Chapter
One
The waiting area was crowded and the only place to sit was on the stairway. This Helen took, as there was still over fifteen minutes until this workshop was supposed to start.
It was as she sat at the foot of the stair that Helen first saw him. He was at the counter talking to the receptionist, being told that he was going to have to wait in the reception area for the instructor. His eyes swept around the crowded room, glanced over her to the only empty standing space near the door by the stair. Helen watched as he walked past her to lean against the wall to wait. He was particularly noteworthy with green eyes, dark hair and a striking face, seemingly unruffled by the crowd or the wait. It was only when he looked at her and flashed a smile that Helen realised that she was staring. She quickly looked away, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
I hope that instructor comes soon.
As Helen looked behind her she saw at least a dozen women doing the same. A blonde woman near Helen gave a nervous giggle to her friend sitting next to her.
Grow up!
Helen looked at the clock.
The clock on the wall by the counter told Helen she had another five minutes. She sighed and pointedly stared in the opposite direction to the man standing near her.
I need to go to the loo.
Grabbing her bag, Helen got up from the stair and made her way through the waiting area to the corridor that led to the toilets. When Helen came out again there was only a dozen people waiting. She groaned.
I’ll lay odds on that my class is one of the ones missing.
Heaving another sigh Helen made her way across the waiting room to the counter. She looked to the spot by the stair and saw it was empty.
At least he was gone.
The receptionist looked up as Helen leaned against the counter. “I was wonder-” Helen stopped as she heard someone coming down the stairs. She looked up to see a tall, balding man holding a sheet of paper. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked into the waiting area. “I’m looking for Helen Lyons.”
“That’s me.”
“I’ve seemed to have missed you on the roundup.”
“Sorry about that.”
The man smiled. “Better come up then.”
Helen followed him up the stairs and into the first classroom on the right. She looked around the computer lab and saw that all the positions were filled but one at the back of the room by the window. Next to that empty PC was the dark haired man. He was watching her. The whole room was watching her. Inwardly Helen cursed her work for sending her to do this workshop. There were far more important projects that had to be done, things to get organized. Sighing again she headed to the window seat.
Helen set her backpack under the desk and self-consciously took her seat. She felt the man’s eyes on her but she studiously ignored him, keeping her eyes on the instructor as he wrote his name on the white board, ‘Peter Johnson’, along with the times for the break periods and lunch. The instructor then gave them a run down on what he wanted them to learn from today’s course.
As Peter Johnson spoke Helen gave a surruptious glance at her lab partner. He was still staring at her.
How Rude!
“-introduce yourself to the class by giving your name, where you’re from and what you expect to get out of today’s course.”
Helen groaned. She hated this part of every course. Hated talking about herself, hated being the centre of attention. Helen was glad now that her seat was at the rear of the room; it gave her time to think of the shortest way possible to say her spiel.
As people took turns giving up their names, the company they work for and the reason for doing the course. Helen felt the butterflies working furiously in her belly. She closed her eyes a moment in an effort to control her inner churnings, at least now she could not feel the gaze of the man next to her.
And then it was her turn. Everyone’s attention killed the feeling of butterflies but did not drive away the nervousness.
“I am Helen Lyons. I work for the ….Federal Government in ICT and I’m here under instructions from my Director.”
Peter Johnson raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Helen heard the chair next to her move. She turned her head and saw her neighbor grinning at her.
At least he’s happy to be here. My time could be better spent at work!
Whatever he saw on her face made his grin widen. Helen frowned and looked away, annoyed at being the butt of his humor.
“My name is Bryan Thorne.”
The rich, deep voice startled Helen and she turned back to look at her neighbor. It was not the sound she was expecting, it was also not Australian.
“I run my own business and I like to see what a course is like before I inflict it on my employees.”
British. The accent is British.
Helen let her thoughts run and wander as the other half of the class introduced themselves. And she felt some relief that Bryan was now taking more of an interest in staring at the rest of the class.
Once everyone had introduced themselves, the workshop actually started. Helen opened the work book, logged onto the dummy database and began the exercises as instructed by Johnson. As the morning wore on, the teacher walked up and down the centre isle talking constantly. As he spouted the theory Helen felt her head fill slowly with cotton wool and her eyes kept slipping closed. And then they would suddenly snap open again as she caught herself napping. The insulated confines of a classroom always did this to her, even in the most interesting lectures. The air conditioning had been cranked up to compete against the summer heat, causing goose bumps to rise on Helen’s forearms. She pulled out her trusty Navy jacket from her bag and slipped it on. At least now she was warm.
Bryan made no attempt to make small talk with her and Helen was glad of it. She had never been good at small talk; it was always hard to come up with things to say to fill the uncomfortable silences. But he did stare at her, a ghost of a smile fading on his face whenever she glanced at him.
If there were a chance during the lunch break, she would talk to one of the other students about changing seats with her. Knowing that this Bryan was looking at her was un-nerving. She did not have to suffer through a course she was made to go to while being stared at by a total stranger. Helen was not used to being stared at by anybody much less by a man, it made her wonder if there was something on her face, on her teeth, in her hair, something that she did not see in the ladies room mirror before she met the instructor.
