Our Stop

by Laura Jane Williams

  ‘Ma’am,’ somebody beside her said. ‘Are you okay?’ The voice turned away from her. ‘Is she okay?’

  The man was looking up at her, and Nadia had a nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her something was wrong. Very wrong.

  ‘I’m just nervous, is all,’ she said, her voice squeaky now. ‘I don’t normally … you know … go up to men on public transport, and—’

  The man stood up. The tube was pulling into London Bridge station, her stop.

  ‘Get the fuck away from me,’ the guy said, leaving her to stand staring at the space he had vacated, hot with humiliation. She came to just as the doors were beginning to close, realizing she had better get off as well. She hoped it didn’t look like she was following him.

  An older man with grey hair and white sticky bits of dried spittle at the corners of his mouth, a man who Nadia couldn’t be certain had brushed his teeth that morning, or any morning, actually, tapped her on the shoulder as she stood to catch her humiliated breath and, as she turned around, stood there hopefully and said, ‘I’ll go out with you.’

  Nadia’s jaw dropped. ‘I … No, thank you,’ she said, scurrying off towards the escalator, wanting nobody in the history of the world to ever talk to her ever again.

  ‘Whore!’ the man shouted behind her.

  Nadia’s phone buzzed as she crossed the road to her office.

  Anything? said Emma.

  Nadia sent back a sad face emoji. I just hit on the wrong guy, she typed. Well. At least I hope it was the wrong guy. If that was the right guy I definitely blew my chance.

  What happened?????!!!!

  Oh god, I can’t. I’ll tell you later.

  There had been a moment when Nadia saw a woman with a blonde bob and a fake Louis Vuitton bag in her carriage, and her imagined narrative was interrupted by the worry that maybe she was the devastatingly cute blonde.

  No, Nadia thought, no way. She’s got press-on fake nails!

  Nadia hated that – that she’d been reduced to making another woman the competition and thinking bad thoughts about her. Even if the woman was wearing an awful lot of winged eyeliner for that early in the morning. Nadia had so wanted this all to be true – for this to be her romantic moment. She hadn’t understood how hungry she was for it until the temptation had been waved in her face, and it had appeared it had made her territorial. She wanted to protect what she thought of as hers.

  Gaby was waiting for her in the lobby at work.

  ‘Anything?’ she said, handing her a tall black coffee, which was lucky because Nadia had already given up on her KeepCup. It was too much of a faff to make coffee before she’d had coffee, ironically.

  ‘You will not believe the arse I just made of myself,’ Nadia cringed. ‘I hit on two men, neither of whom were Train Guy.’ She took a sip of the coffee Gaby had handed her. ‘Thank you for this, by the way.’ She took another sip. ‘I say neither were him – at least I hope they weren’t. I made such a twat of myself that I’m not sure I can ever get on the underground again. I looked like a desperate, man-hungry old bag with no life. It was awful.’

  ‘Oh god,’ said Gaby laughing, and then, realizing laughter probably wasn’t the best response given how genuinely upset Nadia seemed, said, ‘I mean. I am laughing in solidarity with you. Love makes fools of us all!’

  ‘I’m sad about it!’ Nadia said, laughing too, now. ‘I waited all of last week to see if he would write back, and he finally did, and then I couldn’t find him!’

  ‘It was a cute advert – I saw it.’

  Nadia looked at Gaby, who shrugged.

  ‘I am a tiny bit invested in this,’ Gaby said. ‘And I am glad you are too. I wasn’t sure which way it was going to go at first.’

  Nadia took another gulp of coffee. ‘Oh shut up. You know as well as I do that I love love, and would die if a man put an ad in the paper for me. I’d decided to hope this was all going to be gloriously romantic and a story I told for years to come until I started to hump the leg of any thirty-year-old with a beard on the commute. It’s shameful!’

  ‘Nadia, you are hilarious.’

  ‘I’m pathetic!’ Nadia laughed. They got into the lift together and rode up to Gaby’s floor.

  Gaby checked the time on her phone. ‘I’ve got an 8.30 a.m.,’ she said. ‘Which is so inconvenient. Meetings should be afternoons only. It fucks my whole morning up when I have to take time out. I hate it!’

