London Calling (26 page)

I gently eased back the crisp white duvet – I think she might have been expecting company – and levered myself out of bed, careful not to wake her. After going to the loo, I crept silently up the stairs, gratified to note they weren’t horror-movie stairs: no creaking at all.

At the top, my feet relishing the soft carpet, I walked into the lounge, through to the kitchen and filled the kettle. In contrast, the slate kitchen tiles were cold on my bare feet and I hopped around as the kettle sprung to life. I wandered out into the lounge and surveyed Lucy’s bookshelves, always a window into someone’s psyche. There was a multitude of what my mum would call ‘hippy self-help’ books, alongside a slew of city guides and travel books as well as most of the must-reads from the past decade. Well-travelled and well-read, I concluded from my snooping. Or at least likes to give that impression.

“Well, what’s the verdict?” Lucy said. I jumped. That’s the trouble with un-creaky stairs; they can work against you too.

“You scared me,” I said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You shouldn’t have got up then,” she said. She walked over and put her arms around me before planting a kiss on my mouth.

“Morning,” she said.

“Morning,” I replied. She was still warm and smelt delicious – she could easily become my favourite smell.

“It’s rude to come back to a girl’s house and then leave her alone in bed the next morning while you snoop around her apartment you know.”

“Is it? Perhaps that’s why all the rest have run off,” I said.

“Perhaps so.”

She took my hand. “Anyway, come back to bed.” She was already walking and pulling on my arm.

“I put the kettle on,” I protested, walking with her anyway.

“It’s not going anywhere.”

Lucy led me down the stairs and back into her bed. She didn’t say another word but she didn’t have to. As she lowered herself on top of me I could think of nothing else but this moment and her beauty inside and out. Looking into her eyes and feeling her breath on my face, I knew she was feeling it too. Emotion swelled inside me and I concentrated hard on not being swept away.

Lucy, meanwhile, channelled all her energy into me: kissing me, loving me. I was completely uninhibited as I stretched out while she kissed my body all over, then slid down the bed. Once there, she slowly licked and nibbled her way along both my inner thighs, before running her tongue along the top of my navel.

I writhed under her gentle touch until she eventually took her tongue to where I needed it most, teasing me, biting me and then finally licking me up and down, immersing my clit in a pool of warmth. When I came, I bucked so hard that I cracked my pubic bone into her nose – only then did we laugh. Occupational hazard of oral sex if you’re too good at it.

She wasn’t finished, though. After moving back up to smother both breasts with kisses, Lucy kissed me deeply, passionately. Oh my. Then she held my gaze as she moved her fingers over my clit in a glorious rhythm before finally filling me. I thought I might pass out from sheer bliss when I came again.

She slid her tongue into my mouth and we kissed deeply, her weight on top of me feeling a perfect fit. When I opened my eyes, her eyes were on me, watching, waiting. The moment was solid with emotion and Lucy opened her mouth, then closed it. Instead, she kissed me again before sliding off me and flopping down beside me. The silence that followed was spine-tingling. I broke it first, touching her face with my hand.

“That was… amazing,” I said. She returned my gaze and nodded. Words still left unsaid hung in the air. Amazing really didn’t come close.

She turned her head on the pillow, stroking my face and smiling. She decided to change gear.

“So I was thinking,” she said. “It’s Sunday, what can we do. First plan was to seduce you – I think that’s done.”

“Gold star,” I said. I was still getting my breath back.

“Then I thought, well we could do a little more seduction. Or perhaps save it till later. Do you fancy going to the flower market? I keep meaning to go but never do and it’s only half ten. I could make us breakfast and we could be there by 12 – what d’you think?”

“Hmmm.”

“Is that a good hmmm or a bad hmmm?”

“It’s an ‘I can’t really think right now’ hmmm,” I said. “But sounds good.”

“Cool,” she said, flopping down on her back beside me. “I’ll go and make that tea, shall I?”

“You’re going to make someone a lovely wife.”

***

Lucy whipped up tea with bagels, salmon and cream cheese, impressing me no end. We ate it on her balcony at her tiny wooden table, nestled among a throng of pretty plant pots after I’d struggled into my jeans and staggered up the stairs, my legs still wobbly from exertion.

