers tearing furiously across the keyboard of his laptop. Three assignments were completed in two days. He took a brief break, visited the Met for their latest exhibition. Hours later, he lazed in a bar knocking back whiskey with friends. A hangover, five cups of coffee and a killer workout at the gym later, he was back in front of his laptop. After a week of similar behaviour, his dad suggested they go for a drive. At first Rik refused. He had too much work to do. His dad quietly reminded him that balance was important. Rik closed his laptop and tugged on his boots. 

Once the shadow of grey buildings softened and brightened to green trees, Rik’s dad killed the car's engine and they continued on foot, walking aimlessly.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Dad finally asked. “Why are you throwing yourself into your work like a man possessed?”
Rik shrugged.

“I have a lot of projects and deadlines to meet.”
“Credit me with some intelligence, Rik, I’m your dad. I know you,” he reminded him. “Your current dedication to work with blitz trips here and there and long nights spent drinking are your way of avoiding something. I want to know what it is you’re trying to distract yourself from.”
Rik walked on, not replying. He didn’t want to tell his dad he had been right about him. Didn’t want to admit the cold hard truth. He wasn’t ready to.

“Rik, I watched you grow up and I watched you struggle to find a place for yourself in the world. You used drugs and alcohol to help free you from the imagined restraints you had around you.”
Rik studied the ground, ashamed of his past.

“Nowadays you are a diligent worker with focus since you started writing. You work hard and you play harder. But you use your travelling lifestyle as an excuse to continue to ignore your responsibilities,” he sighed. “Right now, no one depends on you. Yes, you have family and friends, but due to your travelling there’s only so much time and effort you can invest. So you’re free of any long term obligations.”
He was slowly exposing Rik. 

“All these years and you’re always single. Oh sure there have been women but nothing lasting,” his dad pointed out. “Again it’s because of your choice of lifestyle. I think you’re denying what you really want. But why?” 

Rik didn’t want to hear the answer. It shamed him too much.

“You’re afraid of something, someone meaning so much to you,” his father answered for him. “It opens you up to being hurt and you would have no idea how to handle your feelings because they don’t fit in with your perceived view of your life.”

Rik thought he had buried his imperfections deep inside under layers of bravado and swagger. His dad had seen right through it, he always had. 

“Rik,” he continued. “To me, travel is another addiction for you. It just replaced the drugs.”

Hell, that hurt, so much because he knew it was true.

“I know you have benefited greatly from travelling, but what’s the point of seeing the world if you don’t learn anything from it?”

Still Rik remained silent, his boots getting wetter as they walked through damp grass now, heading towards the river bank. He remembered taking a similar walk with his father years ago. He had been about eight years old. They had been going on vacation that summer to Lake Champlain and Rik had wanted to learn how to fish. They had come to a spot very near here. His Dad had shown him how to bait the hook with a wriggling worm and the best way to cast it into the water. It took Rik multiple attempts to get it right but his dad never lost his patience, just calmly correcting his mistakes and encouraging him to try again. His Dad never gave up on him.

“I know something has changed,” Dad told him, jerking Rik back to the present. “Something happened in England. But you’re ignoring it.”

Yes, something had happened. He really hadn’t realised how life altering it was until he was back home. Dad stopped at the shoreline, his gaze settling on the water.

“It’s OK to be afraid, Rik,” he said, softly. “And to be unsure of how to act. You know how unpredictable life is. You just have to trust it and trust people, with yourself. You’ll be surprised by the rewards you reap.” 

A wave of realisation and self-reproach crashed over Rik. Suddenly, he felt nauseous. He bent and braced his hands on his knees.

If Lily had begun to unmask him, his dad had just stripped him bare, until the air whistled through his bones and the sun bleached them white. He was hollow and numb and consumed with shame. His dad put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

“It’s OK, son,” he soothed. “We’ll get through this. You are a good person, you are. You've just let yourself get a little lost.”

Chapter Thirteen

A mug of tea warming his clammy hands, Rik stared at the painting of a ship in a storm on the kitchen wall. There were deep circles under his eyes and his face was pale. His parents walked in and pulled up chairs opposite him.

“How are you feeling?” Dad asked, gently. 

Rik suddenly felt drained and sad. But he had to do this.  

“You were right, Dad,” he said, quietly, twisting the mug in his hands. “Something has happened. Did happen.”

Dad said nothing, waiting patiently.

“I met  good people in England, good friends,” Rik continued. “I guess I feel a deeper attachment to them than I usually do because I spent so much time with them, away from home.”

He shrugged.

“I’ve always prided myself on my independence, keeping detached from others that I never realised how lonely I really was.” 

A muscle flickered in his jaw. 

“Once I realised that, everything else hit me like one blow across the face after another, until I was so confused and disorientated I had no idea what to do.” 

He shrugged. 

“So I reverted back to what I do best, working hard and drinking harder. Who knows what hole I would have spiralled down into if you, Dad, hadn’t confronted me with the truth.”

“I’m just glad you were here and not on your own,” said Dad.

Mum laid a hand on his arm and nodded reassuringly at him.

“I need to tell you all of this because I need your help,” Rik sighed.

“Go ahead, son,” encouraged Dad. “We’ve got all the time you need.”

Rik stared down at the huddled bubbles in his cooling tea.

“I met Jo in England,” he began. “She’s a great woman but even considering any kind of relationship with her seems ridiculous. I didn’t think she was my type, we are too different. But the more time I spent with her, the more I liked being around her. I knew for a while that I was attracted to her but I tried to deny it, dismiss it. Then every time I’d see her.” 

His palms opened.

“It was like I had been holding my breath and suddenly I could breathe again.”

He told them what Lily had said before he left England.

“I didn’t want to comprehend what she said. I didn’t want to face the truth. So when I came home, I went back to my old ways, travelling, working and drinking to forget what I was really feeling.”

His shoulders dropped.

“And when I realised how wrong I had been in my approach to life, my lust for independence and freedom, wanting to experience anything and everything, I felt like a total fraud,” he confessed. “But again, I tried to hide from the enormity of my errors by avoiding them and throwing myself into my work. Until Dad stepped in.”

He looked directly at his father. 

“Dad, you were right about everything. About the addictions, the constant pursuit of distractions, the fear. I have been so self-entitled for years, blind to the destructiveness of my behaviour.” 

His fingers curved inward.

“And I am so ashamed of my arrogance and selfishness. I never considered what other people might want from me or even needed from me. I guess I just made myself blind to it.”

Mum rose and refilled their cups. Rik nodded his thanks. He looked at his parents in turn.

“I don’t want to go back to who I was before. I can’t,” he insisted. “I was so jacked up on myself and how I was living my life for me. How can I go back to being that selfish person? After everything.”

He fell silent. 

“Time is so precious,” he persisted. “I’ve wasted so much of it chasing the wild life, trying to attain a lifestyle, instead of living a life. Seeking connections with strangers instead of strengthening those I have with myself, my family and friends.”

Rik swallowed a gulp of lukewarm tea and grimaced. 

“Jo and I, we didn’t really get a goodbye,” he said, regretfully. “But she sent me a note. It was really sweet, so like her. And me, I didn’t reply until almost a week later with a brief message, barely any warmth or feeling in it.” 

He frowned, his brow furrowing angrily. 

“Why? Because I can’t express my deepest, innermost feelings because that’s not cool, it’s lame and weak and messes with my image. So I hide myself behind this facade of the fiercely independent writer, too busy partying to spare time for feelings.”

He threw up his hands and shook his head. 

“From the first day I met Jo, she wasn’t afraid to wear her heart on her sleeve,” remembered Rik softly. “She isn’t afraid to let her passion show, whether it’s for writing, knitting, her obsession with tea or her love of John Wayne movies.” 

He half smiled, his eyes warming at the memories. 

“She doesn’t care what people might think. She is herself and happy with who she is. She lives life on her own terms, even if that means feeling more at home in her imagination than reality.”

His face clouded with disgust.

“And then look at me. I’m so messed up I couldn’t admit to myself how I really felt about her because it didn’t fit in with who I was.”

Rik stared down, his eye tracing a vein in the wooden tabletop. 

“I might have known it was a girl,” Dad said eventually. 

Rik could hear the small smile in his father’s voice. 

“I’m glad it is. It could have been worse.”

Mum wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. 

“You are a good man, Rik,” she soothed. “We’ll make it through this.”

“That’s right,” Dad agreed. “Son, this is a blip or a hiccup, but it’s also the first day of the rest of your life. Sure you’ve still got issues that need exploring and that will take time. But just being honest, not only with yourself, but with us too, that is a great first step. From where I’m sitting, the changes you want to make are easy and I have complete faith in you, except one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“Jo,” Dad stated simply. “Do you want to be with her?”

 “I don’t know. Yes, maybe.” 

He ran his hands through his hair. 

“My head and heart have been in a constant battle over it.”

“Rik, what is really holding you back?” Mum asked, looking down at him, her arm still around his shoulders. “Is it because you think it won’t work between you? Because that is silly. No one can know that without trying.”

“I guess I’m afraid,” Rik suggested half-heartedly. “Before I left I did something, what I don’t know, that pushed Jo away from me. I’m worried I may have hurt her, unintentionally. Maybe she can’t forgive me, maybe she doesn’t even feel the same way.”

“What does your gut tell you?” Dad probed.

“That she did feel more for me, at some point.”

“Well, all I’m hearing are excuses,” said Mum. “You’re afraid that Jo might return your feelings. This is new territory for you and you fear the unknown.” 

“Look, we’re not saying you have to openly declare your undying love for her and marry her,” Dad explained. “You just need to admit to yourself what you feel and what you want. You can’t move forward until you have that set straight in your mind.”

“You don’t need to have the answer right now,” Mum assured him. “But you need to think about it. I mean no other woman has triggered such potentially destructive behaviour in you, so maybe that’s a hint she’s someone special.”

With the help and support of his family, Rik began to change his life. Taking a break from travelling, he had spent weekends with his brothers and their families. He had gone early Christmas shopping with his Mum and his aunt, enjoying it more than he expected. Just sitting with them in a cafe while they sipped frothy hot chocolates, he felt a grounding calm and happiness.  He had gone hiking alone, savouring the fresh air and soothing ambience of the mountains and forest. His Dad had tricked him into going fishing and he had secretly loved it, standing in the lake casting out the line, soaking up the tranquility. He hadn’t drunk a drop of alcohol and hardly ever ordered takeout. He took time to think and reflect, usually accompanied by a comforting cup of tea. He was slowly healing and it felt good.

 Regarding Jo, it was one day at a time. He didn’t want to rush into calling her. He wanted to be as self aware as he could before he dragged her into the picture, determine exactly what he wanted.

One afternoon, Rik received an email from Lily. He frowned. That was unusual, she’d never emailed him before. A kernel of unease settled in his stomach. He opened the email. 

Hi Rik, 

Thought you might find this interesting to read. Let me know what you think.

Lily. 

Relief easing the worry in his chest, he opened the attachment and proceeded to read.

“The oozing mud sucked at her boots, tugging and dragging her feet deeper into the mire. Every step drained more and more of her energy, slowing and exhausting her progress. Her ragged clothes were sodden, the ice cold biting into her flesh, leeching the blood from her skin. Her body shivered, her matted hair plastered to her skull. Her sword, barely held in her fingertips, trailed in the mud, its weight too great for her weary arms to bear. Her once warm brown eyes were glazed and lifeless, the fire in them long since burnt out.

A laboured breath and she struggled on. Rain started to fall, pelted down to strike her face and shoulders. Thunder clapped overhead, shaking the earth beneath her feet. Angry brilliant lightning streaked through the sky, tearing apart the storm clouds like a knife ripping jaggedly through silk. The flashes bleached her skin a ghostly white and spawned looming shadows all around her.

At last she reached the crest of a hill. Below her was a deserted battlefield strewn with dead bodies. Too many to count. A massacre. Splintered spears, shattered shields and shredded banners. Crows perched on the brows of fallen warriors, pecking at their frozen eyeballs. Headless bodies, hacked limbs, spilled innards. Men with terror etched in their faces, arrows protruding from their blood soaked chests. A solitary tear glistened in the corner of her eye and slid through the blood and grime that besmirched her face. Her head turned slowly to look around her. She was alone. In this desolate place, she was alone. She was always alone.

