Lessons in Love
Jane stared at her. ‘Are you completely barking mad?’
‘Possibly, but you’ll need all those things and don’t worry, I’ll have all the right people investigate you, take up references, check your credit history. Besides which, you won’t be able to do anything critical without Ray’s consent and probably his signature. And you won’t have access to everything, just a housekeeping fund to keep the house running till I get back.’
Jane blanched. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously.’
‘And when will that be?’
Jayne hesitated. ‘I don’t know, but don’t worry. Ray is a good guy, but in some ways what I really need—and don’t take this the wrong way—is a figurehead, a lucky penny. You’re OK about taking this on? If not, say so. I’ve waited this long, another few months won’t kill me…’ Her voice faded.
Jane considered for a few seconds; the library had already emailed her a list of vacancies. Mrs Findlay had sent a sugary little message saying that she was there if Jane needed to talk and she could completely understand her distress and pain. Perhaps she might like to come in and discuss her feelings with someone in Human Resources?
Jane glanced at Jayne’s computer screen, now back on the image of the tropical beach. What had she got to lose? Even if Jayne’s job lasted only a couple of months it would be way cosier thumbing through the job ads here, with a regular pay cheque, than sitting at home without one. And wasn’t this the kind of lifestyle she had always dreamed of? A fabulous house, wonderful furniture, great cars, a housekeeper—why on earth was she hesitating?
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine about it. Just a bit nervous.’
‘Well, don’t be. When did your mother say she was coming?’
‘As soon as she can pull herself out from under Simon, by the sounds of it.’
Jayne lifted an eyebrow but didn’t comment. ‘Well, when you’ve got it sorted out, ask Gary to get the guest room ready. He adores company.’
Jane looked round the elegant office with its view out over the garden, the lake, the deer. ‘No. No, actually I think I’ll tell her I’m too busy at the moment. I’ve never been a lucky penny before. And, to be frank, I’m not sure I’m ready for Simon, my mother and the whole Tantric sex conversation.’
Jayne laughed. ‘Fair enough, but please, use the place as if it was your own. If you want her to come and stay, well, it’s up to you. Meanwhile, what I suggest you do is go through the sites while I go and get us some coffee; they’re all bookmarked. Get a feel for what the companies do and sell and handle. Ray can help you with anything you don’t understand, and he knows which fork to use, even under pressure.’
Jane looked at the screen. ‘If you’ve already got Ray why do you need me?’
Jayne paused thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know. In theory you’re absolutely right, I could have stepped away from all this months ago—but I had this feeling that the time wasn’t right, that it wasn’t the moment but that I would know when to go. The other day when you turned up, it felt like some sort of sign. You having the same name—oh, I don’t know, I just had a feeling, and like I said, over the years I’ve learned to trust my instincts, at least where business is concerned, so I feel like now is just perfect.’
‘And while I’m busy trying not to ruin all this for you what are you going to be doing?’ asked Jane.
‘I want to make sense of what I missed first time around.’
‘And what was that?’
‘How would I know if I missed it?’ Jayne laughed. ‘OK, I suppose I was about your age; I’d done all kinds of dead-end jobs, saving furiously, saving up to travel. And then…’ She paused.
‘And then?’
‘Well, I was backpacking with a guy named Andy Turner. I suppose it was in the early eighties. Anyway, we were sitting on a beach in Kos, sharing a couple of bottles of beer. Andy had built a fire out of driftwood and there was the sound of waves washing against the shore, night sounds, but otherwise we could have been the only two people on the planet. It was getting cold and I remember leaning back against him to keep warm and he put his jacket around me and then his arms. And as we watched the sun set over the ocean, as the light faded into this soft peach and purple glow he said, “Jayne, I want to ask you something.”
‘I knew what he was going to say. He held me closer. I can still remember looking over my shoulder and seeing the reflection of the fire in his eyes, and then he asked me to marry him.’
Jayne sighed. ‘It has to have been the most romantic moment in my whole life, and then all of a sudden that wasn’t what it felt like at all. Suddenly I could see this path stretching out in front of me. Andy’s mum knew my mum—we’d grown up within a few miles of each other, been to the same school, had the same friends. And you know what? I panicked. I couldn’t breathe. I just thought that there had got to be more to life than this—more than getting married and living a mile away from my mum and dad, taking turns to go round for Sunday lunch, and having kids and—and the sun set in the ocean. And he said, “So what do you think?” And I said, “No.”’
