Another Cup of Coffee Read Free

almost exactly thirteen years ago. Amy inwardly groaned. Here she was in her mid-thirties, in a dull job, with no real local friends, no partner, and no children. Eking out her spare time sitting in unspectacular cafés, inhaling coffee fumes and reading novels. She had to do something about her life. And fast.
    Slipping her mobile out of her pocket, Amy punched in the number before she had a chance to change her mind.
    Rob answered the phone with blessed speed. Just hearing his delighted voice when he realised that the prodigal daughter was on the line made Amy feel so much better that she silently cursed herself for not calling him more often. She found herself accepting the frequently-made, but usually refused, invitation to visit, and was amazed by how happy he sounded, and by how quickly Rob made plans to invite Paul over from his current dig so that they could all make some coffee stops like they had in the old days.
    Amy briefly explained what had happened. Did Rob still work with Jack? He did.
    By the time she’d put the phone down on Rob, Amy’s indecisive metabolism had decided she was starving and she ate her meal without registering what it tasted like. Once she’d finished, Amy slid her hand into her pocket and fingered the envelope nervously. Placing the headphones back over her ears and pressing Play , she flinched as Jack’s soft voice spoke to her.
    â€˜I’m sorry Amy. I’m sorry I hurt you. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve put two more tracks on your tape. I tried to imagine what you’d have put on it, if I’d returned it. I hope I got it right. I did love you. Still do, really, but, well, open the letter as you listen, it’ll explain. Oh, and as far as the last track goes, remember we had very wide musical tastes back then – don’t tell anyone who knows me I own a copy!’
    The wounding, wounded lyrics of the first new track, Massive Attack’s ‘Unfinished Sympathy’, crowded her head, and Amy found she was shaking. Fresh tears threatened as she opened Jack’s letter with clumsy fingers …
    So that was it.
    Amy felt odd; relieved, bereft, used, but strangely free. It hadn’t been her fault. Her head thudded and an incredible anger welled up inside her. She’d wasted so much time over something beyond her control.
    When the last track came on Amy couldn’t help but laugh. No wonder Jack didn’t want anyone to know they’d liked it. She could feel the weight of the last thirteen years lifting from her. He was gay. As simple as that. He must have felt as confused as she’d felt worthless. It was time to find him. Time to ask all the questions she should have demanded answers to years ago, not to mention the new ones that crashed through her head.
    What had he seen in her? Amy wasn’t naïve enough to believe she’d turned him gay, but why the hell had he gone out with her in the first place? Whatever had been the point? And why hadn’t Rob ever told her? He must have known for a while if he worked with Jack every day.
    Her brain did an abrupt U-turn and, with her thoughts spiralling out of control in another direction, Amy was seized with panic. Why had he told her now? What had happened to make him get in touch after so many years? Was Jack in trouble? Had someone hurt him?
    As Whitney Houston’s version of ‘I Will Always Love You’ completed her tape, Amy fished the letter back out of her pocket. There was no address, but there was a mobile number.
    Coming to a vastly overdue decision, Amy pulled her mobile back out of her pocket and pressed re-dial.
    â€˜Rob. I’m not coming to visit. I’ve made a decision. I’ve been hiding long enough. I’m moving south. Please don’t say anything about anything to Jack yet. OK?’

OCTOBER
    In which Amy heads south, we meet an erotica writer, discover the perfect coffee house, and Jack has some explaining to