by Matt Dunn
Chapter 10
'Don't feel you have to stay,' said Sophie, guiltily, as she cautiously rested her foot on the pillow Nathan had procured from one of the passing nurses. 'I mean, it's Valentine's Day, and all that.'
Nathan cast a wary eye round the waiting room, which despite the relatively early hour, had already started to fill up with the usual assortment of drunks and druggies that hospitals seemed to attract most evenings. 'Not a problem,' he said, leafing through one of the old, tattered copies of 'Hello' on the table in front of him, then he spotted a battered vending machine in the corner. 'Coffee?'
Sophie shrugged. 'Sure. Cappuccino, please. But let me get these.'
'No, I insist,' said Nathan. 'I owe you a drink. And besides, you might spill them.'
He fished in his pocket for some change and headed over to the machine, leaving Sophie miserably reflecting how this wasn't exactly the kind of drink she'd hoped Nathan would be buying her this evening – and certainly not in this setting - though when he reappeared a minute later with two paper cups full of steaming brown liquid, he seemed reluctant to even hand her one of them.
'One's a cappuccino, one's a latte,' he said, regarding them suspiciously. 'Though I can't really tell which is which.'
'Thanks,' said Sophie, taking the nearest cup.
'You're welcome. Sugar?'
Sophie's heart leapt momentarily as she assumed Nathan had invented a pet name for her, then she saw the small white packet he was offering her.
'Er, no, thanks.'
'Sweet enough already, eh?'
'Something like that.' She smiled at him, and they sipped their coffees in silence for a few moments, until Sophie suddenly noticed the huge clock on the waiting room wall just behind where Nathan was sitting. 'Are you sure you don't want to get back?' she said, fearing he was bound to spot it and see what the actual time was. And how on earth would she explain that?
'What would be the point?' Nathan looked at his watch and shook his head. 'I still can't believe the others didn't turn up.'
'Well, maybe they...' Sophie stopped talking, worried she'd only be getting herself into trouble. 'Me neither. People, eh?'
Nathan rolled his eyes, then sat back in his chair. 'So, tell me all about yourself, Soph.'
'Me?' She tried to ignore the throbbing in her foot, though at the same time, felt it probably served her right. 'Well, there's not really that much to tell.'
'No?'
Sophie shrugged. 'No, I'm just... Ordinary, I suppose.'
'Sophie, you're anything but that.'
She looked at him with a start. 'What do you mean?'
'Well, you're smart. You're funny. You work for an exciting company in the centre of one of the most vibrant, multi-cultural cities in the world. And on top of all that, you're pretty...' - he took a sip of coffee, and Sophie found herself hoping that was the end of the sentence - '...good at tenpin bowling.' He leaned over and nudged her again. 'I wouldn't say there was anything ordinary about you.'
'I don't know...'
Nathan glanced absent-mindedly around the waiting room, his eyes settling upon a flickering fluorescent light in the ceiling. 'It's funny, isn't it?'
'What?'
'Like I was saying earlier outside Bar Italia. How you can work with someone for so long and not know what they're like. Or what they like.'
Or who they like thought Sophie. She took a deep breath. 'How about yourself?'
'Me?'
'Yes. You didn't quite answer me earlier.'
'Earlier?'
'In the office. When I asked you what exactly you had against Valentine's Day.'
Nathan stared at her for a second, and while his first instinct was to clam up, he was struck by the realisation that (apart from his mum) he'd never told another woman what had happened - and perhaps a woman's perspective might actually help. He opened his mouth, wondering where on earth to start, and then it all came pouring out. About Ellie, and her turning his proposal down, and why she'd turned his proposal down, and how that had made him feel, and why he hated IKEA, and what had happened in the coffee shop this morning, and how he'd felt when he'd seen the couple this afternoon. When he'd finished, he felt strangely dejected, and so did Sophie, though she perked up a little when he told her he'd finally realised it was time for him to change.
'Why? Or rather, why now?'
Nathan shrugged. 'Because I got this card today.'
Sophie's heart leapt. 'And?'
