‘Go on, get mooing, boss – I mean moving. Me being late mustn’t stand in the way of true love. Nik will be waiting.’
Nik and me? I rolled my eyes and went to protest but Seb had already bent down and was singing about cows jumping over moons. I fetched my things and squeezed his shoulder before heading onto the street. Half an hour later I was sitting on the train opposite a man who was playing Christmas music so loud that, despite him wearing earphones, I could hear every word.
I was almost at King’s Cross. Nik had suggested we spend our lunch brainstorming the Christmas party. Tomorrow we’d meet at Gran’s in the evening. I could get there by five. Most residents congregated in the lounge after their tea. Being an assisted living facility, as opposed to a full-blown care home, it meant not everyone there was ill. Residents like Betty were catered for but also those who had simply lost a bit of mobility or no longer wanted the responsibilities that went along with living alone. So whereas Oliver and I slumped in front of our telly at the end of the day, Gran and her friends often sat together chatting, doing crosswords, swapping magazines – and watching dating shows, even Glenda, apparently, although she’d sit at the back and pretend to read a novel.
For a change tonight, though, Oliver and I would be staying out late. We’d had words, as Gran would say, again this morning. He’d been at Misty’s late last night so it was the first chance I’d had to tell him the news...
He’d put down the bread knife. ‘What?’
‘Nik – he’s offered to help organise the party.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Not everyone does something just because they might profit. He’s got a good heart.’
‘How can you be confident of that after knowing him for such a short time?’
‘Haven’t you ever had that instant connection with someone? Felt like you’ve known them for years; that you share the same values?’
‘Sure,’ he said and coloured up. ‘But that doesn’t guarantee a happy ending. I have to be honest, Jess – it’s laudable to think the best of people but I think you’re being a bit naive.’
My palms felt sweaty at the possibility of an argument brewing.
‘It’s plain weird. You know that I think you’re amazing – it takes some people a whole lifetime to hone getting out of emptying the food recycle bin as often as you do…’
‘Idiot.’ My stomach relaxed.
‘But if I was, say, in Sydney for a month, I wouldn’t be sidelined into helping organise a party, when I had the chance to spend my days sampling the sights and night life of that city. I don’t think that makes me a bad person. It makes me normal.’
‘No such thing as normal,’ I said. ‘We’re all different.’
‘True, but doesn’t his behaviour strike you as the slightest bit odd? Even… creepy?’
‘What a horrible thing to say. Can’t you be a little more welcoming? He’s not here for long. I’m sure you wouldn’t feel like this if you met him, so the sooner that happens, the better.’
Buddy’s ears had gone flat at my sharp tone. He never heard raised voices in our flat – not unless he stole a chicken nugget or scratched the furniture. But I felt defensive of Nik – he’d breathed a gust of optimism into Willow Court. Gran texted me today and said she and Pan agreed Nik felt like a friend already.
‘Sounds like a good plan,’ said Oliver and gave a thumbs-up. ‘You know I’d expect no less of you if you thought my latest Tinder meet sounded dodgy.’
‘I can’t remember your last date.’
‘Maybe I’m getting choosy in my old age…’
‘Tonight. Misty’s, seven o’clock. Hold on, I’ll check with Nik.’ I texted him, and after a quick exchange, Nik and I agreed we could finish our day out early and he wasn’t bothered about the short train ride back to London afterwards. Oliver didn’t start his shift until midday, so Buddy only would only have the afternoon on his own until Immy next door came around for a couple of hours to play and take him out for a walk. That would set him up for the evening without me or Oliver.
‘Done,’ I said and put away my phone. ‘There’s no going back now.’
Oliver came over and took my hand. ‘I don’t like it when we disagree, it’s just… guess I feel kind of protective… I mean, we’re good mates, right?’ he hastily added. ‘I feel the same about Buddy.’
‘Wondering if that’s a compliment,’ I replied, smiling.
