by Matt Dunn
'No, thanks. You've been brilliant. I'll get a minicab.'
'I don't mind. Honestly.'
'Nathan, please just go. I feel bad enough already'
'Sure?'
'Sure.' Sophie forced herself to smile. 'And Nathan?'
'Yes?'
'I'm sorry.'
'Forget about it.'
'Do you forgive me?'
'Nothing to forgive, Soph.' He smiled, then reached down and gave her hand a squeeze. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'
Sophie nodded disappointedly. 'See you tomorrow,' she said. Then as Nathan turned to leave, she told the nurse to wait.
'Nathan,' she called, and he walked back over to where she was sitting.
'Yeah?'
'I just...' Sophie hauled herself out of the wheelchair, stood up on tiptoe - on one foot, at least - and kissed him on the cheek.
'What was that for?'
'For looking after me,' she said, gazing up at him. 'For being such a gentleman.'
He smiled, then leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, and Sophie had to fight the urge to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him properly, though she knew nothing more would happen between them. Which she had to accept was probably what she deserved.
She sat heavily back down in the wheelchair, and as the nurse wheeled her away, Sophie wasn't sure what was hurting more - her foot, or the pain in her chest.
Calum's first reaction had been to get up and leave - not because he didn't like Mia-Rose, but because, well, he felt... In truth, he didn't know what he felt. 'Surprised' was the first word that had sprung to mind, followed quickly by the word 'cheated', but then again, Mia-Rose hadn't really cheated him, she just hadn't revealed herself to him until now. And if they were going to talk about cheating, she only needed to ask him about his height or adventure sports, so in the end, he'd stayed, staring mutely at her across the table.
'But... Why?' was all he could eventually manage.
'Well...' Mia-Rose paused - the waitress had appeared at their table - so she ordered herself a glass of white wine. 'Did you want something?'
Calum nodded. 'Beer,' he blurted out.
As the waitress left, Mia-Rose leaned across the table. 'Because you're funny, and kind, and polite, and nice looking, and I liked you, and suspected you liked me too. But no matter how many times I tried to bump into you in Pret, or flirt with you during a fire drill, you didn't seem to want to ask me out. I thought maybe you had a girlfriend, though you'd never mentioned one. And then by chance, I was having a quick skim through my potential matches on LondonDate when your photo caught my eye - one of the advantages of you being, you know...' Her eyes flicked up at his hair. 'What d'you call it? Strawberry blond? Anyway, I couldn't believe my luck, so I sent you that message.' She smiled. 'I thought it would be a good way for us to get to know each other properly, and if it turned out we didn't get on on line... Well, seeing as you didn't know it was me, there'd have been no harm done. No awkward meetings by the photocopier. And I wouldn't have to hide behind my desk every time you walked past reception.'
'But...' Calum stared at her, conscious all he was saying at the moment were words of one syllable. He could see Mia-Rose's approach had made sense, and yet... It still didn't seem quite right.
The waitress reappeared and set a glass of wine the size of a goldfish bowl down on the table in front of Mia-Rose, followed by a bottle of Dutch beer, the name of which Calum couldn't pronounce. As he frowned at the label, the waitress frowned at him.
'Glass?'
Confused, Calum picked up the bottle and tapped it with a fingernail. 'Er, yes, I think it is.'
'No - did you want a glass? said the waitress, and when Calum shook his head, Mia-Rose laughed.
'See? You're funny!'
He stared back at her. So far, he couldn't say the same about this evening.
'Are you ready to order?' asked the waitress.
Calum shook his head again. 'No,' he said, abruptly, and as the waitress scuttled off, Mia-Rose's face fell.
'What's the matter?'
'It's just... The pretence.'
'It was only my name that was different, Calum, and even then, not that different. And you know what it's like on those sites. You've got to protect yourself a little bit. But the rest... The person you got to know - that was the real me. And haven't we all pretended to be someone else at least once in our lives?'
