The London of Us

by Clare Lydon

  I shook my head. “No, it’s always been men.”

  “So you can just change? Just like that?” She took another sip of wine.

  “Not exactly just like that.” This wasn’t a snap decision, something I was trying on for size. “I haven’t just decided this on a whim. This has been months of wrestling. It doesn’t just happen overnight, that’s not how it works.”

  I hoped she got the enormity of it. After all, I’d never turned up at her door with this sort of news before.

  “Of course,” she said. “I suppose it happened with Barbara, too.”

  “Barbara? Which Barbara?” My mind was scanning my mum’s friends, but I could only come up with one who fitted the description.

  Mum’s bottom lip poked out before she replied. “I only know one Barbara.” Pause. “Well unless you count Barbara Rudkin, but she was always more of a Babs than a Barbara. If we shorten Barbara’s name, she hates it. Even to Barb.”

  I waved my finger in an anti-clockwise movement. “Let’s rewind. Barbara, your friend forever, who was married to William forever, is now a lesbian?” I paused. “With Maggie?”

  “Of course with Maggie, who else?”

  “I don’t know, this is all news to me.”

  “Well we’ve both been surprised today, haven’t we?”

  Touché.

  “So how long has Barbara been batting for the other team?” This wasn’t how I’d expected the conversation to go.

  Mum waggled her head, as if totting up the years. “A while,” she said, with a shrug. “She moved Maggie in, told us a few months later, and they’ve been very happy ever since.”

  “And you never thought to tell me?” I was outraged that one of her best friends had come out and I didn’t know. “Does Sabrina know?”

  Mum smiled. “I don’t think so, but it’s clearly all the rage, I feel like I might be missing out.” She laughed at her own joke.

  “Please don’t leave Dad on my account, I couldn’t take the guilt.”

  She smiled. “I think you’re pretty safe — I’ve put years into that man, I’m not about to walk away now.” She shook her head. “Well, this isn’t what I expected you to tell me today. But of course, whatever you decide your future is, your dad and I will support you.” She paused. “How did Jake take it? I think most men would have their pride dented knowing they’d been usurped for a woman.”

  I grimaced. “He doesn’t know that bit yet, and I don’t think he needs to. It’s not like anything has happened. Plus, I split up with him because I’m not in love with him anymore. There isn’t any other reason.”

  “And how did he take that?”

  “The ‘I’m not in love with you’ bit?”

  Mum nodded.

  “Not well. I mean, he coped, but he wasn’t jumping for joy. He told me he still loved me.”

  “And you’re sure it’s definitely over with him?”

  Hadn’t she been listening to what I’d been saying? “Yes, Mum, I’m sure.”

  She held up both hands. “Okay, I’m just checking, because it’s a big decision to make unless you’re 100 per cent sure. And this woman doesn’t know how you feel?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I mean, we’re friends, but nothing more.”

  Mum was silent for a few seconds. “Is she gay?”

  I nodded.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Rachel.” Saying her name felt precious, like she was a diamond I was placing on top of a glass table: handle with care.

  “What does she do then, this Rachel?”

  “She’s a chef. She works at Red On Black, actually.”

  Mum’s face lit up. “Does she really? That’s one of our favourites. You’ve never mentioned it before.”

  I shrugged. “A bit like telling me that Barbara was a lesbian, I didn’t think it was important.” I shifted in my seat. “But I was wondering — can I stay here for a bit while I look for somewhere to live and sort my head out?”

  Mum nodded, giving me an understanding smile. “Our door is always open, you know that.” She paused. “So do you think you’re bisexual or a full-on lesbian?”

  I smiled as I shook my head: Mum had never shied away from discussing any topic, which as a teenager was a curse.

  “I don’t know, I only left Jake yesterday, give me time.” I gave her a mock scowl.

  “But you’ve been thinking about it for months, you must have some inclination.”

  “I don’t have all the answers,” I replied. “I mean, I like Rachel, but does that make me a lesbian? I don’t know.”

