The London of Us

by Clare Lydon

  Just at that moment the door opened and both our heads swivelled to take in a woman in black jeans and a light grey top. She was a good few inches taller than my 5ft 5, and she carried herself with purpose — like she knew what she wanted in life.

  As soon as I saw her, I knew she was Rachel’s date — call it a sixth sense.

  Sure enough, with Sabrina and I still hunched behind our wine bucket like we were studying a particularly interesting groove on the wooden pub table, the assured woman tapped Rachel on the shoulder with a smile on her face. And when Rachel twisted round and returned that smile with added interest, my heart sank to the bottom of my self-made ocean of despair.

  Under the table, Sabrina took my hand in hers and squeezed, just like she used to when we were kids and there was a thunderstorm, when we’d huddle in the same bed. My sister had always been there for me, through thick and thin, and this was a particularly threadbare moment.

  A moment I never expected in my life.

  A storm that had come in unexpected, and turned my life upside down.

  Storm Rachel.

  But neither of us could avert our eyes from this particular storm: we wanted to track its path with precision, know exactly where it was going.

  Were they going to kiss?

  The answer was no. Rachel leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek, and signalled to the bartender for another drink.

  The assured woman put a possessive hand on Rachel’s arm and my whole body tensed.

  I wanted to spring like catwoman from behind my protective wine bucket and whisk Rachel away, telling her what I was feeling, what she needed to know.

  Instead, I sat, clutching my sister’s hand, trying to regulate my breathing and put a lid on my bubbling pan of emotions, threatening to reach boiling point and spill out all over the pub.

  Rachel and her date collected their drinks and sat at a table on the opposite side of the bar.

  Please let Rachel sit facing the wall. Please let Rachel sit facing the wall.

  Rachel sat facing the wall.

  I let out a breath.

  If I tried to stand up and function, I might collapse on the floor in a jumble of shattered pieces.

  I wasn’t sure questioning my sexuality was doing me much good. Is this what women did? Made you break into a thousand pieces?

  Her date had long blonde hair and perfect teeth.

  I wanted to push her off her chair.

  “Are we going to have to hide behind this bucket for the entire time we’re here?” Sabrina asked. “And can we raise our voices above a whisper?”

  I held in a laugh, but Sabrina was right: we had to sit up at some point. Plus, there was a group of people standing in between us now, too, so I didn’t feel quite as exposed. So slowly, we did just that. Across the pub, beyond a mass of arms, legs and handbags, Rachel and her date were oblivious.

  “I approve of your choice, anyway.” Sabrina’s tone was still hushed. “And you’re prettier than her date, too.”

  I scoffed. “Have you seen her date’s waist?”

  “Yours is hardly massive,” Sabrina replied. “Plus, who wants a twig in bed? You want something to grab hold of. At least, that’s what Simon tells me.”

  I rolled my eyes at my sister’s clumsy attempts to make me feel better.

  “Let’s talk about something else, take your mind off it.” She paused. “How are Man United doing?”

  I turned my head. “They lost 4-0 last night.”

  “Right,” she said, nodding. “Shall we talk about Barbara?”

  “No,” I replied, a little too loudly, forgetting for a moment this was a covert operation. Having raised my voice, I ducked behind the ice bucket again, but this time I managed to headbutt it. The resulting thwack seemed to reverberate around the pub as I clutched my head in pain.

  “Ow! Fuck-a-doodle-do!”

  When I eventually peeled my fingers from my face, the group that had been shielding us had dispersed, and I was now looking directly into the very concerned eyes of Rachel, the one woman I desperately didn’t want to see.

  I squinted through the pain as my stomach flipped, knowing we’d been rumbled.

  Next to me, I felt Sabrina sit up straight as if she was trying to impress in an interview, and I knew without looking she was fixing her smile and buffing her hair. It’s what my sister did.

