London Calling (13 page)

I nodded and leaned against the counter-top.

“You know, all that doubt, all those worries – they didn’t enter my head when Lucy asked me out. It was a simple question: would I like to have dinner? And my overwhelming response to that question was yes. Pure and simple. Perhaps it wasn’t just Ange’s laugh that was the deal breaker, eh?”

“You think?” Kate said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. I tutted and walked out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Friday at work I was all fingers and thumbs, not concentrating on what I needed to do, giving out Americanos where lattes were needed, cutting overly generous lumps of cake for punters and generally being “a little absent” as Matt gently put it.

“It’s like you’ve got something on your mind,” he teased me, brushing his wrist across his tanned forehead. Matt was one of those people who stepped outside and got a tan whereas my skin was not quite so obliging. Here in London, the weather was unseasonably hot for May and we were all suffering with the heat. As Beth pointed out repeatedly though: “Sweat means calories burned – let’s get to work!”

Seeing my agitated state, Matt gave in trying to persuade me to come for one drink with them after work. Instead, he insisted I leave as soon as the lunch rush was over.

“If you’re anything like the women I know, you’ll need at least three hours to get ready.”

I was amused and somewhat touched that he put me into the same category as his exes.

“What about you?” I asked. “Don’t you drink too much either – you’ve got a lady to impress,” I said.

“A quick one after work won’t hurt. Dutch courage…”

***

We met outside Cosmo Bar which was handily just around the corner from the flat. Comically, despite my protestations Matt had been correct with his approximations of how long it would take me to get ready. I’d spent 45 minutes trying on different outfits – tie or no tie? – and a further 45 minutes trying to perfect my make-up. Plus, there was shaving, scraping, moisturising and plucking to be done, it’s amazing how it builds up in just a week. Not that I was planning to sleep with her tonight but you just never knew where life might take you.

When I was satisfied there was no make-up on my chosen top and that my face gave the illusion of minimal or no make-up, I presented myself to my full-length mirror for the verdict. Not bad. Patting my pockets for keys and money, I pulled the door to and walked out.

I was bang on time, she was early. This was a good sign. This particular Friday the bar had a cool buzz building as punters slotted into their seats to kick-start their evenings and we were no exception. Behind the bar, three male and two female bartenders in grey shirts were busy mixing, slicing and shaking.

As I approached, one of the women caught my eye and shot a piercing smile my way. Either she was desperate to pour me a drink or I was giving off come-get-me pheromones. I hoped Lucy was picking them up as I walked her way.

“Hi,” she said, leaning in for a kiss. Cheek or lips? I panicked, turned my head and she ended up kissing my ear. Not a terribly smooth start.

“You look good,” she said. Was it just me or had her voice got huskier? The hour had thrown up jeans, my special shiny red shoes and a paisley shirt that always drew compliments and action – Tom and Tess had christened it my pulling shirt but this was its first real outing in the UK.

“So do you,” I replied. And she did. Glitter-flecked top, fitted jeans, black shoes and alluringly shiny hair – she looked edible. I didn’t take my eyes off her lips as she spoke.

“Tempt you into a cocktail then?” she said. “I was considering a Long Island Iced Tea but it might send me a bit loopy.”

“What’s that?” I indicated a glass already in front of her.

“Just water – I wanted to wait till you arrived to order proper drinks.”

“Well, it’s not a first-date drink but if we both have a Long Island Iced Tea then we’re on even ground aren’t we?”

“Or not so even.”

She gestured to the bartender that we were ready to order. I smoothed myself down as I tried to find a comfortable position to assume while also coming across as sexy and alluring – no mean feat on a bar stool. The cute female bartender had been replaced by a cute male bartender who was equally smiley as he took our order.

“I think he fancies his chances,” Lucy said as he zipped down the bar to retrieve a cocktail shaker.

“I don’t blame him.”

“So,” she said.

“So,” I repeated, smiling gently.

“I’m glad you came.”

“It would have been rude to just leave you here alone, wouldn’t it?”

