London Calling (11 page)

I got home later that day having been successful in my shopping quest, managing two new tops and a pair of jeans. I’d also had a smile glued to my face the whole afternoon.

I let myself into the flat and went up the stairs to be greeted by Kate singing loudly along to Pulp’s
Common People
. I could smell onions and garlic on the stove as I hung up my coat in the hallway and walked towards the pastel-blue kitchen. Kate was completely unawares, topping up her wine glass and stirring her food. I tapped her on the shoulder and she screamed.

“Jesus!”

“No, Jess.”

“You scared me you moron.”

“Turn the music down then. Lucky I’m not an axe murderer.”

“I didn’t give them any of my keys,” she said.

I lowered the volume on the radio that was placed next to the juicer Kate had bought six months ago in a fit of health. It had yet to be introduced to the art of juicing.

 “And you’ve turned into Nigella in my absence I see.”

“Jamie actually. This is his new spag bol recipe which reckons it needs to simmer for over two hours, hence the early start time.”

“Sounds great. I’m off for a shower.”

 “I’ll pour you a glass of wine,” she shouted. I retreated down the hallway and heard the volume get turned back up, along with Kate’s singing voice.

I particularly liked the bathroom in Kate’s flat, decorated in classic black and white with a walk-in shower big enough for two. She didn’t have a bath but I wasn’t really a bath person so that didn’t bother me. Once inside the huge shower I lathered up my hair and body, standing under the jets of water for far longer than necessary and enjoying the feeling of them hitting my skin.

So, I’d had drinks with a new woman – not quite a date but I hoped there would be an official one. Perhaps we would go out to dinner and she would make a big show and insist on paying for me and I’d be embarrassed but secretly love it. Despite myself and no matter that I was a devoutly deconstructed post-modern feminist and all that jazz, my deepest darkest desire was to meet a woman who worshipped me and was rich enough that I could lead the life of leisure that I should surely have been born into. Even someone buying me dinner made me giddy.

My stomach and further below moved slightly as I thought about Lucy and what little I knew of her. Short dark hair, cool clothes and seriously kissable lips. I wasn’t sure where the catch was because there had to be one. Attractive, solvent, available women didn’t normally show an interest in me. Apart from psychos like Karen and, of course, Ange, and Julia was giving me a hard enough time about that as it was. But Ange was history.

I dried off and went to my room, pulling on my white towelling dressing gown and settling onto my cream duvet. I turned on my laptop and pulled up Facebook: on the right-hand side was a box entitled ‘Friends you might know’. In that box was a picture of Karen smiling out at me. ‘Add As Friend’ said a tag below. Sometimes, social media needed a clip round the ear.

Kate’s spag bol was smelling delicious as I returned to the kitchen freshly cleansed and dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. She passed me a glass of wine that was standing on the counter and we chinked glasses.

“That must have been the longest shower in human history.”

“I was very dirty,” I said. “Plus, I had to catch up on the book of face and what was going on in the world. Nothing as usual in case you were wondering but it has to be checked.”

I dipped a spoon in the Bolognese sauce and tasted it. I winced as it burnt my tongue.

“You’re being a very good wife to me so far you know.”

“Well my other wife’s coming for dinner too so don’t let on, she might get jealous.”

“I’ll let her know you save your special sauce for her.”

“Please!” Kate said.

“Did I get any post today?”

“Nothing – think they might still be on strike. Or rubbish. Or both. By the way, I’m doing starters too, so don’t eat too much,” Kate said as I opened the fridge.

“You’re definitely getting a shag tonight.”

“From you too?”

“Ha ha,” I said. My mind instantly flicked back to Lucy and her gorgeous smile – clearly my face gave me away somewhat. Kate threw me a quizzical look as she opened the cutlery drawer and took out three knives and forks. I took them from her.

“I’ll do that.”

She blocked my way out of the kitchen.

“No, you’re not running away. You’ve got a funny look on your face. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing.”

“Jess…”

I was suddenly very shy and didn’t want to tell her, but I knew I might burst if I didn’t.

“I walked to Angel today along the canal.”

“And?”

“Guess who I bumped into.”

“Who?”

“Guess.”

