by J. E. Warren
It’s by far the most elaborate meal he’s made and he’s not done yet. The rickety table in the kitchen still has to be laid out with cutlery and the fancy mats he’d bought at the pound shop, along with cheap champagne glasses still in a plastic bag.
Earlier on in the partyware aisle getting last minute bits, he’d felt a small panic attack come on. Born from the stress of wanting to get Valentine’s Day just right. To really impress Anna with his knack for cooking and ability to make his shitty little flat seem romantic. The fistful of pink confetti he’d snatched up at the checkout seemed like the one ingredient crucially missing.
Turns out there are a lot of other more important elements to consider. Like having a stove that actually works and a flat that doesn’t turn every breath into frosty particles.
Charlie thinks he’s going to have to heat up the place with candles and some Barry White if he can’t get the thermostat to switch back on. Usually he would ask his flat mate Lucas to take a look but he seems a little preoccupied. Still busy arguing with his girlfriend Sophia in the bedroom like he has been all afternoon.
Every time Charlie hears something else get hurled against the flimsy plaster wall, he feels thankful not to be dating a fiery and insane Brazilian woman or a hench, equally fiery and temperamental Brazilian barista like Lucas.
Their fights would usually drag on, as he’d come to witness, and this gave him cause to worry. He needed the flat vacant come seven o’clock so he could wine and dine Anna.
He begins to wonder why he hasn’t actually heard anything from her since the early morning. She’d not replied to any of his messages, which isn’t like her—Anna, who acts like she was practically born with a phone in her hand.
Panicking again, the pit of his stomach filling with anxiety at the thought of it all turning horribly wrong, Charlie doesn’t even realise that the timer on the oven’s gone off or that his phone’s ringing on the kitchen table until it’s too late.
He abandons the simmering rice and dashes to pick the phone up, cursing the fact it’s rung off before he can answer. Anna’s two missed calls let him know that he needs to take a deep breath and get his act together before he combusts all over the lovingly prepared dessert. Eventually he manages to dial in her number with his cold fingertips.
“Charlie! Finally, I’ve been trying to get hold of you.” The alarm in her voice sets his pulse racing again.
“I’m sorry, got a little caught up here. Remind me never to offer to cook again, please.”
“Crap. Are you cooking now? Is dinner still on?” Anna asks.
He hears her sigh heavily as he continues to stir the rice with one hand.
“Okay, well, I have to be real quick as I’m calling you on the sly while charging my phone in some fancy-pants coffee shop because my battery died. Can you believe it? What shit timing, especially since it’s Valentine’s Day and what not. It’s actually madness, Charlie, how a bit of snow can bring so much chaos.”
“Snow?”
“Yeah, snow.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Have you not looked out the window all afternoon or something?” she says as he immediately draws up the kitchen blinds. With his nose against the small window, he strains to see out into the darkness until his eyes settle on the flurry of white flakes that line the road and cars outside.
“Holy shit.”
“Tell me about it, that’s pretty much everyone else’s reaction too.” Anna laughs.
He stares in awe as the winds sweep past the window, dumping down a fresh coating of white stuff like a broken sieve full of icing sugar.
“I’ve had the blinds down all afternoon to keep in some heat,” he replies, feeling stupid for being so unaware of the snow outside, too lost in crushing garlic cloves to notice.
She chuckles and says, “Glad I could get you up to speed. It’s being total hell out here. It started just before it got dark and of course it’s like we’ve never had snow before. Nightmare. The tubes are now overcrowded and some are shut. I was going to try the buses but they’re packed and all the roads are covered with ice and slush.”
“So you’re at a coffee shop?” he asks whilst battling again with the pan of rice. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Tried to get to yours on foot but it’s too busy and I had no way of letting you know I was going to be late. Decided it would be better to hole up for a bit until it eases off or least till my phone’s got a bit more life in it.”
“Don’t rush, just stay safe and warm.” He wishes he could be there instead of listening to the argument next door. Or watching in horror how his risotto is overcooking. “If it gets any worse we can do this again another day, no problem.”
“I’m so sorry, Charlie. Have you gone to a lot of effort to cook?” Anna sighs. “I was looking forward to sampling it all. Wanted to give you a good grilling like they do on Masterchef!”
He laughs, pretends it’s not a problem and that he’s not been slaving away, pulling his hair out for hours. “It’s all right, don’t worry. Nothing special.”
He hears her groan and yell loudly down the speaker. “Bloody snow! It’s only a couple of flakes. Christ, you’d think it’s like The Day After Tomorrow or something the way people are acting. Some guy actually held on to me as he came out of a shop. There were kids trying to ice skate on the Trafalgar Fountain—idiots!”
Anna’s right, he thinks, remembering how ridiculous it is that the city all but grinds to a halt once a bit of ice and snow appear. How it throws sane people into fits of insanity, scared to be stranded without being able to get home. Rushing to cram into Tube stations, onto trains.
If Charlie had been like most people he would maybe have seen it coming or had forewarning. In a nation obsessed with all things weather, he liked to buck the trend and paid little attention to scaremongering forecasts.
