Thank you for your reviews and comments. I hope you're enjoying the direction of the story and the telling from different points of view. We're back to Molly for this chapter.
Molly is moving forward
Molly misses the train
Molly slams closed the lid of her laptop in frustration, puts her head in her hands and groans. It's been nine days since she was fired and she is having no success at all finding a new role, "There are no PR jobs. I might gonna need to look for some part-time work, Dylan".
He doesn't look up from his phone, "Sounds good Molls. Do you some good to get back out there".
In theory, having the opportunity to spend some time with Dylan should be great, but he's hardly been around and keeps disappearing off to the library to do research for his sodding book. When he is at home, he's distracted and spends a lot of time on his mobile phone.
She can't quite put her finger on it, but there was something odd about his behaviour that day she got fired, almost mugged, and came home early. She's got a nagging feeling that he's up to something and that he wants her out of the way and back to work as soon as possible. On the other hand, sitting around the house feeling sorry for herself is doing her nut in and she is probably making something out of nothing. She needs to pull herself together and get on with things, "Right, I'm going out for a run."
Again, he doesn't look up from his phone, and lets out what can best be described as a disinterested grunt in acknowledgement.
She leaves the house and instinctively starts running her morning commuting route. She used to love starting her day with this run which takes in the Thames path, the edge of Battersea Park before heading up to the West End, but realizes that she hasn't been doing it too much in the last few months, being just another thing that has suffered as her job got difficult. She finds herself thinking back to that awful morning and with a start remembers that in her haste to get home that day she never went back to pay Qaseem for her morning cuppa. Feeling awful, she decides to drop by on her run and settle her debt.
Thirty minutes later she's stood outside the café catching her breath and incredulously looking at a sign advertising a part-time position. As she enters the café, the door is held open for her by a departing customer and she ducks in just as the tall man bids goodbye to Qaseem.
Qaseem's face lights up as he sees Molly, "My dearest Molly. Where've you been? I've been so worried about you?"
"I am so sorry Qaseem. I got fired and forgot to come and pay you for me mornin' cuppa. I 'ave the money 'ere now."
Qaseem gestures her to sit down with him, "Oh Molly. They were very foolish to fire you. Their loss. Please keep your money. I'm just so pleased you're ok."
"Thank you Qaseem. Erm, I see yer advertisin' a job…."
Qaseem looks and sounds surprised, "Yes, but it is just a few hours a day for someone to make and deliver sandwiches to the local offices. You are destined for greater things than my little cafe."
She knows it is a big ask and can hear the desperation in her voice as she pleads, "Thanks, but would you consider me for the job? Please Qaseem. I promise I'll work really 'ard. I'd really appreciate the opportunity. I really need to get back workin'."
Qaseem gives her a kindly smile, "Ok Molly. But on one condition."
"Yes, Qaseem, anythin'."
"Only if you promise me you'll continue looking for another PR job."
She's can't quite believe that he has not only offered her a job, but is also encouraging her to keep looking for her next role, "Thank you Qaseem. You're a gent. And there isn't many of us left, as me granddad said."
By the time she leaves the cafe, she's feeling much more positive than she has in days. She starts running home and instead of being lost in her thoughts, she's enjoying the sights and sounds of London life and feeling grateful for what she has.
She's almost home when she notices that one of her once-favourite restaurants has closed down and is undergoing a fairly major refit. The sign in the window indicates a new Italian bistro will soon be opening and that they're hiring front of house staff. Thinking there is no time like the present she puts the contact details into her phone and sends a quick enquiry email.
Molly catches the train
Molly slams closed the lid of her laptop in frustration, puts her head in her hands and groans. It's been nine days since she was fired, discovered her boyfriend was a cheating wanker and made a complete tit of herself in front of the most good-looking man she has ever met, "What am I gonna do, Jac?"
She knows this isn't the first time she has asked Jackie this question in the past few days. She is eternally grateful to her friend for taking her in, installing her in her old bedroom, feeding her chocolate and vodka in large and equal quantities and listening to her going on about Dylan bleedin' Smith. She's boring herself on the subject and suspects, completely understandably, that Jackie's patience might be starting to wear a bit thin too.
The only subject she's kept largely to herself is Charles James. She had to answer Jackie's questions the morning after about how she knew him and she needed Jackie to fill-in some of the hazier and, as it turns out, more mortifyingly embarrassing details of the night. She's not really sure what she thinks about him. She knows she found him attractive when they met on the tube and that he was kind to her, even though she was rude and stand offish. She remembers feeling reassured, not all uncomfortable, under his gaze as they travelled. When she met him again in the restaurant, she had enjoyed talking to him and he had made her laugh, even though she was rude to him again. Although she knows practically nothing about him, she's found herself day-dreaming about him quite a lot over the last few days which is completely pointless as she has no means of getting in contact. Besides, she was such a monumental fuck-up that night that she imagines he would, quite reasonably, run for the hills if he did ever see her again.