“Karen – she’s flown over from Australia begging you to take her back.”

“No – I think you might have heard about it by now if that had happened. Guess again.”

“Ange wielding a knife?”

“It’s a positive thing.”

“I don’t do positive,” she said. “I dunno, tell me.”

“Lucy,” I said, matter-of-factly as if it happened every day.

“Luuuucyyyy!” Kate said. Her voice was sing-song and bore more than a note of triumph. “And?”

“And nothing – she was on her bike, I was drinking, she stopped and had a drink too.”

Kate raised her eyebrows at me.

“And you didn’t ask her out, let me guess.”

“Why would I ask her out?”

“Because she’s good-looking, clearly interested in you and you’re gagging for it.”

“How do you work that one out?” I said. Then I pouted. “And I am not gagging for it.”

Kate laughed.

“Are too. But really – she stalked you to the canal, that’s a clue isn’t it? Do you think she could possibly like you too?”

“Har de ha.”

“You can’t just brush this one off. You get on right?”

I nodded.

“You fancy her?”

I smirked.

“She clearly likes you. Tell me you at least exchanged numbers?”

“We confirmed our numbers, yes.”

“Hallelujah. There is hope! Just make sure you call her and seal the deal.”

“You’re truly the last of the romantics, you know that?”

“I have been told. Now set that table, woman, and don’t think this is the last we’ll be talking about this tonight.”

“Perish the thought,” I said.

***

Caroline turned up half an hour later and we sat down to our parma ham, rocket and mozzarella starters at the table. She was shorter than Kate with dyed red hair and skin so pale it seemed to be paper-thin, almost translucent. She had a couple of piercings at the top of both ears along with one in her eyebrow and Kate had confided they weren’t her only ones. I wondered if she rattled when she was treating her patients – you don’t come across many super-pierced nurses after all, or at least I hadn’t. Caroline was also from up north so her conversation was somewhat sing-song, her vowels truncating and stretching as if she were playing some kind of accent accordion.

In addition, perhaps because of her job or maybe her age – she was 36 – she seemed more sorted and somehow more grounded than most people I knew. Somehow, Caroline exuded calmness and authority and I could see that was one of the qualities that drew Kate. My thoughts were broken as Caroline leaned in and took Kate’s right hand in hers.

“This is gorgeous, babe,” she said, kissing Kate’s knuckle. I saw the blush rise in Kate’s cheeks and told them to get a room, at which they both laughed.

“Perhaps we should – although then you won’t hear what you’re missing and you might not be prompted into action,” Kate said.

“What’s this? What have I missed?” asked Caroline. Kate filled her in on the Lucy drinks-by-the-canal scenario and she seemed to be of the same mind as Kate that this meant something.

“You don’t stop on canal paths and have a drink with someone if you’re not interested,” she said bluntly. “She could have just cycled on by and you’d never even have known. Besides, I know Lucy and this means she’s interested.”

“She is?” I forked another piece of cheese and ham and swirled it around in olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I had no plans to eat it but I was trying to play it cool. Caroline nodded.

“Plus, she was asking after you the other night, too. She did it casually but we both detected that she might have been slightly aggrieved you weren’t there with us. She wasn’t nearly so pleased to see us, was she?”

Kate pulled a sad face and shook her head.

“So do what I told you and call her. You’re in your 30s now, you know, there’s no time to be sitting around and wondering about these things. Carpe diem and all of that,” Kate said. She raised her fist to emphasise the point.

“Easy for you to say,” I said. “You didn’t just have your heart smashed into tiny pieces by your last girlfriend.”

“True,” Kate said. “But that was about ten years ago…”

“Er, nine months…”

“Time enough,” she said. “It’s time for you to get back out there. You need some excitement in your life – something fun and less heavy on the heartbreak. You’ve made it back from Australia, you’ve got a home and a job – now you just need a girlfriend and a cat and you’re living the lesbian dream. Am I right?” she asked Caroline.

“Bang on, babe,” she replied.

Kate got up to collect the starter plates.

“Hang on, when do we get a cat then?” Caroline’s eyes followed Kate as she left the room.

“I’m only interested in one type of pussy,” Kate shouted over her shoulder as she disappeared to the kitchen.