‘It is.’ His hand dropped away. ‘Sometimes I imagine Mum and Dad being much older… I ask myself if I’ll ever feel protective towards them, given how they’ve always been so distant.’
‘And what do you conclude?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ He shrugged, pursed his lips and went back to slicing bread…
*
‘Is it posh then, this flat?’ I asked Nik as we sat on the tube together, after meeting at King’s Cross, on our way to Big Ben. He was keen to see that and Buckingham Palace this afternoon.
‘It’s certainly very fashionable – I’m not sure I fit. My flat in Sydney is colourful and cluttered – with French doors opening onto a balcony full of flowerpots and bees sneaking in. The only orderly part of it is my dark room. Whereas this is all streamlined appliances and oatmeal furnishings and artificial carefully placed plastic plants. I wish I could be more on trend but I never seem able to muster the enthusiasm.’
‘Me neither.’
A cosy, cluttered feeling filled my chest – cluttered with thoughts about how Nik and I were so much alike. Life right at this moment, just for this second, would have been pretty much perfect if it wasn’t for the recent arguments with Oliver. When I returned to my flat every night, it felt like home, not just because of my belongings but because he and Buddy were there, even though he left his wet towel on the bathroom floor and always forgot to put the extractor fan on when he fried meat. And he’d always leave the cutlery drawer open and put empty jars back in the fridge. That last one really niggled. It was something Mum used to do.
The clouds were kind and held onto their rain as if to annoy the forecasters who’d said it would be torrential today. We chatted non-stop and within the hour were walking on the Albert Embankment, along the south side of the River Thames, with Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament across the other side, in the distance. It felt romantic which was ridiculous. Nik was a visitor, soon to return to the other side of the planet. A trader walked past, pushing a trolley selling plastic snowmen that danced when you wound them up. I’d told Nik about how the last couple of years there’d been scaffolding around the clock, meaning it didn’t look its best.
‘But it’s the flaws that are more interesting in life, don’t you think?’ he said, those blue eyes mesmerising me. ‘Back home, I love taking snaps of people. Those at the two ends of life – kids and oldies… their faces are the most natural. Everyone else in between is trying too hard to look their best. There’s nothing like a close up of someone utterly relaxed with who they are.’
I slipped my arm through his and shivered as he pulled me close whilst we walked past a living statue – there were many along the Embankment, in between the plane trees planted there, I’d read, because they are especially good at soaking up pollution. This one was dressed in a suit, with a top hat and glasses. He stood on a plinth that said Scrooge. His skin and the whole outfit were sprayed to look like bronze and it was hard to tell he was human.
I looked up at Nik as we walked and chatted more about his photography, how he found a bare winter tree as fascinating as one in full bloom. How ruins were far more interesting than shiny skyscrapers. From anyone else those comments would have sounded pretentious, but there was something so genuine about him.
It felt special, a friendship where you plunged straight into deep conversation. I’d only ever had that with Gran – and Oliver.
We stopped by a rough sleeper and both put change in the takeaway coffee cup in front of him, on the damp pavement. Nik reached into his rucksack and took out a bar of chocolate
. He broke off a chunk for me and himself and then handed the rest to the man. Nik took out his camera and photographed the Houses of Parliament and then shots of me holding onto the elegant dolphin lamppost near us, Singin’ in the Rain style. He shook his head and muttered the word beautiful. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
We walked further along the Thames past a small group of political protestors, who were claiming several recent aeroplane crashes around the world had been orchestrated.
‘As you might remember, Alf loves conspiracy theories, including the Flat Earth ones,’ I said.
‘Yes – what was that about not believing Australia exists?’
‘The idea was once mooted that creating the idea of your country was a hoax to cover up the biggest mass murder of all time, namely that British convicts supposedly sent there were actually drowned. And that pilots are in on it and fly people to other islands that are nearby, telling them it’s Australia.’
Near to St Thomas’s hospital now, we sat down on one of the swan benches, featuring cast iron swan panels and arms. The clouds finally broke.
