Jan frowned. “What do you mean?” I figured he wasn’t sure if Gizmo had missed the point completely or if there was a language problem.
Gizmo took a hasty step backwards. “Look, I never meant to cause any trouble, I didn’t know anything about you. Whatever she’s said, there’s been nothing between us, this would have been the first time we’d even met,” he gabbled.
Jan looked even more puzzled. He waved the book at Gizmo. “I brought the book. So we’d know each other,” he said in that pedantic way that Germans and Scandies have when they’re not sure you’ve understood their impeccable English.
Gizmo swung towards me. “Tell him, Kate. Tell him it’s all a misunderstanding. She never said anything about having a bloke. I thought she was unattached.”
With a sigh, I got to my feet. “You’re Jan, right?” I said, giving the J its soft Y sound. Gizmo’s mouth fell open and the Iain M. Banks tumbled to the concourse floor. Then, suddenly, he whirled round and ran for the escalator down to the tram terminus below. Jan made a half-hearted move to step around me and give chase but I blocked him. “Leave it,” I said. “He’s not the one, Jan.”
He frowned. “Who are you? What’s going on?” He craned past
“I’m Kate. Gizmo and I work together.”
“Why has he run off? We arranged to meet,” Jan said, sounding puzzled. “We have been e-mailing each other for months. Getting to know each other. We both figured it was time to meet.” He made the inverted commas sign in the air that pillocks use to indicate they’re quoting. “‘Time to take things further,’ Gizmo said.”
“Don’t you think it might have been sensible to mention that you were a bloke?” I said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “He thought you were a woman. Jan with a J, not Jan with a Y.”
Jan’s fair skin flushed scarlet. “What does that matter? I’m still the same person. Because I am a man suddenly it’s different?”
“Of course it’s different,” I protested. His disingenuousness was really winding me up. “He’s not gay, for one thing. I can’t believe you never made it clear you’re a man. It can’t be the first time someone’s made that mistake.”
He glared at me. “Why should I? I’m not responsible for someone else’s assumptions. You British are so terrified of anything that is different, that challenges your sad little conventions.”
By now, the entire coffee shop was enthralled, waiting for my response. “Bollocks,” I said contemptuously. “Tell that to Julian Clary. Don’t try and pretend that deceiving Gizmo was some kind of heroic act of sexual liberation. It was cowardice, that’s what it was. You were scared to admit you were a man because you thought Gizmo would end your cyber-relationship.”
“And I was right,” he shouted.
“No, you were wrong,” I said quietly. “He might have rejected you as a lover, but he would still have been your friend. And I’ve got good cause to know just how much that signifies.” Three women sitting round a table in the coffee shop gave me a ragged round of applause.
Jan’s laugh was harsh. “In cyberspace, he didn’t need a woman to fight his battles.” Then he turned on his heel and stalked off towards the taxi rank.
I gave the women a sardonic bow and walked out into a heavy drizzle. Underneath the entrance canopy, the Salvation Army band was playing “In the Bleak Midwinter.” A beggar with a dog on a string was trying to sell the Big Issue to people with a train to catch. A traffic warden was writing a ticket to stick on some poor sucker’s windscreen.
I couldn’t see Gizmo turning up for work on Monday morning as if nothing had happened. It looked like Brannigan & Co had just lost their computer expert. And when I got back to my car, the back tire was flatter than my spirits.
If this was what was written in the stars, there was a scriptwriter somewhere who’d better watch his back.