Through the lashing rain and deafening thunder, she heard them. She would never fail to hear them. They had regrouped and were continuing their advance. The battle wasn’t over. The enemy emerged from the smoke and fog in the west. Their mounts were hideous beasts, nightmares birthed. They snatched at their reins, snarling as they caught her scent. Their number swarmed across the horizon, rank upon rank of horror, blotting out the setting sun smearing the sky red. 

Blinking slowly, she lifted her sword, a leaden weight in her blistered hand. She had no choice. She could not retreat. There was nowhere to retreat. She would not cower and she would not surrender. She must fight. Fight or die. Drawing air deep into her lungs, she hauled her boots free from the clinging sludge and charged forward, her fatigued muscles burning with the effort. Tears stung her eyes but she roared so loudly and fiercely she shamed the thunder. 

She was going to die. She couldn’t survive, couldn’t defeat such an enemy on her own. No one was going to save her. No army would arrive to relieve her. No strong, fearless warrior to fight by her side. No one. No one would know of her battle, her endeavour. She would lie in the dirt, another face among the thousands, forgotten. No one would miss her. No one would tell her story. No stone would mark her grave. Her body would become the earth, trod on by others, food for the worms. No one would remember her or how bravely and fiercely she fought. But on she stormed, unafraid of death racing to meet her. 

She lay dying, the cold gnawing into her bones, blood pumping from wounds slashed and gashed across her body. She thought of how she had always been cold, always in a perpetual shiver. She had been deprived of warmth. No luxury of a blanket or fire. Condemned to live a life of ice and rock. Death is freedom, she thought. Death is peace.

He stood over her, his skin darker than night, his eyes hollows of death. Even in the final grasp of life, when every breath was torture, she could smell his stench of rot. Drool from his gaping yellow mouth fell and splattered on her face, burning her skin like acid. She didn’t wince. She stared up at him. He leered at her and raised his crude blade over her chest. She grinned. Enraged, he plunged the knife deep into her heart, twisting it until her heart was nothing but pulp and blood. He staggered back, gasping, a dagger buried in his neck. With her last breath, she had still fought back.”

Rik sat staring at his laptop. He was numb. There had been no author’s name with the piece but he knew. He rose and walked to the kitchen where he had left his phone on charge.

On her nightstand, Lily’s phone chimed with an incoming message. The screen flashed with Rik’s name. The bedroom was empty, the bed neatly made. Downstairs in the kitchen, there were saucepans on the hob, one filled with water, the other with a splash of oil. On the counter, a packet of pasta was unopened and a chopping board of diced onions were beginning to brown. The dining table was set for two, glasses filled with water. In the hallway, scarves were crumpled in a heap on the floor below the coat hooks. Outside the sky darkened and the lamplight from the street flooded in. The clocks ticked onward and still no one returned home.    

Lily had collapsed at home and had been rushed to hospital. Pure terror had struck Oliver’s heart. Agony tore at him as he waited in the hospital alone while tests were carried out. Oliver didn't need to hear what the doctors said when they finally approached, he saw it in their faces and body language. Oliver trembled and struggled for a seat, his legs giving way beneath him. That had been a week ago; a week of heartbreak, denial and finally acceptance.

A week later, Jo arrived with Lucy and Greg at Oliver’s house. For Oliver, it had been a week of heartbreak and denial. Lily was propped up by cushions and draped in blankets on the sofa. The gentle tones of a male singer murmured softly,  sunlight filling the room with warmth. Lily smiled at them. She looked awful, thought Jo sadly, so drawn and haggard.

“Hello Lily,” said Greg, grinning.

He bent down to kiss her cheek. 

“You keep an eye on these two rascals while Oliver and me watch the match at the pub,” he continued.

Lily nodded. 

“It feels so cosy in here,” noted Jo, once Oliver and Greg had left. “I think I could curl up and have a nap.”

“Be my guest,” said Lily, her voice weak.

“That would be rude, Jo,” scolded Lucy, returning from the front door after assuring Oliver they’d call if Lily deteriorated. 

“We came here to keep Lily company, not fall asleep. Now who’s for a cuppa. I need something to warm me bones, it has turned frightfully chilly all of a sudden.”

“That would be lovely,” whispered Lily.

“You know I never say no to tea,” shrugged Jo.

“You’ll find some cream cakes in the fridge,” said Lily to Lucy. “I had Oliver buy them special.”

“Lily, we don’t deserve you.”

“So, you and Greg, still going strong?” Lily asked Lucy, after the cream cakes had been devoured.

Lucy sighed and grinned.

“Yes. I honestly never thought he could be anything like what he is with me, when I first met him. But he is a revelation.”

“Men can surprise you with what they are really capable of,” said Lily, shifting against the cushions and tugging the shawl Jo had knitted her around her shoulders. “I’m glad it’s going well. You two make a good couple. It’s clear you both make each other happy.”

“You are like a disgustingly adorable couple,” added Jo. 

“Well, it’s easy when you’re with the right guy,” explained Lucy. “It’s effortless.”

“Oh the ever elusive Mr Right,” said Lily. 

“I think these Mr Rights are always hiding under rocks or something,” said Jo.

“Maybe you should go pick up some rocks and find them,” suggested Lucy.

“No, they’ll probably be like woodlice and scurry away as soon as they’re exposed to light.”

“Or just curl into a ball,” said Lily.

“Yep and then we can just poke them with a stick for fun.”

“And you wonder why you have little success with men,” said Lucy.

Lily laughed, the air catching in her throat and she coughed, her slight frame shaking.

“Here, drink this.”

Lucy handed her a glass of water, her face full of concern. Jo watched, anxious.

“Stop with all your man hating, Jo. You’re making Lily choke,” scolded Lucy.

Lily waved a hand at her.

“No, please, make me laugh even if I do choke, I’d rather laugh than be serious. I’m so tired of everyone being so sombre. Laughter is the best medicine.”

“Amen to that.”

“But Jo, I thought things were going well with Jamie,” said Lily.

“You know what,” huffed Jo. “I just can’t be bothered with it. Organising when we can see each other, deciding where to go, what to do, getting ready for the dates. Most of the time, I just want to stay at home and read in bed.”

“Does that say more about you or him?” 

“Both, I think,” Lucy butt in. “If you don’t anticipate every date then you clearly aren’t that into him. He isn’t what you want, if you prefer a book to him.”

“Hmmm yeah, I guess. It wasn’t what I expected it to be.”

“Well, we can’t all have dreamy romances like Lucy.”

“The world would be a happier place if we could.”

“I’m still holding out for romance,” said Jo. “I’m not giving up.”

“Well, I wouldn’t hold out much hope if you’re planning to poke every man you meet with a stick.”

“Hey, with men nowadays you don’t know what they’d like.”

“True, kinky b******s.”

Laughter greeted Oliver and Greg when they returned a few hours later. They found Lucy on the sofa, Lily’s legs resting on her lap and Jo sprawled on the floor, a pair of knitting needles in her hands. Oliver was delighted to see colour in Lily’s cheeks, though the bittersweet scene of the three of them so cosy and relaxed made his chest tighten. 

Unable to resist the lure of change and a new start, Jo had accepted Maria’s job offer. With great relish she had handed in her notice. On her next free day, she spent the afternoon at The Broken Teacup. Not once did she long for it to be five o’clock. Instead, the hours flew by.

After she had helped Maria cash up and set the overnight alarm, Jo hugged Maria. 

“Thank you so much, Maria. You have no idea what it feels like to be able to work somewhere that doesn’t drain your will to live.”

“It’s early days yet,” Maria joked.

“But you have to know how grateful I am to you for giving me this opportunity. I just hope I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t, but I’m not comfortable with all this gratitude. Hiring you wasn’t even my idea,” confessed Maria.

Jo was confused.

“What do you mean?”

Maria sighed.

“It was Rik’s idea,” she admitted. “All of it. Of course, I love the idea of you working with me. And I’m really looking forward to it. But you should be thanking Rik, not me.”

Jo was stunned by Maria’s revelation. When had Rik suggested the idea to Maria? Why had he? No, she stopped herself. She wasn’t going to go down that road now. As long as Rik was in America there was little point trying to figure out his motives. She was touched that he had thought of her and wanted to give her the opportunity to quit the job he knew she hated. 

Monday morning, Rik was surprised to receive a phone call from Greg. He hadn’t showered yet and was still slouched on the couch drinking coffee.

“Greg, how are you doing?”

“Hi Rik, I’m fine, mate.”

Greg didn’t sound right, his voice was edgy.

“Look, I thought you should know, just in case, that is, I think you’d want to know.”

“Greg, what is it?”

“It’s Lily, Rik. She’s really poorly, she eh...”

Rik heard him take a deep breath. 

“She deteriorated rapidly the last week, so we need to be prepared for the worst.” 

The air deflated out of his lungs, his stomach plummeting.

“God no.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. It was too soon. Greg said nothing.

“How’s Ollie?” Rik asked, eventually. 

“He’s like a dead man walking. I mean he makes a brilliant effort when he’s around Lily, but it’s already destroying him.”

At a loss at what else to say, Rik thanked Greg and hung up. He’d lost people before, relatives and close friends. Sometimes it was easier, others it was worse. With Lily it felt cruelly unfair and brutal. He was furious and deeply saddened. He wanted to shout at the world for its injustice and he wanted to cry. He would not get drunk. Drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a whisky glass was cowardly and he would not disrespect Lily by doing that. Hell, he’d face this. 

Approaching St Patrick’s cathedral on Fifth Avenue, Rik walked inside. He gazed up at the looming arches, curving skyward. He was not impervious to the magnificent architecture, but today the towering arcade made him feel small and alone. He wandered to the prayer candles. He wasn’t religious and didn’t believe in any God, but he dug in his pocket for a handful of quarters. He lit a candle. He stood and instead of praying, he watched the tiny amber flame flicker and thought of Lily.  

Two weeks later, the light of dawn creeping through the window and blackbirds singing in the branches of the tree in the garden, Lily died painlessly in her sleep. Oliver, dozing in the chair beside the bed, woke minutes later and knew instinctively that she was gone. He reached over and gently laid two fingertips to her throat to check for a pulse. None. His chest began to heave, tears welling in his eyes. He climbed into bed beside Lily and wrapped his arms around her, clinging to her while his heart broke. The blackbirds perched in the tree outside mellowed their dawn chorus. 

Chapter Fourteen

Watching Lily’s coffin descending into the ground, Jo felt desolate. She glanced over at Oliver. He looked so forlorn despite being flanked by his parents and brothers. She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. She twirled the lily she held in her hands. Ahdia had brought a bunch for them all, one each as a parting gift to the lovely women who shared their name. After Oliver and a few others had cast their handfuls of dirt onto the coffin, Lucy, Ahdia, Jo and Maria stepped forward. One by one, they gently dropped the white flowers into the grave. 

Heavenly autumn sunshine bathed the graveside. Splashes of brilliant colours brightened the trodden, muddy grass. There were so many flowers. Rik felt like an outcast amongst all the strangers dressed solemnly in black. He thought the lilies were a sweet gesture from the girls. Everyone else was so standoffish and formal. Oliver’s face brightening momentarily, touched by the offering of the lilies, was gut wrenching. 

Rik hadn’t had a chance to speak to Oliver yet. Thanks to his flight being delayed, he had only arrived twelve hours ago. He had only spoken to Greg and that was briefly on the phone earlier that morning. He had seen everyone at the service, well the backs of their heads anyway.

Jo and Ahdia had followed the coffin out of the church. Jo’s throat and chest were so tight with unshed tears. How Ahdia was holding it together so well she had no idea. She had seen Lucy’s red eyes and Greg brush a hand across his. Swallowing, Jo stared forward. A tall figure in the crowd had caught her attention. She blinked. It was Rik. Her heart leapt. 

Their expressions didn't change, they just stared at one another, more in that gaze than any words could offer. She was suddenly comforted and reassured. Jo didn’t want to look away. Someone blocked her view and she was hustled out of the church in the crowd. 

Glancing around, Rik noticed Jo was shivering. He longed to be able to put his arm around her, let her lean on him. When they had made eye contact in the church earlier, it was unlike anything he’d experienced before. Grief did odd things to people. The man beside Jo shuffled closer to her and took her hand. He looked vaguely familiar, Rik thought. 

Oliver’s house was uncomfortably full of people for the wake, Jo thought. Rik had vanished. She’d seen him arrive and make a beeline for Oliver. Now Oliver was encircled by men in stuffy suits, munching on sandwiches and quaffing wine, impervious to Oliver’s distress. He didn’t need this, all this commotion and fuss, people waffling on about nonsense. He needed quiet and space to grieve and rest. 

