by Mary Carter
“You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you?”
“Do you deliver?”
“We deliver after two from Monday to Thursday. Do you live far?”
“Across the street.”
“Across the street.” He pointed. She nodded. “And you want us to deliver?” He said it like he was disgusted with her. Like he thought she was rich and lazy. Like she didn’t give a shit about poor sea creatures. Why didn’t she bring bags?
“I have a disability.”
“What is it?”
He wasn’t going to believe her. She could see it in his eyes. He would think she was a nutter. She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Actually, I’m conducting an experiment.”
The clerk looked around. “Am I on a hidden camera show? A practical joke, like?”
“I’m an actress,” Ava said. “Researching a role.”
“What sort of role?”
“I play a lazy, septic American woman who loves plastic bags despite the fact that they clog up the oceans and kill innocent sea creatures. It’s a terrible role, about a terrible woman, living an awful life. But it’s union work. Pays pretty good.”
The clerk nodded. “Would I have seen you in anything?”
“Do you watch American television?”
“I watch loads of it.”
“I’m only on Canadian television,” Ava said.
“Oh, right, so.”
This was torture. Where was Victoria? Finally Ava saw her spikey blond hair.
“Vic,” the man talking to Ava said. “She’s an actress. Canadian television.”
“Right,” Vic said. “No wonder I don’t recognize her.”
“Why don’t you help our actress home with her plastic bags?”
“You didn’t bring bags?” Vic said.
“Sue me,” Ava said.
“Right,” Vic said. She turned to the male clerk. “Then a smoke break?”
“I thought you were going to quit that filthy habit.”
“I thought you were going to lose two stone.”
“Be back at half past.” The man bowed to Ava, glared at Vic, and then strode off.
“Do you mind?” Ava said.
“Don’t be daft. Off we go then.”
CHAPTER 16
Vic walked fast. Too fast. She wasn’t frightened of the outdoors at all. But since she had Ava’s groceries, Ava didn’t yell at her to stop or slow down. Maybe sprinting was the way to go. Maybe if Ava sprinted everywhere she went she would be cured. Bag boys could stand on the curb in front of Sainsbury’s and Ava would just zoom by and grab them.
“Ava!” Vic yelled at her. What? Ava had just taken a few steps into the street. A car whipped toward her from the opposite direction. It was going the wrong way. This was it. She was going to die. Everyone was wrong. It was just as bad as Ava had imagined it. Powerful arms grabbed her from behind and yanked her to the sidewalk just as the car screeched to a halt. Horns everywhere blared, and the driver of the car and those of every other car on the street were honking at Ava like the European version of Groundhog Day. She still didn’t even know who saved her, or whether or not she was glad the person did; she was doubled over, dealing with the thump, thump, thump in her head. Twice in one day? Who runs into traffic twice in one day? Outside was no place for her. It was no place! Here came the colored dots. The nausea. Maybe this time she really was going to die. Would Jasper think about her from time to time?
“What’s happening? Were you hit?” A male voice with an accent. A dark head appeared on the sidewalk. The man was lying on the ground in order to make eye contact with Ava. It was the Indian man once again.
“Twice in one day,” Ava said. Her tongue was thick. Maybe it was swelling inside her mouth and soon she wouldn’t be able to breathe.
“You owe me two lifetimes,” the man said with a smile.
“What’s that?” It was Vic. She was out of breath, standing next to the Indian man. She was pointing to something on the sidewalk.
“It’s mine,” he said. “I dropped it to help her. She just ran right out into the middle of the street. Again!”
“She’s American,” Vic said. “But for some reason she’s on Canadian telly.”
“No wonder I didn’t recognize her,” he said.
“Is that fertilizer?” Vic asked.
Ava moved her head slightly. Sure enough, splattered on the sidewalk was a trail of fertilizer, next to a large, torn bag discarded on the sidewalk.
“I dropped it to save her,” the man said.
“Why do you need fertilizer?” Vic asked.
