by Clare Lydon
I put out a hand in Holly’s direction and gave her a weak smile. “I won’t do anything stupid, I promise,” I said.
She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes — I’m going to be adult about this. We’ll go to Melanie and Nicola’s wedding, and I’ll clap and cheer in all the right places. I won’t return to being 16 again.” I pursed my lips to underline my intention.
Holly’s shoulders slumped and she exhaled. “Okay, that’s good to know.” Then she put her arm around me and I leaned into her. “No stalking Melanie and Nicola on social media either.”
I nodded my head firmly. “I promise.”
But even I knew I was lying.
Monday December 5th
The following Monday arrived and I had no dates set up for this week. Holly had dragged me out around town on Saturday and had banned the topic of Melanie Taylor and Nicola Sheen from our vocabulary, which had been quite a trial. It was a good job she couldn’t read my thoughts.
However, being busy meant I had no time to obsess, and we’d even managed to have a fun night out on the scene, slugging back far too much mulled wine as we got into the Christmas spirit. Hence yesterday had been taken up with lying on the sofa, eating crisps and watching re-runs of Orange Is The New Black.
Also, yesterday I’d only spent around an hour checking Melanie Taylor’s Facebook account to see pictures of her with Nicola. Two months’ worth of photos, it turned out. Melanie and Nicola on a river boat on the Thames, having a sunset dinner, posing in front of phone boxes. There was even one of them kissing in the street, both wearing thick coats, eyes closed. They looked like they were in love. I cursed myself for unfollowing Melanie months earlier when her updates had got too annoying.
Today I came into work early, fired up and ready to take on the week — but my first port of call was a cup of coffee.
Sal walked in just as I’d finished grinding beans and gave me a grin. “Morning, No. 1 Lesbian — good weekend?”
I nodded. “It was okay.”
She put a hand on her hip. “And how was Serena?”
“Sienna,” I corrected, slotting the ground coffee into the machine and pressing the button.
Sal clicked her fingers together. “Right, Sienna.” She paused and cocked her head. “But I’m guessing from the look on your face, it didn’t go as well as you might have hoped.”
I laughed. “It didn’t — but that’s not Sienna’s fault. It’s mine. I fell asleep halfway through the date. On the loo.” I held Sal’s gaze as the words sunk in.
She took a moment to reply. “How do you fall asleep on the loo?” she finally asked, grabbing a cup from the cupboard and starting on her own coffee as mine came to an end.
I waved my hand to bat the comment away. “It’s a long story, and one I have consigned to the part of my brain marked ‘Dumb things I have done in my time on Earth, folder two’.”
Sal smirked. “Folder two? You’re planning on a collection?”
“Judging from the first 27 years, I’d say it was highly likely.”
I grabbed some bread from the communal bag and slotted them into the toaster, just as I heard my phone go in the office. My eyes widened. “Gotta grab this, expecting a call,” I told Sal, picking up my coffee and brushing past her at speed.
“That’s what I like to see, eager staff!” Sal called after me.
I got to my desk and banged down my coffee, just getting to the call before it rang off. I needn’t have run, though — it wasn’t the client I was expecting, it was Holly.
“Hey,” I said into my phone. “You missing me already? We only saw each other an hour ago.”
“Ha ha,” she replied. “Just calling to remind you about those tickets.”
“Tickets?” I searched my mind for what she might be referring to.
“For the Dixie Chicks gig? You said you were going to get them, remember? Anyway, they go on sale today at 10am, and I’m not going to be anywhere near a computer, so don’t forget. This is your one-hour warning call.”
I nodded. “Dixie Chicks, goddit.”
And that’s when I noticed the burning smell, right before the building’s fire alarm started screeching in my ear.
“What’s that noise?” Holly asked.
“Who left this toast unattended?” asked Maureen, our office manager. She folded her arms in the kitchen doorway and scoured the office looking for the culprit.
Bugger. “I gotta go,” I told Holly. “I think I just set the office on fire.”
I hit the red button on my phone and made my way sheepishly to the kitchen to fess up to Maureen. She already had the offending, blackened toast on the kitchen counter and was just putting on her high-vis fire warden jacket as I arrived. No matter what Maureen claimed, I think she secretly took pleasure in such episodes — any excuse to don the high-vis and have her authority ratcheted to the next level. If Maureen hadn’t been a prefect at school, they’d missed a trick.
