Breaking the Ice (19 page)

‘
Me and you,’ Samantha stated before she could stop herself.

‘
Can you come? I think it would be really useful for you to see first hand what you’re up against,’ Jimmy repeated, ignoring her remark.

Samantha was panicking. She didn’t know what to do or say and she could feel her chest start to tighten. She couldn’t spend an evening with him, going out at night, to a concert, it would be like a date. A date with Jimmy Lloyd and not an ice skate in sight. He would want to talk and she wouldn’t know what to say, although she could talk about Cleo, she could talk endlessly about Cleo. Well, perhaps not endlessly. What if she couldn’t talk endlessly? What if she ran out of things to say?

She began to cough loudly and struggle to breathe. She needed a focus. She stared at his chest. It only made things worse.

‘
Here, have some water,’ Jimmy said to her and he passed his bottle of water to her.

Samantha took a large gulp and regained control of her breath.

‘
If you give me your address I could pick you up about seven,’ Jimmy spoke no longer waiting for her to reply.

‘
No!’ Samantha shrieked, her voice reverberating around the hall for the second time that night.

Jimmy didn’t react but just kept looking at her, waiting for a
response.

‘
No, no don’t pick me up. I’ll, I’ll meet you there,’ Samantha spoke hurriedly.

‘
Good, about seven thirty then. Now, shall we work out what you’re going to say to the council at the meeting?’ Jimmy suggested, putting his pen back to the paper.

‘
I’m not sure but I think I might rather attempt the crucifix lift thing again,’ Samantha responded with a sigh.

‘
Well perhaps we’ll have time for both,’ Jimmy replied with a smile.

Samantha managed a weak smile back, but inside she felt sick. It was almost a date. It was the closest thing she had had to a date in almost a year, since the nipple ring incident. And it was with Jimmy Lloyd, who’d probably dated a hundred women and never had any of them take so long to accept an evening out as she had. But it wasn’t a date, not really and she mustn’t think of it as a date. In fact why was she so worried? It wasn’t a date at all. It was intelligence gathering for the greater good of the Civic Hall. Although thinking of it like that didn’t stop Samantha from starting to panic about what she was going to wear.

Thirteen

The following day Samantha printed off flyers advertising up and coming events, together with a ‘meal deal’ voucher. She sent Karen up town to distribute some of the vouchers in shops and also to hand them out to passersby. By lunchtime Karen had got rid of all the leaflets and the restaurant was full to capacity. In the end Samantha deployed Milo to help serve and clear and she also took her turn on the till.

In the afternoon, as soon as she had finished helping Mabel and Margaret clean up the restaurant, Tyrone arrived. Tyrone was Jimmy’s friend who was going to create the hall’s website. He had taken charge of the computer in the office and by the end of the day he said he had all he needed to create the site, including the on-line booking section. He was going to come back to the hall when the site was ready to go live and give the employees training.

‘
It’s alright for you Gobby, all you have to worry about is avoiding the traffic and the sharp ended boot of Andre from the kebab shop. You don’t have to worry about talking to a load of official people, all looking at you - all waiting for you to faint,’ Samantha spoke as Gobby polished off a left over portion of cod, chips and peas.

She was outside the back door of the hall, behind the kitchens, hiding from Jane. Jane had accosted her that morning asking for annual leave. Apparently the infirm, chain-smoking mother had won an all
inclusive holiday to Bulgaria in one of her women’s magazines, but the prize had to be taken within four weeks. She’d asked for two weeks off starting the week after next. Samantha had coughed and gasped at the thought of being shorthanded when the hall was in crisis and Jane, fearing she was going to perform another theatrical collapse, had suggested Samantha think on it for the rest of the day and let her know that evening. She’d been grateful for the breathing space but she still didn’t know what to say. OK, Jane was no linchpin, but she was good on the phones and it relieved Samantha from that role and allowed her to focus on managerial matters.