Oliver’s hand clenched and unclenched. Jaw set, he squeezed through bodies and disappeared through a door. Setting down her drink, Jo quickly followed him. She found him in the conservatory. She walked to him and gently touched his shoulder. He turned. She hugged him. His arms tightened around her, clinging to her. Jo was furious at those men talking over Oliver. Conversation wasn’t going to help. Oliver needed comfort, someone to hold onto, a tether to reality when his whole world had been torn to pieces and he was falling through it, into a bottomless abyss.

After a few hours, people mercifully began to leave. Not wishing to outstay their welcome, Lucy found Oliver and asked if he wanted any of them to stay to tidy up. They were all more than willing to. 

“No, it’s fine, thank you,” Oliver said softly. “Lily’s Mum has offered to help clear up and Rik is staying with me anyway.”

“I am?” asked Rik.

“Yes. You’ve travelled all the way from America for Lily, the last thing I can do is put you up while you’re in England. She . . .” he paused, for a deep breath. “Lily would have wanted that.”

“Seriously, Ollie, you don’t have to, I booked a hotel.”

“I insist,” dismissed Oliver. 

“It’s a good idea,” said Greg, once Oliver had gone to thank and say goodbye to other mourners. “He shouldn’t be on his own.”

“And I’m sure he doesn’t want his family or Lily’s fussing over him,” said Ahdia. 

Rik noticed Jo was absent. He had seen no more of the guy at the graveside. He was glad. Ahdia was dusting crumbs off her coat and digging into her handbag. 

“Where’s Jo?” he asked her. “Has she left already?”

“No, I’m driving her home,” replied Ahdia. 

“Right, I’ll see if I can find her,” he said.

Ahdia didn’t know how Jo was feeling on seeing Rik again. Today wasn’t the day for clear thinking when everyone was so addled with emotion. But perhaps, she considered, experiencing such an example of the fragility of life and depth of love, certain feelings might surface.

Rik discovered Jo in the conservatory. 

“Jo,” he said, gently.

Her head turned.

“Hi Rik,” she rasped, before looking away.

He reached out and clasped her shoulder. Her body seemed to relax at his touch. He slid his arm around her and drew her close. 

“It’s OK to cry,” he said, rubbing a hand on her back. “It’s OK to feel.”

Her arms came around him and her body trembled. Her contorted face resting on his chest was reflected in the window. He hugged her tighter. 

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” she sniffed into his shirt. “This feels surreal.”

Rik rubbed her back soothingly.

“I know, I know,” he hushed.

“She didn’t deserve to die so soon. It’s not fair.”

Her voice was thick with tears now. 

“And Oliver, poor Oliver. He’s going to be so lonely without her.”

Rik tipped his head back, his eyes red. He stepped back and cupped Jo’s face in his hands.

“It’s going to be OK,” he whispered, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “It’s going to hurt for a while, but it’ll be OK, Jo. We’ll all be OK.”

She nodded. Her lip trembled, a fresh wave of tears cresting. Rik drew her back into his arms.

“We have to be glad we knew her, that she touched our lives and that we loved her so much we are hurting now,” he said, laying his cheek against Jo’s hair. 

Soon her breathing calmed.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Rik,” she murmured.

“So am I.”

She broke away from him. 

“I missed you,” she swallowed. 

He tried but the right words evaded him. Jo rubbed a sleeve across her face.

“I need to find Ahdia,” she said simply and left.

The flat was cold. Jo hurried to the thermostat while Ahdia took her overnight bag into Amy’s room. Amy was away on holiday and Jo had suggested Ahdia spend the night. Not wanting to be alone after Lily’s funeral, Ahdia agreed. Neither of them fancied eating dinner, so Jo placed chocolates and crisps on the coffee table. They nibbled at them, sipping tea in their pyjamas, and watched TV.

“I know this isn’t the right time,” said Ahdia, during a commercial break. “But how do you feel about seeing Rik again?”

Jo deliberated, unwrapping a chocolate.

“It was good to see him again,” she nodded. “Though I wish it was in better circumstances. It was really good of him to come all this way for Lily’s funeral.”

“Yeah, he is that kind of guy,” said Ahdia. “I am glad he’s staying with Oliver. He won’t go all Mother Hen on him but he’ll be a rock.”

Jo didn’t reply.

“So?” prompted Ahdia. “How do you feel about him now?”

Jo picked at a loose thread on a cushion. She had mentioned their moment in the conservatory to Ahdia. 

“I’m too emotional now to think clearly or know how I truly feel,” she admitted. “But it was so good to see him again. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed him.”

For a moment, only the ticking of the clock and the TV could be heard.

“I know I’m a romantic and a dreamer,” sighed Jo. “But I’m also a realist. Rik may never care for me in that way and there’s nothing I can do about it. But to have him as a friend, I think I can be happy with that.” 

Ahdia struggled to believe that. She was saddened for her friend. She knew how much Jo would always admire Rik, and would always care for him. Somehow she thought Rik may have gotten wiser and realised just how special Jo was. Though, she told herself most men were stubborn, stupid, arrogant, blind morons, so what hope was there, for any decent woman?

Chapter Fifteen

During one of their more open conversations, Jo had told Rik how soothing and rejuvenating she found nature. A stroll in the beautiful sunshine or standing in the wind, letting the rain trickle down your face; to be surrounded by trees, or teetering on a cliff edge marvelling at the view, nature had the power to stun, humble and give perspective. 

“There have been times when I felt pretty low and spent all day in my flat cooped up,” she had confided. “And then I’d go for a walk or sit in the park. Just feeling the sun on my skin and the wind on my face, it was like magic, transforming my mood. Other times, just watching the natural world go by, the bees dotting from flower to flower, ants crawling about, birds in the trees, clouds floating across the sky. It is oddly humbling and calming. It’s reassurance that life will always continue, no matter how bad you feel, it will all continue.”

So once Rik decided he was staying in England, he suggested to Oliver they leave London and head for the wild of the English coast. After the stress and heartbreak of the last month, Oliver needed rest and a break from the ghosts haunting his house. Oliver had objected to the trip at first, fearing Rik was neglecting his work. Rik shrugged it off saying he could write anywhere.

They swiftly settled into a rented cottage in a secluded cove on the east coast. Craving solitude and peace, Oliver went walking most days, alone along the shore. He wanted to forget that the real world was still out there somewhere. Refreshed by the sea air and ocean views, Rik threw himself into his writing. 

One afternoon, Oliver and Rik ventured out onto the sea with their closest neighbour on the coast, Pat. Rik enjoyed it, bobbing up and down in the small craft, a rod hanging lazily in one hand, a beer in the other. The only downside was the constant splatter of rain. Rik, however, was thrilled to wear a bright yellow sou'wester and matching waterproof coat. Oliver said little, gazing out to the grey horizon. 

Suddenly, there was a tug on his line. Oliver blinked with surprise. With Pat guiding him, Oliver reeled in his catch. Finally there was a cod dangling from his line. 

“That’s a great catch for your first time,” grinned Pat. 

There was a shadow of a smile on Oliver’s face.

“That’s dinner sorted then,” said Rik, standing at the helm.

Back on the beach, the rain had stopped. The ugly grey clouds still loomed. Pat had to hurry home to feed his dog and chickens. 

“There’s a storm coming,” he said ominously, squinting at the sky. “It’s going to be a rough one.”

Rik promised to heed his warning and batten down the hatches. 

Waving Pat off, Rik proposed they build a fire on the beach and cook their fish. Oliver nodded. Rik sprinkled a little salt and pepper on the cod. He balanced the fish expertly over the small crackling flames. He brought fresh bread rolls from the cottage and more beer. They ate in silence, the fish flaking deliciously in their mouths. Rik pushed a beer into Oliver’s hand and opened one for himself.

“You can’t beat catching your own food, cooking it and eating it,” Rik mused. “Satisfaction and pleasure in every bite.”

He stretched his legs out onto the damp sand.

“It’d be something to do this every day. And I rarely cook for myself, I am a lazy son of a b***h. But this, this I could get used to.”

He took a deep gulp of his beer. Oliver sipped his.

“I could get used to this whole lifestyle. The simplicity of it, away from people and their hectic lives, the grind of work, expectations of society and the crassness of reality TV. Life doesn’t need to be complicated. We make it that way. How dumb are we?”

Rik was pretty sure he was rambling now. He reached for another beer. 

“No matter how much we prepare for it, life will always screw us over,” he remarked, tossing the lid aside. “And you have to roll with the punches. Pick yourself up from the dirt, wipe the blood pouring from your nose and hope you’re more ready for the next blow when it lands.” 

He groaned. 

“Is my writer showing or what?”

Oliver shook his head at him and looked away. A drop of rain landed on his cheek.

“Ollie, you have to talk to me or cry or shout or do something,” said Rik, throwing his empty beer bottle back into the box. “It’s not good to keep what you’re feeling inside. It’s destructive. And hell if I have to cry and yell with you, I will.”

Rik picked up a fish bone and dug in the sand. Oliver did not speak. Waves murmured along the shore. Gulls cawed hungrily overhead. A harsh wind tore across the beach, whisking up the sand. Oliver shielded his eyes. 

The half-hearted sunset was smothered by a mass of angry clouds and then swallowed up by the gloom of dusk. They trudged back to the cottage. Oliver bid Rik a hasty goodnight and disappeared into his room. He hadn’t said a word on the beach. Rik wasn’t going to push him, but he was worried. Grieving alone could become toxic and destructive. 

An almighty crack of thunder wrenched Rik awake. The wind had grown stronger all evening. Now it was howling around the cottage, the pummeling rain thrashing against the windows. A flash of lightning blanketed the room. Then it was plunged into darkness again. Thunder crashed violently seconds later. Pat’s storm had arrived. Rik shoved off the duvet and pulled on a sweater and jeans. Barefoot, he padded down the hallway. Oliver’s bedroom door was open. The room was empty. A gust of cold wind blasted into Rik. He stumbled back, unprepared for the force of it. He steadied himself. The front door was wide open, swinging back and forth in the wind. What the hell?! Had Oliver gone outside? In this weather! 

Hurriedly tugging on his boots and coat, Rik heard the roar of the waves rising and smashing into the shore. The wind whipped across him and he had to cling to the door frame. A burst of lightning illuminated the beach and there was Oliver. He stood five feet away from the waves. Rain pelted him and his sodden pyjamas. His bare feet sunk in the sand. 

“S**t,” cursed Rik and lurched into the storm. 

It was a feat to move in the swirling wind. The rain was so heavy Rik could barely see.

“Oliver,” he yelled, over the bellowing storm. “Oliver, what are you doing?”

Oliver didn’t turn. Rik doubted he had heard him. He battled on. Now he could hear Oliver. He was shouting, his words intelligible. 

“Great, he decides to have a breakdown in the middle of a goddamn storm,” Rik grumbled.

Suddenly, Oliver fell to his knees. Sobbing, his shoulders curved inward. Rik stumbled forward. 

Oliver looked defeated, his tears mingling with the rain.

“Lily,” he whispered, over and over again. “Lily!”

“S**t.”

Rik laid his hand on Oliver’s shoulder.

“Oliver, we need to get back inside,” he shouted. “It’s not safe out here.”

Oliver shook his head. He shut his eyes and bowed.

Oliver’s knees sank in the wet sand but he didn’t move. Rik tried to coax him back inside but Oliver wouldn’t budge. Rik stayed. He stood beside him, the rain and the cold seeping deeper and deeper into their bones. Eventually, Oliver’s body went limp. Rik shot forward and caught him. 

Safe indoors, Rik poured Oliver a glass of whisky and thrust him into a hot shower. Oliver didn’t resist. Rik didn’t like the paleness of his friend’s skin or the haggardness of his face. Quickly drying himself off with a towel, he heated up a pan of hot chocolate. He put a mug on Oliver’s night stand and found an extra blanket for him. Oliver emerged from the bathroom and looked at Rik standing in the kitchen.

“Goodnight Oliver.”

Now wasn’t the time for explanations or any talking. Oliver needed sleep. He nodded at Rik and quietly closed the bedroom door behind him.