  Rachel was on her feet now, moving across the pub’s headache-inducing carpets — good at disguising beer spills and vomit I assumed — until she was standing in front of our table, peering at me over our improvised ice-bucket fort.

  I wanted to stop my life and hop off.

  “Are you okay? I heard that from over there.” Rachel’s voice was comforting and reassuring all at the same time.

  “Fine, just being clumsy.”

  I rubbed my head: was there a bump already? “This is my sister, Sabrina — this is Rachel.”

  “Lovely to meet you.” Sabrina stood up, flashing Rachel her widest smile.

  “And you.” Rachel’s gaze never left me. “And how exactly did you headbutt the ice bucket?” She was trying not to laugh.

  Beside me, Sabrina snorted. “She has special talents.”

  “It’s been one of those weeks.” She had no idea. My cheeks flared under her intense scrutiny, my heartbeat sprinting up my body at speed. I ignored the tingling in my ears, and ploughed on. “But listen, don’t let us interrupt your date. She looks lovely.”

  Getting the words out was an effort, making them sound sincere was a whole other level.

  “Yeah,” Rachel said, not sounding nearly as convinced as me.

  Perhaps there was room for manoeuvre.

  “I should be getting back,” she added, tilting her head. She smiled, but it didn’t quite cover her whole face. “I would stay to check you’re okay, but I can see you’re in capable hands. I’ll see you soon?” She gazed at me then, with something in her crystal blue eyes I couldn’t quite detect.

  “So long as I’m still alive. No guarantees.”

  She grinned. “Okay. I’ll text you.” With that, she gave me a final look, before going back to her table.

  I watched her go, her date studying me with interest, then switched my attention to Sabrina, who had a look on her face telling me she was enjoying this just a little too much.

  “I don’t want to know what you’re thinking, because I don’t care.” I was plainly lying, but that’s the thing with sisters, isn’t it? You can lie, they can totally know you’re lying, and yet, you can carry on as if nothing had happened. Sabrina accepted my words without a murmur, and then embraced her role of chief distractor, and I loved her for it.

  But while externally we were drinking another glass of wine and chatting about Mum and Dad, about the business, about my niece Flavia and all the cute things she was coming out with, internally I was only a quarter present.

  The rest of me had one eye on Rachel, checking how her date was going, trying to assess whether or not they were going to sleep together later. Because once they slept together, the rules changed.

  “You okay if we leave the rest of the wine?”

  Sabrina nodded. “I know you’ve only been part listening to me anyway.” She gave me a wink, before picking up her bag. “Come on, let’s go and get some food elsewhere. Your choice, whatever you fancy. I might even buy it for you to cheer you up.”

  “You’re the best sister I’ve got.” I stood up and cracked my knee against the table. Seriously, why was I being so fucking clumsy today?

  No time to ponder, because I knew I had to say goodbye to Rachel, and in the process possibly be introduced to her date.

  I shuffled round our table and walked towards her, tapping her on the shoulder and awkwardly raising my hand.

  “Bye then, good to see you.”

  Rachel turned her head, then stood up.

  Sabrina had already walked ahead to the pub door, and in that instance, when Rachel’s gaze locked with mine, it was just the two of us, in the
pub on our own: no date, no sister, nobody else.

  The chatter faded, the lights dimmed, and my mind imagined what might have been if I’d just acted sooner.

  The two of us sitting in this pub, on a date.

  I so wished it was me sitting opposite her.

  However, this was not to be my night, and that point was rammed home seconds later when a man carrying three pints and not looking where he was going bundled into me, pushing me sideways, his locked elbows giving me nowhere to go.

  I fell into Rachel, knocking her backwards and she landed on the table with a thud, crashing into her bottle of Heineken and sending it toppling, along with her date’s bottle too, the remaining beer rushing across the table’s surface in an unstoppable frenzy and ending in her date’s lap.

  As for me, I landed with a crunching sound on top of Rachel, my thigh jammed between hers, the moment paused, freeze-framed in my head.

  Yes, I wanted to get between Rachel’s thighs.

