Page 83 of The Lucky Escape

We entered a maze of small alleys that alternated between cobbled streets and dramatic paved walkways. The buildings were painted white brick and smooth ivory stone, and up above an awning bridged the gap between buildings so that ivy could grow theatrically. The buildings had painted wooden shutters that matched the window boxes, stuffed to overflowing with bright, colourful flowers, even in the chilly air. Signs in front said what I assumed meant art gallery, and the windows of some had treasures of paintings and tables and knick-knacks. At the corner, where two alleyways met, was a small café with tables outside, and it was just about warm enough to take a seat directly in the sun. I wished I’d thought to bring my sunglasses. It was very bright, in a way that doesn’t happen in London during the colder months, where everything can be fifty shades of grizzly grey.

‘Here,’ said Jules, gallantly. ‘You sit with your back to the sun.’

He ordered us coffee and pastries and water, and it occurred to me that I must have looked awful considering I’d gotten up at five thirty that morning. I smoothed down my hair at the nape of my neck and pulled out some lip balm from my bag.

‘So,’ stated Jules. ‘Chen said I’d have to charm you as if my life depended on it.’

‘Did she now?’ I said, rubbing my lips together to spread the Vaseline. Was I flirting as I said it? I felt light. Playful. That’s exactly what Aus had done to me – made me sprightlier because it felt full of opportunity. Hope is a dangerous gateway drug.

Jules was amused. ‘I’m not afraid to rise to the challenge.’

‘That’s very noble of you,’ I said.

He grinned. ‘Something tells me you won’t be strong-armed,’ he mused, and I shrugged. Antwerp certainly was cute. Maybe Patrick would come with me and find a job, or maybe we would do long-distance. He’d made it seem that seizing this opportunity would be so black and white, but there were so many different ways we could navigate it together. If I wanted to. Ifhewanted to. Or maybe this would be it, and we’d break up. I didn’t know. I felt clammy at the thought of it. Being in charge of my own future was more uncomfortable than I’d thought it would be. That’s the thing they don’t tell you about having choices – saying yes to one thing normally means saying no to ten more.

The Antwerp office was miles ahead of the aesthetic of the London lab. Glass-fronted with a swish lobby and an elevator that Jules assured me wasn’t out of order every other week like ours in London. It was sunnier there. Antwerp was a light jacket in spring instead of a damp overcoat in autumn which, if I was being unkind, London could often feel like. I’d got used to that, but maybe the cold months didn’t have to be a constant state of damp.

‘Luke!’ I squealed when we got to the research centre.

‘There she is!’

Luke used to work in London too, and had left about two years ago. We’d got on well, and I always enjoyed work events more if he was there.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ he commented. ‘How’ve you been? Surely your hunk of a fella must have put a ring on it by now? Adzo said last time she was here that you were wedding planning for the event of the century.’

‘Oh, actually – that ended,’ I replied, deliberately keeping my chin high. I felt Jules looking at me. ‘Happily so,’ I insisted. ‘It was time. University sweethearts don’t always have to end up together, I’ve learned.’

‘Oh,’ said Luke, screwing up his face in sympathy. ‘I’m sorry to hear it, but also – does that mean he’s on the market? I’ve never seen cheekbones so razor sharp outside of the movies!’

I rolled my eyes playfully and changed the subject to ask about the facilities and how he was finding the city. He told me he loved it – the culture, the work-life balance, and how easy it was to travel around the rest of mainland Europe.

‘I get home every few months, but to be honest my brother prefers coming out here with his wife when they can, and even my parents have got used to having an ungrateful traitor of a son who lives abroad. I see family maybe six times a year? I don’t think I saw them that much when we lived in the same country!’

I laughed, silently questioning what my parents would think if I told them I was moving out here before reminding myself that I didn’t care. Freddie would be old enough soon to come out on the train by herself, too, if somebody put her on in London and I collected her at this end. I’d miss being able to just pop in and see her, but if I wanted it I really could make it work. It wouldn’t necessarily be easy, but it could be done.

I got a tour of the site and was able to chat with various faces I’d seen online but most of whom I’d never met in person. We talked about the formula we’d been working on, and I shared some ideas Adzo and I had about where it could go next, which seemed to impress everyone aroundthe conference table. I told them about her heading over to San Francisco, and I got some morsels of gossip that had travelled on the grapevine to feed back to her.

We broke for an informal lunch at about 1 p.m., filtering out as a group of ten to a nearby restaurant where Jules ordered for the table and I skipped the wine I was offered because I was sleepy after the adrenaline rush of the morning and my early start.

‘You’ll need a power nap before our afternoon activities,’ Jules commanded. ‘Unless you’d rather have the evening to yourself?’ he added.

I considered it. ‘No,’ I decided. ‘It would be great if you could show me more of the city. I really appreciate it. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be honest. I’m wondering what the catch is.’

‘It’s a date, then,’ he said, and I tried not to read anything into his phraseology. English was his second language, after all.

Luke leaned in to my elbow once lunch had finished and the rest headed back to the office and I’d thanked them for such a comprehensive breakdown of how everything out in their HQ worked.

‘You make friends fast,’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘James Bond over there.’ We both looked in his direction. It made me laugh because yeah, I thought his accent was a bit Sean Connery, but I hadn’t made the mental leap to how his whole demeanour really was like he was an international spy. The tailoring, the smile, the magnetism.

‘I’m here on business,’ I said. ‘Don’t insult me.’

Luke raised his hands in surrender. ‘Didn’t mean to offend,’ he said. ‘I’m probably just jealous.’

‘I have a boyfriend,’ I added hastily, Patrick’s face coming to my mind.

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