‘Wow.’ Jane stared at her. ‘And is that what you want to go back to, to that moment?’
‘Good God, no,’ said Jayne, heading towards the door, the moment broken. ‘I’ll go and get the coffee.’
‘Oh,’ Jane said, ‘but it sounds so romantic. I thought you meant that you loved him and you wished you had married him and lived happily ever after, raising small Andy Turners a few miles from your mum and dad.’
Jayne shook her head wistfully. ‘No—no, but there is a part of me that wishes I had been strong enough to say, yes I love you but I’m not ready to settle down yet and I need to explore some more—maybe we both do and how about we do it together? But things were different back then, or at least they were where I came from. I grew up in a little village near Ely, where, if you weren’t engaged by the time you were sixteen they thought there was something wrong with you. My mum was convinced that I was on the shelf by the time I was twenty. And Andy wouldn’t have seen it as a positive thing at all. He would have thought I was rejecting him, fobbing him off.’
‘And were you?’
‘No, looking back I don’t think so. I just wanted more than what my mum and dad had settled for. It’s so much easier now but then it was still a struggle for someone like me: a working-class woman, trying to build a business. And the other thing was, if I’m honest, I wasn’t sure then that Andy was the one. I thought I’d be able to find just as much love somewhere else. And you know what?’ She paused, her smile faltering just a fraction. ‘I never did.’
‘Oh, Jayne.’
Jayne waved the words away. ‘Don’t. It was entirely my own fault. I had it, I knew it, and I threw it away.’
‘So what happened to Andy?’
‘We carried on travelling together till the end of the trip and then when we got back he went off to a job in Manchester. We vaguely agreed that we’d travel together again sometime but I think we both knew we wouldn’t. Last time I saw him was when I was waving him off at Euston. Ten minutes later I headed across London to Liverpool Street, went home and started my first business. Monday, the eighteenth of April 1983.’
‘As?’
‘Owner, only employee and chief cyclist of Sandwich City. Firms would ring their orders in before eleven thirty everyday and I’d pedal like hell round Cambridge to all kinds of offices and shops, with rolls and homemade soup in the winter, salads and stuff in the summer. With the profit I put a down payment on a house and converted it into flats for students.’ Jayne grinned. ‘My mum and dad thought I was totally mad but I just knew that it would work—and I wanted to be free and thought if I worked hard and got rich it would give me my freedom, give me choices, let me buy nice things.’
‘And did it?’
‘Most certainly it did. I built up the sandwich business, franchised it, sold that on. Met Ray—bought more houses. For the first few years it felt like Monopoly for real. I still get a buzz out of watching when it goes right.’
‘And Andy?’
Jayne sighed. ‘You know, I don’t know. I suppose without meaning to, he got lost in the rush. At first we spoke a few times on the phone. He’s still in Manchester somewhere, an accountant. Happily married, probably, two point four children. God, he might even be a granddad by now. Lots of times I’ve thought about looking him up, contacting him. I mean, how hard would it be? And yet I can’t quite bring myself to do it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I’ve moved on, years have gone by. In my head he is still tall, blond, tanned and gorgeous. What if he’s bald now—or fat? What if I made a terrible mistake back then? What if he never got over me? Worse still, what if he did?’
Chapter Four
Later that evening, 15 days, 4 hours and who gave a stuff exactly how many minutes it was since Lucy had detonated the bombshell under her life, Jane was back at home, sitting at her computer in Creswell Road, flicking through the list of eligible men on Jayne’s personals site with Lizzie from the library for company. It was called Natural-Born_Romantics and Jayne was right, it was just like being let loose in a chocolate factory. It was just such a terrible shame that there were so many misshapes.
‘So, you’re going to be in charge of all this?’ asked Lizzie in amazement, looking at the screen over Jane’s shoulder while helping herself to one of the all-butter biscuits Jane kept on standby for emotional emergencies. ‘Isn’t it a bit like letting the lunatics run the asylum?’
‘Always seemed to work OK in the library,’ Jane said, clicking onto another web page.’ Actually, I think I’m more of a figurehead—being groomed for greatness.’