Before I tucked in she produced lemon wedges and squeezed them over the salmon – she clearly had thought of everything. She’d also tamed the back of her hair since she got up and was wearing some red shorts that could almost be classed as hot pants, along with a Pineapple Dance Studio T-shirt. She assured me she’d never been to Pineapple Dance Studios in her life, but her sister-in-law was a big fan and this was what she’d bought her last Christmas.

“I think it looks cute on you,” I said.

“You’d think anything looks cute on me right at this moment,” she said. I laughed. Very true.

“So what does your brother think of his dance-crazy wife?”

She paused and I could see her picturing them in her head.

“He loves it. She even got him to go to dance class with her and now they go to salsa every week. Salsa in Leeds.” She shook her head. “I still can’t imagine it. Particularly as my brother’s an engineer. But now an enlightened engineer, clearly.”

As I chewed my bagel and drank my tea, I could hear the trains rattling by down below at the end of Lucy’s garden. Above us, the white cloud was holding steady, the sun still too lazy to reveal itself. No matter though: this was a beautiful, tranquil scene. This was how Sunday mornings were supposed to be, how they were depicted in novels, films and songs. A lazy morning of sex and brunch with someone special. Life felt truly magical at that moment.

“This is beautiful, you know,” I said.

“The bagel?”

“This whole thing. The food, the setting, being here with you. It’s like I’ve stepped onto the set of some Richard Curtis film.”

“I’ll try to rustle up Hugh Grant to join us for lunch later if you like,” she said.

“I’ll just stick with you if that’s okay.”

Lucy’s phone ringing interrupted our conversation and she ran into the lounge and retrieved it from the sofa. Her face lit up as she answered.

“Hey mum.” Pause.

“No – just having brunch.” Pause.

“Yeah a bit late.” Pause.

“Well I have somebody here.” She turned to me and flashed me a smile. “Her name is Jess, I might have mentioned her to you.” My eyes widened and my cheeks flushed. She’d been talking to her mum about me? Blimey.

“She’s just eating the bagel I made her. You want to talk to her?”

Alarm spread across my features and I tensed up as she walked towards me. What on earth was I going to say to her mother? As she reached me Lucy kissed the top of my head, put her hand over the receiver and whispered in my ear: “I’m joking.”

My body slumped with relief. I was going to have to get used to Lucy’s sense of humour.

***

We made it to the flower market around 1pm, after Lucy’s best-laid plans took a left-turn after we finished breakfast, she got naked and stepped into her shower. It seemed rude not to follow her.

A while later we hopped on the No.8 bus from Bow, taking us as far as Brick Lane after which we sauntered up Shoreditch High Street hand in hand, taking in the pop-up tea shops and high-fashion stores that seemed to spring up overnight and leave as quickly as they arrived. A right into Hackney Road, a right into Columbia Road and we were there.

The flower market happened every Sunday from 8am-2pm, although I had never made it down there before 12pm and today was no exception. The only people who turned up at 8am to my knowledge were either market-stall holders or clubbers who hadn’t made it home the night before.

I loved the atmosphere of the flower market, the wonderful bouquet of all those flowers filling your nose and the vibrancy of the place. The market was set up on the street with a narrow aisle down the middle of stalls on both sides. Behind the stalls the pavements cracked and heaved as crowds zigzagged in and out of the market and into the shops behind, seeking out gifts, piping hot seafood, strong coffee and pots for their new plants.

I took Lucy’s hand and we dived straight into the market which was thick with people. Now, coming up to the final hour of the day, flowers were starting to be knocked down in price and bargain-hunters were on the prowl. You had to pay attention to exactly where you were going, otherwise you could get your eye taken out by someone’s sunflowers or Gladioli.

We scoured both sides, admiring the white roses, tulips, irises and a host of enormous fauna that neither of us had any clue about. Lucy settled on a mixed bunch that would bring a splash of colour to her muted lounge.

We giggled as we ducked out of the market scrum and into the pub, past the clubbers and found two seats at the bar. Lucy ordered a pint of cider – “the sun’s coming out so let’s be summery” she told me – so I ordered one too and we settled into our stools, perching the flowers on the bar. The whole time we were there the morning was still on my mind and when I caught Lucy’s eye I could tell it was on hers too. When she kissed me at the bar I could tell something had shifted and only for the better.

