A Summer to Remember. Victoria Cooke
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Название: A Summer to Remember
Автор: Victoria Cooke
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
isbn: 9780008310264
isbn:
‘My thoughts exactly. You know, my impression of American men hasn’t been great. Present company excluded.’ I gesture to Barney and Harry. ‘You’re not excluded,’ I say to Ethan, but light-heartedly, since he’s making an effort and all.
‘Okay, okay. Look, I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did back in Boston. I was … having a bad day.’ The alcohol has obviously infused his system because he’s more relaxed now. He’s speaking to me like a human being, which I believe is progress.
‘It’s fine. It really doesn’t matter. I was perhaps a tad sensitive because I’d just arrived in the city all excited and you smothered my excitement with a huge wet blanket.’
‘Well. On that note …’ He claps his hands together. ‘I’m going to call it a night. Some of us need our beauty sleep.’ Ethan stands with one hand on Barney’s shoulder and the other on Harry’s. They both look delighted. On the other hand, I’m left feeling a little deflated. I opened up to Ethan to try and move on from our little spat and he basically ignored me. Just when I thought he might be decent too.
‘We’ll see you soon, honey,’ Barney says as Ethan walks off, taking away a strange feeling of tension with him. Now I can relax.
‘So how do you know Ethan?’ I ask, interested by the strange dynamic. I wonder if Ethan knows that these two fancy the pants off him. Maybe he’s gay, and he thought I was trying to flirt with him when I asked him to take the photo. Maybe he’s sick of women trying to come on to him. Not that I was, but he’s definitely cock-sure enough to have assumed so.
Barney wiggles into position to fill me in. ‘Ethan was one of the first people we met when we came here. His family own a lot of the local businesses, and he’s such a nice guy, he made us feel right at home.’
Really? ‘He doesn’t strike me as much of a talker.’
‘Granted, he’s a man of few words, but what he does say is kind and generous.’ Barney presses his palms to his cheeks. ‘He’s a manly man. A real alpha-male.’
I stifle a giggle.
‘He’s the best of the best.’ Harry smiles with warmth.
‘I’ll take your word for it.’ I drain the last of my drink. ‘I suppose I’d better go to bed too.’
Harry’s and Barney’s faces drop. ‘Oh, Sam, are you going to come back? We’re not going to lose you forever, are we?’ I giggle at Barney’s theatrics.
I’m sure Boston is great, but it’s lonely and I haven’t really felt at home there. Provincetown is beautiful, and even when I’ve been alone here, I haven’t felt lonely. The sound of the ocean, the friendly hellos from passers-by and the feeling of the warm sun together make for one big snuggly blanket of comfort. I would like to come back.
‘I hadn’t thought about it,’ I lie.
‘You must come back next weekend. We’re having a cookout on the beach, and everyone is invited,’ Barney says.
Next week will probably be as horrendous as the last and escaping to this beautiful, quaint little town will be a healthier equivalent of taking a few Xanax. Plus, these two let me vent.
‘That sounds fabulous. Are you sure I wouldn’t be imposing?’ I chew the side of my lip self-consciously.
‘Not at all. We’d love you to come,’ says Harry with sincerity.
The following week is just as horrible as I’d imagined it would be. I’m sent for coffee on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, and not one of my English colleagues speaks up or offers to go on my behalf, though I did think I caught a very subtle flash of sympathy from Tony. This lunchtime, I was sent on a sandwich run while the men were actually fleshing out key components of the media campaign. It was almost the final straw. I was going to stand up for myself and say something – part of me is still reeling that I didn’t – but throwing away the seven years of hard work it took to get here seemed too big a trade-off. Harry was right: I’ve got my place, but I need to work on getting a better one. I’ll bide my time and be smart about it.
When I’m tucked away in my room away from the others, I call Bridget for a catch-up.
She answers on the third ring. ‘Hello, you.’
‘Hello,’ I say, exhaling loudly for effect.
‘Oh no. Are things still terrible?’
‘Yes! When I speak it’s like nobody at all has heard me. Honestly, I’m not exaggerating. It’s bizarre. There are moments where I sit there wondering if I’ve actually spoken at all, or if I just thought the words in my head. I honestly think I could strip naked in the centre of the boardroom and nobody would notice.’
‘Oh, honey. Please don’t strip naked in the boardroom. Have you spoken to any of the UK team about it?’
‘I tried to after the first couple of days. It just sounded so petty and whiney when I said it aloud. I asked Tony if he’d heard my idea today, and he just paused for a moment until I reminded him what it was, then he said, “Oh yeah, I think so” but that was it. Nobody is interested in what I have to say. It wouldn’t be so bad if they were interested enough to say, “Your ideas are rubbish”, but they don’t even do that. I might as well be invisible.’ My voice falters on the last word as emotion hits me from nowhere. Even my own body is choosing to ignore me. I’m not even emotional, I’m angry.
‘Oh, Sam,’ she says. ‘Keep at it, hon.’
‘I know. I’ve just never felt so small and insignificant before.’ Or at least not in a very long time. I suck up a lungful of air. ‘At least I’m in a wonderful place and I can go to the beach at the weekends.’
‘Definitely. How was Cape Cod?’
‘Amazing.’ I fill her in on my escapades and Harry and Barney and Ethan.
‘So, let me get this straight; Ethan is the arse from Boston? And he was there?’
‘Yes, and yes. What are the odds of that? He has now apologised, at least. He was having a bad day apparently.’
‘Well, we all have those but jeez. At least you can put it behind you now.’
‘Yes,’ I agree. Except I can’t. Not the incident as such, but Ethan. Over the past few days, I’ve caught myself randomly thinking of him. When I’m walking to the office, eating lunch, even brushing my teeth, for goodness’ sake, I see his face and hear his voice. He’s got under my skin and I don’t know why. I’ve encountered rude people before, but something about the dark look in his eyes that day, the tense muscles in his face, were different to how he was on Saturday night at the bar. Even when he was being all cocky in the bike place, the vacant, disengaged look I saw at the harbour was nowhere to be seen. I can’t shake the feeling that he was having more than just a bad day.
‘I’m going back to Provincetown at the weekend for a cookout – a barbecue, as far as I can СКАЧАТЬ