‘Right…But is it kosher? I’m mean, you will be paid and things?’
‘Oh, yes, it is most definitely a real job with real money, and I really start on Monday morning. Oh my God, will you just look at the state of him?’
‘And you can get on to all the sites?’
‘I’ve got one password that just lets me browse and then I’ve got two others that let me tinker.’
‘I’m impressed. Tinkering is good.’
‘Tinker and order.’
Lizzie grinned. ‘Can we order a selection?’
Lizzie had dropped in on her way home from work, the plan being to commiserate with Jane and get her up to speed on all the latest intrigue at the library. Apparently Jane’s folder-and-fish-tank trick had impressed everyone in Janitorial Services, which meant—even in her absence—she was likely to come top in the employee-of-the-month poll. Lucy Stroud was a paranoid power-crazed two-faced cow who liked to keep a posse of novelty bears on her desk, and thought most of the community weren’t worth outreaching to, her preferred solution being culling, and she’d made Lizzie go out and buy the lunchtime sandwiches two days running. Janitorial Services already had a lavatory seat laurel wreath hanging up in their tea room with Lucy’s name painted on it. On a less personal front, all the staff were terrified that they were going to lose their jobs, despite a meeting meant to allay fears, which had actually made everyone more paranoid. And there were so many rumours going around about who would be next in the firing line that normal work—other than stamping dates in the in-and-out sections downstairs—had all but ceased. There were so many people watching their backs it was a miracle people weren’t falling downstairs, and nobody was taking decisions at all about anything, just in case. So, no change there really.
‘So, from where I’m standing it looks like you’ve actually fallen on your feet,’ said Lizzie, picking a troublesome crumb out of her cleavage.
‘Got to be better than falling on him,’ said Jane, staring at the screen. ‘Golly, it says here that he’s only thirty-five.’
Lizzie peered at the image and winced. ‘Maybe that’s in dog years or maybe in a universe far, far away. You’d think he’d get something done about his teeth.’
‘Possibly get some? Whichever way you look at it, gummy is not a hot look, is it?’
‘How long are you going to spend checking the stock?’ asked Lizzie.
‘Long as it takes. It’s dirty work but someone’s got to do it. Why? Oh, look, he’s not bad.’
‘I’m hungry. I was going to suggest we rang for a takeaway.’ Lizzie picked up a menu from the desk. ‘Oh, have you had a chance to look through the email that Lucy was so worried about?’
Jane nodded. ‘I’ve had a quick flick through the file before you got here, but I can’t see anything she would want, or worry about. Although there were several veiled threats regarding the amount of coloured copier paper we were using.’
Lizzie shrugged. ‘Don’t worry, she is weird. Oh, he’s nice—there, the one in the middle without a squint.’
‘I’m supposed to be going through all this lot so I’m up to speed on the kind of things Jayne is involved in.’ Jane nodded towards a pile of box files and two ring binders on the sofa. ‘I’ve got those to plough through and then the websites. I’m just hoping that there isn’t going to be a test at the end.’
‘So what else have you looked at so far?’
Jane grinned. ‘Younger men, older men. I haven’t got as far as the rugs and curtains, and dinners delivered in dry ice yet.’
‘And are you really going to move into her house then?’
‘Jayne’s? I’m not sure. It makes sense. All the business stuff is over there in her office, but it feels odd moving into a house full of someone else’s things. Like camping out. Mind you, you should see it—it’s like something off Grand Designs-low lighting, good furniture, acres of bare boards and wonderful rugs—the odd sculpture here, original painting there—lots of natural fibres. I don’t think I’d be able to relax in case I spilled something. Or one of the cats threw up on the Berber kelims. Although I have to say cruising around in a soft-top Mercedes has a certain appeal.’
Lizzie considered the idea for a few minutes. ‘You get someone to clean, cook and all that stuff too?’
Jane nodded. ‘Uh-huh. He’s small, oriental, sort of dangerous-looking in an underplayed kung fu way, and called Gary. Did you ever see that film with Peter Sellers—Inspector Clouseau?’
‘I think you should give it a try. I’m sharing a house at the moment and it’s driving me mad. The idea of someone else clearing up behind me and the animals I live with sounds like heaven. And I could always come and live here while you’re away if you wanted. Mind the fort for you.’
