‘You’re not, actually, but the whole moody thing really works for me.’
‘Nothing’s got into me, but I’m about to get into you.’ His hands were already lifting the hem of her dress.
‘Can we take a rain check until you’ve given Blossom her last walk?’ Margot managed to say before Will kissed any more words right out of her mouth.
Blossom didn’t get her last walk until nearly midnight and Will slept better than he’d done in days, only waking when he heard the sound of the shower. He listened to Margot’s morning noises. The ancient shower head above the bath gurgled happily, over which he could hear Margot singing a snatch of ‘Good Morning’ from Singin’ in the Rain. She’d never met a show tune that she didn’t like. Then the hum of the electric toothbrush.
Will rolled over to see Blossom sitting by his side of the bed, unblinking. Margot had been quite adamant that Blossom was not sleeping in her bed, despite Will’s own flagrant disregard for the rules they’d drawn up together. Blossom was having a hard time understanding it.
‘I still let you sleep in my bed,’ he murmured, scratching her under her chin and reaching for his phone on the bedside table.
There was a WhatsApp from Mary telling them that she was making chicken for lunch and not even asking if Margot was coming too, because Margot’s attendance at Sunday lunch was now mandatory.
There was an email from the organiser of a running club replying to Will’s enquiry about dates and times, and the usual 20 per cent off offers and ‘Summer Sale Starting Now!’ emails from companies that Will had never given his address to.
He certainly hadn’t given his email address to someone called Josh from a company called Blue Sky Solutions, who thought that it was perfectly acceptable to send Will a business email at seven thirty on a Sunday morning. Then Will had to check himself, because there had been a time when he’d been that person who sent out business emails well before seven thirty on a Sunday morning.
Hi Will,
I wanted to reach out and touch base with you.
I’m Senior Partnership Manager at a boutique recruitment agency, which represents many blue chip, forward-facing clients.
Your name has come up in discussions about how we can move the needle on a project for a company that should be smashing it in the financial tech world but are experiencing high levels of chum. Would love to run a few ideas up your flagpole.
If you feel that you currently have the bandwidth to pivot to a more consultative role, let’s take this offline ASAP and set up a face-to-face. Would be useful to know if we’re all looking at the same blips on the radar screen.
Why don’t we circle back on this in 48 hours? Ping me if you have any immediate questions.
All best,
Josh
Immediately, Will felt a gnawing anxiety chomping away in the pit of his stomach. Instead of trying to push it away and think of happy thoughts like the sound of Margot now halfway through a rousing version of ‘I Have Confidence’ from The Sound of Music, he did what Roland had taught him to do. He sat with the feeling, explored it and tried to break down what it was about it that had tied his internal organs into knots.
He decided that it was probably the glimpse back into the corporate world. Once again, Will was forced to look at the man who he’d tried so hard to be for twenty years: a successful over-achiever, both in the boardroom and the ranking charts of whatever extreme sporting event he’d signed up for. Not an automaton, not exactly, but someone who had tight control over their emotions.
Now his life was busier, fuller, but in different ways, because it seemed to Will as if he had no control over his emotions anymore. His heart was wide open and Blossom, his family, and yes, Margot, had stepped right in and made themselves at home.
He couldn’t stay at Blooms’ forever. Any person with a half-decent grasp of numbers would be able to replace Will and then he could go back to the world of finance. The gnawing feeling in his gut downgraded to a light chewing. His life now was fuller, and he didn’t want to live to work in a job in an industry that was all-consuming. So, actually, how had Josh put it? Pivoting to a more consultative role might be a good compromise. Will could pick and choose his projects, work on a part-time basis, so he wouldn’t be abandoning either Blossom or Blooms’.
The chewing in his stomach was now the lightest of nibbles and that was only because Will was remembering how he too had once excelled in all that bullshit business speak. But he wasn’t that person anymore. He was still a work in progress, though he had to admit he was starting to like the man he was becoming.
The noises from the bathroom had stopped. Then Will heard the clatter of a lid on the porcelain sink, which meant that Margot was about to apply various lotions and potions to her skin, which also meant that it was time for her daily affirmations.
Right on cue. ‘I am happy. I am kind. I am hopeful. I am strong. I am an exemplary dog owner. I am a very chill friend with benefits or whatever.’ There was a pause, another clatter then an unhappy little sigh. ‘I just want to be loved.’
Will waited for the inevitable stab in the gut as fear took hold of him, but it never came.
37
Margot
Even though on Sundays they usually had a long dog walk before heading over to the Blooms for lunch, yesterday Margot had cried off.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she’d asked Will in a distracted manner. ‘Just I’ve been neglecting all sorts of life admin and I have to get up ridiculously early to go to the airport tomorrow morning.’
‘I’m already coming second to your tax return.’ Will had put a hand to his heart and fake-staggered like Margot had dealt him a mortal blow as he and Blossom had left.
They didn’t need to spend every hour that they weren’t working together, especially when Margot was feeling things that she had no right to feel.
Besides, Margot really had had bills to pay, an oven to clean and felt quite sick when she’d had to set her alarm for four thirty so she could see Tracy and Den off to New Zealand.
Margot was not a morning person. Getting up early always left her woolly headed and faintly nauseous, so it was hard to remember why she’d thought this was such a good idea.
‘Remember that we had a deal,’ Tracy reminded Margot as they waited at check-in. ‘You could only come if you promised not to cry.’
‘Far too grumpy and hungry to even think about crying,’ Margot snapped. Beyond the terminal doors, the sun was now high in the sky, which felt all wrong. On days when something terrible was happening, the weather should have the decency to be cloudy with a chance of rain. ‘And I told you not to wear jeans if you wanted to get upgraded.’
Neither Den or Tracy got upgraded, but they still decided to celebrate with Prosecco and a fry-up. ‘Because in airports, the normal rules don’t apply,’ Den insisted, as they clinked glasses.
Every time Margot had flown with Tracy – hen weekends in Ibiza, a Christmas shopping mini-break to New York in the halcyon days of a strong pound, two weeks in Mykonos – they’d always start their trip with Prosecco and a fry-up. Although the Prosecco slid down far too easily, this time Margot could only manage to nibble forlornly at a rasher of bacon.
‘Don’t drink too much and cry,’ Tracy warned, as if she wasn’t worried about clearing security or getting to her gate in time, or even making a new life for herself in a country where she hadn’t lived for twenty years. The only thing she was worried about was Margot weeping all over her.