  “Barbara says it can swing around all the time,” Mum replied. “Although I think her and Maggie are pretty set now.” She leaned in with a conspiratorial look on her face. “And she told me it was the best sex she’d ever had in her life,” she added with a grin. “So there’s that to look forward to.”

  I held up both palms in the air and grimaced. “Too much information!”

  “Too much information about what?” a voice at the balcony door boomed. “What are you blabbing about now, Eve?”

  I looked up to see Dad standing there, a wide smile on his face, arms outstretched. He was wearing chinos and a white shirt, and his silver hair had been newly cut since I last saw him. “This is a lovely surprise,” he said, his Italian accent pronounced as always. “I was only expecting daughter number one and her brood today.”

  I got up and gave him a hug, breathing in the familiar smell of his aftershave, Givenchy Gentlemen.

  “No Jake, or is he arriving later after he’s made the world a fitter place?”

  This was going to be a theme for a while, wasn’t it? I shot Mum a look, and she returned it with a serene smile, riding to my rescue.

  “There’s been a change of plan, Giuseppe.” She stood beside him.

  “Oh?”

  “Alice has news. Do you want me to say or would you rather?”

  I shook my head. “Go ahead.” I was happy to let Mum do the honours.

  “Alice and Jake are no more, and she’s thinking of heading down Barbara’s road, if you get my meaning.” Mum nudged Dad with her elbow as she spoke, but he still looked confused.

  “What’s Alice got to do with Barbara? Aren’t her and Maggie still together?” He was frowning, trying to connect the dots.

  I stood up and took his hand in mine. “No, Dad,” I said, giving him a squeeze. “What Mum’s trying to say is I’ve left Jake, and I think I might be gay. Or bisexual. Or something. It’s up in the air and open to interpretation, but I’m definitely not all that straight anymore.”

  Dad paused, frozen in mid-stance, his gaze holding me in place.

  Mum and I stared at him, waiting for a response.

  “Well, say something!” Mum said eventually.

  Dad dropped my hand, then leaned in and put his arm around my shoulders. “Gay or bisexual, eh?” he said, shaking his head with a smile. “You know what I think?”

  I really didn’t.

  Dad pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. “I think whoever ends up with my daughter in their life is a lucky person, and I don’t much care if it’s a man or a woman. So long as you’re happy, that’s all that counts.” He placed another kiss on my cheek, and put the other arm around Mum.

  Happiness wrapped itself around me and I felt cocooned, calm. Whatever happened from here on in, my family had my back, and that was a huge weight off my mind.

  Now, I just needed to work out what was happening with Rachel, but that could wait. For today at least.

  “A lesbian daughter, how exciting!” Dad repeated. “Does this call for more wine?”

  “Yes please,” Mum and I both chorused back, reaching for our glasses.

  Chapter 11

  I’d left Tanya’s the previous day intent on giving myself some time to mull this over. However, the more I thought about it, the more I was sure I needed to act. Now the ball was rolling, I needed to run with it before I lost my nerve.

&nb
sp; And so, with trepidation, I booked a table at Red On Black for that night, before telling Mum she had a date so long as she promised to be on her best behaviour. I wasn’t sure if I was crazy to take her with me — probably — but the restaurant was just around the corner from their flat, and nobody else I knew would be able to make it at such short notice. Plus, if I invited any of my friends, they’d know I’d been here to see Rachel.

  It wasn’t something I said often, but in this instance, Mum was the easiest option.

  Red On Black turned out to be one of those sleek new restaurant spaces with dark wood tables and chairs, low lighting and waiting staff kitted out entirely in black with white bow ties. The glassware sparkled almost as much as the maitre d’s teeth as he showed us to our table, my heart in my mouth as I eyed what I assumed to be the kitchen door.

  I knew the chances of Rachel springing out of it were remote: she was a chef, not a waiter. However, just the thought of her being behind those doors was enough to make me sweat.

  “Okay?” Mum asked, smiling at me as our waiter shook out my napkin and told us about the specials. He had a heavy French accent that added a touch of glamour to his food-reading skills, and a smile that made Mum give him all her attention.