When we got back to mine I got a text from Kate telling me she was staying put for the week, the doctor having signed her off and her mum quite prepared to look after her. Apparently she’d talked Vicky into coming over too so she could keep an eye on both her girls during the following week and spoil her grandsons into the bargain. Suddenly, the accident had perked up Maureen’s week and mine, too. A flat to myself was always a bonus.

I also had a missed call on my phone from a London number I didn’t recognise. While Lucy was in the loo I scrolled through my phone seeing if any of my friends fitted the bill but I couldn’t find a match, so figured they’d call back if it was urgent. Right now, I had a gorgeous girlfriend to deal with and nothing was going to distract me.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Back at Porter’s the next day I was still happy in my love bubble and recollections of yesterday were doing nothing to keep my mind focused on the job at hand. After the market, we’d bought dinner and a movie but only managed to drag ourselves from bed to eat it at around 8pm. Matt was babbling on about his weekend with Natalie and how they’d gone suit shopping for the wedding. He no longer owned one having burnt all his suits in a fit of pique when he exited the world of finance.

“Are you coming to the whole day or just the evening?” I didn’t know how good a friend Natalie was to Julia.

“The whole thing. I wasn’t, but someone’s dropped out so I got promoted. Nice timing eh? I’m quite looking forward to it, actually – our first public outing as a couple and it’s going to be lovely being cooked for and waited on. The venue looks dead posh.”

“If it’s to do with Julia and Tom, I’ve no doubt that posh probably doesn’t quite do it justice. Our girl likes the finer things in life and so do I when she’s paying,” I said.

“Wonder if we’ll be on the same table. You’re not doing a speech or anything are you?”

“Nope. I managed to duck out of bridesmaid duties on account of me being a lesbian.”

“They don’t allow it?”

“The manual says it’s against lesbian law. Plus Julia knew I would have laughed in her face.”

“She might have really wanted you to be her bridesmaid,” he said. He pulled his best liberal frown.

“She’ll get over it. Anyhow, her sister and other mates stepped in and they all look far better in a dress than me, take my word for it.”

“I think you’d look lovely in a frock. Especially peach. Or perhaps lemon yellow.”

“Remind me not to come to you for fashion advice, Porter.”

Matt’s help for the morning was Jane, a mum he knew from Charlie’s school. She popped her head round the corner.

“Can one of you come and help, please,” she said. “There’s quite a queue.”

“I’ll go.” I said. I wiped my hands on my apron but Matt was right behind me, queues being his pet-hate. We rattled through two Americanos and one skinny latte before the café door opened again. As I turned to look up I did a double-take, stopping mid-pour of my latest latte. I wheeled back around to face the machine and felt my heart drop to the floor with a splat. Karen had just walked into the café, looking tanned and relaxed.

I concentrated on finishing my order as I felt Karen approaching the counter, surveying the board on the wall to the left of me like she was just any other customer. Jane asked what she’d like and she ordered a double espresso as I knew she would.

I nudged Matt who was standing next to me making a pot of tea.

“Can you finish this order – it’s done, the blonde at the counter just needs to pay. Skinny latte.”

He looked at me puzzled but took the takeaway cup from my outstretched hand.

“Sure. Everything okay?”

I nodded and retreated into the kitchen, feeling Karen’s eyes on me as I did. I wasn’t sure what to do or how to act. I’d known she was coming to the UK but I hadn’t truly processed how I might feel when I saw her. Well here I was, hiding in the kitchen, heart racing, stomach gurgling. Meanwhile, Karen was standing outside drinking a double espresso. Great start.

I gripped the workbench in the kitchen as Matt walked back in.

“What’s wrong?” he said. I shook my head and he looked concerned.

“What’s up? You’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring myself if it’s any consolation.”

“Not really.” He tilted his head to one side.

“Karen’s just walked in.”

“Karen?”

“From Australia. Karen. Who broke my heart. The reason I came back to the UK and now here she is in this café when she’s meant to be back in Sydney and I’m meant to be getting on with my life. Which I am by the way. Over her and moving on.”