It’s probably just his way of having his own fun. Helen finally decided. It sounds like he had about as much choice as I had about attending this course.
Helen noticed the covert looks that the girl sitting across the aisle was aiming in Bryan’s direction. He did not spare her a glance but Helen determined then and there that she would ask the woman at the lunch break if she wanted to swap seats with her.
Peter Johnson talked on and in an effort to ignore the staring eyes of Bryan, Helen looked out of the window. A tree loomed in the lower half of the window, branches waving gently, leaves fluttering in the hot northerly wind. The rest of the sky was filled with slate grey clouds that were constantly moving with the jet streams towards the southeast.
The lesson droned on and her mind rebelled at having to listen to a subject it did not want to hear. She felt herself nodding again and without looking Helen knew that the lug next to her was grinning again. She heard a noise and looked down at the desk to see a warm cup of coffee being pushed towards her.
“You look as if you need this.”
Helen looked at Bryan and then back at the coffee. Coffee was not a favorite drink of hers, if she needed caffeine Helen preferred it as Coco Cola or chocolate. Helen wished she had a coke now. The man was right. She did need something to help keep her awake.
He was only being civil.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t drink coffee.”
“Oh.”
She watched as the cup was pulled back to his side of the desk, the constant smile now absent from his face.
“What do you drink?”
Now the man was trying for small talk?
Helen tried not to sigh. It was only an hour and a half to lunch. It would not hurt her to be nice.
“Usually Coke.”
Helen then turned her attention back to the lecturer thinking the conversation closed. So she was startled when after a few minutes Bryan spoke again.
“Coke as requested.”
Helen looked down at the bottle of coke sitting by her arm.
What the…?
She looked at Bryan and then down at his open backpack amazed that she did not hear him get it out. Amazed that he had one in there in the first place.
“Ah…thanks.” Helen watched Bryan warily as she moved the bottle in front of her and saw the smile reappear on the man’s face. Strangely it reminded her of a dog happy that its master had accepted the newspaper form them. Helen quickly turned her attention back to the lesson but she did not crack open the drink. He was a stranger. For all she knew, he could have spiked it with something. But then again, if it was spiked it would be silly of him to give it to her this early in the day. She shouldn’t be so paranoid.
The scratching of a pen interrupted her thoughts and she saw Bryan writing some notes down in his workbook out of the corner of her eye.
The man was right! I do need something to help keep me awake.
Helen’s eyes slipped back to the bottle of coke. Drops of condensation slowly rolled down its sides, leaving clear trails through the frost and if Helen listened hard enough she could hear the faint effervescence of the carbonated drink. It was tempting Helen’s weak mind and as she reached for the bottle and cracked the lid, her mind had lost the battle. As she took her first mouthful Helen savored the feel of the bubbles fizzing against her tongue. Keeping it there until the gas ran dry and then swallowing it.
Maybe Bryan was not that bad a guy.
Maybe.
The time till lunch flew quickly by and as Helen again looked out of the first storey window she saw that the clouds had cleared with a clear blue sky but far on the horizon could be seen the dark grey of thunder clouds. They would be in the city by the afternoon and knowing her luck they would drop whatever rain they held right when she was walking home from the bus.
As soon as Peter Johnson declared the break for lunch, Helen grabbed her purse from her backpack and was heading down the stairs before anyone else had a chance to move from their chair. Lunch was provided as part of the workshop but Helen headed out to the street and, out of habit, headed for the nearest deli to get a pasty and coke. She needed a break from those staring green eyes, so Helen took her lunch to Victoria Square to sit in the sunshine and watch the pigeons play in the fountain while she ate. By the time she had finished her pasty the thunderclouds had rushed considerably closer. And so had the time. Helen had to speak to that girl before the class starts again!
Helen rose quickly from the grass and made her way back. When she stepped into the lunch rood she found it empty. The only sign of anyone having been there were the two empty platters each bearing one small triangle of what looked to be salad sandwiches.
Damn!
Helen’s eyes then caught the wall clock.
Double damn.
She was late, but her watch told her that there were still five minutes to go.
Great. I’m stuck sitting next to Bryan for the next three hours.
Helen made her way quickly up the stairs to the classroom. Johnson was going to think she was someone who was perpetually late. He was already speaking when she came through the door and made her way quickly to her seat. Bryan gave her a warm smile and Johnson only paused long enough in his lecture to show his disapproval before continuing his lesson.
The afternoon went quickly by. Bryan did not try to speak to her again but Helen could still sense him watching her though when she turned to look, his eyes were directed elsewhere. This of course made her felt stupid and that maybe she had been overreacting. And that made her feel guilty and then embarrassed.
As soon as the workshop was over she was up and out of the room without saying a word to anyone. She had her cousin’s party to go to that night and so Helen did not care if they all thought her rude.
She would never see any of them again.