Page 92 of Barging In
“You and everyone else.”
“I’ll never understand men like that. All shiny shoes and smiles. Suits filled with muscles, hunting for their next lay so they can feel like the big man. Give me a belly in a flamboyant waistcoat any day.”
Clem chuckled.
“What are you going to do about the job offer?”
“I don’t even know if it’s still on the table,” she admitted, “and yet it’s all I can think about. I loved history at school and really wanted to do something around it, but I was never very good at it.”
“If it was anything like my GCSEs, it was a matter of regurgitating facts.”
“Yep. The only knack I have for recalling anything offhand is my recipes.”
“Maybe this is life’s way of bringing you back to where you wanted to be,” Max suggested, “combining your passion for marketing and history in a roundabout way.”
Clem chuckled. “A very roundabout way.”
“Life takes its time. I’ve been trading here for a year, almost as long as I’ve been pining for Jasper. Then you show up, and within a few weeks we’re thrown together — all thanks to you.”
“I never thought of it like that.”
Max gave her a slow grin. “Well, I’d best go see your girl.”
“Ha.”
“Want me to convey any messages of love?”
Clem was about to kick him in the shin when she paused. “Yes, actually. Tell her I miss her.”
Max gave a small shrug; smile gone, his lips were now pressed into a line. “Okay.”
She watched as he jumped onto the towpath.
That wasn’t adding pressure, was it? A simple statement of fact — she missed her.
Victoria resisted the urge for the hundredth time that day to spin her chair and stare out of the window. The one time she’d done it — without thinking — Clem was at her sink, looking out. Victoria had swiftly swivelled back around. It wasn’t like she was avoiding her; she just wasn’t making a point of seeing her. Clem hadn’t contacted her either, so perhaps she understood Victoria needed some breathingspace to think. Now, though, almost a week had passed, and it was beginning to feel like avoidance.
She didn’t intend to ignore Clem forever — only long enough to process that kiss and clarify some things with a solicitor, the result of which had done little to ease her concerns. He’d pointed out that the wharf was likely a business asset, not a personal one, and therefore more complicated than transferring the ownership of something like a house.
He had at least reassured her that she was entitled to half of everything. Not that she wanted or needed millions in the bank. She wanted to do an honest day’s work in a place she loved and reap whatever rewards there may be. The last thing she wanted was to collapse Drew’s empire, lose people their jobs again, or get accused of fleecing him — no matter what she was legally entitled to.
“Knock, knock,” Jasper’s voice rang out, stirring Victoria from her thoughts.
“Come in,” she said, looking up from her laptop.
“Oh, dear. Why the long face?”
“I have to head to London tomorrow for an awards ceremony at The Guildhall,” Victoria groaned. “I’m expected to accompany Drew.”
“Swanky. Can’t he go on his own?”
“No. We keep up appearances for the business, and this is one event where I need to show my face.”
“Don’t forget to arrive late and then leave halfway through,” Jasper said, smirking.
Victoria snorted, grateful for the injection of humour, even if it wasn’t funny, more a bleak reminder of what her life had become.
“Not to change the subject, but is Clem taking the job you offered?” he asked.