She is brought back to the present. After a short amount of thought Jackie has what looks like a triumphant smile on her face, "What you need Molly Dawes is a change of image."
This wasn't quite what she was expecting, but she's curious, "What d'ya mean?"
Jackie is still smiling, clearly feeling pleased with herself, "Do you trust me?"
Several hours later Molly is stood in the living room admiring her new hair colour in the mirror. Well technically it isn't a new colour, it is actually her natural brunette colour. She'd forgotten how much she loves it and how it brings out the green of her eyes, "Jac, I love it, thank you."
"Well you've been sitting here like suicide on a stick for a week, figured you needed something to remind yourself of who you really are."
Before she can stop herself, she's finds herself correcting Jackie, "Nine days Jac."
Jackie looks slightly exasperated, "Ok, for nine days. But bollocks to him. Cuppa?"
Jackie goes off to the kitchen whilst she sits down on the sofa, grabbing a magazine and idly flicking through to the horoscopes.
Jackie comes back into the room with two cups of tea and sits down next to her picking up her phone and checking her texts. They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes. She knows she's covering old ground, but still asks, "Why 'asn't he even called to see if I'm ok?"
Jackie is now frowning, "Or to admit he's a twat. Hello Molls, it's Dylan. I'm a twat. I love you. Please come home."
She's now annoyed at herself for bringing the conversation back to Dylan, "Oh, I don't care anyway. Bollocks to him. I'm over him."
She nods her head, in what she hopes is a convincing way, knowing that she's a shit liar, "Yeah. Totally and utterly and completely over him."
Jackie doesn't look particularly convinced, "No you're not."
"I am."
"You're not."
She tries to sound more convincing, "Jac, I'm over him."
Jackie doesn't say anything, but just looks at her with very raised eyebrows. She's feeling flustered under Jackie's scrutiny, "What d'ya mean I'm not? How d'ya know I'm not?"
Jackie doesn't sound cross, but merely adopts a tone you might use with a small child, "Well two things really. You're still counting how long you've been apart in days, hours and minutes." Jackie leans over and grabs the magazine, "But the flashing red light way of telling you're not over someone is reading their horoscope in the hope they're going to get wiped out in some freak napalming incident."
She lets out a snigger, "Smart arse."
Jackie is studying the horoscopes, "What is he?"
She's laughing now, "A wanker? Oh, an Aries."
"Aries… Aries…. Well, just goes to show how much I know…. 'With Mars in the ascendancy you will get wiped out in a freak napalming incident and Molly says bollocks to you'."
She's now pissing herself and even more grateful to her amazing friend. She literally doesn't know how she would have got through the last nine days without her love and support.
It's a little while later when the doorbell rings. She's a little surprised when Jackie makes no effort to get up and answer the door, "You go, Molly".
She's feels panic rising at the prospect of seeing Dylan, "Nah, I'm not in. You go. I'm out. You don't know where or who with. Especially who with."
The ringing is getting more insistent and Jackie is still not moving, "Quickly Molly, go on."
She's pleading now, "Please, you 'ave to. It won't be Dylan anyway."
Jackie looks smug and victorious, "So there's no big deal, is there. Off you go."
The bell rings again and she knows that she has lost this battle with Jackie. She heads off to the door chanting, "Bollocks to him. Bollocks to him. Bollocks to him. Bollocks to him."
She takes a deep breath and prepares herself to reject whatever drivel Dylan comes up with.
She opens the door and is stunned to find Charles.
He looks equally surprised, "Wow, Molly your hair looks amazing. It really suits you."
She hesitates and looks questioningly at him, puts her hand up and runs it through her hair, remembering that he has only ever known her as a blonde. He seems to misinterpret her hesitation and before she can respond, he's speaking again. "No, it does. It does. No gag. Never make a joke about women's hair, clothes or menstrual cycles. Dating 101."
She finds herself smirking at his comment and unable to resist, "Dating 101? A bit previous there, weren't you?"
He suddenly seems unsure of himself, "Shit. Sorry, that wasn't how I'd planned to start this conversation..."
He stops himself, runs his hand through his unruly brown hair, tugging at the short curls at the back of his head, takes a deep breath and starts again. "Hi Molly."
She gives him a broad smile, "Hi Charles."
He looks at her intently with his beautiful brown eyes, "I was wondering if you'd like to go out for a walk with me? Maybe get a coffee or something?"
She feels her stomach do a little flip, "Yes, I'd like that. But a teabag does me fine."
He returns her smile, "Right...Lovely."