‘And what did you get a bollocking about?’ It was reassuring to hear about others making a hash of things at work, although it was unlikely to be on the same scale as hers.
Charlie rubbed his stubbly chin. For a moment he appeared vulnerable, making her warm to him even more. ‘I didn’t exit a burning building when I was instructed to.’
Regan was surprised. ‘A burning building? Like one on fire?’ How brave was this copper?
Charlie looked like he was chewing the inside of his mouth. ‘I may not have been entirely truthful with you when we first met.’ He looked suitably chastened. ‘I said I was a police officer so that you’d listen to me and stop pummelling that bloke’s head in. But I’m actually a firefighter.’
‘Right,’ said Regan. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about this news, but her instant reaction was one of distrust. Clearly he wasn’t totally trustworthy or he would have owned up to this a lot sooner. ‘So you lied.’
‘I figured you wouldn’t take any notice unless you thought you were about to be arrested,’ said Charlie. ‘I’d forgotten about it, which was why I didn’t put you straight. I’m sorry.’
Regan didn’t need people she couldn’t trust. He no longer looked quite so appealing. ‘Yeah. Me too,’ she said, with a disappointed smile and she walked away.
Sunday in the studio was lonely. Its location was off the beaten track but in the week there was the sound of traffic to make her feel like she had some connection to the rest of the universe. On Sundays, not so much.
Yesterday, thanks to Charlie, she had gone to the library after she’d left him and got herself registered so she could use the computers. She’d managed to produce a reasonable-looking CV and fire it off for a couple of vacancies, as well as uploading it to some job websites. She’d also been able to check out some books, which at least meant she had something to do in the evenings other than stare at bare walls or nipples.
This morning she’d been to the gym, taking care to avoid Jarvis’s usual timeslot, and had really enjoyed her time on the bike and the treadmill because she’d been able to watch some telly, which now seemed like such a treat. She’d used the yoga area to have a go at practising her mindfulness technique and ended up having a little nap. She’d also had a shower so she was clean too – she had a lot to be thankful for.
The spring weather was notoriously changeable and it had turned a bit chilly. The drop in temperature was noticeable in the studio: its high ceilings whisked away any warmth and, whilst the boiler was doing its best, the two radiators didn’t provide much heat. She moved the chair so that she could lean against a radiator, got out one of the library books and started reading.
Three lines in, her phone rang. It was Charlie. She considered cancelling the call but she knew she’d probably acted a little hastily yesterday. ‘Yep,’ she said, her tone curt.
‘Delivery for Reg Corsetti. Where should I deliver to?’
‘Delivery of what?’ She was more than suspicious after his revelation.
‘Chinese takeaway and chocolate cake. It’s my way of apologising.’
Regan knew it was going to be hard to stay mad with this guy for long, especially when he brought food as an apology. Could this be a match made in heaven? She gave him directions to the studio on the proviso he wouldn’t alert anyone to the fact she was living there.
Regan tidied her stuff into the corner and covered it with the throw, because old habits died hard. She waited excitedly for her knight in shining armour to appear, complete with chicken chow mein.
There was a gentle tap on the door and she whipped it open making him flinch slightly. ‘Shhh,’ she said, beckoning him inside and shutting the door quickly. It was raining and a chill wind was picking up. Charlie put down the bags on the drainer and looked about.
‘Welcome to my temporary abode.’
He was giving reassuring head bobs but she could see he was taking it all in. He pulled two bottles of wine from one of the bags. ‘I didn’t know if you preferred red or white, so I bought one of each.’
‘That is exactly what I prefer,’ she said, getting two mugs off the mug tree.
Charlie gallantly let Regan have the chair, whilst he perched on an odd little wooden stool with a round seat that you had to spin to get it to go up or down. Regan had forgotten to point out that she didn’t have any plates or cutlery, but Charlie had brought free chopsticks and passing the containers to each other and eating directly from them was actually quite fun.
‘See, no washing up,’ she said, when she could eat no more. ‘Although I will wash up the chopsticks – they’ll come in handy.’ They were a step up from the coffee stirrers.
Charlie sipped his wine and surveyed the studio. ‘I know you said it was basic but … I kind of expected you’d have a bed.’
‘Nope. This is it. But it’s more than a lot of people have.’ A picture of Kevin out in the wind and rain instantly sprang to mind.
Regan tidied up the cartons and used an odd-looking arty tool of Cleo’s she’d found to cut the cake into slices. ‘So, firefighter, huh?’ She took a bite of the cake to stop herself from making any lame jokes about firemen’s poles or long hoses.
‘All my life, apart from brief stints as a waiter and a dustman.’
‘That is pretty awesome, being a firefighter … not a dustman.’
Charlie gave a modest shrug. ‘I’m not academic but I’ve always known I needed to have a job with a purpose. Something that added some value to other people’s lives.’
Regan felt instantly inadequate. She’d never felt like that at all. She was starting to think her dad was right about the whole Nissan Micra analogy. ‘I don’t know what the hell I’ve been doing with my life.’ She finished her cake and licked her fingers.
Charlie chuckled. ‘I’m sure you’ve done plenty.’
‘Nope. I’ve been bumming around, basically, doing as little as I can get away with.’ She marvelled at her own honesty. She took a swig of her wine, wincing at both the clash of wine with chocolate cake and how little she had achieved. Friends from school were married and had kids in tow but that had never been an ambition of hers. If she thought about it she’d never really had any ambition. Even the school careers advisor had suggested a job as a fishmonger might suit her, and whilst that was a perfectly good job, it wasn’t exactly setting her sights high. She feared invoices clerk at BHB Healthcare had been the peak of her career. She chuckled to herself and Charlie scrutinised her.
‘So, what now?’ he asked.
Regan drank more wine and sighed slowly. ‘I fired off some job applications from the library. Thank you for that tip,’ she said. ‘I’ve uploaded my CV to a few job sites, too, so hopefully in a couple of days they’ll be beating my door down.’ She tried to sound optimistic but she didn’t believe it herself.
‘There are other options.’
‘Like?’
Charlie looked like he was going to lean back on the stool and then thought better of it. He put down his wine and went over to the corner to the box Regan had brought from the office – not as well tidied as she’d thought. He returned with Regan’s lottery wish list.
‘I keep thinking about this,’ he said, waving it near her but just out of reach.
‘Don’t remind me.’ She drained and refilled her Cookie Monster mug.
‘I