  But no, this was not how I imagined it might happen.

  Somewhere beyond my sightline, I heard the distinct tone of my sister’s snigger, alongside someone swearing loudly, then a chair being scraped along the ground. I guessed that was Rachel’s date.

  If I wanted to make sure I was memorable to Rachel, I was going about it the right way.

  I’d meant to leave almost unnoticed, but now here I was, on top of her, on a pub table.

  Not exactly discreet.

  I put my hands on the table either side of Rachel, ignoring when my right hand connected with something wet. I pushed myself upright, wiping my hand on my jeans before offering it to her.

  Rachel groaned as I pulled her up, wincing as her hand reached round to feel what I guessed was her wet back, now covered in beer.

  The man who’d caused the ruckus was standing very still beside us, beer dripping from his hands, still clinging to what was left of his three pints, an apology pinned to his face.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, before giving us a non-committal shrug and darting across the pub.

  Rachel stared downwards, pulling her beer-stained top slowly away from her body.

  “I’m sorry, too, but there was nothing I could do — he kinda fell into me.”

  Rachel shook her head. “I know, I saw it.” She glanced at her date. “Are you covered in beer, too?”

  Her date nodded, wincing: she was standing up and looked like she’d wet herself.

  I tried to focus on that and not on Rachel’s top which was clinging to her breasts.

  Now was not the time, Alice.

  I held up my hands as if surrendering. “Anyway, now I’ve landed on you, I’m going to go.” I gave Rachel a lame smile. “Sorry again,” I added, before reaching my hand across the table. “I’m Alice, by the way.”

  “Hannah,” her date replied, frowning.

  I gave Rachel a final nod, smoothed myself down, then grabbed my sister’s arm on the way out of the pub.

  Chapter 15

  The following week I was sitting on my parents’ balcony, watching the couple below have tea. They were older, probably retired, and they poured their tea with such precision and grace from a white china teapot into patterned china teacups, it made me long for such traditions to be more commonplace. Here I was with my white mug of coffee — how terribly uncouth.

  My mum said she never saw anybody else out here, but these two were as regular as me, and that was pretty much every day. I’d started to go to coffee shops just to get out of the house, but none had coffee as good as my parents’. Plus, decamping to the balcony made it feel like I was elsewhere, drinking my coffee alfresco. It was a safe space to think, to contemplate life.

  Rachel hadn’t been in contact since that night, and I was trying not to be too disappointed about that.

  Why would she, when she had a girlfriend now — and probably one who didn’t headbutt ice buckets?

  And then there was Jake. He’d sent a couple of texts this week about two unpaid bills we needed to sort out, and even getting them had made my heart break a little. It was all so final, as it had to be, but it didn’t stop me mourning the end of another relationship.

  When was I going to meet the one?

  Or at least, the one I wanted, who wanted me right back.

  I recalled my affirmations which I’d been a bit slack on doing, to say the least. “I am deserving of love and I am open to that being from a woman”. I repeated it a few times, my eyes closed, my thoughts focused. After all, I had to believe it to make it come true, didn’t I?

  “And if that woman could be Rachel, that’d be great,” I added, for good measure.

  My heart stuttered as I thought about her and her date again. And then about me landing on top of her, feeling her taut body underneath mine.

  I so wanted that to happen in reality, in a different context. I wanted to sit with her, look into her eyes, tell her everything that had been rolling around my head these past few months. Reveal to her that I liked her, and not just as a friend.

  I wanted my life to move forward so much, but now I’d made one move, I’d ended up stuck in another rut. Waiting for my real life to begin.

  I chewed on my lower lip as a waft of toast passed my nose. The couple below were having breakfast.

  Whereas I hadn’t been eating, because I didn’t when I wasn’t happy. Heartbreak was the best diet I’d tried, hands down.

  But that’s the thing: I was half-happy, I was glad I’d jumped. But I couldn’t be fully happy until I’d fulfilled my plan. Told Rachel how I felt. But when was that going to happen? I had no idea.