'And I didn't know how to feel.'
'About the card? Or about the person who sent it.'
'Either. Both.' Nathan was slumped in his chair, as if the admissions had drained him. 'I don't know.'
'How did it make you feel?'
Nathan looked like he was struggling to put it into words. 'I don't know. Flattered. Scared. Somewhere between the two.'
'Why scared?'
'Because love hurts, Soph. And I don't want to be hurt like that again.'
He was staring straight at her, and Sophie had to fight hard not to look away. 'Nathan, lots of things in life hurt. Dropping a bowling ball on your foot, for example. But they stop hurting eventually. And it doesn't mean you can never go bowling again. Just don't do it with, you know, sweaty hands.'
'That's very deep, Soph. Though I'm not quite sure I understand it.'
Sophie smiled. Nor was she. 'So, what are you going to do?'
'I don't know.' He shrugged. 'Unfortunately, people aren't like computers. You can't just turn them off and on again and expect them to forget the past. They have memories.'
'Well, technically, so do computers.'
'You after my job or something?'
Sophie laughed. 'Hardly. Though I do know the best way to get rid of a bad memory. And I'm talking computers, and people.'
'Tell me.'
'Replace it with a good one.'
Nathan stared at her for a second, then he broke into a smile. 'That's pretty good advice. Even though it might be easier said than done.'
Sophie swallowed hard. She could say exactly how to do it - and who to do it with, although one thing was puzzling her - or rather, there was one thing she needed to know. 'So, tell me something.'
'Sure.'
'Why did you send Julie that card?'
'Eh?'
'If you don't believe in Valentine's Day.'
'What card?'
'This morning. The one you put on her desk.'
Nathan frowned at her. 'That was from Mark. I was delivering it for him.'
'From Mark?'
Nathan nodded. 'That's right. Don't tell him I told you, but he's had a thing for her for ages.' He grinned. 'You didn't say anything, did you?'
Sophie felt herself start to colour again. 'Er...'
'Soph...' Nathan leant back in his chair and gazed around the room in disbelief, then he caught sight of the clock on the wall. 'Funny.'
'What is?' asked Sophie, nervously.
He checked his watch, and then his phone. 'What time is it?'
Sophie stared at him, and before she could help herself, she burst into tears.
'Nathan, I'm so, so sorry.'
'For what?'
'For this,' she sobbed. 'Ruining your evening.'
'You didn't do that. The others did that by not turning up.' He reached over and put a comforting arm round her, but Sophie was feeling too guilty to enjoy it.
'Yes, well...' Sophie wiped her eyes on her sleeve. 'I'm sorry about that too.'
'Huh?' Nathan looked down at her. 'What do you mean.'
'I... I changed the clock on your computer. And the one on Mark's phone. And then I got Calum to swap your phone with Mark's. And then I changed the time on my watch, and told you you were late for Anti-Valentine's.'
'What?' Nathan slipped his phone out of his pocket and peered at it. 'Why would you do that?'
'Because...' Sophie sniffed, and launched into an explanation of her own, telling Nathan all about Darren, and moving to London, and how she'd embarrassed herself
in front of him that day with her 'Outlook' comment, and about missing out on everything else since then, and how this morning she'd determined that today would be the day when everything changed. 'And I thought if we spent some time together,' she said finally, 'just the two of us, and got to know each other, you might like me. And maybe even ask me out. Seeing as my card didn't work.'
'You sent me that card?'
Sophie nodded. 'Yes,' she said, quietly.
Nathan stared at her for what seemed like the longest time, then opened his mouth as if to say something, but just at that moment, Sophie heard her name being called from reception. And while it occurred to her to ignore it, her foot was incredibly painful.
'That's you,' said Nathan matter-of-factly, then he waved towards the desk.
'Nathan...'
But before she could say anything else, a muscly-armed male nurse came over and began to wheel her away, and while something like this would normally be the highlight of her evening, Sophie hardly noticed. Instead, after a final, lingering look over her shoulder at a still-stunned Nathan, she did her best to pull herself together, fished her phone out of her jacket pocket, and quickly composed a text.
