by Mary Carter
“I’m quite fond of American movies. And television—” Jasper tried to keep a straight face, but ended up laughing. “Just like you might be a fan of Downton Abbey or, uh, British After Dark.”
“All right, all right.”
“Their acronym is ‘BAD.’ Pretty good, right?” He pulled her in and nuzzled her.
“You were saying how stupid you were?”
He laughed. “I am. Because I forgot to tell you the good news. The most amazing news.”
“What?”
“Now, it’s not for sure, but it’s a good sign. A very good sign indeed.”
“How long are you going to drag this out?”
“Sorry. I must admit I like to tease.”
“It’s not a bad skill to have.” They locked eyes, and she could tell they were both thinking of making love.
“Indeed.”
“Sorry. The good news.”
“The almost good news.”
“The almost good news.”
“Queenie has an audition for television in a fortnight.”
“Oh. Good for him.” She tried not to sound disappointed. She had thought the news had something to do with her.
Jasper laughed. “Not just good for him. He told me himself. If he gets on telly, he’ll be making plenty of money.”
“Again. Good for him.”
“Enough money to get his own place.”
“His own place. You mean?”
“He said he’d sign over the flat to you. You won’t have to do a thing on that list. No more worry, no more stress, no more ticking clocks. This will be home, Ava. Your home. That is, if you want it to be.”
“More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
“And it’s my fondest wish that you’ll be open to this.” He pulled her in and kissed her again.
“Queenie would really do that for me?”
“He’s grown quite fond of you too. I told you it paid to be on his good side.”
“I can’t believe it. That’s amazing news. Do you think he’ll get it?”
“The part calls for an aging drag queen.”
“Oh my God. That’s exactly how he refers to himself.”
“It’s fate.”
“It’s a miracle.”
“He’s even booked himself a rehearsal room for the next month. Going to give it all he has. I just need to pick up his lucky charm, and I’ll be off.”
“Oh,” Ava said. Oh, God.
“Don’t worry,” Jasper said, misreading the look on her face. “I’ll be back.” He put his hand on her chin and tilted her face up. “And maybe we can pick up with some teasing?”
Ava’s hand fluttered to her neck. “Does he ever audition without his lucky charm?”
Jasper laughed. “The queen go without his crowning jewel? Never. He’s the most superstitious bloke I know.”
“Oh, God.”
“You look pale. What’s wrong?”
“It’s gone,” she said. “I lost it.”
“You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.”
“I wore it to the market. For good luck.” Ava pointed at the windows. “When I came back, it was gone. Not very lucky after all, is it?”
Jasper ran his hands through his hair. “I’d better go look for it. You went across the street at the light—”
“No. I crossed right where you come out the door.”
“But that’s right in the middle of traffic.”
“I’m aware.”
“You ran out into the middle of traffic?”
“Not on purpose. I was so focused on making it across, I just didn’t look.”
“Didn’t you see all the cars?”
“I did when they almost hit me.”
“My God.”
“He’s never going to forgive me, is he?”
“I’ll find it. So the middle of the street, the footpath, then I suppose I have to search the entire market.”
“Where did he get the charm? I can buy him a new one.”
“I’m afraid you can’t. It was given to him by someone very special.”
“Would he know it wasn’t the same one?”
“It was from a special celebration at the Globe Theatre. They don’t make them anymore.” Jasper headed for the door.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Ava said.
Jasper hurried back to her, grabbed her, and kissed her. “I’m going to find it. But if I don’t . . .”
“Yes?”
“You have to let me tell Queenie that I lost it.”
Ava shook her head. “I won’t let you do that.”
“You have to. He’s going to go nuclear. You wouldn’t have a chance of staying in the flat then.”
Unless she completed everything on the list. But Jasper didn’t have to say that. Because he’d seen her today. He knew she wasn’t faking it. He knew she couldn’t do it. “But he’s your friend. He’ll be mad at you.”
“Mad? No. He’ll never speak to me again.”