  One of the specials was lamb cutlets, and I recalled a conversation with Rachel a month ago where she told me she did over 60 in a single shift. Would her skilled hands touch them tonight?

  I nodded at my mum, nervous energy spilling out of me.

  “I wonder, could you tell me,” she asked the waiter, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Is Rachel in the kitchen tonight?”

  I clutched my chair. I knew this had been a mistake, Mum could never just leave things be.

  Although, I’d brought her here, so maybe I was just the same, too.

  The waiter nodded his head. “She is, madam,” he said, smiling brightly. “Do you know her?”

  Mum motioned to me. “My daughter is good friends with her,” she said, avoiding my gaze as my heart slowed to almost a total halt. What the hell was she doing? I gazed at the teal-coloured curtains draping the window, at the woman on the next table whose boobs were enormous and surely fake. I dragged my gaze up to the waiter, who was nodding his head rapidly.

  “I’ll let her know,” he said, pocketing his pen in his shirt pocket. “Who should I say is asking for her?”

  My throat was so dry, I was having trouble speaking, but I managed to croak out my name and, satisfied, he turned and walked to the bar to place our order.

  When he’d gone, I glared at my mother, outraged, but also semi-impressed with her forthrightness. A waft of something delicious and meaty sailed by as a waiter delivered two plates to the table behind her.

  “Since when are we coming in here and doing that right away?” I cleared my throat halfway to add more volume. As I spoke, I had one eye on the swing door the waiter had just disappeared through, in case the next person who appeared through it was Rachel.

  Mum waving her hand brought my attention back to the table, as the waiter delivered our glasses of Prosecco, bringing his head close to mine.

  “Madam, I have informed Rachel and she says to tell you she’ll be out when she gets a second.” His breath was minty fresh.

  Okay, he’d told her. The ball was still rolling, and it was picking up speed.

  When he walked away, I gripped my glass of bubbles and grimaced at my mum. “He’s told her.”

  Dread and excitement put a finger to their lips and tip-toed down my spine.

  What was I going to say when she came out? I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.

  I concentrated on not rocking in my seat: I wanted to appear calm when Rachel eventually appeared.

  Opposite me, Mum grinned, sipping her drink. “It’s exciting, and I’m thrilled to be your wing-woman. Isn’t that what they call it in the films?”

  If she was looking to lighten the moment, she managed it. I gave her a strangled laugh as I buried my head in the menu: did I want the scallops or beef carpaccio to start? The sea bass or lamb for main? And whatever I ordered, was I going to be able to eat it when it arrived?

  We’d just placed our order when Rachel walked out of the kitchen doors, her eyes darting around the restaurant before our gazes met across the room. And when they did, it was all I could do to remember to breathe, to remember where I was, to remember my name.

  She raised a hand in acknowledgement, an uncertain smile on her face and began walking towards us slowly, as if she was on a tightrope suspended high off the ground.

  Was she feeling as trepidatious as me? I had no idea.

  As she drew nearer, my stomach dropped. I wasn’t ready for this, but then, I didn’t think I ever would be.

  “You’re here,” Rachel said as she reached our table, her voice warm, tasting like chocolate brownies. “When Pierre came into the kitchen and told me there was an Alice outside, I thought it was a joke.”

  She cast her glance to my mother as I stood up. Our normal greeting was a hug, but today was far from normal, so instead, I just gave her an unsure smile and a pat on the arm.

  “It’s great to see you.”

  Seeing Rachel again was making my whole body come alive, and I was glad I’d made the decision to come tonight. I had to see where this went, how it played out. Just being around her was making my heart sing at the top of its lungs.

  “This is my mum,” I told her; Mum was already standing, her hand outstretched.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Rachel.” Mum’s smile was fixed to full beam. “Alice has told me so much about you, and when she said you were a chef at one of my favourite restaurants, I decided we had to come together and sample your food again.” She gave Rachel a wink and I nearly died on the spot. “Any excuse really, I love this place, you’ve done a fabulous job.”