“I have a garden,” the man said. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“The coppers might,” Vic said. “That’s a big bag.”
“Very paranoid of you, and very racist.”
“If you see something, say something,” Vic said.
“Oh yes? And what is it that you see? I am from Bombay.”
“Bomb,” Vic said. She curled up her nose.
“You’re a nasty girl. And here I just saved your mate’s life.”
“She’s not my mate,” Vic and Ava said at the same time. Ava couldn’t hold herself up anymore; she landed on her knees on the sidewalk.
“You have a garden in the West End?” Vic just wasn’t going to quit. Ava had assumed because of her tattoos and piercings that she was more of an open-minded sort. She was wrong about everything and everyone.
“I built a garden in the alley,” the man said. “I’d show it to you, but I don’t like you.” He knelt down near Ava. “Be more careful crossing the street.”
“I’m sorry,” Ava said.
“He could be making a bomb,” Vic said.
“You’d need a lot more fertilizer than my one bag,” the man said. “A hundred bags. Maybe more.”
“Oh, is that so, is it? How would you know?”
Ava had to get home. She didn’t care about groceries. She’d have to arrange to be completely knocked out when it was time to go back to America. Maybe they could drug her and put her on a ship. But go home to where? They’d probably rented out her house. And she didn’t have a job anymore. She didn’t belong anywhere. She might as well just rot and die here, and get added to the fertilizer.
“Is there something wrong with her?” the man asked Vic.
“She’s a shut-in,” Vic said.
“I never told you that,” Ava said.
“I know panic attacks,” Vic said. She looked at the man. “What’s your name?”
“Deven.”
“Deven?” Vic said.
“It means ‘one who pleases others.’ ” Deven stared Vic down. Vic’s pale face immediately flushed as she stared back at him. Then she stuck her chest out and began playing with her hair.
“I’m Ava,” Ava said with a little wave of her hand.
“Nice to meet you!” Deven leaned down and yelled it in her ear.
“Not deaf,” Ava said.
“Is she ever going to get up?” Deven said.
“I’ll help you get your fertilizer inside if you help me carry her across the street,” Vic said.
Ava wanted to argue, but she knew if she tried to stand on her own her legs wouldn’t work. They would buckle. She would fall again. She wanted Jasper.
“You’re supposed to look right before you cross,” Vic said. “It even says so on the street. There’s an arrow and everything.”
“Thanks,” Ava said. Was sarcasm universal? She needed a mobile. If she had one she could call Jasper. What was he doing right now? Sitting in his office with a cup of tea? Did he ever go to court? Did he think Ava was a total nutter?
Vic dropped Ava’s groceries next to her. People going by looked at the three of them, but nobody stopped. Deven and Vic were soon holding the broken bag of fertilizer between them and scooting it toward the nondescript building next to the grocery store. Ava remained on the sidewalk. She was trembling. Her stupid body. Just try it. Try picking up your groceries and crossing the street again. Ava
grabbed the bags. She took a deep breath. She stood. Blood rushed to her head. Vertigo hit hard and fast and it was no joke. She wasn’t experiencing a bit of dizziness; the entire sidewalk was flipping over her head. Everything but her, around her, in front of her, above her, was moving.
“Oh, God, help me.” Ava squeezed her eyes shut. She took a tiny step. The world tilted. This wasn’t fair. She had tried to go to the grocery store. Was that so wrong? Why was this happening to her? Why couldn’t she just go to the fucking grocery store?
“Ava?”
“Jasper?” She let out a sob at the sound of his voice. Where did he come from? Before she could censor herself, she threw herself into his arms. He was stiff at first, then wrapped his arms around her.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve got you.”
“Everything’s spinning,” Ava said. “Like a ride at a carnival. Make it stop.”
“I’ve got you,” he said again. Before Ava knew what was going on, Jasper had scooped Ava and her groceries into his arms and was crossing the street. Ava didn’t mention Vic or Deven—they chose a bag of fertilizer and their lustful hormones over her; screw them.
