I Owe You One: A Novel(75)

“A ransom note?” I can’t help a giggle.

“It demanded two pounds, to be left inside the grandfather clock. I guess that was a pretty big sum back then. The only people in the house were my great-great-grandfather, his wife, and their four sons, aged between twelve and twenty-three. It could have been any of them.”

“So what happened?” I ask, agog.

“Apparently my great-great-grandfather paid the ransom, the piece reappeared, and no one ever said anything about it.”

“What?” I stare at him. “OK, that is so not what would have happened in our family. Didn’t your great-great-granddad want to know who it was? Didn’t he want to catch them? Didn’t he want to find out why they were kidnapping chess pieces?”

Seb thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “I think he just really wanted his chess piece back.”

“Wow,” I say incredulously. “Families are the weirdest—” I stop as I suddenly remember. “Sorry.” I bite my lip. “Sorry.”

“What for?”

“I know about—” I swallow, searching for words. “Your family. What happened.”

I have no idea how to put it and I know I’m messing up, but Seb lets me off the hook.

“I’ve been unlucky,” he says, in his straightforward, honest way. “Unlucky. At least, when it comes to my family.” He breathes out and I catch a fleeting pain in his eyes. “But please don’t apologize.”

“Hey, Seb! Man! What did they do to you?”

The curtain swishes back and the face of a guy in his twenties peers in.

“Andy!” exclaims Seb, his face lighting up.

“Oh,” says Andy, looking at me. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m here with the guys,” he adds to Seb. “You like all varieties of Krispy Kreme, right? Because we had a row in the shop.”

“I should be going,” I say hurriedly.

“Don’t on our account,” says Andy with a friendly smile. “Have a Krispy Kreme.”

“No, I need to go. Thanks, though.”

“We’ll let you say goodbye, then,” says Andy, withdrawing from the cubicle, and I get to my feet.

“So … get well,” I say to Seb, feeling suddenly awkward.

“Thanks for coming.” His eyes crinkle at me in a smile. “Thanks for everything.” Then a thought seems to strike him. “Hey. Have you still got the coffee sleeve? Because I need to make a new entry.”

“You don’t.” I shake my head, laughing.

“I do! I want to record my debt of gratitude. Have you still got it?”

“I think so,” I say, wrinkling my brow as though I’m not sure. “I think it’s somewhere around. I could come and see you again tomorrow, maybe?” I add casually. “Bring it in?”

“I’d like that.” He nods. “In fact, I’d love that. If you’re not too busy.”

“Of course not.” I pick up my bag. “So I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“With the coffee sleeve,” he insists.

“OK.” I nod, rolling my eyes with a smile. “If I can find it.”

Of course I can find it. It’s on my dressing table, right where I can look at it every day.

The three guys waiting patiently outside the cubicle smile at me politely, clearly wondering who I am. I recognize one of them from Seb’s office and fervently hope he doesn’t recognize me.

I walk away through the ward, listening to their voices as they greet Seb:

“Oh my God.”

“Man! They really got to you.”

“Yeah, but you should see how they look. Right, Seb?”

They sound so easy and affectionate, I can’t help smiling inwardly. And as I’m traveling back down in the lift, I remember all the stories I read online about Seb building up his company, cooking pasta for his staff, creating the amazing atmosphere that he’s got. He needed to make a family, I realize. And that’s what his company is, his family.

—

The next day I wake at 5:00 A.M. again. I really need to break this habit. My eyes instantly swivel to the coffee sleeve, propped up on my dressing table, and I feel a little flutter inside. The kind of light, excited flutter I haven’t felt since …

Oh God. Since Ryan, now I come to think of it. I feel about sixteen years old. This is kind of mortifying.

As I’m showering, I give myself a stern talking-to. This guy is taken. He’s simply being friendly in a platonic way. There’s absolutely no hint that … I mean, if there is any hint, it’s me reading too much into things … And anyway, he’s taken. He’s taken.

I step out of the shower, wrap myself in a towel, and look at my reflection, trying to find some inner resolve. What I should do now is quietly bow out. I should phone up the ward with a friendly excuse, wishing him well and saying goodbye. Certainly not prolonging this back-and-forth IOU game we seem to be in. It’s inappropriate. It’s gone on for long enough. What I need to do is nix it. Throw the coffee sleeve away. Get on with my life. That’s what I should do.

And as I look into my own alert, exhilarated eyes, I know that’s pretty much exactly what I’m not going to do.

After breakfast I get ready with care, putting on a dress I got in a cheap and cheerful Acton boutique the other day. It’s navy with a print of dachshunds all over it, and it makes me smile. I was going to keep it for parties, but suddenly that seems boring. Why not wear it now? Today? I do my makeup, text Greg to make sure he’s on the case, and pick up my bag to go.