The Catch Up, page 2
“I was brought up nearby when it was just a big posh house, though Mum and Dad moved from the area years ago.” She grinned. “So have I.”
May snorted. “You don’t say. Go on.”
“Well, I’m not really in the know, but know someone who knows someone from around there.” A lame reply but the best she could come up with on the spur of the moment. “Sort of. I know a lot of knows but don’t know a lot.”
“A lot of knows there when there shouldn’t be, eh?” May chuckled then sobered straight away. “Damn and blast.” She sat down on Arietta’s desk chair with a thump. The chair rocked, slid several feet backwards and spun around to face the wall. One of May’s coveted Jimmy Choos flew off her foot and headed towards the ceiling.
With a leap that would have done justice to any rugby player, Jan caught it in mid-air and presented it to her friend with a grin. “Cinderella, your shoe.”
May nodded regally. “Cinderella’s would have stayed on,” she pointed out as she stroked the soft leather a few times before she slid her foot back into it, and grinned. “Gah, I always forget your chair does that. Mine sticks.”
“I make sure I do a full spin,” Arietta said. “Might as well enjoy a wee burl around.”
“Burl?”
“Spin. I forget you’re not up to speed with your Scottish slang.”
“I’m learning. Fair enough, but not now. Any more nuggets to share?”
Jan shook her head. “Don’t think so.”
“Then how about it? It’s not compulsory, but—” May hesitated and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. A sure sign she was worried. “I honestly can’t think of anyone better to go and advise them. Him. Or whoever. Plus, I’ve got a promise you can go first class both ways and to Portugal or wherever after the work part is done. If we do a good job, it could lead to a lot more prestigious contracts. Let’s face it, we know we’re good and doing well, but we can always try to do better.” She winked. “Bigger bonuses.”
Jan couldn’t decide if she had made her mind up or it had been made up for her. Either way, it appeared her immediate future was settled. “If, just if, I head there and try and see what can be done, then I go on holiday straight after?” She could go to Europe on the same plane she’d booked—she’d decided to fly via the Netherlands—and head to Scotland instead of the Algarve. Work could sort out the logistics—and any extra flights and accommodation. Portugal in September instead of July and August would probably be a better temperature anyway. “Then back to my job here?”
“Of course,” May said promptly. “Why, yes.”
Too promptly? Hmm.
“Why do you not sound so sure?” Jan asked on impulse, and with growing suspicion noticed a look of guilt flash over May’s face. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.” May didn’t sound very convincing.
“If you don’t fess up, the next time you walk out of one of your Jimmy Choos I’ll accidentally heave it out of the window, or down the loo.”
“Cruel.” May sighed and wriggled her feet deeper into her footwear as she tucked her legs under the chair. “Okay, they did sort of wonder if you’d sort of want to do an extended stint with them, still work for us but go on loan to them.”
“What?” Jan’s voice rose in a screech. “Stop over there and… Definitely no, no and no again. My home is here. I do not want to go back to Scotland to work for however long.” Although if she could do part time there and the rest of the time in Hong Kong, she could be tempted. However, she had no intention of saying so. Not at that moment. It had been so long since she’d lived in Scotland she might find it wasn’t to her liking anymore. “What a crackpot idea. I might be crap at what they want anyway. Next.”
“All right, keep your hair on. I’ll pass that on in politer terms. If you get everything sorted faster, then you can add the rest of the time onto your holiday. Don’t be surprised if someone tries to persuade you, though. And before you ask, no, I don’t know why you, etcetera. I mean, do they know your nasty habits?”
Jan laughed now the tense moment was over. “Rash statement, boss of mine. I might rush things so as to get more tanning time—or invent some really nauseous idiosyncrasies.”
“Not you,” May said shrewdly. “You’re too conscientious.”
“Ain’t that true.” Jan gave into the inevitable with, if not good grace, a resigned acceptance. “Okay, I give in…sort of. I’ll do the month. When do I leave?”
“End of next month, and be prepared for two months.”
