Free Dead Days (Book 2): Tess by Tom Hartill Page A

I’d rather look washed out than let Gerry think I’m making an effort for him.
     
    My bus ride is usually twenty minutes in a morning, but today it’s closer to ten.  Not many people getting on today.  I worry for a moment that there’s a tube strike or something, but when the bus pulls into Finsbury Park I see that it’s still open.
     
    Just a quiet day then? 
     
    Maybe people are put off by the rioting that’s been going on, or using it as an excuse, good on them.
          The tube is quieter too.  There’re people on it but I’m not used to getting a seat in the morning.  It makes a pleasant change.  I close my eyes and lean my head back.
          I should just quit.  I don’t want this job and I don’t want this to be my life.  Christ, Cassie works in that seedy nightclub for half the money I make and she’s still happier than me. 
     
    That’s it, I’m decided.  I’ll tell Gerry today, I’m leaving. 
     
    I mean this absolutely, but I know by lunchtime I’ll have talked myself out of it. 
     
    God that’s depressing.
     
    I get off the tube at Warren Street.  I hear sirens as a couple of ambulances go past.  I shouldn’t be surprised, the hospital is close by and I’m routinely deafened by emergency vehicles forcing their way through the London traffic.    
          I’ve agreed to meet Gerry at a coffee shop nearby.  As I arrive I hope he isn’t there, but of course, he is.  He watches me walk in.  (He will have been staring at the door like a hawk, I’ve caught him doing it before.  The paper in front of him is no more than a prop.)  He stands up and beams at me.  He is the same height as me, about five-ten, -Yes, I’m tall for a girl- and kisses me on both cheeks. 
     
    Every day he does this, and it drives me absolutely insane.
     
    “Ah my beautiful Tess!  How are you this fine morning my dear?”
     
    God what a creep.
     
    “I’m fine Gerry.  What did you need this morning?”
    “Oh there’s plenty of time to talk business.  I’ve ordered you a drink, Cappuccino isn’t it?”
    “Yes” No.   
    “So…”  He rubs his hands together and grins.  His teeth are too big for his mouth making him look horse-faced.  They’re also unnaturally white, probably capped.
    “What’s going on with Tess?”
    “I’m fine thanks Gerry.”
    He mock pouts at me.  “Now come, come my dear, we’ve known each other a while haven’t we?” 
     
    ‘My dear?’  For God’s sake he’s only about four years older than me.
     
    He reaches for my hand, just as the waiter comes with my coffee.  The waiter is a young guy with a pleasant face and I smile as I take the cup from him. 
          I catch the flash of irritation in Gerry’s expression as I settle back in my seat, coffee in both hands like a shield.  He rallies quickly and that sickly grin reasserts itself.
     
    I realise that when he does that, he looks like a giant rat.  I suppress a shiver.
     
    “Could it be your having problems with that boyfriend of yours?  What’s his name?  Mike?”
     
    This catches me off-guard and I see his grin widen as he knows he’s hit the mark.  I mentioned Mike once before now, he’d wound me up over some stupid thing and now Gerry is fixated on the prospect of us splitting up.
           He looks at me with a pitying expression that makes me want to throw my cup off coffee straight into his stupid face. 
     
    “I’d rather not discuss my private life Gerry.  I thought this was a business meeting?”
     
    He sits back, looking wounded.
    “Tess I was merely offering my support as a friend.  I wouldn’t want you to feel like you can’t come to me with any issues you’re having, whether they’re work related or ……personal, especially if they hinder your ability to do your job?”
     
    He lets this statement hang ominously for a moment.
     
    My blood starts to boil, and I’m at the point where I just might throw my coffee after all, when