‘I didn’t cause trouble,’ said Brett. ‘I told the girl the truth, that’s all. It’s not my problem if she doesn’t want to hear it.’
Jason Cranley gazed out of the train window at the glorious Sussex countryside as they hurtled towards London. He’d worked from home today, while his parents were at Logan’s school, finishing up some meaningless and deathly dull research project his father had given him on retail rental yields. Now he was taking the five o’clock train back up to town.
Graham Jones, an irksome, rabidly ambitious VP at Cranley Estates, only a few years older than Jason and clearly one of Brett’s ‘favourites’, had insisted that Jason present the file in person at seven o’clock tomorrow morning.
Graham Jones drove a pillarbox-red Audi, had loud telephone conversations in public places, and used hideous corporate speak around the office, asking Jason whether or not he had the ‘bandwidth’ to perform such-and-such a task, and assuring him that he was eager to ‘blue-sky’ any ideas that might arise from Jason’s rental yield research. Rather than face the prospect of a 5.30 a.m. train from Fittlescombe tomorrow, followed by a stressful sprint across London to the office to present to the odious Jones, Jason had decided to head up to town tonight and stay at his father’s flat. At least that way he could make it into the building early and try to come up with a single idea about retail rental yields that didn’t involve suffocating himself with a plastic bag out of sheer, mind-numbing boredom.
Switching his iPod to a new recording of Shostakovich’s Piano Quintet in G Minor that he’d downloaded last night, he allowed the rolling waves of music to crash over him and flood through him until all thoughts of work and Graham Jones and his father had been washed away. Jason loved commuting, and the train journeys back and forth to town were often the best parts of his day. He enjoyed the romance of train travel, especially on the Victoria to Brighton line where they still used the old, 1950s rolling stock, with its roughly upholstered seats, wooden tables and windows that you could slide up and down to open and that rattled rhythmically and constantly as the train trundled along. Most of all, though, he enjoyed the peace of it. The sense of being alone, and yet not lonely – sitting in a carriage with other travellers made it companionable, yet there was never any danger of being drawn into unwanted conversation or bothered in any way. For one and half glorious hours Jason had nothing to do but listen to the sublime piano, admire the idyllic scenery, and be lulled into a state of profound calm by the gently rocking movement of the carriage.
A sharp tap on his shoulder made him jump a mile. Accidentally yanking the cord of his headphones, they fell out of his ears, pulling the iPod with them off his lap so it fell with a clatter onto the train floor.
‘I’m so sorry. I startled you.’
Tatiana Flint-Hamilton stood over him. Still wearing the trousers and sweater she’d had on for the parents’ meeting earlier, she had loosened her top button and let down her hair, which cascaded around her shoulders now, as shiny and inviting as golden syrup.
‘Oh, no. Please. It’s fine. Please. How are you? Sit down. I mean, if you want to, obviously,’ Jason babbled stupidly. He wasn’t the most socially adept of young men at the best of times, but around Tatiana he always seemed to regress to a state of complete, dribbling idiocy.
Tati took a seat in the empty seat opposite him. The five o’clock train up to town was almost empty. Only two other people shared the carriage, both of them elderly and deep in their books.
‘You’re going to London?’ Jason scrabbled on the floor for his iPod, stuffing it back into his bag.
‘Yes.’ Tati smiled. She was amused by his awkwardness, but the smile was kind rather than mocking. ‘Unless I’m on the wrong train.’
‘Of course. Silly question.’ Jason blushed. It was a wonder the rest of his body still functioned, with so much blood rushing to his cheeks.
‘I’m actually going out for dinner and drinks with a girlfriend tonight,’ said Tati, helping him out. ‘I hardly ever get up to town any more, but there’s a teacher-training day tomorrow and I decided I needed a break.’
‘Bad day?’
Tati considered lying, but in the end decided there was no point. ‘I’m afraid so,’ she said. ‘Mostly thanks to your bloody father.’ Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out a cigarette and lit it, ignoring the disapproving look she got from one of the pensioners.
‘I don’t think you’re supposed to do that in here,’ Jason said gently, gesturing towards one of the many ‘No Smoking’ signs underneath their window.
‘You aren’t,’ Tati said cheerfully. ‘But at this point I’m afraid I couldn’t give two hoots. If they fine me, I’ll send the bill to your old man.’
Jason grinned. How he wished he had even a fraction of Tatiana’s chutzpah, especially when it came to Brett.