Chilled to the bone, Rik headed for the bathroom. He stripped his damp clothes off and stood under the shower. The hot water felt oh so good warming his skin, the steam sinking into his pores. The last hour had been brutal and crazy. He had felt so useless and helpless. But he wasn’t going to abandon his friend. He hoped after a night’s sleep, if he wasn’t hypothermic or suffering from pneumonia, Oliver would feel better. Rik believed the episode in the storm was a breakthrough, good or bad he didn’t dare guess. 

Mercifully, they both woke late the next morning with no signs of sniffles or colds. Rik didn’t say a word about the events of the night. He made coffee and toast like he had done every morning.

“Rik,” Oliver began, nervously.

“Yeah?” 

“Do you want to join me on my walk this morning?”

Progress, finally. 

The sun blinded Rik’s eyes. The sky was now cloudless and triumphantly blue. Churned up sand and debris littering the beach was the only evidence of the storm. A gentle wind blew, flirtatiously ruffling Rik’s hair. They strolled close to the water’s edge, the waves creeping under their feet. Rik stuffed his hands in his pockets, glad of the scarf he had woven around his neck. Oliver kicked at pebbles, squinting in the mid morning sunshine. 

“About last night,” Oliver said. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Well, you did. Scared the goddamn s**t out of me.”

“I know and I’m sorry.” 

He ran his hand through his hair. 

“It’s just that I've been numb for weeks, not feeling anything, being disconnected from everything. It felt like my body was present but I wasn’t. I was just going about on autopilot.”

 He stopped to pick up and examine a shell.

“Last night,” Oliver continued. “When the storm woke me up, I watched it out the window, tear across the sky, kick the sea up and I suddenly had the compulsion to go outside, stand in the rain, to feel the power of the storm, let mother nature tear at me. So I did.”

He threw a glance at Rik. He was listening closely, staring down at his sandy boots.

“I . . .I just wanted to feel something and right then I wanted to feel the rain on my skin, let it prove to me I was still here.”

He pulled the zipper higher up on his jacket.

“I started shouting, yelling how angry I was that she was gone, how unfair it all was.” 

His voice trembled. 

“How was I supposed to go on when everything had been taken from me? Why? Over and over again why?”

He swallowed.

“But there was no reply, just the storm throwing itself relentlessly at me. And it was strangely comforting, the rain and the wind. My life may have been ripped apart but the world around me was still continuing. And I suddenly felt very small and insignificant in my grief and pain.”

Rik wanted to object, but decided he shouldn't interrupt Oliver, not now he was really opening up.

“I had become selfish. My grief hadn’t been about Lily, it had become about me,” Oliver confided. “I was wallowing in self pity instead of accepting my loss and honouring Lily’s memory. I had refused to talk to you, because I didn’t want to feel the pain.”

His head shook.

“It was easier to push people away than openly acknowledge my wife was gone. I don’t want to be that person. Lily was always warm and welcoming to people. I want to be like that, not selfish and wrapped in my grief. I want to be there for those I love and for those who need me.”

Rik was impressed. This was progress indeed.

“You gained all this clarity kneeling in the middle of that storm?” he asked, baffled.

“Yes,” said Oliver. “You could call it a baptism of sorts.”

“Well, it’s great to hear. You were worrying me.”

“I didn’t intend to. I was just so blinkered and I know this is just the first step,” he granted. “There’s a long road ahead.”

“There is,” agreed Rik. “But you have to remember you are not walking it alone. We’re all here for you, whatever you need.”

Oliver nodded his thanks. 

“We were so happy,” he whispered. “Happiness I took for granted. We ran out of time. If I could have just one more day with her to tell her just how much I loved her. . . . you really don’t know until they’re gone . . .  She was everything to me, everything.”

Oliver’s breaths shortened and his hands trembled. 

“I miss her,” he choked. “I miss her so much.”

Rik stopped and placed his hands on Oliver’s shoulders.

“I know and I know it hurts like hell and threatens to tear you apart again and again,” he said through gritted teeth. “But you will get through this, I promise. And you will never have to face it alone. It’s going to hurt for a long time, just don’t be afraid of that pain. That pain is the living evidence of your love for Lily. And cry and yell all you need. Just don’t hold it in.”

That night Oliver slept soundly. He woke to the smell of sizzling bacon and Rik singing. He sank back into his pillow. He resisted the urge to turn his head. Lily wasn’t lying there beside him. The ache hit him hard. His nostrils flared and his eyes welled up. His hands fisted in the duvet and he gritted his teeth. Then he remembered what Rik said. His hands unclenched and he relaxed, letting the tears come. 

Ten minutes later, he joined Rik in the kitchen. Rik noticed the redness around Oliver’s eyes. He shoved a plate of bacon and pancakes under Oliver’s nose.

“Smell the sweet taste of high cholesterol and diabetes.”

Two days later, it was time to leave. It was a daunting prospect for Oliver. He was eager to return to work, to his students. But to go back to his house . . . Rik was staying another week or so, he wouldn’t be completely alone. 

“Have you spoken to Jo recently?” Oliver asked, twenty minutes into the journey home.

Rik’s forehead furrowed. He was surprised at Oliver’s completely out of the blue question. 

“No, not since the funeral,” Rik replied, simply.

“She’s a nice girl. Lily . . . Lily liked her,” said Oliver, his chest heaving for a second. “She was really kind at the wake. Jo knew exactly what I needed. Someone to hold onto, to ground me.”

“Yeah, she is very perceptive and kind,” Rik stated.

“Was Lily right about what she said about you and Jo?”

Rik cast a glance up at the rearview mirror. He blew out a breath.

“Yes, yes she was,” he said, at last. “She always saw straight through me from the moment we met.”

“Yeah, she was perceptive too,” Oliver agreed, his jaw clenching. “So how do you feel about Jo now?”

“I don’t know,” Rik shrugged. “I’ve run from my feelings for so long. I know I care about her, a lot.” 

He sighed.

“But I’m afraid of making a total mess of it and hurting her. I mean she may not even feel the same way. She may have met someone.”

“There was a guy, Jamie. I met him once and he was at the funeral.”

“Right,” said Rik, non-committedly. 

“But from the impression I got from Ahdia, it wasn’t serious and Lily,” he swallowed, his throat tight. “Lily said when she asked Jo about him, Jo wasn’t that bothered about him.”

“Impressions and looks can be deceiving,” noted Rik.

“Well, I guess there’s only one way for you to find out.”

“I know. I need to talk to Jo about how I feel, whatever the potential outcome. I just,” Rik hesitated, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “I guess I’m afraid of her turning me down.”

“It is a big risk,” nodded Oliver. “Opening yourself up to rejection and hurt. It’s not easy. Not a feat to be ventured lightly.”

“You’re telling me,” Rik huffed. “There’s only a few things in life that have got me scared shitless. This is one of them.”

“I guess love is like standing on the edge of a cliff,” pondered Oliver. “Staring down into the abyss. You can either stand there on the brink, worrying about the fall, how much it’s going to hurt, and never jump.” 

His head cocked. 

“Or you can take a leap of faith and find that your trust in yourself gives you wings to take where you want.”

“Wow, can I steal that quote? That’s some metaphor.”

“Yes,” Oliver sighed. “I have no idea where it came from.”

“Well, I understand the point you’re trying to make. I have to get over myself, grow a pair and lay my heart at Jo’s feet,” grimaced Rik.

Oliver laughed, the first time Rik had heard him laugh since Lily’s death. 

“I didn’t mean that exactly,” Oliver said. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.”

He watched fields skip by the window, his fingers tapping in time with the song on the radio.

“I think she’s yours to lose,” he said.

“Oh yeah? You’re that confident, huh?”

“You’re a good guy, Rik,” Oliver told him. “Despite your constant efforts to appear otherwise. What woman wouldn’t want you?”

“A sensible one.”

“Well, we’ll have to hope Jo takes leave of her senses on occasion, to give you a fighting chance.” 

Chapter Sixteen 

Furious, Jo slammed her phone on the desk. Her cup of tea sloshed and spilled. 

“Damn.”

She grabbed a paper towel and mopped it up. She lobbed it at the waste basket and missed. Exasperated, she stormed to it, picked it up and thrust it into the bin. She was not happy. 

Maria poked her head around the door, wiping her hands on her apron, dusty with flour.

“Dare I ask?” 

“I’ve been trying to sort out my owed holiday pay,” Jo explained, tucking her hair behind her ears. “But my arsehole of an ex-manager is being obstructive and totally unhelpful. I’ve called him five times, the HR department three times, but no one seems to want to help.”

She rubbed her forehead. 

“And on top of that, I can’t get hold of Maureen who is supposed to be covering Julie’s shift tomorrow.”

“Hey, hey,” hushed Maria. “Sit down and breathe.”

Jo obeyed, slumping down into a chair and puffing out a breath.

“Now don’t worry about Maureen,” Maria assured her. “And your ex-manager is not worth you getting so worked up and strung out over.”

“I know, but they owe me that money.”

“They do and if they don’t pay up, well we'll see about getting some help.”

“Yes, but it would be much easier if that dickhead could just do his job for once.”

Blood still boiling, Jo plodded home. Grey clouds were choking the sky. A brisk wind chased a stray newspaper down the street. A few specks of rain hit the ground. Then more. And more. Suddenly, it was pelting down. Jo was soaked and miserable. Her feet squelched over the sodden leaves that carpeted the pavement like soggy cornflakes. She wanted to stop in the street and cry. She longed for a skin scalding shower and then to collapse into her soft bed, fall asleep and forget this horrid afternoon. And a cup of tea that would set the world back on its axis. A fresh blast of rain laced wind struck her face. She blanched and whimpered defeatedly.

Relieved she was almost home, Jo turned the corner. She stopped short, blinking in surprise. Rik stood outside her building, unperturbed at being thoroughly drenched. A conflict of feelings surfaced in Jo's chest. Yet the sight of a friendly albeit scowling face after such a terrible day was welcome. Still feeling too dismal to feign a smile, she approached him. She paused before him, raindrops sliding off her nose. He looked so good, despite his deep frown and the water dripping from his bearded chin. Regarding her sternly, he stepped forward and hugged her. 

Jo sank into the warmth and comfort of his body. She didn’t care about the rain or the wind that was creeping down the back of her collar. It felt like home. She could stay like this forever. Rik rubbed a hand up her spine and across her shoulders. She could have purred. Rik sniffed and said,

“Your hair smells like a wet dog,” shattering the tender moment. 

Jo stood back and laughed, her misery trickling away like the rain swirling towards the drain.

“It’s good to see you too,” she grinned. “It is actually really, really good to see you.”

“You too, and I would emphasise the point more, but I really don’t want to drown.” 

Jo laughed again and led the way inside.

Leaving Rik to dry off with multiple towels and a hair dryer, Jo hurried into the bathroom to take a quick shower. She was so happy she couldn’t stop smiling. Her heart that had felt so heavy only half an hour ago, was now flying circles around the bathroom ceiling lamp. She knew she should caution herself. She had no idea why Rik was here. 

Still shivering, Jo threw a blanket around her shoulders. She tidied her knitting and yarn off the coffee table and curled up on the sofa opposite Rik. 

“When are you going home?” she asked him cautiously.  

“Soon,” he replied. 

Since returning to London, Rik had rehearsed this moment frequently in his head. Seeing Jo walk toward him, half drowned and forlorn, he had felt a flicker of amused affection. Something had eased in him seeing her again. Hearing the shower, he had tried not to think of Jo standing beneath it, covered in soap bubbles. Now sitting there snuggled in her blanket, he longed to scoop her onto his lap. 

“These last few months have been a roller coaster ride,” he began. 

“Yes, an emotional roller coaster,” agreed Jo. “My moods have been up and down like a yo-yo, I’d like things to slow down now, give me a breather.”

“How is it working for Maria?”

Jo’s face softened into a smile.

“She is the best boss. I love working at the cafe,” gushed Jo. “It’s just so easy when you’re actually appreciated and cared about.”

“And your writing?” Rik probed further. “How is that going?”

Jo was momentarily distracted by Rik's tattooed hands curled around his cup, his rings flashing on his knuckles. 

“Um, really good. After everything lately I thought I wouldn’t have the heart to work at it. But the opposite happened. I was writing late into the early morning, page after page.”

She looked tentatively at him through her eyelashes.

“I know I owe it to you,” she said. “For Maria offering me the job. She told me it was your suggestion. And I really appreciate it. I am so much happier now, well on most days I am.”