‘Alf really gets passionate about his conspiracy obsessions, arguing for and against the evidence. I reckon it keeps him going. His heart failure can make him very tired, but just the mention of the Illuminati or Elvis supposedly having been spotted is enough to get him firing on all cylinders.’
‘I don’t think there’s anything wrong with people believing in things that can’t be explained, as long as they aren’t hurting anyone,’ said Nik. ‘Not even if he believes my country doesn’t exist!’
‘I think Alf’s got over that one – especially as he’s just as keen on Neighbours as Gran. But he’s always coming out with a new one he’s discovered, about real events or mythical creatures… do you have the tooth fairy in Australia?’
‘Sure do. So, has Alf got reservations about Santa, like Glenda?’
‘Yes but he’s like a kid who’s just worked out Santa isn’t real but doesn’t want to admit it and spoil the magic. He loves Christmas, especially the rich food which is a shame as he’s only allowed to eat a little of it. Talking of which, let’s find somewhere for lunch.’
Nik pointed to a takeaway stand to our left. ‘How about we stay out here and eat fish and chips? I can’t go back home without trying them.’
‘Aren’t you cold outside, what with being used to warmer climes?’
‘No. Must be my Finnish genes. Of course, if you’d rather eat indoors then—’
‘I think it’s a great idea.’ Insisting on paying, I headed over. The fried, savoury smell wafting my way from the stand was mouthwatering. I stood for a moment once I’d paid, holding two cones of fries and cod goujons. That smell… I felt warm and fuzzy inside for a second, but it was tinged with sadness. The fried aroma reminded me of fish and chips with Mum, eaten on the village bench when I was little, just the two of us – one of rare times I got her full attention.
Nik wolfed his down and patted his stomach. ‘I could do with losing a few kilos but not on holiday. Not in England.’
I couldn’t see what he was worrying about. I found his solid frame appealing. What with that and his white streaked hair and sherry habits, he was nothing like the type of man I usually went for. When we finished he threw the containers into a bin. Back on the bench he slipped an arm around my shoulder. We sat in silence, for a moment, admiring the riverside view, away from stresses and strains. I could have sat there for days.
‘Was your job in the toy industry your first?’ he asked.
‘Apart from a paper round, yes. Same for you, I imagine, what with it being the family business?’
He nodded.
‘Was it always your lifelong goal? Is there anything else you’d love to do?’
‘No. I’m pretty much perfectly happy.’
‘No other dreams? I could never leave the toy business but fantasise about opening my own shop somewhere like Paris. I’d live in a quirky flat and spend my days reading and seeing the sights.’ I thought back to a conversation we’d had on the aeroplane. ‘You love flying, haven’t you ever dreamt of being a pilot or…’ I glanced at his legs. ‘Becoming a professional basketball player.’
His laugh bellowed out. ‘Hell, no, Jess. I haven’t got the discipline for any sport. No, I’m totally satisfied.’
In such a go-getting, material world his attitude was refreshing.
‘Although there is one tiny thing…’ His expression turned serious. ‘I wish I had more time for my shoe box work and could make a real difference on a national scale, evening out the balance between the kids that had nothing and those, like me, who had so much. Of course that’s unrealistic but I’m really hoping, one day, we can help the wider community of Sydney and not just our locality.’ He took his arm away. ‘Anyway, enough of enjoying ourselves, we’ve a party to plan. I’ve brought my notebook. So is there more than one local newspaper? Which do you think would be the best to contact?’
‘The Amblemarsh Gazette. It covers Springhaye and everyone in the area gets a free copy through the door. If we want to run an ad for a sale at Under the Tree that’s the publication we always use.
‘Perhaps I should take a photograph of the residents? The paper will be more likely to run a story if it involves less work and expense for them.’
‘Good point. I’d never have thought of that.’
‘Tomorrow night we need your gran to take stock of the craft supplies they have gathered during the year and then we can brainstorm exactly which decorations to make.’
‘Perhaps we should run a viewing of It’s a Wonderful Life – for Fred’s sake and to refresh everyone’s else’s memories,’ I suggested.