Mark Webster allowed the crowd to carry him off the tube at Bank, then he followed the signs towards the Northern Line platform and stepped miserably onto the next available train. He'd had such great plans for tonight, but they'd all come to nothing, and as far as he was concerned, it served him right. The way things were going, it'd be him organising the Anti-Valentine's event next year.
He rode the couple of stops in a daze, then got off at London Bridge and walked slowly along Tooley Street, past the London Dungeon and the World War II exhibition, before heading under the viaduct and down Bermondsey Street. He loved where he lived - the variety of restaurants, the attractions on his doorstep - but at the same time, Mark knew these things were only really fun if you had someone to enjoy them with.
He reached his flat and made his way inside, just in time to hear his home phone ringing in the hallway. Hoping it might be Julie he lunged at it, only succeeding in knocking the handset off the hall table. Though when he eventually retrieved it from where it had fallen behind the radiator, instead of Julie's dulcet tones, he heard Nathan's voice.
'Hello mate. Haven't interrupted anything, have I?'
'No,' said Mark, disappointedly. 'More's the pity.'
'Good,' said Nathan. 'Listen, I've got to keep this brief, because I'm just at the hospital...'
'The hospital? Are you all right?'
'Yeah, I'm fine. It's Sophie, actually.'
'Sophie? Is she OK?'
'Yes, she... Actually, mate, that's not important, and I'm on a payphone, and I think I'm just about to run out of money, so shut up and listen, will you?'
'Sorry. Yes, of course. What to?'
'It's Julie.'
'What about her?'
'She...' The line went dead, and he stared at the receiver in disbelief. 'What?' he shouted. 'Nathan. Nathan.'
He punched Nathan's number into his phone, then almost jumped out of his skin when his own mobile started ringing, though when he answered it, all he could hear was a strange echo. He ended the call, then stood there, waiting for Nathan to call back, until he realised he'd be unlikely to if he had, in fact, run out of money, so hurriedly he dialled 1-4-7-1 to return the call, and to his relief, after half a ring, Nathan answered.
'Finally!'
'What do you mean, 'finally'?'
'I've had to fight off two drunks and an old lady with a walking stick. She had the stick, I mean. I didn't use one to fight her off.'
'Get on with it, Nathan, please.'
'Oh yeah. Sorry.' Nathan laughed. 'Well, to cut a long story short, you were right. Sophie did tell Julie the card she saw me putting on her desk this morning was from me. Which, if you think about it, probably explains everything else today, including why she didn't come to Anti-Valentines. Probably thought she wouldn't be able to resist me...'
'Nathan!'
'Anyway, I just thought you ought to know that it wasn't you she was rejecting. It was me.'
'But that means...'
'Yeah.'
'And she doesn't...'
'Nope.'
Mark shook his head as it all fell into place. No wonder Julie had hardly said two words to him all afternoon. She must have thought he wasn't interested in her at all, and that he'd told Nathan all about what had happened the night of the Christmas party, and been happy to let Nathan try and remind her of it. And what must she think of him if that was the case?
'Why did you leave it until now to tell me?'
'Because I've only just found out. And you've got my iPhone, and I've got yours.'
'What? How did that happen?'
'I'll explain tomorrow. Anyway, what it all means is the coast's now clear for you to make your move.'
'But I'm at home.'
'So?'
Mark looked at his watch. 'And it's six-fifteen.'
'Which means you've still got five-and-three-quarter hours of Valentine's Day left to...' There was the sound of a commotion, and then Nathan appeared back on the line. 'Listen, mate, it's getting a bit ugly here, so I better get off the phone. And you better get on yours. Or rather, mine.'
'OK. Great. Thanks. Will do. Right away.'
'Go on then!'
'Sorry. Of course.'
Mark put the phone down, then picked his mobile up and prepared to call Julie, then he cursed under his breath, remembering her number was on his mobile, not Nathan's. He hit redial on his land-line, planning to call Nathan back to ask him for Julie's number, but unsurprisingly the payphone at the hospital was engaged.