“She shouldn’t have told you,” Rik grumbled. “It was supposed to be a secret.”

“I’m glad she did. Thank you, Rik.”

He shrugged.

“I knew you were unhappy at your job and it wasn’t helping your writing. And there’s nothing worse as a writer than having your creativity and imagination stifled,” he insisted. “I wanted to help.”

He did not mention that he was also the secret investor in the cafe. The one who allowed Maria the budget to employ a manager. He wasn’t sure Jo was quite ready for that revelation yet.

“So I’m curious, how did the roller-coaster ride affect you?” Jo wondered. 

“Well,” grimaced Rik. “It wasn’t quite a roller coaster ride for me, more like a near miss train wreck.”

He briefly related to her of his life altering revelation. Jo’s eyes widened. She couldn’t quite believe it. He was one of the few people she knew who had a solid grasp on life and their path. He paused to drink his tea. There was one improvement, she noted triumphantly. He had declined a beer and said yes to tea. Did she need any further proof that he had undergone some drastic changes? 

“I had kept people at a distance for years, even my family, not letting anyone get too close.” 

He rubbed his jaw. 

“I guess I didn’t want them to expose me for the fraud I was. It was so easy to give advice to others but ignore it completely myself.” 

He glanced at her.

“Your goodbye note chipped the first crack in the mask I had worn for years.”

“Really?” blinked Jo.

“Yeah. It made me feel things I didn’t want to and it made me feel guilty, like I didn’t deserve what you said.”

“But you did, you do,” argued Jo.

“Well, thanks for thinking so.”

“What was the second crack?”

“Oh that was Lily,” sighed Rik. “Confronting me about how I was running away from my feelings. She was an incredibly perceptive woman and she didn’t hold back. I couldn’t hide from myself any more, despite trying. And then swift on Lily’s heels was my Dad expressing his concern. What he said wasn’t much different to what Lily told me. Again, I didn’t want to accept it. I wasn’t in denial, I just didn’t want to deal with it all.”

He looked sideways, away from Jo.

“And then I saw the photos of you guys at Maria’s cafe opening. I wanted to be there.” 

His voice quietened. 

“I didn’t realise how much I missed you all. I was slowly waking up to how lonely I really was.”

Jo’s heart panged. 

“The mask finally crumbled away,” he carried on. “When I realised how wrong and misguided I’d been in my life. I was always on the hunt for the next thrill, blind to the fact that close human relationships are what life is about. Sharing this journey with others, being a part of other people’s lives.”

She could have told him that months ago, Jo thought.

“So there I was staring at my reflection, unmasked after years, and questioning my identity. Who was I? Why had I hidden from myself? Why did I choose to distract myself from responsibility and commitment?” listed Rik. “But I was afraid of the answers, of the truth so I ignored all those questions. That is until my Dad launched his assault, which was exactly what I needed.”

Rik continued, recounting his conversation with his parents and his new perspective on life. Jo hoped her face wasn’t mirroring how stunned she was.

“It could have gotten so much worse. I would have spent my time working and drinking, each day caring less. And then Lily’s death would have been the final nail in the coffin as I self-destructed. I am so glad my Dad intervened when he did.”

“I’m glad he did too,” agreed Jo.

Rik smiled weakly at her. 

“Him and Mum were the rocks I needed to ground me. And things started to get better. But part of me still wanted to know what had triggered my toxic mindset. Thinking back to my college days and my initial addiction to alcohol and drugs, I remembered that when I was high or drunk, I could behave how I liked,” he recalled. “I didn’t care about the consequences of my actions, I had no sense of accountability. In the recent past, travelling has given me a similar sense of freedom, with few binding responsibilities or commitments.”

That came as no surprise to Jo. Rik could be reckless and feckless.

“Slowly I understood that I have always craved freedom. Being able to live how I desired, not answerable to anyone or anything,” he explained. “Any kind of long term commitment to family, friends, a relationship, accountability etc would limit or restrict this freedom. Cage me in. I would end up like the average American. Stuck in a nine to five job, living in a house in the suburbs, wife, kids, one vacation a year, working til I’m seventy. Day after day, the same thing. I didn’t want to get trapped in that kind of life.”

He tapped his nails on his cup.

“But the freedom I thought I wanted is a delusion. I wasn’t free. I was trapped by another addiction and by an outlook I couldn’t shake. In that life, I wasn’t me, the real me. I didn’t even know who me was. I was so lost in the whirlwind of travelling, seeing new places, meeting new people, clinging to my independence that I forgot who Rik Clarke really was.”

He swallowed another gulp of tea.

“All those things I thought would restrict my life are actually what enriches it and gives it value and meaning.”

His gaze was fixed on the window, the droplets of rain sliding down the pane.

“I got trapped in a toxic frame of mind,” he murmured. “And not questioning it until I was confronted by something I wanted but my lifestyle didn’t. I want those connections. I can have close relationships with people, deep commitments and still be free to travel and explore. There is nothing stopping me. ”

He finally looked back at Jo. 

“Sorry, that was a bit intense,” he winced. “But I wanted you to know so you could try and understand. Now I am feeling so much better in myself. I feel great. I’ve had a few therapy sessions, got the help I needed. But the best thing has been hanging out with my family and close friends.” 

Jo smiled and nodded knowingly.

“Being there for Oliver helped a lot,” Rik explained. “It put my problems sharply into perspective. And it was me being somewhere for the sake of someone else and not myself.  It’s a cliche but I feel like I have found myself again.”

Jo blew out a stream of air. It whistled through her lips.

“You’re right, that was intense. I had no idea you were going through all that. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“People have enough to deal with without the burden of my egotistical and misguided ego.”

“Balderdash, Rik” refused Jo, sternly. “People care about you and you have to let them help you.”

Rik held up his hands - did she really just say balderdash? -and inclined his head.

“OK, OK, I defer to your greater wisdom.”

“Wow, you have changed,” she laughed. “Humility suits you.”

Rik brushed it off.

“It itches.”

Jo laughed again and Rik wanted to wrap himself in it. 

“So,” he said. “I didn’t come here just to share stories of my deluded psyche.”

“Oh no? What more horrors do you have up your sleeve?” she teased.

He stared unimpressed at her.

“If you’re just going to mock me in my fragile state, then I will leave.”

“My flat? Or the country?”

“Both.”

Jo nodded.

“I can live with that.”

Rik shot her a look of feigned hurt and shot to his feet. She burst into delighted chuckles. 

“OK, I shall behave,” she surrendered, smiling. 

Rik sat back down, a twinkle in his eye.

“Well, with no ceremony or window dressing, what I wanted to say is,” he began. “That in vain have I struggled, it just won’t do. My feelings won’t be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how much I admire you and want you to be my girlfriend.”

This was not what Jo was expecting. Heat bloomed across her cheeks and she stared disbelieving at him. Was he serious? And had he just plagiarised Jane Austen? 

“I’ve finally been able to admit to myself how I feel about you,” he continued, barely allowing Jo time to process. “You’re smart, pretty, funny and I love being around you.”

“OK, stop,” said Jo, nervously.

“I’m serious,” he said, earnestly. “And you’re going to have to let me finish.”

Reprimanded, Jo pursed her lips shut.

“I never initially considered you in that way, as a date or girlfriend. Don’t take offence. You weren’t what I thought was my type.”

Jo’s palms were beginning to sweat. She freed herself from the blanket.

“Anyway, I was more than happy being single. I never would have wanted you to get too attached and I doubted I could have ever lived up to your expectations.”

Jo started to object.

“Please, just let me finish.”

He waited for her to nod.

“It hit me, well gently bumped into me at the fancy dress party.”

He stared down at his hands.

“You looked amazing and yet you were avoiding me. I saw you laughing with the other guys and I was so jealous. I wanted to make you laugh. And it was so infuriating that you wouldn’t let me get close to you. But I let it go. 

He ran his hands up and down his arms.

“Then I saw you at my leaving party and I had missed you. It really hit home when I received your cherry pie and note.” 

Jo’s heart pole jumped into her mouth.

“Those feelings terrified me. It was completely new to me. In my early twenties, I had thought myself in love. But this, this was different. I was fantasising about you, not sexually, well not always.” 

He winked. 

“More often of romantic things. I almost gagged at my uncharacteristic sentimentality and mushiness. But you made me crave those kinds of things with you.”

Jo was sure the ground beneath her was crumbling away and she was falling through it. She could not believe what she was hearing. Moreover, the candid way he was revealing all this. Changes or not, he still oozed confidence and self assurance. 

“I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I took the coward’s route and did nothing. I ignored them and went back home to distract myself. But beneath all the macho, I-don’t-care bullshit I still wanted to have those feelings.”

Waves of heat were swamping Jo. She was going to wake up in a minute and laugh at herself. 

“I had never felt this way about anyone before and I hadn’t even seen it coming. I slowly began to admit to myself that I’d be stupid to let my stubborn obstinancy deprive me of the chance of having something really special. I stopped listening to my head which was telling me it wouldn’t work.” 

He held up his hands. 

“So here I am. Truly humbled.”

Head reeling, Jo peeked a glance at Rik. His deep blue eyes regarded her, full of warmth. Her heart was thumping hard in her chest, her mouth suddenly dry. A small glimmer of excitement was fluttering in her stomach. She squished it momentarily. 

“Why?” she asked, softly. “Why me?”

“Why?” Rik repeated. “Because you’re different. You are wholly yourself, no pretensions to be anything else than you are.”

His face softened.

“Because you are a goofy nerd who reads comic books. Because you’re a hopeless romantic who loves drinking tea,” he smiled “Because you’re kind and a dreamer with a gorgeous smile.” 

His eyes narrowed. 

“And you might not look like it but you’re dangerous, dangerous because I might just lose my head and heart over you without you lifting a finger to entice me.” 

“Did you just confess to having a heart?”

“See,” he pointed at her, accusingly. “I told you, you were dangerous.”

Jo blew out a long breath.

“This is all a lot to take in.”

“You look shell-shocked,” Rik admitted.

“I am. This is all so sudden and surprising. I had no idea.”

Rik rose and sat beside her. She wouldn’t look at him, clasping and unclasping her hands. Unable to resist touching her, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“I don’t know what to think,” she swallowed. “I’m not saying that this isn’t great and that it’s not what I want, but  . . .”

“But?”

“But I’m not convinced.”

Rik couldn’t blame her. He had seen her once in the last month and now he was confessing his undying love. He’d be sceptical too. 

“What happened?” he asked.

“When?”

“When you suddenly started avoiding me, at the fancy dress party? Was it because of Toby?”

“Toby? No.”

She shook her head.

“Why didn’t you tell me about what he did?”

“I didn’t want to talk about it and he was your friend.”

“And you thought because of that I’d defend him?”

“No, I didn’t . . . I didn’t want to cause any conflict between the two of you.”

Rik cast his eyes skyward.

“For God's sake, Jo, the jerk forced himself on you. Do you think I’d want to be friends with an arsehole like that?” 

“No, of course not! Look, I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. And the less I discussed it, the sooner it would be forgotten.”

He could accept that, though it didn’t dissipate his anger towards Toby.

“What was it then? One day we’re having a good time out at the bar and the next time I saw you, you couldn’t get away from me quick enough.”

He stopped abruptly, his brain finally making the connection. Of course that would have made her feel uncomfortable, upset even, especially if she had feelings for him then. He turned to face her fully.

“You knew I slept with Donna?”

Her eyes flashed up at him. Her shoulders fell.

“Yes.”

“That’s why you tried to steer clear of me. Why?”

Jo inhaled.

“Because we had had such a nice evening and then it was ruined knowing you had slept with her. She was such a b***h.”

She shrugged.

“But it woke me up to how ridiculous I had been, letting myself have feelings for you. I was a fool. So I decided I would stay away.”

“If it’s any consolation, I wish I hadn’t taken Donna home,” he scowled. “I didn’t even remember. I was annoyed when she showed up at the party. And I told her exactly what I thought of people who disrespected my friends.”

“It’s OK, you don’t have to explain. It was my issue and I’m over it.”

“Why can’t you accept that I care about you?” Rik coaxed gently. 

Jo looked him blank in the eyes.

“Because it’s too good to be true. And it’s you, Rik, Mister I-Don’t-Need-Anyone Lone Wolf. I know you said you’ve changed and I believe you, I think,” she added tentatively. “Truth is, I still really don’t know why you feel the way you do, about me.”