‘That’s a great idea – it will really get people in the mood. A cinema screening… we must have popcorn.’
I was the same as him – any event I was planning, the food element was always important. I took a deep breath and put my hand on his. He stopped writing. I stared into his eyes.
‘I’m so grateful, Nik, for all your help and for putting some spring back into Gran’s step. I… I’m lucky to have met you on that plane.’
‘Me too.’ He wrapped his arms around me. I smelt fresh aftershave with hints of… orange and clove. It reminded me of Christmas. He leant back, tantalisingly still holding on to the outside edge of my hand. I felt such a magnetic pull to this man.
‘I love travelling but the bit that interests me most is getting to know people. I can see the palace or London Eye on a postcard – but seeing inside someone’s life… It’s been an honour to meet you and your gran, Jess,’ he said softly.
As he spoke a car backfired in the distance which must have explained why my heart was pounding.
10
Misty’s had a glass front with the name written as a dusky pink neon sign. Next to it was a poster advertising the upcoming themed Christmas events. Condensation ran down the inside. It always got steamy, what with there being a small dance floor.
‘Monday is Eighties night.’
‘That was a big decade for UK-Australian relations,’ said Nik. ‘Neighbours aired for the first time over here and then Crocodile Dundee was a massive hit.’
‘Yet what a let-down you are,’ I said in a jokey tone and pushed open the door. ‘You don’t use Australian slang nearly enough. I haven’t heard you say fair dinkum once.’
Despite the relatively early time of seven o’clock, the bar was crowded. A two-for-one cocktail hour was responsible. I took Nik’s elbow and led him through the throng, towards the bar, looking forward to a drink and relaxing after an afternoon travelling to see the outside of Buckingham Palace and watching a thrilled Nik take tens of photos. The room was dimly lit with neon spotlights dotted across the ceiling. Oliver had a metallic shaker between his hands and was laughing with Greg, a colleague. Oliver caught my eye and that sense of home infused me. I could just be myself, good or bad, and we always got over our little fallouts – although this one about Nik was the biggest we’d
ever had.
‘Hello there, Nik,’ he said loudly and reached across the bar. The two men shook hands. ‘I’m Jess’s flatmate, Oliver. What’ll it be?’
‘G’day mate. Great to meet ya. So what do you recommend?’
A few heads turned at the accent which seemed stronger than usual.
‘Leave it with me,’ said Oliver and he pointed to a table, against the left-hand wall, with a reserved sign on it. It was one in a row of pink tables, with slate-grey upholstered poufs on the nearside, opposite a long couch, on the other, with plush pink cushions.
It wasn’t a big room but the window front and glass along the back of the bar gave it a sense of space. On the other side of the bar was a small dance floor. Music blared out after six, with a jukebox providing atmosphere before that. People travelled from other towns for its top-quality cocktails and stylish bar snacks, including spring onion and butter sandwiches served with vintage cheddar crisps, or the bowls of gourmet popcorn such as the Camembert one drizzled with redcurrant sauce.
‘Thanks for a great day,’ said Nik as we sat down together, on the couch. ‘I really enjoyed visiting Her Majesty this arvo.’
I slipped off my coat. He did the same. Today he wore a red checked shirt.
‘Cool place,’ said Nik. ‘Is Misty the owner? She must be one talented Sheila to decorate the place like this. It’s glam but simple. I love it.’ He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and I couldn’t help noticing his smooth tanned chest. Oliver appeared with a tray bearing three cold cocktails. He set them down and slid the tray under the table, sitting on the pouf opposite.
‘You little ripper,’ said Nik. ‘They look ace.’
They did. But I was distracted. G’day mate. Great to meet ya. Arvo. Sheila. You little ripper. They look ace. I looked at Nik and his eyes twinkled as if to say is this Australian enough? Suppressing a chuckle, I picked up my drink, which was bright orange and had a sliver of circular citrus fruit floating on the top.
The Winter We Met Page 8