“Sorry — it was me. I got a phone call and rushed to take it.” I bit my lip and gave Maureen my best ‘sorry’ face.
In return, she gave me a withering look — Maureen and I tolerated each other, rather than took pleasure in each other’s existence. Her look told me this was no more than she expected.
“Tell that to the fire team when they turn up on a wild goose chase,” she said, tutting. She rolled her eyes for good measure, then pushed past me and began shouting at the office to pack up and get out.
I made my way back into the scrum, grabbed my coffee, bag and coat, then joined the throng now exiting the office via the stairs. It wasn’t just our office either — it was the whole building. A slight pang of guilt zapped through me, but then I was standing on the cold winter pavement outside our building, chatting to our finance team about their weekend. Fire alarms weren’t unusual in our building, so most people took them in their stride. If there ever was an actual fire, it would be a shock to the system.
Ten minutes later, the giant red fire engines skidded round the corner, bringing the central London traffic to a halt. There were two of them, which seemed overkill for two pieces of toast. However, as our purchase ledger whizz Simon pointed out, they didn’t know that — they just thought a building was on fire.
I winced as he said it.
The trucks parked up and a bunch of burly-looking firefighters jumped down from their trucks, their over-sized gear looking out of place on a normal city street. They walked towards Maureen who was practising her best official face, and then to my horror, she pointed towards me, before beckoning me over. I put my head down and crimson embarrassment leaked into my cheeks as I came face to face with no less than four firefighters, three men and one... Nicola Sheen. I blinked rapidly, my heartbeat thudding in my chest.
Not even in my wildest dreams had Nicola Sheen been a lesbian and a firefighter.
“This is the culprit,” Maureen told them, her pudgy finger pointed in my direction as if she was about to send me to the Tower for treason.
I smiled at the group. “Sorry — I usually watch my toast like a hawk,” I lied.
“Try to do so in future,” said Nicola, all business-like, as if attending a fire caused by your ex was an everyday occurrence. “Toasters account for a large amount of our call-outs, which is a lot of wasted time.”
I nodded and furrowed my brow.
Nicola still wasn’t smiling.
“Will do,” I said.
“We’ll go inside to do our check, then you can go back in,” said the tallest of the male firefighters, nodding towards one of his colleagues who followed him in. Maureen began chatting to the other man, which left me and Nicola standing in the sharp December cold, wind needling my face as I tried to remain calm.
“We really must stop meeting like this,” I said.
Finally, a semblance of a smile on Nicola’s red lips. “We really must. Ten years of nothing, and then twice in a couple of days.” She paused. “But then, you always did know how to make an impact on
people, didn’t you?”
I gulped down air, probably looking like a manic seagull. Nicola Sheen had just told me I’d made an impact on her.
Shut the front door.
“You never said you were a firefighter when I saw you the other night.” I rubbed my hands together in a bid to keep them busy.
“We didn’t really swap much more than pleasantries, did we? I think Melanie was just freaked out we knew each other.” Nicola’s fire helmet was pulled down, nearly obscuring her eyes, but I could see they were watching me closely. “She wasn’t the only one who was surprised, though — you were the last person I expected to bump into.”
“I hope it was a pleasant surprise.” My tone was light, not giving away the fact I so desperately wanted her to be pleased. Please be pleased.
“Of course.” She was rubbing her thumb and index finger together nervously. “It was lovely to see you. A shock, but lovely.”
There was silence for a few moments as we assessed each other. Up close and without Melanie’s prying glare, I could study Nicola’s face properly — and she still held a certain something. Sure, she looked older, but age sat well with her — she seemed comfortable in her own skin. What’s more, she still possessed deep, knowing eyes and full, rounded lips. Yep, those lips were still appealing. I was looking at them when she spoke.
“We should get together anyway, catch up,” she said. “Me and Melanie, you and whoever. Are you seeing anyone?”
“Nobody special,” I said. “And it would be great to catch up.” I gave Nicola my widest smile.