Calum couldn't meet her eyes. After all, she had him there. 'I'm sorry. This just wasn't how I pictured this evening going. It all feels a little...'
'What?'
'Strange.'
'Strange? That doesn't sound good.'
Mia-Rose took a large mouthful of wine, then stuffed her mobile back into her bag, and Calum began to panic.
'What are you doing?'
'I think I'd better go.'
'What? Why?'
'Why do you think?'
Mia-Rose looked as if she was about to cry, and Calum suddenly felt awful. She stood up, and he did the same, knowing he had to think on his feet – in both senses.
'Please,' he said, reaching over and putting a hand on her arm. 'Stay.'
'You're just saying that because you feel sorry for me,' said Mia-Rose, her eyes glistening with tears.
'Not at all.' Calum reached into his jacket pocket for his handkerchief. 'Here,' he said, but he'd forgotten the condoms were in there, and as he pulled out the handkerchief, the box fell out too, and tumbled into Mia-Rose's wine glass. He stood there, mortified, but instead of stomping out of the restaurant as he'd feared, Mia-Rose suddenly burst out laughing.
'Oh Calum, you old romantic.'
'Huh?'
'I've heard of men presenting girls with engagement rings in a glass of champagne on Valentine's Day, but this...'
'I'm so sorry. They...' Calum stopped talking. Telling Mia-Rose he only had the condoms because his Mum had presented him with them this morning would probably make things worse. He retrieved the box from the glass, dried it on his napkin, and slipped it back into his pocket. 'At least let me buy you another drink.'
Mia-Rose hesitated. 'Are you sure?'
Calum nodded. 'I'd hardly expect you to drink the rest of that one. And I'm sorry. I was just a little...'
She smiled tentatively. 'Surprised?'
'And flattered. I never thought someone as lovely as you would...' Calum decided to leave it there. If ever there was a reason to stop putting himself down, it was standing right in front of him. 'Would you like to start again?'
To his relief, Mia-Rose sat back down. 'Yes please.'
He waved at the waitress and indicated another glass of wine, then moved out of the booth, before reversing his steps and sitting back down himself. 'Hi,' he said, holding his hand out so Mia-Rose could shake it. 'I'm Calum.'
'Mia-Rose,' said Mia-Rose, giving his fingers a polite squeeze. 'M-R to my friends.'
And although it might simply have been down to static from the carpet, Calum could swear he felt something resembling a spark.
'It's lovely to see you,' he said.
Mark Webster was sitting nervously on a District Line tube to Chiswick, trying to psych himself up, or at least work out a strategy, and so far, the only one he could think of was to simply tell Julie how he felt. Somewhere inside him a voice kept saying don't go there (either with Julie, or to Chiswick), but Mark had run out of ideas - and patience. And quite honestly, he needed to know what Julie was playing at. If she was playing at anything.
He got off at Gunnersbury and made his way out of the station, aiming for Fairfax Road, taking in his surroundings as he walked. Chiswick was certainly different to where he lived - the funky mix of modern flats and warehouse conversions were what had attracted Mark to Bermondsey in the first place, and in contrast, Chiswick's wide, tree-lined streets seemed more gentile, more established, more traditional; the only Warehouse here was the shop he'd just walked past on the high street. He'd memorised Julie's address a while ago when he'd debated (and chickened
out of) sending some flowers to her home, and as he followed the route he knew so well (thanks to numerous Google Street View journeys from the safety of his office), he found his way blocked by mothers with oversized buggies, or loading children in and out of massive four-wheel-drive vehicles parked haphazardly up on the pavement.
As Mark did his best to dodge round them, receiving a couple of painful bangs on the ankle for his trouble, he was also struck by the absence of single people. Everywhere he looked, there seemed to be young couples, or mothers with children. Unlike like central London or where he lived, Chiswick had more of a feel of a place for families, and he wondered why Julie lived somewhere like this, and realised just how little he knew about her, and the thought almost made him want to turn around and go home. Though perhaps it was good running territory. Perhaps she was from here. Perhaps he was being stupid, putting himself on the line for what effectively was just one kiss. Or was he? Mark had kissed (he totted it up in his head as he walked) fourteen women in his life in more than a peck-on-the-cheek kind of way, and none of them had ever made him feel like that kiss with Julie had. And while he wasn't naive enough to think that something like that was the basis for a relationship, it certainly wasn't a bad place to start.