  ‘I’m just in the lab all day,’ Nadia said. ‘Where I belong. I can’t degrade myself in front of robot code.’

  The lift opened. They both registered him at the same time. A man in a navy suit stood in front of the reception desk, his back to the two women as he leaned forward towards the receptionist, seemingly deep in conversation. Even though she could only see him from behind – or perhaps because it was from behind, his bum pert and round in his suit trousers – Nadia lowered her voice and whispered, ‘I’d let him fuck my morning up.’

  Gaby swatted at her arm.

  ‘Nadia!’ she giggled. ‘I won’t be able to concentrate now! I think that’s my meeting!’

  ‘I hope it is …’ Nadia said, as Gaby got out. ‘Bloody hell.’

  Gaby turned and shot her a dirty look and the doors closed, and Nadia laughed. The laugh forced the man at the reception desk to turn in her direction, his profile becoming prominent over Gaby’s shoulder.

  Oh! Nadia thought, racking her brain. I know you!

  The doors closed before Nadia could place him. Up the lift went.

  11

  Daniel

  Daniel waited in the lobby of the twenty-first floor for his 8.30 meeting – a favour to a friend he knew through a ‘City Professionals’ networking group, designed to get mid- and high-level workers to talk to each other across disciplines, because you never knew when it might come in handy, especially when everyone had shifted into a ‘gig’ economy or portfolio career these days. When nobody had true job security – nor a desire to stay with one company for too long – it helped to keep everyone connected.

  Daniel had been roped in to sitting on the social committee, and had been sent to a fellow member’s office to discuss the numbers for the next networking event. It was to be held in the basement of the Marriott off Grosvenor Square, and had somehow ended up costing one hundred and twenty-five quid a ticket. Daniel thought that was outrageous (‘Who has a spare hundred quid for NETWORKING!’ he’d said to Lorenzo, ranting about it one night. ‘Well, to be honest with you mate, if I didn’t get off my tits every weekend, I would,’ Lorenzo had unhelpfully replied.)

  ‘Daniel?’ said the woman walking towards him down the corridor. He shifted his gaze to the left of where he’d been looking, towards the elevator. He thought he’d heard somebody laughing, and it was such a joyous, child-like giggle he felt compelled to see who it belonged to.

  The woman calling his name continued: ‘I’m Gaby.’

  ‘Gaby,’ said Daniel, reaching out a hand in greeting. ‘Michael has said such great things about you,’ he lied, smiling.

  Gaby laughed, and motioned for him to follow her.

  ‘We both know that isn’t true,’ she said.

  Daniel said nothing in response, sensing danger, as he was led into a corner meeting room. The only noise was the shuffle of their feet along the cheap office carpeting, until the maze of glass partitions ended in Gaby’s office. It took up a huge corner of the building, with a north-west view that looked out across the River Thames and towards Parliament.

  ‘So, I gather we’ve got a little problem,’ Gaby continued, barely taking a breath between her welcome and getting to the point of the matter. Her bum hadn’t reached the seat before she’d launched in. She looked like a newsreader, with the city splayed out behind her that way.

  Daniel laughed. ‘I don’t deal in problems, Gaby, I’m a solutions man.’ He smiled widely. ‘So I come in peace.’

  Gaby visibly softened.

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Sorry. Yes. God, Mic
hael warned me you were charismatic.’ She smiled, but barely. It was coy and controlled. Daniel briefly wondered if she was flirting with him.

  ‘I just think,’ he said, ‘let’s move it to The Flying Pig and keep it under twenty-five quid a head, and make the focus the actual networking: not how flashy it is.’ He saw a dark cloud pass over Gaby’s face. ‘With all due respect, of course,’ he added. Now he understood why he’d sensed danger before: this was a woman used to telling people what to do – not being told.

  ‘The Flying Pig?’

  ‘Yeah, by the Barbican? Nice and central, still has white tablecloths … I used to go to school with the bar manager there. If it’s on a Monday, he can do us a deal.’

  ‘A deal,’ Gaby repeated, somewhat amused.

  Daniel smiled again, sensing she was coming around. ‘I’m a man who knows a man,’ he said, shrugging. ‘And that man can make this actually affordable to those of us saving for a flat deposit.’