  “I am deserving of love and I am open to that being from a woman.”

  I was so very open.

  My phone ringing interrupted my thoughts, and when I looked down, I saw it was Rachel.

  Blimey — maybe there was something in these affirmations?

  As I looked at her name prominent on my screen, all rational thought flew from my head, and my skin tingled.

  All over.

  Steady.

  Be cool, be calm, don’t blurt anything out. And definitely don’t headbutt anything.

  I swiped my finger across the screen.

  “Hello?” I was going for confident but casual. Everything I wasn’t in that moment.

  “Hey, how are you?” She was doing confident and casual, too. “I hope you’ve recovered from last week and are feeling a bit more steady on your feet?”

  I forced a laugh, while the pulse in my neck was trying to breakdance.

  “Just about. Sorry again about covering you in beer.”

  “It wasn’t too bad, we didn’t let it ruin our night.”

  I really didn’t want to hear about her night.

  “So I was ringing to let you know a time for the shoot on Saturday, if you’re still on for it?”

  The shoot, of course. Why would she be ringing about anything else?

  I nailed down my disappointment, gave it a stern look, then cleared my throat.

  “I’m still on for it.”

  “Great. I just spoke to Jake, and he says he should be gone by midday. I want to make it as easy as possible for both of you, so I’ll shoot his bit, then Tanya says she can shoot our segment. That way, you don’t have to see each other if it’s still too soon. Jake’s fine with that.”

  Jake. The mention of his name made my palms itch, made me swallow guilt.

  “Thank you, that’s thoughtful,” I replied. “So I’ll just see you at Tanya’s at midday?”

  “I’ll look forward to it, I’ve missed you on set — as have our viewers. All the comments are asking where you are.”

  “I’m sure they’ll survive.” I paused. “And you’re sure Jake is on board with me coming back? I don’t want to make him feel weird when I’ve already buggered up his life enough of late.”

  “Absolutely. I asked him that, and he said this is business. Well, words to that effect.”

  I let the sentence hang — we had to see each other at some
point, but the longer we could put it off, the better.

  “And also, just to let you know, I booked that new restaurant — September — remember we were talking about it last month?”

  “How can I forget a restaurant called September?”

  Rachel laughed, and my insides warmed.

  “Exactly. Anyway, I spoke to my friend Amanda who’s the chef there and she’s reserved us a table — you can’t get in otherwise, it’s bonkers. Is next week okay? She’s reserved us Wednesday, and I can get the evening off if it works for you.”

  “You still want me to come? I thought you might want to take Hannah.” I tried to sound like it meant nothing, even though it meant everything.

  “A restaurant like September needs a professional opinion.” She paused. “Plus, I like going to restaurants with you.”

  My stomach tingled at her tone, which had gone an octave lower. “And I like going with you.” More than she could possibly imagine.

  “That’s settled then,” she said. “I have to go now, got lunch to cook for 150 people, but I’ll see you at the weekend.”

  She rang off and I stared at my phone.

  Shit, I was going to be on camera with Rachel again.

  Chapter 16

  Tanya met me at a flat near her block, after I’d run screaming from another I’d viewed just up the river. Now I’d realised I couldn’t afford anything on my own near where Jake and I had lived, I’d decided to focus on the area around Tanya — being that little bit further out, it was more affordable.

  Tanya had come straight from work so she was dressed in power heels, her shiny hair falling around her shoulders, her face looking like she meant business, make-up painted on solid. She gave me a hug, before stepping back to assess me, her finger and thumb clutching her chin as if pondering what I was worth.

  “What are you doing? I don’t need any smart comments from you today, because I’ve just seen yet another rubbish flat where the owner said the room was a large double, but those wide-angled filters on phones have got a lot to answer for.”

  Plus, the flat had been painted bright pink and the stain of it was still on my eyeballs as I stared into the Thames beside me.