“I can’t let that happen.”
“And I can’t lose you. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
“Thank you. I think.”
He tilted her head up, and kissed her. Slowly. Purposefully. Then, he let go. “Wish me British luck.”
“The Best of the British to you.”
He winked. “I’m going to find it.” And then he was gone.
For a full minute she stood, tracing her lips with her finger, trying to memorize everything about his kiss. She prayed he found the charm, but if he didn’t she couldn’t let him take the blame. She ran to the windows and grabbed the binoculars. Jasper stood on the footpath trying to stare out into the middle of the street. There were too many cars. Besides, if it was there, it would be destroyed. He must have come to the same conclusion, for he headed to the stoplight, where all the sane people crossed. Should she tell Queenie and just get it over with? Should she just pack it up and go home? How much was a lucky charm worth these days? If Ava found one that cured her agoraphobia, it would be priceless. Why did she have to put it on, and take it outside? What in the world was wrong with her? How could one well-meaning person cause so much trouble in so little time?
CHAPTER 18
Ten days. Jasper had managed to stall Queenie for ten days. Some poppycock about how the lucky charm would work best if he didn’t wear it until the audition. But now that was four days away and Queenie was foaming at the mouth. In the next hour, over a friendly lunch, Jasper would have to break it to Queenie that his lifeline was gone. Jasper could think of a million things he’d rather do, including what he was doing now, strolling down Oxford Street, with Hillary at his side. Just like he’d done a million different ways on a million different days. Except it felt different this time. Because he was different. They were different. But he wanted Hillary at the lunch so that she could offer Queenie a bit of comfort when Jasper cut his heart with the news. There was no time to lose; Ava was on the verge of a breakdown, and several times had almost confessed to Queenie that she lost the charm. Jasper couldn’t let that happen. She had enough stress in her life without living with an enemy. And if Queenie knew she was the one who lost the charm, there was no doubt about it: his wrath would rival every wicked Queen in fairy-tale land. The only shred of hope now was if Queenie realized how silly it was to be so attached to an inanimate object, to infuse it with so much power. Buck up. You can win this audition on your own, mate. It made Jasper shudder to even think about saying it.
Ava Wilder. He’d been saying her name to himself for the past couple of days, as if it would help him piece together the puzzle of her. He’d told her the truth. He’d certainly never met anyone like her. His feelings had taken him completely by surprise, and he was normally so prepared for everything. Hillary was chatting away on her mobile, which normally drove Jasper mental. Today, he was relieved that she was otherwise occupied. Jasper wanted to think about Ava. No. He had no control over it whatsoever. He couldn’t stop thinking about Ava
.
“No, no, no,” Hillary said. “I know the match will be lovely this year; I’m so looking forward to it.” The person on the other end of the mobile must have said something hilarious, for Hillary threw her head back and laughed. It was one of the less than perfect things about Hillary Swanson. Her laugh sounded like an animal being butchered. Hard to believe he’d actually contemplated living with that for the rest of his life. Not that he’d ever say a thing like that to her.
Jasper wasn’t good at hurting anything. People, animals, including insects. He was a scooper. See a fly in the flat and he’d grab the nearest newspaper, spend way too much time trying to scoop the fly up and let it go. Not that Hillary was a fly. If she were any insect she’d be more of the stinging type.
Oxford Street was alive. There were the usual tourists window shopping, vagrants begging, kids whizzing by on skateboards, traffic jams, the typical buzz of London on a Saturday morning. “Cheerio.” Hillary dropped her phone into her handbag. They stood in front of Marks & Spencer. Jasper took one look at the swarms of people coming in and out and stopped.
“Care to step in for a bit?” Hillary said. It wasn’t so much a question as a command.
“Actually, I don’t care to step in at all.” God, he’d always wanted to say that. It felt just as good as he’d always imagined.
“We’ll just pop in and pop out.”
“The last time you said that we went in on a summer’s day and came out to three inches of snow.” Hillary laughed and clobbered him with her handbag.