He reached Fairfax Road and strode along the pavement until he found number twenty-three, a tall, red-brick building he recognised from Street View (though the ivy growing down one side had flourished since Google's camera car had visited), so he walked up the steps and stood staring at the front door. He was feeling nervous, but at the same time, Mark knew he had nothing to lose - apart from his credibility, and his job, perhaps. He took a deep breath, located the buzzer for the ground-floor flat, and pressed the button, still not knowing what he was going to say to her, but in the absence of anything else, the truth seemed like the best idea, and if today wasn't a good day for telling someone how you felt about them, then Mark didn't know when was.
When there was no answer, he waited for a moment, then pressed the buzzer again, then considered stepping into the garden to peer through her window, but he worried he'd attract the attention of the neighbours – or possibly the police. Plus that might seem desperate. And even though that was how he felt, he certainly didn't want Julie to know that.
Mark wondered where she could be. She'd left the office before him - he'd been sure about that - but why hadn't she come straight home? Unless she'd changed her mind about Anti-Valentine's (although surely Nathan would have said), or even had a date – though that was one possibility he couldn't allow himself to entertain.
He pressed the buzzer one last time, waited a few more seconds, then turned and headed dejectedly back down the steps. As he reached the pavement, he heard the sound of a bolt being drawn, so he bounded back up to the door and fixed a smile on his face. Perhaps Julie had been in the shower. Maybe she'd appear, wrapped only in a towel, her hair wet, and as she reached out to greet him, the towel would fall...
'Yes?'
Mark's smile faded almost immediately as a grumpy-looking man in a dressing gown answered the door.
'I, er...' He stood back, and looked at the number on the door. It would be just his luck to have been ringing the wrong bell. 'This is number twenty-three?'
'Yes,' said the man, gruffly.
'Garden flat?'
'Yes.'
'Fairfax Road?'
The man tutted. and pulled the belt of his dressing-gown tighter. 'What do you want?'
'I...' Mark glanced at his watch. 'I'm sorry. Did I wake you?'
'Is this some kind of doorstep survey on sleeping habits?'
'Sorry. No. I'm... Is Julie in?'
'Julie?' The man looked him up and down suspiciously. 'Who wants her?'
I do, thought Mark. 'It's Mark. From her office?' He'd phrased it like a question, but the man showed no sign of recognition.
'Well in that case, you should know she's still there.'
He moved to shut the door, but Mark held up a hand. 'I'm sorry. And you are?'
The man looked at him contemptuously. 'Her husband,' he said, before slamming the door shut.
Mark stood there for a moment, staring at the brass letterbox as it clattered shut. Julie was married. But she'd never said she had a husband, and as far as he could remember, she didn't wear a wedding ring.
He felt a little light-headed, and reached a hand out to steady himself against the wall. Even though he hated to admit it, now it all made sense. She'd drunkenly kissed him, and then of course she hadn't wanted to mention it. As the pieces all fell into place, he felt angry, used, and that he'd wasted the last seven weeks. Why couldn't she have told him? Well, maybe he could understand that too. In fact, the only thing that still puzzled him was what Julie was doing married to someone like that.
With a shake of his head, he walked back down the steps, and headed miserably towards the tube station.
Nathan Field smiled to himself as he rode his Vespa out of the hospital car park. He'd been flattered by Sophie's attention, not angered by what she'd done, and the fact that someone would go to such lengths to get close to him... Well, he had to see that as a real confidence boost - and it was the first time he'd had his confidence boosted by a woman in a long while.