“Nope. One or no can go.” Why was she being so ornery? Jan had no idea except for one of those something-weird-is-up itches she sometimes got. Usually when whatever she had to do and didn’t want to went pear-shaped. Or she cocked up.
“Hard woman. I’ll pass that on. What if they say you have to give them the option of another month?”
Jan high-fived herself. “Then I stay here and go on holiday. Remember, there’s nothing in my contract that says this sort of stuff is compulsory. I might be a facilitator or an arbitrator or just an administrator, whichever hat you need, but that’s for this company here. It’s a favour, no more no less.” She thought for a moment. “And for goodness’ sake tell me exactly what they are going to call me. I need to get the right hat on.”
“Eh?” For a moment May appeared flummoxed by Jan’s reference to hats, then her face cleared.
“Hmm. Right.” May sounded almost resigned. “What role you’re needed for. I get you. How we’ve got it so far gives you almost seven weeks to sort stuff out here, and hand over anything that can’t wait. I’ll check what they’re going to call you in Scotland and get a detailed description of what’s to be done there. Right. Now that’s sorted, head off early and have a great weekend.”
Jan looked at the clock. “Not exactly early,” she pointed out. “It’s five to.” What was she heading off to anyway? A great weekend with a lot to think about? However, Jan smiled at May. It wasn’t the other woman’s fault that Jan had to use one of her granny’s favourite expressions, ‘got her knickers in a twist’. “Yeah, you too.”
One thing, it was a relief to know that she’d got that length of time at home before she headed overseas. Still grumpy at the way May had convinced her she’d have to do the job and wondering what she’d got herself involved in—and with who—Jan logged off and closed her computer. Tidied her desk and got her bag before she headed to the bank of lifts and waited for one to arrive and deposit her on the ground floor of the office block where she worked. The lift was prompt, and before long she arrived in the foyer, headed for the main door and paused.
Taxi, bus or boat? She had a choice of transport to take to get home and swapped between them depending on her mood, the time of day and the weather. Whichever mode she chose it would take her a good hour to get to Sai Kung, the fishing village where she lived, but she reckoned it was worth it. Especially at weekends when she could wander down to the water’s edge and choose what fish she fancied for lunch. Watch the seller pick it out of its tank and hand it up to her wrapped in paper and a plastic bag, via a long-handled hook. Co-workers and friends said they envied her, but never appeared to lose the opportunity to try to get her to move closer to the city centre. When she demurred, they extoled one of the other densely populated areas, where they said she would have lots of things to do and more people to socialise with. She didn’t bother to point out she had plenty of friends and enough things to do where she lived. Just resisted their attempts at getting her to move. She enjoyed the contrast and didn’t want hustle and bustle all the time. Plus, the journey to and from the central business district and her home was perfect for reading.
Just before she reached the door of the building, Martin, a colleague, hailed her. ”Drink at the pier? Half a dozen of us going.”
“Why not.” It was Friday, she had nothing planned, and the convenient little red minibuses ran from Central to the end of her street until almost midnight. Taxis of course were twenty-four-seven, but most locals would shun them if there was any other way to travel.
The tiny bar was situated by the piers where the ferries to a couple of the islands that dotted the sea around Hong Kong docked. It was laid back, friendly and always busy. Jan thrust her arm through the crook of Martin’s arm as they fought their way through the usual crowds in the CBD area of Central and made their way to the harbourside with their co-workers. May had declined with a ‘got me my man and a hot date in front of the TV’. Her husband was something high up in a bank and frequently overseas.
As ever, the throng sounded like a flock of cheerful parrots. It seemed as if all languages were represented, and she found it amusing to see how many she could identify. With a wry grin, Jan realised she could understand quite a lot of cuss words as well as ‘excuse me’, ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ in most of them. It was said that as long as you knew those words and a few other essential phrases—could I have a wine or a beer or a soda’, ‘where are the restrooms please’, and ‘may I have the bill please, thank you’, in several languages, you could get by anywhere. She hadn’t tried every language she knew them in up until then, but it had been so far, so good with the ones she had.