Rik slid off the couch and knelt in front of Jo. She didn’t think she was worth his affection. 

“Jo, I love your mind,” he declared, warmth flooding his tone. “I fell for you because of it and your imagination. And I love the passion you have for your writing and your hobbies. And your genuineness, you’re never afraid to be you.” 

He peered closely at her. 

“Is it so difficult to comprehend someone might like you?”

“Not someone so smart and worldly like you.”

“I think it’s more difficult to comprehend that someone as sweet and kind as you would be interested in a crusty, grumpy old codger like me.”

“Codger?” Jo chuckled. “You’ve been spending too much time around Greg.”

“See, take pity on me, Jo.”

She grinned, her rosy cheeks dimpling.

“I thought I’d never see the day,” Jo remarked. “You laying yourself at my feet.”

“Neither did I,” Rik sighed. “Hell’s probably freezing over right now.”

“Better tell the devil to sharpen his skates.”

“Yup. So, Jo, what do you say? We give it a go?”

“You can’t ask more romantically?”

“Jo, I have just poured my heart out and bared my soul to you, what more do you want?”

Jo waved her hands.

“OK, OK. Truce.”

“Does truce mean what I want it to?”

Jo pondered a moment, studying him. 

“I think it does,” she said, demurely.

“Good, because I’ve wanted to do this for weeks.”

Grabbing her hands, Rik stood and pulled Jo up with him. She settled comfortably in his arms. She looked shyly up at him. He leaned down, his nose grazing hers. He heard Jo’s breath catch. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. His hand clasped her waist and his beard scratched her cheek. He kissed her, gently at first, brief teasing pecks. 

Tingles fluttered across Jo’s skin at Rik’s touch. He drew her closer, his hand gliding up into her freshly washed hair that smelt delicious. He kissed her deeper. His hand crept under the hem of her top, stroking the soft warmth of her waist. Jo shivered beneath his fingers. He nipped her lower lip. Jo’s body arched into his. She murmured appreciatively, rising up onto her toes to snake her arms around his neck. Rik grinned. He had to stop now before he couldn’t. He didn’t want to rush anything with Jo. He wanted to take his time, enjoy every moment. He drew back, breathing heavily.

“And that is how real men show a girl they really, really want to get down and dirty with her,” joked Rik, grinning maliciously.

Jo rolled her eyes. Yes, he just had to ruin the moment, didn’t he.

“You are incorrigible,” she scolded, dropping her arms.

“Yup,” he agreed. “But you love it. So how about it?”

Jo raised an eyebrow and held back a smile.

“You should know that I'm a woman who likes to be wooed,” Jo cautioned. “It’s going to take more than one great kiss to get me into bed.”

There she was, the Jo he adored. He’d missed that sassiness. He almost preened.

“Who said anything about the bed? I’m talking about right here, right now.”

Jo shook her head, pushing him back.

“The charm just won’t be held back, will it?”

“I am a man who knows what he wants,” remarked Rik, dragging a fingertip along the tendons in her hand.

“And I am a woman who’s going to make you work for it,” she threw back, tossing her head like a headstrong filly.

“Come on, be nice.”

“Nope.”

“Please.”

Rik leaned forward and kissed her, bone meltingly slow.

“No,” reaffirmed Jo, breathlessly when he broke away.

“Please,” Rik repeated.

He dropped his head and pressed a kiss to her throat, his mouth whispering seductively over her skin. Her chest rose and she swallowed. .

“Definitely not.”

“You are too generous to trifle with me,” he murmured against her neck.

She laughed.

“Oh no, quoting Mr Darcy won’t help you.”

“Pity.”

Jo stood her ground in defiance of the delicious onslaught.

“You know you want to,” Rik urged, stealing another kiss.

“Maybe,” whispered Jo.

“Then stop resisting,” Rik ordered.

“No way,” laughed Jo. “I’m not that easy.”

“That’s a shame, otherwise you’d be naked right now.”

“I know you’re just trying to wind me up,” said Jo, regarding him shrewdly.

“Well, yes and no,” he agreed. “Yes, I do have respect for your wishes as insane as they are, and no I actually really, really want to do a lot of bad things to you.”

Jo smiled, a fresh blush heating her cheekbones, and bit her lip. Unable to resist, Rik mirrored her smile and laughed.

“Hell, you’re going to completely destroy me.”

Hours later, feeling his own eyelids beginning to droop,  Rik carefully scooped a dozing Jo into his arms. He laid her gently on her bed and covered her with a blanket. He settled down beside her. He grinned. Jo would insist on him courting her. Well, he would play along, indulge her romantic fantasies and hell, he would enjoy it. Anything to be the reason her face lit up with that beautiful smile. He was greedy, he discovered. He wanted all Jo's smiles. Rising slowly on an elbow, he leaned over and kissed Jo’s forehead.

“Goodnight, my lady. Sweet dreams.”

Chapter Seventeen

Jo clenched her jaw and drew air in through her nose. Her chest was so tight. 

“Hey, I’ll be back before you know it,” Rik comforted, chucking her chin.

Jo nodded, blinking furiously.

“I know,” she rasped. “It’s just . . .”

She turned away, sucking rapid breaths through her teeth and easing them out. Her jaw wobbled.

“Hey,” soothed Rik, embracing her. 

She rested her forehead on his chest and clung to him.

“I don’t want you to go,” she murmured. 

His arms tightened around her.

“I know, but I’m going to be back real soon,” Rik promised. “The time will fly by.”

“I’m just going to miss you so much,” she sniffed, looking up at him.

He kissed the tip of her nose.

“And I am going to miss you too.”

He stroked the untidy hair off her face. 

“Don’t you dare start crying because you’ll set me off,” he threatened. “And that will completely ruin my tough guy, bad boy image.”

Jo’s mouth twisted awkwardly into a smile. 

“What’s left of it,” she added.

He grinned.

“Kiss me again and then I’ll have to go.”

Jo obeyed. 

“We’ve had a great few weeks, baby.” 

He pecked the corner of her mouth with another kiss. 

“And once I’m back there’ll be much more,” Rik vowed, running his thumb across her chin.

She nodded, her face so sad and forlorn. He hugged her again.

“Remember I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

“Love you too,” she muffled into his shirt, tears clogging her throat. 

Before he walked through the barriers to the security check, he stopped and turned. Jo was still standing there, swamped in her thick coat, her arms wrapped around herself. She wiped a hand hastily across her face. She had cried yesterday when they were curled up together on the couch. She had cried when she’d woken up that morning. She really didn’t want him to go. He raised an arm and waved.

It was horrible watching Rik walk away from her. His head bobbed above the crowds until he disappeared from sight. The pain in her chest throbbed. Tears seeped through her eyelids. She returned to where Lucy and Greg were waiting. God, it hurt. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. They had spent nearly every day together since he had shown up at her flat. They had had a wonderful time and she had loved every minute of it. Now it would be weeks, almost months before she was going to see him again. 

Greg threw an arm around her shoulders.

“Yup, you don’t realise just how much, until they leave,” he sighed. 

Juggling a bottle of water and a handful of snacks, Rik searched for an empty seat in the Departures lounge. Shrugging off his bag and jacket, he sat and twisted his water bottle open. He slid his headphones over his ears and pressed Play on his phone. A punch of sadness hit his solar plexus. He really was going to miss his Jo.

Jo had no idea how much she had helped him heal. His swift recovery, he claimed to himself, was due to his determination to see Jo again and make things right with her. Her love and affection, her spontaneous fun, her goofiness, it was the best medicine for a troubled soul like his. It was better than months of therapy and definitely more enjoyable. He didn’t want to upset her by leaving but he had to go. Her tears had almost smashed his resolve. She really did love him. He couldn’t believe how blessed he was. 

What he felt for Jo was something so precious. When he had read the piece of her work Lily had sent him, he had been saddened at the loneliness and abandonment that was woven into every line. It had haunted him. He knew Jo had felt that once. But she, like her character, kept fighting and would not give up until the end. It compelled him to want to protect her, to lavish her with love and affection, so she would know every minute of every day that she was loved. 

Staring out of the car window at the grey sky, Jo thought how Rik had surprised her. He frequently swept her off her feet, literally and metaphorically. She smiled, her heart warming at the memories that eased the ache a little.

A wonderful trip to a French tea shop in Covent Garden was a treat. Jo had never seen so many different types of tea, row upon row of tins. There were tea-scented candles, teacups, teapots, books, so much to see and drink in. It was like walking into an Aladdin’s cave of tea. Upstairs was a small but fascinating museum with old archives on display and so many treasures, each a portal into the history of tea. Rik had found it interesting though his enthusiasm didn’t quite match hers. 

Another weekend, Rik had whisked Jo to Bath, purposely to visit the Assembly Rooms. Jo had spun around and around, gazing at the stunning chandeliers, marvelling at how beautiful the rooms were. She was thrilled to her toes. She thanked Rik repeatedly for bringing her. It was so magical. He had stood back and watched her gape and gasp softly. Regardless of other visitors, he approached her, bowed gallantly and enquired whether she wished to dance. Squealing with glee, she took his hand and let him swirl her around. He pulled her into a clinch and kissed her wantonly.

“See if your Mr Darcy could beat that.”

Her smile hadn’t faded for hours. 

They had often accompanied Lucy and Greg on double dates, Maria and Tony too. They had driven with Greg and Lucy to the coast for a jaunt out to sea. She loved the motion of the boat, rising and cresting the waves. The wind had streamed through her hair, Rik beside her, cheekily squeezing her butt. He was so unabashed in his affection for her. He would always take her hand in his, hug her, nuzzle her neck and kiss her, no matter where they were or who they were with. She was thrilled. She had been afraid he would object to public displays of affection. 

Jo had never been so happy. But it wasn’t all about the grand gestures. She loved going cycling in the park with Rik. He had persuaded her to join him at the gym and helped her with her workout routine. He insisted on watching animated superhero movies with her, though she couldn’t tell if he was lying when he said he enjoyed them. 

Some days they would write together. Jo would sit at the small dining table, notebooks and scraps of paper spread out around her laptop. Rik would be reclined on the couch. He was an incorrigible distraction. He would sneak over to her and press kisses to her neck, sliding his hands around her waist. Numerous times she had to scold him and send him away. He retreated reluctantly, tail between his legs, looking over his shoulder at her with wounded puppy eyes. She responded by laughing and throwing cushions at him.

Cosy afternoons snuggled up on the couch with Rik while rain pattered outside were bliss. She adored cuddling him, nestling into the heat of his body, his strong arms around her. Jo treasured their late night walks together. They would meander through the park, hands entwined, softly whispering and giggling. Sometimes Rik would pause just outside the glow of a street lamp to kiss her. 

Then there were the gifts. Rik showered her with them despite her insistence he stop. Flowers, chocolates, jewellery, he exhausted the classic cliches. And she told him so. Challenged, there had been a spate of no gifts. Then he released his full offensive. A glass teapot, exactly like they had at The Broken Teacup. Inside was a beautiful tea blossom. She had thrown herself at him and he’d stumbled back into a bookcase. Days later, a collection of comic books arrived, followed a week later by a series of Georgette Heyer novels. At this point, Jo surrendered. 

“You’re going to overwhelm me into guilt with your generosity,” she claimed.

Rik had replied by planting a kiss on her mouth.

“It’s only because I’m crazy about you.”

“I know, but you don’t have to show it by spending money on me.”

Rik arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah? What did you have in mind instead?”

Jo noted his sly expression and tried to suppress a smile.

“I didn’t mean that.”

Rik slid his hands around her, stroking them over her butt. He brushed his lips across her cheekbone.

“No? I’m sure I could change your mind.”

His mouth whispered over her skin, kissing down her neck. She leaned into his touch. He was arguing his case very well. He began to lift her top up when Oliver strolled into the room. Jo saw him and froze. Rik glanced over his shoulder. He glared at Oliver.

“Oh sorry,” stammered Oliver, awkwardly. “Didn’t mean to . . . Uh I was just going to uh . . . It’s not important . . . uh . . .Sorry.”

His mouth clammed shut and he backed out the door, tripping over his slippers.

Jo laughed into Rik’s chest.

“Damn him,” Rik growled. 

“Hey, don’t be mean,” Jo ordered. “This is his house, he has the right to walk into his kitchen whenever he wants.”

“Not when I’m in the middle of seducing a sexy woman.”

“Well, why don’t we take this upstairs, to the privacy of your room?”