He slammed the phone down in frustration, and began pacing around his front room, wondering what to do. He had his laptop, and supposed he could send Julie an email, but she might not see it until the morning, and besides, what would he write? And short of jumping on the train to go and see her... Mark almost laughed. That wasn't him at all - and nor, now he thought about it, was some panicked phone conversation. No, far better to just wait until the morning, try to catch Julie at the coffee machine, and have a laugh with her about what a huge misunderstanding today had been.
He walked into his kitchen and opened the refrigerator, looking for something to drink, then realised he'd finished off his last bottle of wine the previous evening while trying to think of something witty to write in Julie's card, so he picked up his keys from where he'd dropped them in his earlier scramble for the phone and headed out to the Sainsbury's Local in Bermondsey Square. The bar opposite was full of couples sitting holding hands, and he tried to ignore them as he made his way into the store.
Picking up a basket from the pile near the entrance, he walked up and down the aisles, considering his evening dining options. He hadn't expected to be here, surveying the 'Taste the Difference' pizza selection - given the choice, he'd rather have been gazing at Julie across a table in a romantic Soho restaurant, but things just hadn't worked out that way. And as for that rubbish that so-called 'psychic' had been spouting at Tottenham Court Road, about believing in fate... That was a short step away from the likes of 'today is the first day of the rest of your life', and all that other American-speak that people at those motivational seminars the company arranged from time to time were always quoting. Well, if that was the case, then tomorrow could be too. And at least tonight he could have something tasty, if not, well, tasty...
As his hand hovered over the last pepperoni pizza, a short, heavy-set banker-type wearing a suit and a New York Yankees baseball cap reached past him and snatched it from his grasp. Mark opened his mouth to protest, but the man just grinned.
'Sorry, buddy,' he said. 'You snooze, you lose.'
For a second, Mark stared at him, then he placed his basket carefully on the floor, made his way measuredly out of the supermarket so as not to attract the attention of the security guard, and sprinted back towards the station.
Julie Marshall was
sitting in There's No Place Like Rome near Embankment tube station, working her way through a large plate of Spaghetti Carbonara, although in truth, she was really just eating the spaghetti - the chef had taken the 'carbon' part of the dish's name too literally, and the burnt chunks of bacon were beyond her.
She'd spotted the restaurant - a fast-food Italian with plastic tables, fixed-in-place chairs, and the kind of over-bright décor usually aimed at tourists - on her run earlier, and had selected it on the assumption that no-one in their right mind would take someone here for a romantic Valentine's dinner. So far she'd been proved right - aside from a couple of groups of tourists and an old man in the corner reading a book, she was the only diner.
Not that it felt like it - trying to attract the attention of the surly, bored-looking Eastern European waiter to complain about her food had proved impossible, so in the end, Julie had just pushed the bacon bits to one side of her plate and concentrated on working her way through the rest of it, along with what was already her second large glass of red wine. It was depressing, she knew, but better than the prospect of another night at home with Philip, which - tonight, of all nights - might just have made her want to kill herself. Or kill him, which she realised was perhaps a more appropriate response to what he'd done.
She looked at her watch and wondered how Sophie was getting on with Nathan, whether an hour had been long enough for her to have charmed him, and whether he'd been able to transfer his affections just like that. He hadn't seemed that disappointed when Julie had told him he was wasting his time, but he was a man, and there was always someone else on their radar - even if they were married, it seemed. As for Mark, well, Julie had to face up to the fact that she'd blown it. He must have felt completely snubbed – and she couldn't blame him for what had happened today. Maybe he'd simply confided in Nathan, and told him what had happened, that she hadn't seemed interested, and so Nathan had decided to have a 'go'. Wasn't that how men worked? No loyalty. Just after one thing. At least, the ones she knew seemed to be.
As she contemplated a third glass of wine, the waiter appeared at the next door table, where a group of strikingly-blond men were chatting animatedly in a language she didn't recognise. He looked down at their half-eaten meals and cleared his throat, and they stopped talking.