‘
What shall I do Gobby? Be one of those heartless bosses and say no, you can’t have the time off, tell your mother she’ll have to share her holiday with someone else or forfeit the prize? No, she would probably just resign. But if I say yes I’ll be putting the hall under strain and we need all the help we can get right now.’

Gobby raised his head and looked at her, as if thinking about her question.

‘
I’m going to have to say yes. She is due the holiday and maybe I could ask Aaron to do some more hours. He’s OK on the phone, well apart from when he kept ending up ringing the Australian government whenever he leaned on the keyboard. Perhaps I could lower his chair and keep his elbows under the desk,’ Samantha said, sitting down on the step with a sigh.

Gobby mewed and went back to eating.

‘
And then there’s tonight. What am I going to do about that? It’s going out at night - with Jimmy Lloyd,’ Samantha spoke.

It had been on her mind all day, despite being busy. She’d hidden in the freezer for ten minutes at one point, in the hope that the cool air would somehow
expunge
the panic. It hadn’t worked. All it had done was remind her she still had thousands of tubs of sodding ice cream to shift.

‘
The thing is Gobby, I like him and I know I shouldn’t. He’s different to me. He’s confident and brilliant and totally gorgeous and I’m just - not any of those things. I’m just me, boring and routine driven. I don’t like clubbing or crowds, or clothes shopping. I’m not slim, or blonde or interested in fashion. I don’t get goosebumps when I buy a new pair of shoes. I’m not like other people, I’m different. But I’m not sure it’s different good, I think it might be different weird. Goodness is it different weird? Am I weird?’

Gobby raised his face and licked his lips.

‘
I’m not sure I want to be different weird,’ Samantha said, a frown filling her features.

Gobby munched noisily, chomping on a chip.

‘
What am I going to wear tonight? I can’t get out of it and I do need to see what the Presbook Centre is doing that we aren’t. And do I tell Cleo? If I tell her she’ll try to help and then she’ll suggest wearing something very, very small and very, very short.’

Gobby suddenly looked up from his bowl of food and stared at the door to the kitchen. He arched his back and hissed.

‘
What is it Gobby?’

He
just continued to look unsettled and backed away from the door.

The door opened and Jimmy app
eared, almost hitting Samantha on the back with the door as he came through.

‘
Whoa! Sorry!’ Jimmy said quickly as he grabbed the door and Samantha hurriedly stood up from her seat on the step to avoid getting bashed.

She could feel her cheeks turning crimson
. Had he heard her talking to Gobby? Asking a feline what she should wear for the date that wasn’t really a date? She’d been talking to a cat! He would need no further evidence of her weirdness.

‘
Hey, a cat! Aww, hello boy. Is it a boy?’ Jimmy asked, coming out into the alleyway and crouching down.

‘
I think so, I mean I haven’t looked. He looks like a boy - well his face I mean,’ she replied.

‘
Hey boy, come here. You’re not scared of me are you? Come on,’ Jimmy encouraged, stretching out his hand and rubbing his thumb and forefinger towards Gobby who had taken refuge under an empty catering sized box of peas.

Samantha watched as Jimmy whistled quietly at Gobby, coaxing him out of hiding and towards his hand.

He knelt down on the concrete ground, getting the knees of his designer jeans dirty, and called for the cat. Gobby looked first to Samantha and then at Jimmy, or the other way round maybe, because of his eye. Then sensing there was nothing to be afraid of, he crept out from under the box and slunk up to the ice skater.

‘
What’s his name?’ Jimmy asked as Gobby rubbed his face against his hands as he stroked him.

‘
Gobby,’ Samantha answered, watching Jimmy’s affection with the cat.

She swallowed and tried to get some saliva into her dry mouth as she wondered what it felt like to have your body stroked by his hands.

‘
What?’ Jimmy queried, turning to look at her.