  Gaby laughed. She said she got his point.

  They sat in the meeting room for twenty-five minutes, hammering out the logistics of the event and dividing up the tasks. Gaby was good at delegating, and fired off emails from her phone as they talked, ticking things off her list as quickly as she added them, and together they switched their plan, making it more cost-effective, but keeping the roving magician. Tickets would be thirty-five pounds, with an in-built donation to a charity they would decide on later.

  ‘Well,’ Daniel said, looking at his watch. ‘We’ve made fast work of this. It’s 9 a.m., so I’ve got to get across the road to my office, but I’ll cc. you in on an email to Gary once I’ve got the numbers from the caterer, and then leave the rest to you.’

  ‘Great. Thank you,’ said Gaby, adding, ‘and Michael was right: you put the right perspective on this. I don’t know what I was thinking with the ticket price. I suppose I just wanted my first shot on the team to make a mark, is all.’

  ‘No worries,’ said Daniel. ‘I just, you know, I like a bargain, is all.’

  Gaby smiled. ‘Sure thing.’

  ‘How do you know Michael, anyway?’ Daniel couldn’t help but ask her, mostly because the twitch in her eyebrow earlier told him they must have dated. With all The Lust Villa he’d been watching he fancied himself as an amateur romance psychologist.

  ‘We’re very different people,’ said Gaby, not quite answering the question. Daniel didn’t say anything. He’d learned, again from The Lust Villa, that if you wanted somebody to tell you their secrets the trick was to stay silent so that they’d go on to fill that silence. It worked. Gaby added, ‘By which I mean, we’re exactly the same. Both pig-headed and stubborn and always right, so, together it was always asking for trouble.’ Gaby shrugged. ‘We went out for a bit, and then we stopped going out.’

  Daniel laughed.

  ‘But he’s a clever bastard, I’ll give him that. I really do think what he’s set up here could be beneficial to a lot of people. And at the very least, a bit of fun four times a year.’

  ‘Yes, absolutely. Nice excuse for a piss-up,’ Daniel replied, kindly. And then, ‘And I understand that. About you and Michael. My ex and I were too similar too. Both indecisive. Couldn’t even go to the cinema without a four-hour discussion beforehand. Makes sense to date an opposite, in a way.’

  Gaby smiled. ‘I’ve never had that problem. Every woman I know has cultivated decisiveness as part of her personal brand.’

  Daniel laughed again – he enjoyed this woman with the ballsy attitude and straight-talking. ‘God bless the fourth wave.’

  ‘Ahhh,’ said Gaby, standing to end the meeting and usher him out of the door. ‘A man who knows his feminism!’ They walked back the way they’d come, towards the lift.

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that. When I was growing up my dad told us it was just called respect.’

  ‘Music to my ears. Not a strong mother raising a strong boy, but a strong father setting the example.’

  ‘Yeah, my dad was a hell of a guy.’

  ‘Was?’

  Daniel nodded. ‘A few months ago. Brain aneurysm.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. He sounds like he was a wonderful, feminist man.’

  They reached the twenty-first floor reception area, slowing to an eventual stand.

  ‘Thank you. He was. I mean, I’m not sure he’d self-identify as feminist, but he was definitely the guy you’d want in your corner.’

  Gaby narrowed her eyes. She liked this man in front of her, doing his friend a favour and being so open and considerate about the ticket prices and Nadia had said she thought he was cute earlier – or, well, she’d said it bit ruder than that but the sentiment was the vaguely same.

  ‘This is a weird question,’ she said. ‘And I am totally not hitting on you – I’m seeing somebody, actually – but … are you seeing anyone right now?’

  Daniel crinkled his brow in response, half embarrassed and half intrigued. He sort of fancied Gaby herself, in a way – it was a slight ego dent that she was complimenting him whilst also saying she had a boyfriend.

  ‘I mean, no,’ he said, wondering why on earth she’d ask. ‘But …’ How could he explain he’d seen a woman on a train he was hoping to get to know? He couldn’t.

  ‘There’s a staff party – for clients too – at the Sky Garden, this week. I don’t feel unprofessional asking you because you seem cool, and it could be good for you to meet some of the guys here, if you want, but – there’s somebody I’d love for you to meet. A woman. Do you think you’d like to come?’