She laughed.

“Very.”

“It was a bit of a trek from my house, though.”

“Oh yes, I imagine. At least a minute?”

“At least.”

The drinks arrived and I handed the bartender a £20 note.

“Cheers,” I said. We chinked glasses.

Lucy tasted hers first and made a face that suggested the drink was loaded with alcohol. I had a taste and made the same face, dimly recalling some show on lovers and how they mimic what the other does. Mental note to self.

“I know you really shouldn’t drink these but I always think it’s the best-value cocktail – all those spirits and the same price as a drink with only half the combinations. I think it’s my Irish budget-driven upbringing,” she said. When she laughed her eyes seemed to glitter like her top and her dimple made her look delectable.

“So, how was your day?” I asked.

She exhaled before she replied.

“Busy. Packed schedule and I had to refer one of my patients to a hospital as I think we detected cancer on a routine eye-scan. Horrible to do but good that we caught it early.”

“That’s a bit rubbish.”

“It happens. At least she’ll hopefully catch it before it does lasting or fatal damage. Cheery start to the conversation eh?” she said. “How was your day?”

“Not quite as dramatic. Unless you count the guy who came in wanting some quiche, a sandwich and a slice of cake – that’s a lot of food for one person.” We both laughed.

“Did you work in the café before you went to Australia?” she said.

“No, never done that kind of thing before. I worked in bars at university but I’m too clumsy to be a waitress and never really saw myself as the service type. But it beats working in an office hands-down – I never thought I’d take to it like I have. Plus, I can now bake a mean cake and offer free coffees to cute women who happen to come visit, which is always a winner, isn’t it?”

“Certainly is,” she said. “I admire that, you know.”

“What?”

She shifted slightly on her stool and leant forward.

“That you had the guts to change things, get out of a job you didn’t like. I did it too but it takes a lot. Tons of my mates are stuck in jobs they don’t really like but they’re too lazy or scared to trade them in for something else. They get used to the money and the lifestyle and then before you know it, you’re 40 and stuck somewhere you don’t want to be.”

“I know plenty of people like that,” I said. I sipped my drink and looked over to a group of girls who’d just come into the bar. They’d obviously been drinking for a while.

“I’m not sure I set out to change things as much, it just happened,” I said. “When I came back from Oz I didn’t want to just fall into my old life like the intervening three years never even happened. Porter’s were advertising and I thought ‘what the hell’? The worst that could happen was I didn’t like it and then I could look for something else.

“But actually, it’s been a breath of fresh air. Sometimes I’m amazed this is what I’m being paid to do. I’m even pretty good with customers and I’ve always thought I hated people secretly. Probably not something I should admit on a first date, right?”

Lucy laughed out loud. “I know what you mean – occupational hazard.”

“You get people coming in looking sad, worried, happy – people buy coffee and cake in all different moods. And some of them, the people who come in mid-afternoon who are clearly bunking off work and needing some time – I want to go over and put an arm around them.

“I remember being them, remember being stuck in an office with artificial lighting. My last job in the UK, I never even knew what the weather was like outside because my window was too high to see out of.”

Lucy nodded, stirring her drink with the black plastic stirrer.

“Life’s too short.”

“You changed career too?”

“Yep. I was going to be a lawyer.”

I thought about Angela, my short-lived brush with the legal profession.

“Wow, that’s quite a change.”

“Yeah. Nobody in my family ever went to university and when I started, I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do. My parents were just amazed I was going and pleased to fund me a little. But I had to choose a subject and so I plumped for law.”

“Far more sensible than my choice.”

“Oh?” she said.

“International Relations.”

She chuckled. “You were curious about the world and wanted to save it with your diplomacy, right?”

“Exactly that.”

“Well, I was the opposite. I thought if I’m going to university, I’ll do something
big
,” she said, raising her voice slightly for the last word.

“So I did law. But after a while I realised that everyone on my course seemed really serious about it and I… Well, not so much. So I had a word with my course people and started all over again the following year but this time training to be an optician.”