He’d known it was colder than normal, or so it had been said, but London was a cold, bitter old city in the winter and he’s gotten used to feeling the chill.
“Do you think you’ll be able to make it later, or will you just go home?” he asks. “It might be a sensible idea.”
“Not sure. Both are equally as far, but home doesn’t have anyone I can squish up to for warmth so I am swaying more towards yours at this point.” Anna giggles.
“Shall I save food?”
“Nah, sorry, babe. I’ve brought a panini, which is now lukewarm and cost a fortune. Had to get something because I’m stealing their electricity and Wi-Fi.”
“Anna, we can do it another time.”
“I want to see you, silly, sure I’ll survive the walk to yours if I go slow.”
Charlie feels a little deflated as he scans all the food and mess, thinking it’s such a waste.
“Right, I’ve got to go so I can eat this thing and charge my phone. I’ll let you know when I’m leaving, so if I don’t turn up you can send out a search party in case I’ve ended up frozen trying to cross over the Millennium Bridge,” she jokes before saying a quick goodbye.
It leaves him in a predicament. As he moves everything over to the bin, scooping out just enough risotto to keep him from feeling hungry, the bedroom door swings open and Sophia comes bounding out. She grabs her coat and earmuffs from the sofa, slams the front door shut behind her. He watches as Lucas follows shortly after, head in his hands.
“Women are crazy,” Charlie hears him mutter as he takes a seat at the small table.
Because he’s not familiar with talking to his flat mate of two years much, he just nods awkwardly in agreement and says, “Sorry, dude.”
He can’t remember the last time they actually spoke apart from the odd grunt and request for rent to be paid.
“Smells good,” Lucas replies, eyeing up the pan over by the bin.
Charlie’s not sure why he feels the need to say it, but the words leave his mouth before his brain catches up. “You want to maybe have some with me?”
As Lucas shrugs his shoulders and grun
ts “why not?” and Charlie laughs. It’s not quite how he’d envisioned Valentine’s Night to go, but he doesn’t really have any choice. It feels like a shame to let it all go to waste.
So with a pokey table full of confetti and burnt squash risotto, he sits opposite burly, bearded Lucas. They make small talk about coffee beans, work. Not quite the riveting dinner conversation he’d had in mind, but he rolls with it all the same if only to bide time until Anna’s arrival, which feels imminent. She’s sent through a steady stream of updates to his phone on her whereabouts for the past hour.
Anna: Made it across the bridge. Thought I walked on black ice. Just tarmac—phew!
Followed swiftly by:
Anna: Someone’s making a snow angel in the park. Lunatic. But the end is in sight, frozen stiff love from your Ice Ice Baby.
Charlie waits patiently for her to show once Lucas clears the dishes and mumbles about going to Sophia’s for the night to make amends.
“Surprise!” Anna shouts, throwing a fast-melting snowball when he opens the door forty-odd minutes later.
He quickly brushes off the flakes and pulls her inside. Hands her a freshly made mug of sweet tea—three sugars, tons of milk, just how she loves it, and a slice of strawberry cheesecake for good measure.
“You’re the best.” She smiles, still in her scarf and jacket. “The thought of seeing you and having a cup of hot tea kept me going out on those treacherous icy streets babe.”
He laughs, points to the houses outside now topped with snowy roofs. “It’s almost as cold in here as it is out there, or so it looks.”
Anna holds her mug tight. “Can we just get all the blankets and duvets and tuck ourselves up on the sofa, watch some cheesy Valentine’s film, and not move, ever?”
Kissing the pinks of her cheeks, he nods and promises whatever she wants.
***
After Anna’s got blood flow back in her fingers and toes, Charlie pulls out a duvet from the airing cupboard along with an old hot water bottle. He fills it with boiling water and makes a cosy nest for them both on the sofa.
With her cold cheek against his, she takes control of the remote and flicks endlessly through channels.
“Titanic? Not exactly romantic, is it? Some bird hogging a wardrobe door whilst her lover just holds on for dear life before eventually freezing to death. Poor sod.”
“Don’t make me watch this, please.” He laughs, not wanting to give up hours of his time only to watch a ship sink. “My sister used to be obsessed with this film, drove me nuts.”
Anna continues to channel hop until she settles on a different film. She turns to him and says with her brown eyes wild, grin wide, “Now this is more like it.”
He doesn’t even ask what it is, just watches as she snuggles in deeper beneath his arms.
Times passes quickly as the young couple on the screen lark about a little too much for Charlie’s liking and act melodramatic. Anna appears to love it. She clears her throat hard during one scene and he’s sure his hand by her cheek catches some of her quiet tears.
“Charlie, you’re good with your hands—fancy building me a really grand house? Maybe grow out your stubble?” she says later, nodding towards the screen.
“This film isn’t realistic at all, Anna. How could he build that all by himself with no money and still find the time to look so rugged?”
“He does it because he loves her and hopes it’ll win back her affection.”
“Why don’t they just call each other or send mail? Seems like a lot of hassle to build a fancy house and not know if she’ll actually appreciate it.”
“She does, trust me.” Anna laughs deeply and he feels it ripple through his body. “Stop nitpicking and just watch.”