“She’s such a charmer,” Caroline said. “But she’s right, you know. Why don’t you call her? What have you got to lose? The worst she can say is no.” She raised a pierced eyebrow. “But I guarantee she won’t. I know Lucy.”

“How long have you known her?”

I was intrigued – Kate hadn’t suggested that Lucy was an old friend and that Caroline might be a useful information source.

“A while – nearly ten years. We met at a friend’s party.”

“A party?” I repeated. I rested my chin on my palm. “Just friends?”

I let the question hang in the air, not really understanding why I asked it in the first place. Caroline cleared her throat and batted it away.

“Briefly more but that was a long time ago – we’re far better as friends, believe me. But don’t let that put you off…”

Right. Zero degrees of separation but even that didn’t deter me. This was the lesbian world, after all.

“Bottom line is Lucy’s lovely – she even put me up in her spare room when I was homeless a few years ago. Plus, she wants a relationship – she’s been single a while now. So if you do too, I’d say this was a goer.”

This was a lot to take in. A thought passed across Caroline’s face and she snorted. I gave her a quizzical look.

“Plus, if you do start going out with her you’ll meet her family, too. More northern than me if you can believe it. And they like to sing. Oh my, do they like to sing…”

 “Is she seeing sense yet?” Kate shouted through.

Caroline fixed me with her gaze.

“I don’t know. Are you?”

I smiled. “We’ve got a connection that’s for sure, so I’d like to get to know her better. I’m not sure about the singing though…”

Kate brought in the Bolognese and I managed to steer the conversation in other directions, both of them silently acknowledging they shouldn’t push me too much on this if they wanted a positive resolution in the end.

So we talked about Caroline’s amusing patients and the idiots at Kate’s work who say words like leverage and synergy with a straight face. We also waded into the customers who came into Porter’s and sat there all afternoon when clearly they should be at work.

But eventually, as we drained another bottle of wine and Kate brought in shop-bought chocolate fondant desserts to accompany the next red she uncorked, the chat came back around to me. Specifically, me and my need to put myself back out there, to lay the ghost of Karen once and for all.

“But what if I’m a curse on all relationships?” I said.

“God, you think highly of yourself – Jess the spirit of doom?” Kate laughed. She filled my glass with the fresh Malbec.

“You know what I mean,” I said. “All my other girlfriends seem to have gone on to have successful relationships after me, some of them even marrying and settling down with kids. I’m the common denominator in all of the stories, the one clanking link that somehow never seems to fit. What if I’m simply incapable of having a healthy, happy relationship? I don’t know if I want the responsibility of making someone else unhappy again. I mean, look at what happened with Ange.”

Kate was having none of it. “Absolute rubbish and you know it.” She put down her dessert spoon and licked her lips. “Maria and you didn’t break up badly, you just drifted out of love. And Karen was an absolute moron to not know how great you are. And Ange was a one-night stand, so get over it. You need to get better at spinning yourself, you know.”

She took a slug of wine and then put on her serious face. “How about considering the fact that you bolted from all of these relationships because you knew they weren’t right and you were saving yourself from even more hurt in the long run, did you ever think about that?”

“No,” I mumbled.

“No, I didn’t think so,” Kate said. “You need to look in the mirror and see what a catch you are. Plus, now you’re a master-baker, how much more of a catch do women need?”

Both Caroline and I laughed out loud at that and, sensing a receptive audience, Kate continued.

“I mean, imagine it. You take a girl out, you charm her, you put the moves on her and then the next day, you jump out of bed and rustle up some muffins.” She sat back in her chair, revelling in her humour as Caroline snorted.

“Attending to muff, then muffins, all in one morning,” she said with a sage nod of the head. “A dream date, clearly. Do you want me to check if Lucy likes muffins? I can text her now…”

“No!” I screeched. Cue raucous laughter.

We ended the evening with me grudgingly admitting I was somewhat of a catch which seemed to satisfy the other two. They also made me promise to think about calling Lucy tomorrow, which I agreed to. Apparently there was a three-day window to act on these things and I was already into day two seeing as it was now officially Sunday. Tick-tock went the clock.