Rik grimaced, not convinced.

“I don’t know, Oliver still might want to watch.”

A laugh escaped Jo.

“Fine,” she said, shrugging. “If you’re going to let that stop you.”

She began to walk out of the kitchen. Rik darted to block her path. He swept her up into his arms. 

“Put me down,” she giggled. “Now.”

“Not a chance.” 

Cheeks blushing at that particular memory, Jo smiled. She was going to miss the intimacy. She loved waking in the morning, unsticking her eyes and rolling over. Rik would still be asleep, an arm cast over his head. She would wonder how he managed to look so sexy and yummy in the morning, while she looked like she’d spent the night standing wide eyed in the midst of a hurricane. Also how did she get so lucky, to be with this man, to wake up beside him, to be loved by him. Eventually, she would shuffle under the duvet, intending to get up. Rik’s hand would stroke up her arm. Not asleep then. He would tug her back under the covers and pull her up to his chest. Cocooned in his arms, his skin warm and soft, she was loved and safe.  

Jo’s body fell forward as Greg braked abruptly, snapping her out of her reverie. 

“Sorry,” he apologised. “Thought we were going to make the green light.”

Jo relaxed back into the seat. She sighed. She should be happy that she had that time with Rik. It was just a glimpse of what lay ahead for them. They hadn’t discussed how the long distance relationship was going to work yet. They would find a way, Jo was determined. For now, she had to try to mute the lovesickness and compulsion to mope. She had to look forward to Rik returning and all the wonderful times they were going to have. After all, just as Rik had reminded her the week leading up to his departure, the course of true love never did run smooth. The man even quoted Shakespeare to her. What a guy. 

Chapter Eighteen

There was to be no white Christmas again. The snow of early December had melted after clinging on, frozen to the ground for a week. The bright white landscape had thawed into a dreary wash of grey. Grass had been trodden into a muddy sludge, the air damp and cold. The blue sky was masked by languorous clouds, choking the sun. Skeleton trees, their branches no longer laden with blossoms of snow, creaked, their spindly limbs stark. Orange glows from the street lamps burned warmly in the rain, pooling light onto the wet pavement. 

Tiny lights sparkled from houses, cast over rooftops, framing doorways and thread though branches. Reindeer pranced, snowmen squatted and Santa Clauses chuckled in front gardens. Fake snow frosted on windows, inside in cosy living rooms and kitchens the magic of Christmas was warming spirits. People were packing suitcases and overnight bags; some bound for sunnier shores, others destined for relatives and friends. 

At The Broken Teacup, Maria had been baking mince pies since the first of November. Lebkuchen, yule logs, gingerbread men, snowmen cupcakes, cinnamon cookies, turkey and stuffing sandwiches, cranberry preserve, pigs in blanket sausage rolls with stuffing and Christmas hot chocolate filled the menu. She loved all the Christmas baking, though her employees feared they would have over eaten well before Christmas Day arrived.

Oliver had moved out of his and Lily’s house a fortnight after Rik had left. The house was full of too many bittersweet and painful memories. He was currently renting out the house to a pair of third year students and he was living in a property owned by his parents. He invited his friends to join him for a little soiree on Christmas Eve. 

Logs crackled in the fireplace, the sweet smell of woodsmoke gently permeating through the room. The jingle and warble of seasonal songs played quietly. On the mantelpiece a row of orange and red scented candles stood, their wicks flickering with yellow flames. A small Christmas tree, decorated simply with lights, stood by the fireplace, neat and haphazardly wrapped presents piled beneath its eaves. 

“This is so cosy,” smiled Lucy, settling down on the couch, digging her toes into the thick brown rug under her feet. “I love the fire.”

“I’m glad you appreciate it,” said Oliver. “I had to hire a chimney sweep to make sure it was safe to light.”

“Money well spent then,” said Lucy. 

Oliver bustled about the living room, refilling glasses and encouraging people to eat the food that was piled mountain high on the dining table. Oliver had spent most of the afternoon relaying trays in and out of the oven, opening packets, filling plates and bowls, Maria arriving to help once the cafe had closed. 

Greg needed little persuasion to eat. He dragged Lucy with him. Ahdia said she would wait until there was more room at the table. Maria and Tony returned to their seats, balancing plates on their fingertips. Oliver hurried over to pour them each a drink. He was thriving in the role of host, Ahdia thought to herself. She rather suspected he enjoyed it, fussing about and pleasing people. At least it was keeping him distracted. The doorbell chimed. Oliver set down the bottle of wine in his hand.

“That’ll be Jo and Rik,” he said, his smile brightening.

On Oliver’s doorstep, Jo grinned up at Rik, her cheeks rosy from the cold. He squeezed her shoulders and stole a long kiss. Rik had flown back to England two days ago to spend Christmas with Jo. She had stood excitedly at airport arrivals, searching for his tall, rangy figure to appear. When she spotted him she waited until he saw her, so she could see his grizzly scowl soften into a smile. He had flung his arms around her, lifting her off the floor and swung her around. She had chuckled and squealed. She hated being away from Rik, but reunions like that made it worth it.

The front door swung open and light flooded out, exposing them. They broke apart and Rik immediately slapped his hand into Oliver’s, no sign of embarrassment whatsoever. Oliver smiled broadly at them, welcoming them inside, hugging them both. He looked well, Rik thought, while he kicked off his boots. 

Everyone had rallied around Oliver. Greg constantly dragged him to the pub to watch football. Lucy met him for lunch most days at work. Maria invited him to the cafe to sample new cake recipes and if Tony was around they’d chat about gardening - Oliver’s newfound hobby- over coffee. Jo would ask if he could drive her home after grocery shopping and would always suggest they dine out. Ahdia, though she was busy, would often drop by on a rainy Sunday afternoon to see if he wanted any help with the housework. She’d taught him how to use his new washing machine, something he never failed to mention. 

They did give him some time alone, knowing he still needed privacy and space to mourn Lily. But the distractions and company were helping him move on. Rik would call him regularly and try to persuade Oliver to talk about Lily. At first, Oliver was reluctant. He didn’t want to confront his loss and grief, content to throw his energy into moving on. His unwillingness turned to hesitance, and then their conversations became the place where talking about his wife brought him solace.

“Hey Rik, nice sweater,” Lucy called out to him.

Rik glanced down at his ice blue chunky sweater.

“Thanks. It’s an early Christmas gift,” Rik told her. “Jo knitted it for me.”

“What?” Lucy exclaimed. “No way!”

“That is amazing, Jo,” complimented Maria. “It looks great.”

“The colour matches your eyes,” Ahdia noted.

“That’s why I chose it,” grinned a proud Jo.

“Is it itchy?” Greg asked.

“No,” said Rik, running his hands over his chest. “It’s soft, warm, cosy and very snuggly.”

He hugged himself.

“I want one. Jo?” Greg looked at her beseechingly.

“Maybe,” she contemplated. “If you’re good.”

“That’s not going to happen then,” laughed Lucy.

Grey pouted.

“How’s the house hunting going, Lucy?” Maria asked, washing down a pig in blanket with her white wine.

“Not great at the moment,” sighed Lucy. “Unless we want to live in a shoebox, there isn’t much choice locally.”

“Are you looking to buy or rent?”

“Just to rent for now,” Greg replied.

“I was lucky my parents had this house available,” said Oliver. “Saved me a big headache.”

“Aren’t you going to marry her first, Greg?” said Rik, throwing a cat among the pigeons.

Jo elbowed him. He ignored it and looked inquiringly at Greg. 

“We’re in no rush,” Greg replied, simply.

“Of course not,” agreed Maria. “Marriage isn’t for everyone anyway.”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Ahdia. “When we first met Rik he was adamant he wanted the single life and yet here he is, all gooey-eyed over Jo.”

Rik shot her a hurt look.

“Ahdia,” he began. “Ever cynical.” 

He shook his head. 

“I like to think of myself as living proof that a man can change.” 

He placed a hand on Jo’s knee. 

“Even admit that it was a woman who has helped change me for the better.” 

Ahdia raised her eyebrows at him.

“We shall see how long it lasts,” she said.

Rik ran his hand reassuringly along Jo's thigh. 

“I think they make a wonderful couple,” beamed Maria, dispelling the tension.

“Here, here,” said Oliver, raising his glass and smiling warmly at Jo.

“I think she could do better,” stated Greg, shrugging.

“So could Lucy,” Jo fired back and stuck her tongue out at him. 

“She’s right,” sighed Lucy defeatedly. “I don’t get romantic kisses on the doorstep.”

Jo blushed and laughed.

“Were you spying on us?”

“Of course,” grinned Lucy. “But I got punished for my trouble. Seeing you two all cute and cosy, made me jealous. Greg’s idea of romance is lighting a scented candle before we have sex.”

Grey paused in his demolition of a sausage roll to look betrayed.

“Wow, pushing the boat out there, Greg,” said Tony. “Don’t let him get too complacent, Lucy.”

She laughed.

“Oh I won’t, don’t you worry.” 

Greg just grinned and popped a pickled onion into his mouth. Oliver turned to Rik.

“How long are you staying this time?”

“Well, we’re flying back in four days so we can spend New Year’s with my folks,” explained Rik.

“‘We’re’,” repeated Oliver.

“Yep, Jo is coming with me.”

“You kept that quiet,” Ahdia said to Jo.

“She didn’t know,” pointed out Rik. “I only told her yesterday that I’d booked the flights for us.”

“Now I really am jealous,” moaned Lucy. “New Year’s Eve in New York, as well.”

“Oh it gets worse,” winced Jo.

Lucy stared at her. 

“What? Tell me.”

Jo looked at Rik.

“You tell them,” she said, smiling.

“Well, once we’ve seen in the New Year and my parents have sufficiently suffocated Jo with ebullient affection,” he explained. “We are flying back across the pond to tour Europe.” 

Lucy’s mouth dropped open.

“I’m just going to cry,” she pouted.

“Oh that is wonderful,” enthused Maria, clapping excitedly.

“OK, now you’re really putting us to shame, Rik,” complained Greg, good naturedly. 

“I am envious,” admitted Oliver. “But I hope you have a wonderful time.”

“Yes, of course,” agreed Lucy. “Even though I may hate you for the next couple of months.”

“I honestly can’t believe it,” said Jo, smiling. “I thought having Rik back for Christmas was the best present I could get, but this is a ton of icing and a huge cherry on top.”

Rik fondly put his arm around her. 

“And I am sorry, Maria,” said Jo. “This means I’ll have to give you my resignation.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,”  waved Maria. “I’m very happy for you. I wish Tony and I could plan an extended holiday but work has to be my priority right now.”

“The cafe is busier than ever,” said Tony, beaming with pride. “Today, it was packed until she closed at four o’clock.”

“That’s great, Maria,” smiled Rik. “You must be really pleased. I knew you’d make a success of it.”

“Well, I haven’t done it all alone,” said Maria, blushing from the praise. “I’ve had so much help and support. It’s been a team effort.”

“Nonsense, Maria,” rejected Greg. “This was your dream and you made it happen. You drove it from the start. Without you there would be no afternoon tea at The Broken Teacup.”

“I’ve always meant to ask, but why ‘The Broken Teacup’?” asked Rik. 

She took a deep breath and swallowed.

“Well, one day when I was still married, I came home and I found my favourite teacup in the sink, broken. It had clearly been dropped, by my husband. He’d picked it up and just left it there. It was all I had left from a tea set my mother had bought me when I got married.”

The napkin in her hand crumpled.

“And I just stood there, in the kitchen, staring at my broken teacup. And suddenly that teacup was me. No matter how much I loved the tea set over the years, I tried to keep it in good condition, there was nothing left.” 

She scratched her neck. 

“I had been trying for years to maintain my marriage even though I felt neglected and unloved, I stayed.”

Tony took her hand in his, his thumb stroking her knuckles.

“But looking at that teacup, that was so precious to me, broken, that was it, the last straw,” she stated, determined. “I had dreams and ambitions I had sacrificed for the sake of my husband, because he thought they weren’t sensible.” 

Maria stared down at her and Tony’s hands.

“My cafe dream was one I’d had since I was a little girl, playing with my toy teapot and cakes. In a split second, I decided to leave him, move away and try to open a café. I had savings, we never went anywhere or did anything, so I’d put money aside in a private account.”

Another deep breath and her shoulders relaxed, a weight lifted.