He sighs and gives in. Thinks that if he’s quiet she won’t notice when his eyes inevitably drop. But as the minutes tick by he hears her breath begin relax until she’s snoring away like a trooper.
Holding her in his arms, legs intertwined and tangled, Charlie strokes her hair back and closes his eyes.
“Love you,” she whispers sleepily, burying her face into his chest. “I do, you know.”
He believes it, feels sure she does, and it warms his heart in a way no duvet or hot water bottle ever could.
***
In the morning, Charlie gently wakes Anna and reluctantly points to his watch. “You’re going to be late for work, sleepyhead.”
She pushes him away and grumbles something about not giving a shit.
He continues to lift her up. “Come on—I’ll make you some tea. Hopefully there’s hot water left for the shower.”
“Snow day, not going in,” she mumbles.
“I don’t know if they’ll accept that excuse.”
Turning so he can’t see her face, she sighs. “Do you have work today, Charlie?”
“No.”
“Well then neither do I. It can be our joint snow day.”
He gets up and takes a peek behind the lounge curtain. The snow’s piled high against the street curbs with kids running up and down playing in it. Chucking hefty snowballs at each other.
“Looks like school’s out,” he says. “Still, the buses seem to be running, one just passed by Grafton Road.”
“Shut up and come back to bed.”
“Back to the sofa, you mean?” He laughs, tiptoeing over the mess of blankets beside it.
Anna’s clearly not gotten enough sleep; she sticks her middle finger up at him from under the duvet. “Just get back here. We still got some cheesecake in the fridge?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. Then we’ve got all we need. I’d say it’s the perfect day to just stay in bed.” She grins. “Sorry, I mean on the sofa.”
“Are you sure your work isn’t going to be pissed?”
“Who cares! We rarely get the chance to do this, Charlie, and it’s quite clearly a snow day. Sounds like all the kids are outside, so who says we can’t sack off a bit of work too?” She lifts her head up and winks. He knows it’s futile to argue or resist the tempting way she’s poking her leg out.
Her knickers soon fall to the carpet as she arches an eyebrow. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”
He sighs, not in frustration but at how Anna manages to make him go from zero to hard in seconds. A skill of hers that makes disagreeing with her very difficult.
“You’re a bad influence, you know that, right?” he jokes, climbing back to the warm haven of duvets and Anna’s soft bare skin. She rolls onto him and pushes her thighs down on either side into the cushiony sofa.
“But you love it.”
Pretending to shake his head, Charlie laughs, gives in again as her hands wildly snake down past his hips.
“I do. I really, really do.”
Chapter Twelve
Anna
May 2nd 2009
With a hand stuck deep inside the abyss of her bulky bag in the vain attempt to find her purse, Anna groans loudly and immediately feels bad.
“I’m sorry.” She hears Charlie sigh, his voice low and real quiet. Embarrassment floods his cheeks like usual and she wishes she’d kept a secure lid on her frustration.
In the queue behind them a young couple pretends to point at the chalkboard menu and avoids eye contact. Anna’s aware they’re likely embarrassed by her snap reaction too.
Finding her purse, she hands over her bankcard to the cashier. “It’s fine, Charlie, I’ll get it.”
She knows that just because he’s looking down at his own card with intensity doesn’t mean money’s going to magically appear on it. The search within his jean pockets comes up empty too and it means she’ll be the one paying for lunch, again.
Anna takes their drinks and heads out from under the café’s awning, wanting the sun back on her face and shoulders. Enjoying the warm weather that’s come in time for the long May bank holiday. She’s thankful too for the lighter evenings and the feeling of blood flow back in her hands and feet. It really had been a long and bitter winter.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll pay you back. I promise.”
“It’s fine.”
Anna knows he’ll worry regardless, because she will too and she knows that the glasses of orange juice and plates of crusty white sandwiches will keep playing on her mind. Like the dinner she’d forked out for the week before or the cinema tickets or the picnic for Easter down by the river.
It’s not the best time to bring it up but it’s got a hold of her mind and so she casually asks between sips of juice if Charlie’s heard back from last week’s job interview.
When he just sighs and pushes up his sleeves, she’s certain it’s bad news. “They called this morning, actually.”
“And?”
“Didn’t get it.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, babe, that’s not something you want to hear before the weekend, is it?” She smiles, trying to be nice so thoughts of just how awful her bank statement will look at the end of her month don’t ruin their day out.
“I expected it, really. The guy interviewing didn’t seem impressed or interested. Was a shit job anyway, so I don’t really mind.”
“Jobs’ a job though, Charlie. Sure you’ll hear back from those others you applied for soon enough,” she tells him, even if he’s probably right that the data entry position he’d gone in for was pretty terrible and underpaid. Still, she feels like keeping him focused is a responsibility she has to shoulder.
“Can we not talk about it anymore, please? Not today, it’s supposed to be our one weekend of workless fun.”
Anna nods and lets it go, although her mind still mentally stores the conversation for another time. “You’re right, it is, and I’m so excited. Long, lazy weekend without work and with great weather.”