Jasper jogged across the street. Ava was petite, but she still felt bad; she couldn’t be easy to carry while jogging. But she didn’t say a word. She wanted to get inside more than she wanted anything else in the entire world. And soon he was opening the front door and the cool, dark hallway greeted her. Ava let out her breath, which came out as a sob. Jasper set her down and Ava stumbled, then grasped the railing to the stairs. She held onto it like a life raft. The relief was immediate. But her legs were still shaking.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Jasper.
“Queenie called me about his lucky charm,” he said. “Was just popping by when I saw you on the sidewalk.”
“Looking pathetic.”
“Looking as if you needed a hand.”
“Thank you.”
“It really is difficult for you, isn’t it?”
“Torture. It’s torture.”
“I’m so sorry.” Jasper pointed to one of the bags in Ava’s hands. “But looks like you made it.”
“With a little help from strangers.” Who abandoned me for a bag of shit.
“It still counts.”
“It’s not on the list though, is it?”
“I don’t think your aunt Beverly quite understood the nature of your difficulties.”
“She’s not the only one. I don’t understand it myself.”
“Let’s just get up and have a cup of tea, shall we?”
“Is that the British answer for everything? A cup of tea?”
“I’ll pour you a Scotch too. Just don’t tell Queenie.”
“Now you’re talking, mate,” Ava said.
Ava sat on her emerald stool while Jasper moved about the kitchen. She liked him being here. Hell, she just liked him. He hummed as he put the kettle on and set teacups on the kitchen table. It was a ceremony, a ritual. Even if Ava wasn’t as nuts about tea, she could see the pleasure in having a ritual. Across the way Vic and Deven were standing on the sidewalk looking at the spot Ava had previously occupied. Ava had to laugh. She felt sort of bad, but then again, they did abandon her. If they were to look up they might see Ava through the window and Ava could wave. Oh, shoot. They were crossing the street. Soon the buzzer shrieked through the flat. Ava jumped. How did they know which flat she was in? They must be buzzing every single unit to see which one she would answer. If they kept this up, all her neighbors would hate her. Good Lord, Beverly must have had a hearing loss. She was going to have to do something about that monstrous noise before she had a hearing loss too. In the kitchen, a teacup rattled against a plate and Jasper yelped. He popped his head into the living room. “That about took my eardrum off.”
“Right?” Ava was relieved it wasn’t just her. For a moment she had wondered if staying inside all the time had increased all of her senses.
“Are you expecting company?”
“It’s the girl from Sainsbury’s,” Ava said. “Probably checking on me.”
“I can go.”
“No. Please. Unless . . . you have to go.”
“I made time in my schedule for the visit.”
“Great. I’ll just get rid of her.” The intercom buzzed again. Ava pushed TALK. “Hello?”
“Ava?”
“Hi, Vic,” Ava said. “What do you want?”
“Crikey. You vanished.”
“Sorry.”
“What happened?”
“Made it home.”
“Are you being held against your will?” Ava felt someone staring at her. She lifted her head and made eye contact with Jasper. Very long eye contact.
“Oh, do say yes,” Jasper said. Ava laughed.
“I’m fine, thank you.” Ava started to walk away.
“Deven has a garden in the alley. It’s brilliant.” Apparently Vic thought the intercom was a telephone. Ava went back and pushed TALK.
“That’s great.”
“I have a green thumb, not a trigger finger,” Deven piped in. Vic laughed. Loudly. Ava didn’t need to see her to know that she was probably playing with her hair and pushing her chest out again.
“See you later,” Ava said.
“Order your groceries online next time,” Vic said.
“Got it,” Ava said. She turned to Jasper with a smile and a shake of her head.
“ ‘A green thumb, not a trigger finger’?” Jasper said.
“Apparently he’s a gardener and not a terrorist.”