Jane looked at her. ‘Really?’
‘Why not? Why risk Boris or Milo hocking up a fur ball on a priceless rug? It would be brilliant. I could feed the cats, water the plants. And I’d pay you rent.’ Lizzie was warming to the idea.
‘And you could always do a little window-shopping on Natural-Born_Romantics if you got bored.’
‘Really?’
‘I don’t see why not. Feel free to take the tour—oh, and you could feed Gladstone.’
Lizzie sniffed. ‘Oh God, do I have to? He was fishing something out of the skip when I got here.’
‘I know—such activities are part of his natural charm. Besides, if you don’t he just grazes through the leftovers in your dustbin, which is far worse, trust me.’
Lizzie pulled a face. ‘That is just so gross. Which reminds me, did I mention Mrs Findlay is planning to get in touch? She said she was hoping that you’d still be coming back and letting Lucy shadow you for a few weeks.’
‘Don’t you mean stalk?’ said Jane, helping herself to a biscuit.
Meanwhile, in her flat in Buckbourne Lucy Stroud was in the bath, in a face pack, shaving her legs, waiting for Steve Burney to pop by for his regular Wednesday evening visit. She’d got a big pot of Greek yoghurt, a punnet of raspberries and a pair of handcuffs on standby. She would have liked to talk to him about Jane Mills but decided she might wait until after the main event.
In Creswell Close Jayne Mills, accompanied by Augustus, had been up in the loft looking for her old rucksack. She knew that she’d seen it somewhere; whenever she moved house it came with her like a touchstone. The night was as black as ink through the dormer windows, the stars like fishscales in a dark ocean. Jayne opened the floor-to-ceiling cupboards, eyes wandering along the rails of clothes, across the shelves, past winter coats, boxes of books, her record collection, lampshades and things stored and saved just in case. In one cupboard was a pile of cartons stuck down with brown tape and carefully labelled ‘Store/Sentimental’. Each label was topped with a big red stick-on heart.
Jayne smiled and lifted the top one down. Inside the box was a photo album covered in battered fawn leatherette, labelled ‘1980-83’. Tucked inside the cover were all sorts of letters and cards and tickets and things she had completely forgotten about. Very carefully Jayne carried everything downstairs to the sitting room, poured herself a large gin and tonic, and settled down on the sofa. Augustus took his cue, curled up in the box lid, and went to sleep, purring softly.
On the first page, sitting on a rucksack almost as big as she was, was a younger, leaner, far skinnier Jayne Mills wearing cut-off jeans, hiking boots, a long-sleeved paisley T-shirt and a toothy grin that stretched from one ear to the other. The caption, written in big bold rounded handwriting, read, ‘Finally—we’re off!!’
Jayne felt a lump in her throat and turned the page. It was going to be a long night.
Bright and early the following Monday morning Jane Mills pressed the call button on the security panel below an elegant brass plaque that read, ‘Waterside House. J. Mills Enterprises’.
‘Hi, it’s Jane Mills here,’ she said into the speaker. Looking up into the single unblinking eye of the CCTV camera Jane smiled brightly to hide a flicker of nerves. She had spent Wednesday, Thursday and Friday reading and taking notes from the websites and box files and Googling up on Jayne Mills’ business style and practice. Intuitive, perceptive, hands-on, and robust with a good management philosophy seemed to be the general consensus. Saturday and Sunday she had pined for Steve Burney, his cooking, his company and his bloody Labrador.
Jane squared her shoulders. Intuitive, perceptive, hands-on—she could do that. Jane had decided on her suit today—it seemed right.
There was a little whirr and then the heavy plate-glass door silently glided open. Jane stepped into the elegant flag-stoned foyer of the converted granary, with its view out over the canal. It was only a few minutes’ walk from Buckbourne town centre and full of original features, soft red brick and oak beams mellow with age. It was hard not to be impressed.
Seconds later, Ray Jacobson, dressed in a white polo shirt, penny loafers and faded blue jeans, jogged down the steps to meet her, looking as if he was fresh out of the shower. ‘Hi, morning. Did you find us OK?’ he said. He looked younger out of his suit, and today was all smiles and warm handshakes. ‘Come on up, great to see you, coffee’s on.’