An itch down her spine made her turn and look behind her, but she couldn’t see any reason for it.
She mentally shrugged and put it down to Arietta’s text and an errant hair that had decided to come loose and tickle her.
Jan sneezed.
Thomas Clare stared at the laughing, vibrant, woman who had strode out of the multi-storey office block arm in arm with a tall, suited and booted male and headed in the opposite direction to where he was standing.
Bugger. She’s got a bloke. What am I doing here? Why didn’t I at least make her aware of my presence? Say hi, do the fancy meeting you stuff? Not let on I’d deliberately tried to see her? Sod it all, why am I so dithery? It’s just Jan. Except there was no ‘just’ about it.
So many random thoughts whirred in his mind as Jan and the unknown walked farther away. Why hadn’t his sister warned him?
Probably thought it would do me good. Besides, if I did do the hi bit, Jan would probably ignore me, spit in my eye or laugh at my audacity and sense of self-importance that I’d think she’d want to speak to me. Or even remember who I am.
Which sadly he totally understood. With the hindsight of several years’ growing up, he could understand what a self-centred arrogant idiot he’d been. As an only son, with a sister who would tell him he was an idiot when need be but sadly wasn’t always around to do that, and elderly parents who were of a generation who accepted that what he thought best was best, his ideas were antiquated at times. The time he and Jan had been together had been one of those times.
Hopefully he was now wiser as well as older. He might be about to find out. Thom stared at the departing couple thoughtfully. Should he follow them? Would that be considered stalking? If he did walk their way and bump into them, what then? Say a casual, ‘hello, fancy meeting you here’? Pretend he hadn’t seen them? Admit he’d been hoping to speak to Jan? Ask her advice? Explain he was in Hong Kong for work as well?
Bloody hell, why is it all so flipping hard? Thom considered the options then shrugged. Sod it, he’d go for a drink and decide whether he could be bothered to cook—if shoving a ready meal in the microwave his forward-thinking apart-hotel provided could be called cooking—or grab something from one of the stalls dotted about the city and eat on the hoof.
Or splash out and eat in one of the bars or restaurants where I can people watch. An evening of relaxation wasn’t going to be on the cards once he started work in earnest in a few days. He was only in Hong Kong for a month, and most of that time was accounted for. His role in the film wasn’t the main one but, as he had been told on numerous occasions, pivotal to the plot. Pivotal or not, he considered it a fabulous role and was, in his own words, chuffed to bits to have been offered it. The time in Hong Kong was the best added perk ever. He loved the place, every last inch of it. From the blokes trying to sell him a suit, a watch or a handbag—all creative copies—to the flower sellers, high-end shops, trams, buses and boats. Everything pleased him. Even the sudden rainstorms. Like the one at that moment which made the covered walkway even more popular and the umbrella sellers ditto.
Thom sauntered along the busy thoroughfare, dodged several umbrellas held at a height which could take someone’s eye out and those people talking rapidly into their phones and who were oblivious to their surroundings, and headed for the quayside down one of the many routes that could be taken.
As ever, the route was busy. It not only accessed the central business district but several shopping malls and streets and eventually the central escalator—the moving walkway that came down the peak first thing in the morning and went upwards for the rest of the day—and Lang Kwai Fong, the area where a lot of bars were situated.
Thom chuckled to himself as he remembered many a happy night there on past visits. Why had he left it so long to return to Hong Kong? It was one of his favourite places to visit.
Because Jan was here.
When she’d first moved there he’d sulked. He’d been offered a dream job in Australia and had thought Jan would jump at the chance to accompany him. Instead, she had told him she had been offered a fantastic job in Hong Kong and wasn’t going to turn it down to spend six months in Australia whilst he spent his days—and probably a fair few nights—filming and she twiddled her thumbs and waited for him to find time to spend with her.
He’d sulked. Overreacted and, as his sister had kindly told him, spat his dummy out.
