The Night Watch ✓

15 / caught in the act

Bree was going to be late. She realised that as she walked from the office to her car at ten past five, having got caught up on the phone just a couple of minutes before closing, and ending up embroiled in a conversation that went on for far too long. She grumbled as she half jogged to her car, eyes on her watch as the seconds ticked by. Quarter past five had seemed like a good time to meet, when she usually finished at five and Kit had the day off, but as sod's law would have it, it had to be the one day she couldn't leave work on time.

Five minutes to get to Caffe Nero. She had planned to walk, ambling over to that end of town and picking up her car later, but now she would have to drive. Perfect. Teeth clenched, she jammed her key in the ignition and held down the clutch as she brought the car to life. The radio came on automatically, blaring a bad song too loudly, and she whacked the power button to shut it off. One hand jerked the gear stick as she pulled out of her assigned parking space behind the office, and impatient fingers drummed on the wheel as she waited for a break in traffic to turn out of the difficult side lane.

Maybe it would be possible, she thought, a glimmer of optimism as she calculated how long it would take to drive two thirds of a mile and find a place to park, and to dash out and be at the coffee shop for five fifteen. On second thought, that was looking more and more impossible as she turned out and joined a long queue at a notoriously tricky set of lights. With a groan of irritation, she revved her engine as though everyone else needed to know that she had somewhere to be, and she turned the radio on again, switching it to Classic FM.

It always seemed to surprise people to learn that Bree enjoyed classical music. They tended to wedge her into a pop rock box, jumping to an assumption after coming into contact with her wild side, but that couldn't be more wrong. While she could just about stomach the charts, she abhorred rock. It agitated her brain, grating on her nerves, and she much preferred a mellifluous violin concerto to soothe her mind. With no lyrics for her to focus on, there were no distractions with the easy listening instrumental, and the journey seemed to float by as she lost her worries in a bit of Einaudi.

At sixteen minutes past five, Bree parked in a convenient spot just a minute from her favourite coffee shop, and she glanced at herself in the rear view mirror before adding a slash of colour to her lips. Stepping out of the car, she swung her bag over her shoulder and pulled her hair out from under the strap. As much as she loved having long hair, she hated that it got caught everywhere, and she winced as she untangled herself from her bag.

Seventeen minutes past five. Two minutes was an excusable degree of lateness, but she wished she had texted Kit as soon as she had realised she would run a little late. By the time she had realised, she had been so flustered that she could only focus on actually getting there, rather than taking a few seconds to warn him. For a moment, she composed herself outside the coffee shop with a few deep breaths so as not to appear too distracted. She tucked her hair behind her ears, securing it with a couple of bobby pins she had found in her pocket, and she stepped inside.

Kit was there already, lounging on a sofa with his knees wide apart and his nose buried in a book. Bree almost didn't recognise him behind the glasses he wore, a pair of thick black frames, and she tried to control the giddy smile that broke out as she watched him. He was oblivious to her presence, slowly turning the page as he reached the last paragraph, and when his eyes adjusted to the new words, he seemed to catch a glimpse of Bree out of the corner of his eye. He put the book down on the table, placing it like a tent to mark his page, and he stood to greet her.

"Hey, there," he said, stumbling over the table between them. Bree stifled a chuckle. "I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up." He gave her a pout, though he failed to hide the laughter in his eyes. He always seemed to be caught in the moment of understanding a clever joke, his eyes brightening and the corners of his mouth beginning to turn up.