‘I can smell it. I’ve never noticed this place before.’
‘Beautiful, isn’t it? Tucked out of the way but still really central.’ Ray, guided Jane inside. ‘One of Jayne’s bright ideas. She bought it as a shell a few years ago. The ground floor we rent out to a whole range of alternative practitioners. The first floor is mostly offices for Jayne’s business interests, and then I use the top-floor flat when I’m in town. Takes working from home to a whole new level. Come on through.’ He smiled, opening the inner door into the stairwell and stood to one side to let Jane pass. Through tall thin windows that ran from the floor right up to the pitched roof, the warm morning sunlight reflected and shimmied across the water in the canal, filling the well with glittering golden ripples.
‘I’ll make sure you’ve got the security code for next time you’re in. Did you take a look at the files and the websites?’ Ray asked as they made their way upstairs.
‘I did, every last one of them. I’m still not altogether sure why Jayne wants me here.’
Ray’s smile broadened out a notch or two. ‘Ours is not to reason why. Jayne’s got a nose for talent. I think we should just both relax and just get on with it. This is the office.’
As they reached the landing he pushed open a door into a warm sunlit room. Inside the walls were unfinished brick, the floor gorgeous old, time-mellowed oak floorboards, and on two long wooden trestle tables stood a row of flat screens, a couple of wireless keyboards and matching mice, with an office chair at each. On the opposite wall in a deep alcove with a view out over the canal, were two cream linen sofas with brown suede cushions and a long low table, on which stood a bowl of pebbles and a vase of lilies. Behind it was a wooden cupboard in the same style with a coffee machine on top.
Jane smiled appreciatively. ‘Wow. This is amazing. How on earth do you keep it looking so tidy? Where do you keep everything else? You know—all the chaos. The muck and bullets?’
Ray laughed. ‘Oh, don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of those—they’re all in the back room. If you’d like to help yourself to coffee and pull up a chair, I’ll just be going through a couple of things that I thought you might do over the course of the next couple of weeks and then my plan is leave you to it. You can work here or at Jayne’s home office—either is fine by me, although to be honest I’m not used to having someone about the place. We outsource all our services, and I don’t usually see Jayne from one week to the next. We lunch a couple of times a month if she’s in the area but we usually communicate by phone or email. We talk most days.’ Ray shifted his weight as if he was slightly uncomfortable with what he was telling her.
‘So what you’re saying is that you would prefer me to work from home?’ Nothing like being wanted. Jane managed to hold on to her smile. Just.
He pulled a face. ‘Her home, actually. Jayne’s office is all set up with everything you’ll need. It would be far easier than coming into town every day. Anyway—your call. Maybe if you wanted to come in until you get the hang of things…’ He moved the mouse alongside the nearest computer and the screen flickered into life.
‘Anyway, here we are. We’ve got new web pages and catalogues going live at the end of the month on all the current sites. Most of the donkey work has been done by our design team, graphic artist and the geeks, but I thought you could go through them—see what you think, any suggestions, you know, any little tweaks and see if there are any errors. I’d value your input.’
Jane stared at him, trying to work out if he was telling her what she thought he was saying. ‘You want me to proofread the web pages? I’ve just spent all weekend going through the existing websites.’
‘I know, bit of a pain in the arse but these are the new shop fronts and I really do need someone with a bit of savvy to check them over. Feel free to make any suggestions. Might seem like the bottom rung, but actually I think it will give you a really good feel for what’s current and up and coming.’ He smiled brightly.
Jane nodded. It wasn’t that she minded doing it, but she couldn’t work out why he or Jayne hadn’t told her that the websites she’d spent hours going through were about to be taken down—nor whether he was being serious or taking the mickey—so she smiled back and then turned her attention to the images.
‘And then,’ Ray said, biting his bottom lip as he stared at the screen, then clicking on a button, ‘we’re also currently in the process of updating all of our current customer records and product codes. There’s all kinds of information on the data base that needs sifting through. We’ve outsourced most of the data entry but it’s really important we go through all the customer details as well as the list of products we sell, and check nothing vital has been missed off. It would be really useful to cross-reference the information to see if people are buying from more than one site and, if so, what. There’s a little bit of software here for that. Oh, here we are…’