By the time he’d got over his snit, Jan had been in Hong Kong and he’d been on the other side of the world. When he’d flown home he’d gone via Hong Kong, spent a couple of nights there and wondered if he would see Jan. He didn’t of course, and had been too proud to beg Arietta to give him Jan’s address. He’d discovered her work address through a friend who had come across her by chance whilst looking for someone savvy enough to help out with a problem regarding his new hotel.
Zac Moncrieff had whistled when he’d seen her resume. “This chick could be the one to smooth things over and be the answer to my prayers. What d’you think?”
Thom had peered over Zac’s shoulder. Janetta Fraser. His—or more correctly not his—Jan. A sharp, familiar prick of regret hit him. The one that he always experienced when he remembered what he could have had and threw away. He’d realised Zac was staring at him, expecting a reply.
“That she’d cut off your balls and fry them up for the dog’s dinner if you called her ‘this chick’. No woman wants to be thought of as ‘this chick’. Honestly, Zac.”
Zac had grinned, unrepentant. “Only to you. Anyway, what do you reckon? Do I go for her to come?”
Thom had shrugged. “You could try, I guess. Why her, though? There must be lots of people who fit the bill.”
“I won’t give you chapter and verse, but I just reckon she’d take no prisoners and get the job done.”
“You could be right. Where is she working now?” Thom had hoped the question sounded an idle one, not one that mattered.
Zac had told him and Thom had looked the business up. So here he was, wandering through Hong Kong in a rainstorm having seen her from afar.
It had been fate, he decided, that not a week after that conversation with Zac, he’d been offered his present job and here he was.
For at least a month.
Surely that would be time enough to see if he could meet Jan and discover if that spark of awareness, that flare of arousal, was still there.
For goodness’ sake, man, you might be an actor, but you’re not rehearsing for a role in a hot romance. Enough. Thom chastised himself and noticed with relief it had stopped raining and the paths and lawns outside were steaming gently in the late evening sunshine.
“Beer, and a bite to eat,” he said out loud, and earned a strange look from a passer-by. He smiled self-consciously and ran his hand through his unusually short hair. Cut and styled for his new role, it made him start every time he saw himself in a mirror. “Gotta get used to it.” Argh, enough. He really had to stop his habit of talking to himself out loud, especially in public. Or, if he felt it necessary, at least pretend he was talking on his phone. He took some earbuds out of his pocket and plugged one into his ear. Hopefully that appeared better than nothing.
Of course, he reasoned, what would be even better would be to get out of the habit altogether.
Today’s words of wisdom.
Thom veered to one side and headed down one of the covered walkways that led directly to the waterfront, turned left and went towards where he hoped a favourite bar still existed. Not one he would have dreamt of going to in the rain, but now? If the steps everyone used as a seating area were still wet, he’d stand. Or buy something and pay for a plastic bag to plonk his butt on.
The pavements were as near as dammit dry. Thom bought a beer from one stall, succumbed to a burger and chips from another and sat halfway up the concrete steps so he’d got one lower to put his feet on and one higher to lean against. He ate his burger in double quick time—he’d not realised how hungry he was until he’d scented the onions and his stomach had rumbled. Once he’d wiped his greasy hands on a napkin and put the rubbish in the appropriate receptacle, he took his tablet out of his bag, pulled up his script and began to read in between mouthfuls of beer.
People walked in all directions. As Thom watched, some sat nearby with drinks, others stood in groups chatting. He assumed they were waiting until their ferries arrived and they could be taken across the harbour to their destination. He had half his mind on his surroundings and the rest on the script as he relished the clever writing. It would be a hit, he was damn sure of it, and boy was he happy he was part of it. He got to a scene where his character had a big involvement and forgot everything except how he would play Sam Rolton, small-time crook and hopeless romantic who got tangled up with a private detective who thought Sam was more of a scoundrel than he really was. When they teamed up to solve a crime, things got interesting. Thom had been hooked the first time he’d read the story and now was even more so. He scrolled back to the beginning of the scene, oblivious to the hooting of the ferries as they came and went, the noise of the crowds and the engines of the vehicles on the nearby road.