Did Ava like to shop? She wouldn’t like getting to the shop, but would she like it once she was inside? He wished he could build her a series of tunnels to the world. He didn’t understand much about her affliction. Fear of the marketplace. That certainly ruled out Oxford Street, or all of London, he supposed. It was one giant shopping extravaganza. Jasper used to be a bit afraid of the marketplace himself. Especially when it came to Hillary and her charge card. Another thing he didn’t have to worry about anymore. Faults aside, Hillary was a beautiful, decent girl. But recently it had occurred to Jasper that he didn’t want a decent girl. He wanted someone imperfect and indecent. Someone like Ava.
“What?” Hillary said. “You’ve been acting the fool all day.”
“I’m sorry,” Jasper said. “I can’t do this.”
One of Hillary’s perfectly arched eyebrows shot up. “Oh for God’s sake. I’ll meet up with you at the pub then.”
“Righto.” Hillary squinted and gave him a look. He’d better watch himself. Hillary had a keen eye for a lie. Rubbish. On top of it all, Jasper was going to have to try to eat with a subzero appetite.
“Cheerio.” Hillary kissed Jasper on the cheek. First the left, then the right.
“Cheerio,” Jasper said. Hillary started off. “Wait.” She stopped. Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this, testing her, but he just had to confirm something. He reached into his pocket and handed her the brochure. The one he’d been keeping in his breast pocket all week. It was a flyer for his upcoming stand-up debut. If they were going to be friends, he ought to be able to share his hopes and dreams. Hillary glanced at the flyer.
“You’re too polite.” She swooshed it away like it was an insect.
“Pardon?”
“Either don’t take it, or take it and drop it like everyone else.” This time Hillary yanked it out of his hand and dropped it on the ground. “See?” she said. She churned it into the ground with her heel. Jasper stared at it. It never crossed her mind for a second that he was trying to share something with her about his life. Ava had learned more about him in one taxi ride than Hillary had in years.
“Half-one?” She looked at him.
“Half-one,” Jasper said. Hillary nodded, then disappeared into the swarm. Jasper bent down and picked up his flyer. THE LAUGHING DEN. Open Mic Night. He looked at the date. Thursday week. Not long now. A jolly good endeavor even if he wouldn’t have any friends in the audience. He knew he’d be imagining Ava in the front row cheering him on, warming him with her American laugh. Screw Hillary. What had he ever seen in that woman? He smoothed it out the best he could and put it back in his breast pocket.
It felt wrong. To be sitting at a cheerful pub, just a five-minute walk from Ava’s flat, yet they all knew there was zero chance she would walk through the door. Would she like it? This old English pub with the dark interior, animal heads on the wall, and over a hundred beers on tap? This was one of the happier pubs in London, for it drew in a lot of tourists. Tourists thought London was jolly. Pubs with smiling bartenders. Original copies of Dickens’s novels lining the shelves. Royalty. Architecture. Shopping. Curried chips. Hop-on, hop-off buses. Trafalgar Square, and Buckingham Palace, and Big Ben, and Westminster Abbey, and the Thames, and the London Eye. Perhaps even the pigeons seemed exotic. Cheerio!
They didn’t stay long enough for the weather, garbage, expense, or even loneliness to get into their veins. Maybe Ava was better off only seeing London from her windows. Maybe it would remain a jolly place. Still, that wasn’t really living, was it? Jasper couldn’t imagine being afraid of the outdoors. He would do anything to help her, anything.
In the meantime, Jasper was regretting that he hadn’t tried to talk Beverly out of the list. One thing was for sure. She wouldn’t have concocted it if she knew how deep Ava’s disorder really was. It wasn’t just a matter of “forcing her out of her comfort zone.” Beverly meant well, but it wasn’t going to help anyone. As long as she wanted it, the flat was intended for Ava. Jasper knew it for a fact. The problem was, he wasn’t sure Queenie saw it that way.