  Rachel grinned as she shook my mum’s hand. “That’s a glowing review, thank you. I’ll let the whole team know.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “And I’ll make sure you get a little extra something tonight.” She stood up straight and glanced my way again. “Only the best for my co-star and her mother.”

  She was being ridiculously charming and it was working a treat on both my mother and I.

  Before, Rachel had just been funny, attractive, a friend. But now I was single and had been stewing on my growing attraction for her, it was as if someone had taken a magnifying glass and trained it on our relationship, escalating my feelings to crazy proportions. Now, instead of my attraction simply being standard size, it was suddenly 20ft tall and running around my head with a megaphone.

  Rachel turned her attention back to me, her body language telling me she had to leave. “It really is good to see you, though, but I have to get back — we’re in the middle of service.” She glanced at the kitchen door, before turning back. “Do you fancy a drink after my shift?”

  My heart raised its hands in triumph, fists clenched.

  I gave Rachel a confident nod, glancing at my mum, who was waving her hands in the air. “Don’t look at me, I’ll be tucked up in bed by then. You stay out for a drink if you want.”

  I turned back to Rachel. Every fibre of my body was leaning towards her as if she were sunlight. “What time do you get off?”

  Rachel winced. “I can see if I can get away early. Around 10.45?”

  I nodded without even thinking. The time was irrelevant to me. “I’ll be here.”

  “Enjoy your dinner,” she said, with a wave.

  When she’d gone, I turned back to my mother, smoothing down my napkin, knowing my face was glowing.

  “So that’s the Rachel who’s turned my daughter’s head.” She gave an approving nod. “She seems lovely.”

  “Mum.” It was like I was 12 all over again.

  Her gentle laugh washed over me. “That’s not a bad thing, darling,” she said. “I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy, and if that involves Rachel, that makes me happy, too.” She sat forward. “And you’re going to tell her yo
u like her?”

  I took a deep breath. Why else had I come here tonight? I had to know if there was anything else there for Rachel, too. Which meant now was the time to be brave. “I think I am. Seize the day, isn’t that what they say?”

  Mum raised her bubbles to me. “Here’s to you seizing the day. At least you’ll do it on a full stomach.”

  Chapter 12

  I met her after she finished work, in the restaurant bar. Just like the dining room, it was an understated posh affair: think gold-rimmed padded coasters, along with polished chrome bowls overflowing with flavoured nuts.

  Rachel had applied fresh lipstick and as she climbed onto her shiny chrome bar stool, a warmth rolled through my body, saliva flooding my mouth. I couldn’t help the smile that slid onto my face when she was sitting beside me, although I tried to tone it down as much as I could. I didn’t want to scare her off before I’d even made my declaration.

  And then, I had to say something. It was me who’d infiltrated her work space, after all. What should my opener be?

  “I keep dreaming about you and I can’t stop thinking about you,” might not be the best start, so I had to think of something else.

  Something to put in front of that thought as a barrier to stop it slipping out.

  A stupidity dam.

  “So my restaurant is your mum’s favourite — what are the chances?”

  I nodded. “I know. She and Dad are always going somewhere, I can’t keep up.”

  Her fingers were still just as long, her eyes just as sparkly.

  “Is that where you get your love of food?”

  I nodded again. “I was always taken to restaurants as a child, and my sister and I were those kids who demanded avocados rather than ice cream. I love seeing kids in restaurants, so long as they’re well behaved. Giving me a love of good food was my parents’ gift to us, and I’m always grateful.” It appeared once I started to speak, stopping was the hard part. “Did you go to restaurants as a kid?”

  She shook her head. “Not really — eating out wasn’t something we did as my parents didn’t have the money. I think my first restaurant experience was when I was a teenager, but I was cooking from a young age — both my parents are great cooks, so I can’t complain. Only now, working and eating mostly in restaurants, I crave home-cooked food. It’s why I wanted to start the channel, to encourage that kind of simple, tasty home-cooking to continue.”