“And your parents were happy to support your decision?”

She nodded. “Yeah, they’re quite chilled and they trust me, which helps.”

I shamelessly leaned in closer to her, brushing my hair out of my eyes and looking upwards.

“So what’s your expert opinion of my eyes?”

She put her hand up to my face, clutching my chin with her fingers on one side and her thumb on the other. She studied my eyes closely, which made my heart race that little bit faster. My whole face seemed to heat up at her touch.

“Deep, clear, brooding,” she said. “Oh, I think you can see out of them too.”

Her face was so near to me I was sure she could hear my heart, beating like a kick drum. I briefly considered leaning in to kiss her – it would have been so easy – but decided that wasn’t first-date etiquette. Instead I leaned back, studying her collarbone, her breasts, her lips. Which really didn’t help matters. I cleared my throat before speaking.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Only the ones I’m interested in,” she replied.

***

Half an hour later and we were in Nha Trang, my favourite Vietnamese restaurant which also turned out to be Lucy’s, too. It wasn’t a fancy place – if you go to an Asian restaurant that is, leave immediately. However, if you looked beyond the church hall chairs and white paper table cloths it had incredible food, although if you were expecting a smile you might be disappointed.

Once we were settled with our beers and prawn crackers, I began to babble. I also remembered to ask about her life and family, which I knew Julia would have given me a gold star for. Apparently in pressure situations I turn into a one-woman stand-up show, which is amusing for a while until I realise it’s a monologue not a dialogue and it’s all been about me. Tonight, I was performing well.

Lucy told me she was from an Irish Catholic background, the second of four kids. She’d grown up in Yorkshire where the rest of her family still lived but she’d decided to give London a go.

“Really, you’re from Yorkshire?” I said.

“Yep.”

“So why don’t you sound all ee-by-gum?”

“I moved to London for uni and when I discovered nobody could understand a word I said or that if they did, it was the subject of great hilarity, I changed it. It still comes out when I’m drunk and in certain words but that’s all. My family consider me a traitor but they’ll get over it.”

I also discovered she’d had three previous long-term relationships, one just tipping two years, and she’d been single for the past nine months. She also owned a flat in Bow and worked at an opticians in the city.

“Caroline tells me that I have to meet your family but I was a bit scared when she mentioned it might involve singing,” I said. Lucy looked horrified but then burst out laughing.

“I can’t believe she told you that,” she said. She shook her head and smiled ruefully. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to sing until at least your third visit. And if it comes to it we can work out a song for you, no problem.”

She must have seen the slight hesitation in my laughter because she reached over and stroked my arm.

“I am joking,” she said.

I grinned with relief. “Yeah, I knew that.”

“My family would love you – that’s not the problem. It’s whether you could take my family.” She chuckled at her own joke. I noticed she had remarkably regimented teeth too, all stood to attention in a perfect white line.

In return, I told her an abridged version of my history, light on the heartbreak, heavy on the humour, glossing over the Karen question as if it hardly mattered and leaving out the key elements of betrayal. Even I knew never to get into past relationships on a first date.

“So are you pleased to be back in the UK?” Lucy asked after I’d painted Australia as a sunshine-filled playground.

“Things are certainly looking up,” I said.

For the rest of the meal we chatted easily. She wasn’t into football but apart from that she seemed almost impossibly perfect. By this time we were well into our second course and Lucy had mixed beansprouts, basil leaves and lime into her noodle soup, before adding more chilli than I would have dared.

“You like it hot,” I said.

 “I do,” she replied. I felt a blush rise in my cheeks and tried to regain my cool. She looked amused.

“What were we talking about? My week… To be honest, I’ve just been working and looking forward to tonight,” she told me, fixing me with an intent stare.

Bold, I thought. And sexy.

“Me too,” I said.

***

When we finished Lucy insisted on paying and my heart duly swooned. I felt her hot hand clasp mine as she led me out the door and down the street, the night air still balmy to touch. We walked with just the slap of our soles on the pavement and the hum of anticipation in the air.