The Girl He'd Overlooked. Cathy Williams

was the pull of familiarity or the pull of an attraction that refused to remain buried and she was not willing to find out.

      ‘Why don’t you go and change and I’ll fix you something to eat, and if you tell me that you’re too exhausted to eat, then I’m going to suspect that you’re finding excuses to avoid my company. Which wouldn’t be the case, would it, Jen?’

      ‘Of course not.’ But she could feel a delicate flush creep into her cheeks.

      ‘Nothing fancy. You know my culinary talents are limited.’

      The grin he delivered was an aching reminder of the good times they had shared and the companionable ease they had lost.

      ‘And don’t,’ he continued, holding up one hand as though to halt an interruption, ‘tell me that there’s no need. I know there’s no need. Like I said, I’m fully aware of how independent you’ve become over the past four years.’

      Jennifer shrugged, but her thoughts were all over the place as she rummaged in the suitcase for a change of clothes. A hurried shower and she was back downstairs within half an hour, this time in a pair of loose grey yoga pants and a tight, long-sleeved grey top, her hair pulled back into a ponytail.

      It had always been a standing joke that James never cooked. He would tease her father, who adored cooking, that the kitchen was a woman’s domain, that cooking wasn’t a man’s job. He would then lay down the gauntlet—an arm-wrestling match to prove that cooking depleted a man of strength. Jennifer used to love these little interludes; she used to love the way he would wink at her, pulling her into his game.

      However, he was just finishing a remarkably proficient omelette when she walked into the kitchen. A salad was in a bowl. Hot bread was on a wooden board.

      ‘I guess I’m not the only one who’s changed,’ Jennifer said from the doorway, and he glanced across to her, his eyes lazily appraising.

      ‘Would you believe me if I told you that I took a cookery course?’

      Jennifer shrugged. ‘Did you?’ She sat at the table and looked around her. ‘There’s less damage than I thought there would be. I had a look around before I went to have a shower. Thankfully, upstairs is intact and I can just see that there are some water stains on the sofa in the sitting room and I guess the rugs will have to be replaced.’

      ‘Have we finished playing our catch-up game already?’ He handed her a plate, encouraged her to help herself to bread and salad, before taking up position opposite her at the kitchen table.

      Jennifer thought that this was the reason she had avoided him for four years. There was just too much of him. He overwhelmed her and she was no longer on the market for being overwhelmed.

      ‘There’s nothing more to catch up on, James. I can’t think of anything else I could tell you about my job in Paris. If you like I could give you a description of what my apartment looks like, but I shouldn’t think you’d find that very interesting.’

      ‘You’ve changed.’

      ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

      ‘I barely recognise you as the girl who left here four years ago. Somewhere in my memory banks, I have an image of someone who actually used to laugh and enjoy conversing with me.’

      Jennifer felt the slow burn of anger because he hadn’t changed. He was still the same arrogantly self-assured James, supremely confident of their roles in life. She laughed and blushed and he basked in her open admiration.

      ‘How can you expect me to laugh when you haven’t said anything funny as yet, James?’

      ‘That’s exactly what I’m talking about!’ He threw his hands up in a gesture of frustration and pushed himself back from the table. ‘You’ve either had a personality change or else your job in Paris is so stressful that it’s wiped out your sense of fun. Which is it, Jen? You can be honest with me. You’ve always been open and honest with me, so tell me: have you bitten off more than you can chew with that job?’

      ‘I know that’s what you’d like me to say, James. That I’m hopelessly lost and can’t handle the work in Paris.’

      ‘That’s a ridiculous statement.’

      ‘Is it? If I told you that I was having a hard time and just couldn’t cope, then you could be the caring, concerned guy. You could put your arm round my shoulder and whip out a handkerchief for me to sob into! But my job is absolutely brilliant and if I wasn’t any good at it, then I would never have been promoted. I would never have risen up the ranks.’

      ‘Is that what you think? That I’m the sort of narrow-minded, mean-spirited guy who would be happy if you failed?’

      Jennifer sighed and pushed her plate away.

      ‘I know you’re not mean-spirited, James, and I don’t want to argue with you.’ She stood up, began clearing the dishes, tried to think of something harmless to say that would defuse the high-voltage atmosphere that had sprung up.

      ‘Leave those things!’ James growled.

      ‘I don’t want to. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day and the less I have to do in the kitchen, tidying up stuff that could be done now, the better. And by the way, thank you very much for cooking for me. It was very nice.’

      James muttered something under his breath but began helping her, drying dishes as she began washing. Jennifer felt his presence as acutely as a live charge. If she stepped too close, she would be electrocuted. Being in his presence had stripped her of her immunity to him and it frightened her, but she wasn’t going to give in to that queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She launched into a neutral conversation about their parents. She told him how much her father enjoyed Paris.

      ‘Because, as you know, he stopped going abroad after Mum died. He once told me that it had been their dream to travel the world and when she died, the dream died with her.’

      ‘Yes, the last time I came here for the weekend, he was waiting for the taxi and reading a guide book on the Louvre. He said it was top on the agenda. He’s been ticking off the sights.’

      ‘Really?’ Jennifer laughed and for an instant James went still. He realised that the memory of that laugh lingered at the back of his brain like the refrain from a song that never quite went away. Suddenly he wanted to know a lot more than just whether she enjoyed her job or what her apartment was like. She had always, he was ashamed to admit to himself, been a known quantity, but now he felt curiosity rip through him, leaving him bemused.

      ‘You’ve opened up a door for John,’ he drawled, drying the last dish and then leaning against the counter with the tea towel slung over his shoulder. ‘I think he’s realised what he’s been missing all these years. He was in a rut and your moving to Paris forced him out of it. I have a feeling that he’s going to get bored with weekends to Paris pretty soon.’

      ‘We don’t just stay in Paris,’ Jennifer protested. ‘We’ve been doing quite a bit of Europe.’ But she was thrilled with what James had told her. It was a brief window during which, with her defences down, they were back to that place they had left behind, that place of easy familiarity, two people with years and years of shared history.

      She glanced surreptitiously at him and edged away before that easy familiarity could get a little too easy, before her hard-won independence began draining away and she found herself back to the girl in the past who used to hang onto his every word.

      ‘In fact, I’ve already planned the next couple of weekends. When the weather improves, we’re going to go to Prague. It’s a beautiful city. I think he’d love it.’

      ‘You’ve been before, have you?’

      ‘Once.’

      ‘And this from the girl who grew up in one place and never went abroad, aside from that school trip when you were fifteen. Skiing, wasn’t it?’

      Yes, it certainly was. Jennifer