  ‘There’s a woman you want me to meet?’

  Gaby laughed. ‘I know we just met, but – my friend, she works a few floors up and saw you when she walked me off the elevator earlier. She said you were cute. And I can vouch for you being clever, and you seem like not a dick?’ Gaby closed her eyes and shook her head a little. ‘I sound unhinged, don’t I? I’m just trying to do her a favour, is all. You guys would get on. I can intro you to the wider team too – engineers have to network, right?’

  Daniel shrugged.

  ‘It’s an open bar,’ Gaby added, playfully.

  ‘Right,’ he said. He felt backed into a corner, somehow. That he couldn’t say no. Did he want to? He couldn’t say he wasn’t intrigued. It didn’t feel right, but also, he could hardly pledge emotional allegiance to Nadia. They hadn’t even spoken! And still, saying yes felt disloyal. He didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Okay. Sure,’ he settled on. ‘Do you want to text me the details?’ He reached into his top inside pocket for a business card. If she texted, he could always text back backing out, once he’d figured out an excuse. ‘I don’t know if I can quite say I trust you, but …’

  ‘Oh, you can trust me,’ Gaby said. ‘You are just the kind of guy my friend would love, and I get the sense you’re just the kind of man who’ll know what to do with her.’

  Daniel smiled. Were it not for Nadia, he’d actually quite enjoy the adventure of attending a business meeting with a beautiful woman, only to be set up with another, presumably equally as clever and pretty, woman. But then, he couldn’t hold back on account of her, could he? That was … ridiculous.

  ‘Is she okay with you matchmaking on her behalf?’ Daniel said.

  ‘Oh god no – she’d kill me,’ giggled Gaby, and suddenly Daniel did trust her. Just like that. Because of how gently and honestly she admitted it. ‘But I know she’ll forgive me once you’ve met. I just have a feeling you’re perfect for each other.’

  12

  Nadia

  ‘And he’s super cute,’ Gaby said, over a quick burrito lunch in Borough Market. ‘He has this sort of dopey English gent vibe about him, all very Ben Whishaw – you know, the one who builds the cars in James Bond – but he’s … nice. He’s really nice.’

  Nadia rolled her eyes as she stuffed her extra order of avocado into the second half of her meal. ‘Just because I dated an arsehole last doesn’t mean I now want “nice”,’ Nadia complained. ‘I know what nice means.�
�

  Gaby shook her head as if to say, what?

  ‘Nice means … wet.’

  ‘Nooooo!’ said Gaby. ‘That’s the 2012 definition of nice. Today’s definition of nice is like, woke. And kind.’

  ‘As opposed to woke and …?’

  ‘Woke and using it to get into your knickers. I appreciate that there is no man to be trusted less than the one who has feminist in his Twitter bio.’

  ‘This is true,’ said Nadia, giggling. ‘The man with feminist in his bio is the one who tells you how much he likes women, at the same time as telling you he doesn’t have the gag-reflex to go down on you.’

  Gaby hooted with laughter. ‘Ha! Yes. The man with feminist in his bio doesn’t mansplain, he passionately defends.’

  Nadia nodded in agreement. ‘The man who has feminist in his bio reads a bell hooks book and then lets YOU know the ways in which YOU’RE oppressed!’

  ‘He pushes the men in his life away in disgust, leaving the women in his life to do his emotional labour!’

  ‘He asks permission before sending a dick pic!’

  ‘This is a fun game,’ Gaby said.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Nadia. ‘Hashtag not-all-men.’ That was enough to make them both burst out laughing again. They expected any man to be a feminist in the same way they expected any man to like oxygen and breathing. Of course they did. They just didn’t need to wang on about it, was all. Feminism was an ongoing act, not a chat-up line.

  ‘But seriously, I’m giving you a head’s up that cutie patootie from reception this morning is coming to the summer party, and I’d like to introduce you to him. I just … I have a feeling.’

  ‘A feeling.’

  ‘Does a realm of possibility exist in which you can trust me?’

  Nadia narrowed her eyes. ‘Fine. Yes. I will come, and I will meet him.’ She popped the last chunk of her lunch in her mouth and thought about it.