I looked away and rolled my eyes. I wanted the old, smart, shooting-from-the-hip Tilda back, not this melodramatic, self-pitying version.
‘Til, you could have anyone,’ I said, not that anybody seemed to welcome my advice. ‘Loads of men fancy you. Why go back to the one who hurt you before?’
‘Did he tell you to say that?’ Tilda glared at me through red eyes.
‘No,’ I said, sitting down. ‘Look. I talked to him. And I told him, if it was a straight choice between him and you, I’d choose you.’
The three of them looked stunned.
‘Did you?’ said Tilda, in a conciliatory little-girlish voice that didn’t suit her at all.
‘Well, that’s something,’ said Mehra.
‘So the ball’s in your court,’ I said. ‘We can all put this whole stupid business behind us and carry on as we were, or you can be shitty with me and drive me away. I don’t have to live in this city; I’m flexible. To be honest, the idea of ditching it all and moving on somewhere new is pretty appealing right now.’
A chorus of ‘No, don’t do that’ pretty much ended hostilities, and we all had a cup of tea to drink to our rapprochement.
In bed later, though, I cried my heart out.
I hadn’t really expected anything from Tom, but I’d thought I might at least get a call or a text. He had been silent since the fateful night, though, and three days later, as we were preparing to put the weekend edition to bed and head out for our regular Friday post-work debauchery, our personal little network was still down.
He hadn’t been seen in the office and nobody had heard from him except, presumably, Ed, and Miles, who had subbed a couple of his articles. The temptation to call and speak to him had been intense, but I had resisted so far. I had also decided to leave the Mia situation well alone. Bloggers shut up shop all the time. It was her decision and perhaps I should just respect it. This colourful little episode in my life was over. Back to black.
‘So where are we going after?’ said Tilda, logging off. ‘It’s half-price night at Stella’s.’
‘Ugh, I hate Stella’s,’ I said. ‘It’s just a meat market.’
‘What about that gothy new bar? That sounds like your kind of thing. Not sure the girls would go for it though.’
A pang. I definitely didn’t want to go there. Not yet.
‘Jess would hate it,’ I said. ‘I think she said something about the Gardening Club.’
‘Sooo expensive,’ moaned Tilda, and then the whole office caught its collective breath as Tom walked in. He didn’t look at us, but made straight for Ed’s office. He didn’t reply to any of the jocular greetings from the advertising boys either.
‘So, er,’ I said, trying to pick up the thread while my heart expanded to its usual size, ‘not the Gardening Club then?’
I don’t think any of us would have admitted it, but we all took much longer than necessary to pack away and repair our makeup and tidy our desks for the weekend. We wanted to see Tom come out, sensing drama in the air.
‘We might as well wait for Jodie,’ said Tilda tensely. ‘Can’t go without her.’
Even though she knew where we were going.
His exit ten minutes later was sufficiently aloof and whirlwind-like to send us scuttling over to Jodie’s desk. Again, he had not made eye contact with anybody, but crashed straight out to the staircase.
The part of me that wanted to chase him had to be squashed – a difficult job, given that it was by far the biggest part of me.
‘Tom’s quit,’ whispered Jodie as soon as we were within earshot.
‘No!’
‘Why?’
She let us huddle around her before continuing, with her eye constantly swivelling towards Ed’s door in fear of being caught.
‘Councillor Keane is threatening to get him done for harassment. Ed said he had to back right off and abandon the story. Tom said no way and handed in his resignation.’
‘Oh, my God,’ I said, looking towards the door as if expecting him to rematerialise. ‘That’s so…’