“So when it came to naming the cafe, I used what eventually gave me the motivation and inspiration to pursue my dream.”

Tony held Maria’s hand tightly. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

“It takes a lot of courage to walk away from something that you’ve been forced to accept,” said Ahdia. “But to start again and create something wonderful as you have, that’s an amazing achievement.”

“Thank you,” sniffed Maria.

Lucy got up and hugged her. Oliver cleared his throat and raised his glass.

“Here’s to incredible and strong women,” he said, his eyes glassy as he looked at each of his gathered friends. “May we know them, learn from them, love them and never forget them.”

The raised glasses sparkled in the lights.

“To strong women.”

After Oliver had produced a pile of board games, they enjoyed a drunken round of Twister. Rik won. Being tall and long limbed made it exceedingly easier for him to stretch and contort his body. Greg almost hurled up on Ahdia’s stomach when Oliver had called out left hand blue, clearly having drunk too much too quickly. He made a dash to the bathroom in record time and returned looking slightly peaky. Lucy set up Snakes and Ladders while Greg helped Oliver with fresh drinks and nibbles. Tony reached the one hundredth square first. Rik fell victim to many snakes and although Lucy seemed to climb the most ladders, she rarely rolled higher than a four. 

“Right, one more game before movie time,” announced Oliver, setting aside the Snakes and Ladders box.

He picked a few cards and shuffled them.

“Who Am I,” he said.

“Ooo I like this game,” grinned Maria, rubbing her hands together. 

“Everyone know the rules?” asked Greg, making more room for Lucy on the sofa next to him. 

He scratched at his paper crown. Ahdia had surprised them with a box of handmade crackers, complete with paper hat, joke and prize, a chocolate reindeer.

“Yes,” everyone chorused.

“Good,” said Oliver. “Then let’s get comfortable. And then someone needs to write down a name for me as I know all these.”

“Here,” offered Ahdia, taking the marker pen from Oliver.

He walked around the group and gently stuck the cards to everyone’s foreheads. Ahdia stood and did the same to Oliver.

“Ha, that’s a good one, Ahdia,” remarked Tony.

“Has she really challenged me?” asked Oliver.

“Of course. Though I have faith in you,” she added, smiling at him.

“I hope I don’t fail then.”

Rik was savouring the comfort of Oliver’s leather recliner. Jo sat on the rug between his legs. He absentmindedly played with her hair. She loved being close to him. She hated any real distance between them when they were together. Rik would whisper sweet nothings into her ear and remarks that would make her blush in embarrassment. 

Rik won again. This time he didn’t preen and boast, but simply shrugged and pulled Jo up from the floor and onto his lap. Oliver watched Rik’s arms curve around Jo. She snuggled into him, laying her head on his shoulder. Oliver suddenly felt cold and lonely. Then Jo caught his eye, her gaze warm and understanding. He smiled faintly back at her. 

“So what movie do you have planned?” Greg asked, calling Oliver’s attention to him. 

“Picture it, a miserable rainy Saturday afternoon.” 

Rik spread his hand through the air. The movie had ended and Maria had made hot chocolate for everyone. They sipped it greedily, gathered around the fire.

“I’m sitting in my apartment on the couch, nursing a cup of coffee,” continued Rik. “I’m doodling in a notebook. There’s nothing worth watching on TV, so I have Spotify on shuffle. I start staring blankly out the window, thinking about my girlfriend who is three thousand, five hundred miles away.” 

“As the crow flies,” Oliver interjected.

“As the crow flies,” nodded Rik.

“And suddenly this song starts playing. For the first thirty seconds I’m not really listening to it and then I hear it. I’m confused.” 

Ahdia, who had stood to help Oliver clear the nibbles away, paused to listen. Oliver leaned against the doorjamb, wiping his hands on a towel. 

“Why is this song on my playlist? And then I remember how someone had access to my Spotify account when I was with her.”

Rik threw an accusing glance at Jo who shrank away from him guiltily. 

“The song is from a musical, a musical the same said person forced me to watch.”

“Hey, you enjoyed it!” Jo exclaimed. “In fact, you loved it. You were humming the tunes for the next week.”

Rik held up his hands.

“OK, OK. I admit it had some great toe tapping music and hell yes I wanted to go to a barn dance after watching it.” 

Jo grinned, satisfied.

“So the song is about being a lonesome polecat ‘cause he misses his girl, kind of like me,” Rik explained. “And I’m mellowing into the music.”

Greg licked a smear of whipped cream off his lips. Next to him, Lucy leaned closer to Rik.

“And I find myself getting the urge to pick up an axe and go chop down some trees in the snow with my fellow lovesick brothers, while we mope and swing our axes around.”

Giggles of glee bubbled out of Jo. 

“You’re talking about Seven Brides For Seven Brothers,” Maria blurted out. “Oh I love that film.”

Rik nodded and continued.

“I’m all set to leave the apartment to sharpen my axe on the nearest whetstone, when elder brother Adam tells me that I look like a lovesick bull calf.” 

He took a sip of hot chocolate. 

“He follows up with a fairy tale about some perpetually crying women.”

A cackle from Maria interrupted him. She waved her apologies and beckoned him to continue. 

“By the end of that song, I’m shrugging on my coat, grabbing a blanket, heading to the stable, ready to hitch up the horses and jump into a sleigh, grab the reins and ride across the Atlantic to kidnap my sobbin’ woman.”

He reached out and flicked Jo’s nose. 

“Hell, did I want to,” he finished.

Maria clapped her hands and laughed.

“That is so adorable and romantic.”

 Ahdia was chuckling and shaking her head. The others, however, were confused.

“You’ll have to watch the movie to understand,” explained Ahdia, returning to the kitchen. 

Jo was staring at Rik, the firelight flickering in her eyes. His forehead furrowed.

“What?”

“You,” she said, her mouth curving into a radiant smile. “You never cease to surprise me.”

In the early hours of Christmas morning, Oliver waved his guests off. He had to be up at seven to drive to his parents’ for Christmas Day celebrations. Ahdia had lingered. 

“If you don’t feel up to spending the whole day with your parents, I’ll be available from two o’clock. My family doesn't celebrate Christmas and I’m working an early shift.”

He thanked her and said he would seriously consider it. He did not relish the promise of an afternoon quaffing sherry and playing Charades with his extended family. 

Climbing the stairs, Oliver’s body lagged with exhaustion. He undressed and got into bed. The usual pang of sadness and loss swept over him, but tonight it didn’t drag him under. He had had a good night. He had felt happy, smiling and laughing with his friends. He still missed Lily bitterly but it didn’t mean he had to be miserable all the time. Just small steps. One day at a time. Life went on. He reached out and laid his arm across the empty spot next to him. He could feel the phantom shape of Lily’s body.

“We are very lucky to have such good friends,” he whispered into the darkness, his eyes prickling. “I just wish you were here to share in these moments.”

Heart full of gratitude and loss, Oliver drifted asleep, his pillow damp with tears.

Maria and Tony had hugged everyone on the pavement, wishing them and half the neighbourhood a Merry Christmas. They stumbled into the back of their cab. Lucy leaned into Greg, tired and drunk. Jo and Rik were gazing skyward, trying to spy the stars. Ahdia stood with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering. The headlights of her brother’s car flashed around the corner five minutes later. She bid everyone a hasty goodbye, anxious to be inside and warm. Lucy and Greg’s ride home arrived soon after and Rik and Jo were left wandering down the deserted street.

Jo stopped.

“I don’t want to go home,” she whispered, her head tipped back, looking up at him.

Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were red from the cold. Her eyes were bright in the soft glow of the street lamp and her hair tumbled out of her red knitted hat. She really had no idea, he thought to himself, no idea just how precious she was to him. He hugged her.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.

Her shoulders shrugged and she wrinkled her nose.

“I don’t know and I don’t care, as long as I’m with you.”

Her breath fogged the air between them.

“You’re so cute and romantic,” Rik teased, adding an exaggerated eye roll.

Jo moved to push away but Rik held firm. Jo stuck her bottom lip out in a disgruntled pout. Rik threw his head back and laughed. The warm, husky sound trembled through Jo, thrilling her to her bones. Rik reached up and touched her lips with a gloved finger.

“No, these are much more appealing when they’re . . . ”

“No, don’t you dare say that!” Jo whispered harshly. 

“I was going to say they are much more appealing when you’re smiling,” explained Rik. “It’s not my fault you have a dirty mind.”

Jo narrowed her eyes and then giggled. 

“Guilty, I think,” said Rik. 

“So sue me,” she shrugged.

“No, I’ve got a better idea,” suggested Rik. “And it doesn’t involve lawyers, unless wigs and robes turn you on.”

Jo cocked her head to one side.

“Depends on who’s wearing them,” she said. 

Rik lowered the zip on her coat and slipped his hands inside, stroking around her waist. He leaned in, his tall frame drowning her. His head drew nearer, his mouth hovering close to hers.

“Kiss me, Cherry Pie,” he demanded.

“Um no,” she replied, despite the heat licking her skin and her bones turning to jelly.

His mouth kicked up into a grin, a small chuckle escaping. 

“Fine,” he growled. 

His hands slid up from her waist, over the soft texture of her sweater. He stroked up her abdomen, over her breasts to her throat. A shudder rumbled through her. Rik grinned triumphantly. She tried to look angry, fighting her yielding body. He looked into her eyes, those beautiful eyes and not for the first time in the last few months, thought how did he get so lucky? 

“You know what,” said Jo, as he pulled her closer. “I think you’re just like a cherry pie.”

Rik huffed a laugh into her neck.

“Where did that come from?”

“Well, I was just thinking about cherry pie and you, you are like a cherry pie.”

Rik withdrew and looked at her, her face gold beneath the street lamp. 

“OK, explain.”

Jo smiled broadly.

“A cherry pie has a crusty outer shell, which looks good, a few sprinkles of sugar to further entice. But...” 

She held up a finger. 

“That crust isn’t easily broken. You need a knife or a fork to cut through it. Can be hard work,” she mused. “But once you do, you get this rich gorgeous filling, soft delicious cherries and oozes of sweetness and tartness.”

She pressed her lips together as if she could taste the cherries on her tongue. Rik drowned in the brown warmth of her eyes, loving how her mind worked.

“One bite is never going to be enough,” she carried on, her tongue licking her lips. “You want to gorge yourself on it. It has utterly surpassed your expectations of pie and your life is never going to be the same again.” 

Rik returned his hands to the warmth of her body.

“OK, were there sexual references there?” he asked, smirking. “Because I think I definitely heard some.”

Jo swiped at him. 

“There was not. Not intentional anyway.”

“Well, I’m flattered by the compliment,” Rik coughed. “It’s not every day you get compared to a pie and its merits.”

“My efforts are wasted on you,” Jo sulked. 

“No, they’re not.”

He hauled her closer.

“I love watching your mind work.” 

He gazed deep into her eyes. 

“It’s so brilliant and unique and sexy. And I appreciate everything, ill-founded compliment or not.”

Rik kissed Jo, ignoring the cold numbing his ears. If he had known it could feel like this he would have been more open to falling in love years ago. But maybe it depended on who you were in love with. It would be naive to assume everyone in love felt like this all the time. Jo wasn't difficult to love. She inspired the deepest, most sincere feelings in him, filled his days with fun, warmth and happiness. He was excited about their future together, curious what adventures lay ahead. But the one thing that thrilled him the most was the grounding, comforting knowledge that Jo would be there, right beside him, holding his hand and smiling up at him. 

Bundled in his arms and her scarf, Jo gazed sleepily up at Rik. A year ago they had been strangers, living either side of the Atlantic, worlds apart. And now here they were. At times Jo couldn’t believe how it had all happened. How one person could come into her life and make her feel this much happiness and love. 

“I’m so lucky,” she smiled.

She waited for his arrogant agreement. But he surprised her. 

“No,” he whispered. “I’m the lucky one. To have someone as precious as you in my life, for you to love me...”
He sighed. 

 “Jo,” his voice fell to a whisper. 

He stared down at Jo’s knitted mittens resting on his chest. In the lamplight, it looked like his eyes were shining. Jo’s own eyes welled up, her heart ready to burst. Rik looked down at her face, her pretty eyes and rosy cheeks. Rik swallowed. 

“Jo, you . . .” he tried again, tightening his arms around her. 

Words failed him. He, a writer, was lost for words. 

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing in the night.

“Just thank the Gods for cherry pie.”