“That’s London for you,” Jasper said. “A story on every corner.” He was putting away her groceries. Ava should help, but she loved that he was doing it for her, so she watched instead. She brought her hand up to her hair, and then touched her neck where a little pulse had started to beat. Her neck felt strange. Why did it feel strange? Naked. Queenie’s lucky charm! It was gone. Oh, no. Had it fallen off in the grocery store, or in the street, or on the sidewalk?
“Are you all right?”
“Fine, fine.” She should tell Jasper she had lost Queenie’s lucky charm. He could go out right now and look for it. But she didn’t want him to leave. Even more to the point, she didn’t want him to think she was the kind of flatmate who wore other people’s things. She had just been trying to keep it close so she’d remember to give it to Jasper. So far Jasper hadn’t mentioned it. Which meant he was truly here to see her and he’d forgotten all about it. Ava didn’t have time to analyze that; there would be hours, maybe days, to indulge in that later. Tell him or don’t tell him? Shoot. Maybe Vic or Deven had found the charm. She’d call Vic at the market later and ask. Otherwise there was no way Ava would be able to trace her steps, and there was also no way she could admit to Queenie that she’d worn it and lost it. No way. She wanted to grab her binoculars and see if she could spot the charm, but she didn’t know how she’d explain it to Jasper.
They sat, and Jasper drank tea, and Ava drank Scotch out of a teacup. So civilized. After the third sip, a sly smile stole across Jasper’s face.
“What?” Ava said.
“Anything good on telly lately?” He was talking about the porn. Ava froze. Then he laughed. It was funny. He was funny. Finally, Ava laughed too.
“I was so mortified.”
“Ah, it’s perfectly natural, I suppose.”
“You suppose. Like you never watch porn.”
“As a teenaged boy, sure. I could have been Wanker of the Year. But never when I thought someone could walk in on me.”
“I certainly didn’t expect you to barge in either!”
“That was quite obvious.”
“What did they say about me?”
“They?”
“Hillary. Queenie. Do they think I’m a pervert?”
“Oh, yes. They do.”
“Damn it.”
“What do you care?”
“Do you think I’m a pervert?”
“In a good way.�
� Ava laughed again and looked at Jasper. He stared back. He was so close. He shot up and moved to the counter. He leaned against it and folded his arms across his chest. He was muscular beneath that gray suit. Ava had an urge to press her body against his, to feel his stomach plastered to her stomach. And she definitely wanted to kiss him. Instead she took a sip of Scotch from a cup meant for tea. Maybe the Brits weren’t as civilized as they appeared. Maybe they drank all that tea to cover up all the perverted thoughts they had. Maybe she would start drinking a boatload of tea.
“Why did you move over there?” Ava asked.
“Because I wanted to kiss you.”
CHAPTER 17
Ava put her teacup down and stood. “I would have kissed you back.” There it was. In the open. An admission. They were here. Admitting their attraction. Queenie was gone. The bedroom was so very close.
“Would you have?” It was a challenge. He was flirting with her.
“Don’t believe me?”
“The proof is in the pudding.” Ava headed for him as he came toward her. They stopped when there was barely an inch between them. Jasper’s hand trailed down her body, and she shivered. He leaned in to kiss her.
“I’d make a horrible girlfriend,” Ava said.
“You’re not too good at the sweet talk either.”
Ava laughed, then quickly stopped. “You deserve better. You deserve someone adventurous.”
“I see. Such as someone who packs up and moves to another country?”
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever done.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He looked at her lips. “I want you.”
“I want you too.” He pulled her into him. Before she could ruin it again, his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her like she’d never been kissed in her entire life. So much for nice guys being boring. The kiss was electric. When he released her he left her wanting more.
“I might be gone in eighty days.”
Jasper put his hand on his head. “God. I’m around you for any length of time and every ounce of intelligence drains right out of me. You make me incredibly stupid.”
“Great speech, Romeo. Was ‘You complete me’ getting old?”
“What?”
“Not a fan of American movies, I take it.”