Jasper waited while Queenie got comfortable. Eating, for Queenie, was pure pleasure, an art form. First Queenie moved his pint glass to his left. Then he took his silverware out of his napkin and arranged it on the table, next he placed his napkin on his lap, and finally he gazed at the plate of curried chips in front of him with undisguised lust. Jasper let him enjoy a few bites before he began.
“When I saw Ava less than a fortnight ago, she was outside, coming back from Sainsbury’s.”
Queenie let his fork clatter to his plate. He looked outraged. “She didn’t bring home a turkey.”
“I think she was too busy trying to breathe.”
“I basted him for days.” Queenie met Jasper’s look. “The turkey,” he added.
“This affliction isn’t just in her head. She almost got hit by a car. She looked like someone having a heart attack.”
“It does run in the family.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Sorry.” Queenie took another bite of his curried chips while Jasper drank his beer. “I’ve been warned to watch my cholesterol meself.” He paused midair, another chip heading toward his mouth. He stared at it as if contemplating his next move, then shrugged. “I’ll start tomorrow.” He devoured the chip.
“You do know that Beverly fully intended the flat to go to Ava no matter what.”
Queenie was slow to respond. That wasn’t a good sign. He took his time setting down his fork, then dabbed his lip, put his napkin in his lap and looked at Jasper. “So?”
“So. It was meant as encouragement. Motivation. You know how Beverly felt about motivation.”
Queenie lifted his head and became very serious. “Motivation is everything.”
“Exactly. Beverly wanted Ava to have an adventure. The list was a ‘Welcome to London’ gesture, not a forced death march.”
Queenie squinted at Jasper, then poked his fork at him. “That’s exactly what Ava said about the list. Forced death march.”
“Did she now? She put it just like that?”
“Don’t play me. You two are conspiring against me!”
“I swear to you. I never heard her put it like that. How do you like that?” Jasper grinned. “Great minds think alike.”
Queenie jabbed at his chips. “How does this concern moi?”
“You got me thinking when you generously offered to let Ava have the flat if you get on telly—�
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“Hold your horses.” Queenie put his hand up. “I didn’t say it for a fact. I said I would consider it. But only if I took the lead and the show was going to be picked up. It was a bit of daydreaming.” He set his pint down and stared at Jasper. “You didn’t say anything to her, did you?” Jasper shook his head. “Vocalize it.”
“Mate, listen. We have to tell her the flat is hers no matter what.”
“But it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s in writing. If Ava doesn’t complete the list in seventy days—tick, tock, tick, tock—then I get the flat.”
“Beverly just didn’t want the flat abandoned. She didn’t want Ava to sell it or, worse, she didn’t want Gretchen Wilder to profit from it. She wanted Ava to live here. In a strange way it was her last attempt to feel close to Ava.”
“What’s your point, barrister boy?”
“If Beverly were alive and saw the extent of Ava’s agoraphobia, she would drop the stipulations immediately. And you know it.” Jasper wasn’t normally so direct. But he could see Queenie’s wheels churning. Jasper was there when Beverly broke the news of the flat to Queenie. He understood it was to go to Ava no matter what.
“You’re saying I should just hand over the flat, even if she doesn’t complete the list?”
“Yes. As long as Ava lives here for one year, the flat is hers no matter what.”
Queenie sighed. “I’ve already compromised by saying I’d think about giving her the flat if I get the part on telly. I don’t want to discuss it anymore. Now where’s my lucky charm?” Queenie held his hand out.
“Beverly would be ashamed of you.”
Queenie gasped and jabbed his fork at Jasper. “Take that back.”
Jasper should have saved that one for later. After he admitted he lost the lucky charm. Now Queenie would be even more riled up. Jasper had seen Queenie throw fits before. He certainly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of one.
“Can’t you even try to put yourself in her place? Imagine if you lost your lucky charm. How well would you do without it?” What are you doing? Easy, mate. You’re walking the plank, lad.