He checked his watch, remembered it was an hour fast, and wondered what to do with the rest of his evening. The office crowd might still be at the bowling, but they'd probably all be angrily wondering where he was, so turning up now, particularly when they were several drinks ahead of him, probably wasn't the best idea. No, he decided, he'd stop off back at the office, check his emails, then simply head back home with a takeaway.
As he steered his bike back towards the West End, the one-way system took him left and down towards the Strand, and Nathan suddenly realised he was riding down the street where Ellie worked. He'd been here several times after they'd split up, skulking behind the postbox on the other side of the road so as not to be spotted, usually when he was feeling depressed, or lonely, or a combination of the two (i.e. the last two Valentine's Days), watching her as she'd headed out to lunch, wondering whether she'd be meeting what's-his-name at the tapas bar around the corner, just like the two of them used to do all those years ago.
He shook his head as he remembered his trip here last year, how he'd gazed up at her window and felt a little sick when he'd spotted the once-familiar mane of blonde hair. As seemed to be the norm for her job, Ellie had been talking animatedly on the phone, the handset jammed between her shoulder and her ear as she typed something on her keyboard. Always multitasking, was Ellie, never happy unless she was doing two things at once. That was something he'd found out to his cost.
He'd watched her for a while, remembering her voice, half-smiling in recognition as she tilted her head back and laughed, then flicked her hair out of her eyes with her hand. He'd loved that about her, those little mannerisms - along with a lot of other things too. Though as he thought about them today, he began to realise they were just that: Things. And things (as he'd found out when he'd eventually gone into Habitat a few days after the IKEA incident and bought a job lot of crockery) could be replaced.
He slowed the bike down as he neared her building - while the thought of bumping into her always used to make him nervous, today he was pretty confident he could relax. It was gone seven, and no-one in a relationship would still be at work at this time on Valentine's Day. Not if they knew what was good for them.
As he approached the zebra crossing outside her office, he noticed a group about to cross, so squeezed hard on his brakes, bringing the Vespa to a sudden halt just before the black-and-white lines, causing the man at the front of the group to jump sharply backwards. Nathan made an apologetic face, nodded that they should cross, and found himself looking straight at Ellie. As she stared back at him, his heart started thumping, and he fought the urge to twist hard on the throttle and screech away, but he knew it was already too late. She'd obviously seen him, and while she looked almost as shocked as he suspected he did, to Nathan
's surprise, her expression quickly morphed into a smile. She waited until the rest of the group had made it across the road, then walked over to his side.
'Hello, stranger!'
'Hello yourself.' Nathan willed the hammering in his chest to stop. 'You're looking...'
'You look...'
They laughed at having spoken simultaneously, then Ellie put a hand on his arm. 'It's nice to see you. How are you?'
'Good, thanks. You?'
'I'm...' A honking sound from behind him made Nathan jump, and he realised he was still sitting in the middle of the road, blocking the car behind him. 'Hold on,' he said, pulling the bike over to the pavement.
'This isn't your normal route.'
He switched the bike's engine off, and removed his helmet. 'No, I've just been to the hospital.'
Her smile wavered. 'The hospital? Is everything OK?' she asked, and Nathan was touched by the concern in her voice.
'Yes, fine. A friend just had a minor accident. I was just dropping...' - he stopped short of saying 'her' - 'them off.'
'Oh,' said Ellie. 'Right.' She regarded him for a moment, as if weighing something up, then her smile reappeared. 'Got time for a coffee?'
He made a show of looking at his watch. The thought of spending any time with Ellie today of all days was making him a little uncomfortable, but Nathan also suspected it might be - what was the word that Mark kept using? - cathartic.
'Well, I was heading back to the office, but I suppose I've got a few minutes.'
'Great.'
He lifted his bike up onto its stand, then followed Ellie into the Costa on the corner, trying not to think about how good she looked, doing his best to ignore how the smart black business suit she'd seemingly been sewn into accentuated her figure as they walked up to the counter.
'Double espresso for me,' she said to the barista. 'Nathan?'
'Latte,' said Nathan. 'Decaf.'