‘
Um, it’s Gobolino. Well that’s what I call him. He doesn’t belong to anyone, I checked, no collar and no electronic chip so the vet said. I think he’s got fleas again but he doesn’t like the powder and he won’t take worm tablets either. I tried crushing them up in his food but he just sniffs them out. And he won’t eat normal cat food, I tried, even the expensive stuff. He only eats leftovers, which I know isn’t good for him but I just thought it was probably better than Andre’s kebab meat - especially when it’s covered in
chilli
sauce,’ Samantha rambled, watching Jimmy continue to rub Gobby up and down.

‘
Gobolino, the witch’s cat,’ Jimmy remarked, picking the cat up and sitting him on his lap.

‘
Have you read the book?’ Samantha enquired wide-eyed.

‘
Of course! It’s one of the greatest books ever. Although I haven’t actually read it - it was
serialised
in a storytelling magazine with an audio cassette I used to get when I was about eight,’ Jimmy replied with a smile.

Samantha smiled back at him.

‘
He’s an affectionate little fella isn’t he?’ Jimmy remarked as he stood up, holding Gobby in his arms.

‘
He didn’t like Dave,’ Samantha commented.

‘
A good judge of character too then.’

There was silence apart from Gobby’s energetic purring and Samantha began to perspire as she desperately thought of something to say.

‘
Oh, I almost forgot why I was looking for you. There’s been a slight collapse in one of the dressing rooms,’ Jimmy informed her, putting Gobby on the floor.

‘
A collapse! Who’s collapsed? Have you called an ambulance? Is it Mrs Nelmes? I’ve told her countless times not to go into restricted areas but her mind wanders and…’ Samantha began, opening the door and preparing to rush off.

‘
No Sam, wait, not a collapse like that. One of the make-up stations has come away from the wall. No blood spilt just a bit of foundation and eye liner,’ he explained.

‘
Oh goodness, that’s awful. Well, not as awful as if Mrs Nelmes had collapsed obviously, but awful enough. I’ll see to it, I’ll ring the repair man,’ Samantha said, slipping through the door and heading back into the kitchen at full pace.

‘
Thanks, that would be great. I’ll tell Andrei and Mark you’ve - got it under control,’ Jimmy spoke as he watched Samantha hurry away from him.

Mind focussed on the task in hand she rushed off through the kitchen, out into the restaurant and back towards her office. It was a relief to have an excuse to evade him, particularly now she knew he liked animals.

It was almost 6.00
pm when she got home and she still didn’t have a clue what she was going to wear. Gobby had been no help at all. When she had gone back to check on him after calling the carpenter, he had finished the portion of food she’d given him and fallen asleep under the pea box.

The rest of the day, in between rushing about the hall multitasking to the max, she had tried to envisage the clothes in her wardrobe. It wasn’t all that hard given she had so few outfits and an excellent memory. Having said that, her wardrobe was actually fit to burst because it was jam packed of Cleo’s clothes. High fashion items and contemporary classics Cleo couldn’t live without one minute and hated the next. So, although Samantha always protested, Cleo used her wardrobe as a dumping ground. Think every item from the Next sale from 2003-2009.

Should she wear jeans? Or was that too casual? It was business after all. Perhaps she should wear a suit. She only had one that she wore for interviews and funerals and little else in between. She’d last worn it to a ridiculous time share appointment full of aggressive, hard-nosed sales people trying to sell her two weeks in Florida on the proviso that the American family would like to stay on a barge in the Norfolk Broads. That was one of Cleo’s worst jobs ever and supporting her by attending one of the ‘information days’ had been awful. By the time the so-called silver service lunch had been served up Samantha’s mind was befuddled with pyramid schemes and week sharing.

Cleo hadn’t been cut out for the hard sell and Samantha had heard her glossing over the holiday properties and discussing the merits of Rimmel make-up with the female invitees. Unlike Wayne, who had spoken to Samantha, and done everything but screw her thumbs to the table in order to get her to sign up.

Perhaps she should be really casual and wear a tracksuit. She only had one of those, the pastel pink
one she had met Nipple Ring Boy in, and now that was faded from another of Cleo’s washing accidents.