In response, she took off her hat and ruffled her fair hair, which was shoulder-length but currently tied in a ponytail.
“Cool. I’ll see if I can work something out in between organising the wedding and working. If Melanie can’t make it, it’ll just have to be you and me, like old times.”
Which old times was she referring to? The one in the library, where we’d shared that kiss that changed my life? Just thinking about it made me want to do it all again, right there on the pavement before I’d even had my morning coffee. I felt a rush of desire spreading like fire through my body, which was ironic, seeing as Nicola was meant to put fires out, not start them. But she never had where I was concerned.
Oh Nicola Sheen, what do you do to me? Even after all these years.
“I would love that,” I replied. And I would love to kiss you again, feel you pressed against me.
“And next time—” Nicola said, stroking my arm with her right hand.
I jolted slightly at her touch. “Yes?”
“—Next time, maybe opt for porridge?” And then she gave me a wink.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say Nicola Sheen was flirting with me.
“I’ll do that,” I said before giggling like a teenager. Which in that moment, I was.
Nicola’s colleague interrupted us — he was sporting a bushy moustache which was either a hangover from Movember or an ill-advised fashion statement.
“We can take one rig back to the station now and the other can follow — you okay with that, boss?”
“Yep, sounds like a plan.”
I opened my eyes wider. Nicola was the boss. A fire chief. How incredibly sexy.
“Good to see you,” Nicola said. “But next time, let’s do it without a fire in tow?” She raised a delicious eyebrow in my direction.
“We can certainly try,” I replied.
Nicola turned to her colleague and they strode back towards their bright red vehicle. I watched her retreating figure all the way, before she turned around and jogged back to me, fishing her phone from her pocket.
“Should we... exchange numbers or something? So we can get in touch?” She waved her phone in the air in front of me.
I nodded, fishing in my bag for mine. “Sure, good idea.”
“You know, you’re not supposed to grab personal items when there’s a fire alarm,” she added.
“When you’re the firestarter, I think different rules apply.”
She held me with her gaze as I took the phone from her hands and began to punch in my number. Only a highly-trained eye would be able to tell my hands were shaking slightly. It only took a few seconds, and when I looked back up, her gaze was still on me, all-encompassing, total.
I wanted to tip-toe across the thread that was drawing us back together, to try and unravel what this all meant. Did Nicola turning up here mean anything? Or was it just pure coincidence? Whatever, Nicola’s intense stare told me she was trying to figure it out too.
Neither one of us spoke.
Then Nicola broke the silence. “It’s good to see you again, Victoria.”
Victoria. Nobody called me that apart from my mum. And of course, Nicola. She’d once told me she loved the name and to shorten it would be a crime, so Victoria it was. When it came out of my mum’s mouth, I hated it. But when it came out of her mouth — it still made me wilt. It had back then, and it did now. She was smiling at me again now, but I couldn’t read her expression. Did Nicola have any regrets? I would love to have known.
I pressed the green button so that Nicola had my number, then when the call connected, I handed back her phone.
She gave me a small salute. “See you soon.”
Then she sprinted back to her vehicle, cracked the engine and ploughed back into the London morning traffic.
I watched her go and managed not to wave in a pathetic fashion.
I tried not to believe in fate and destiny, but sometimes, it had a way of making you sit up and take notice.
“Nicola Sheen is a firefighter? You’re kidding me!”
Holly was cooking dinner for us — fish tacos, which was one of my favourites from her repertoire. She was hunched over the frying pan as usual, her long, lean frame dealing with life from a high vantage point.
I drummed my fingers on the kitchen counter as I grinned at her. “I was as surprised as you when she jumped off the fire engine, believe me.” I paused. “Meanwhile, Maureen was less than pleased with me.”
Holly cleared her throat. “I can’t say I blame her.” She moved the cod around the pan, before adding the seasoning mix. “So I take it you were cool, calm and collected and didn’t blush like a school girl?” She didn’t look over to see my reaction.
“I was as a matter of fact, cool as a cucumber. She told me off, we had a chat about how I should eat porridge and then she went on her way. End of story.” Holly didn’t need to know all the facts, she’d just disapprove. She’s not so hot on fate or destiny.
Holly turned her head. “Really? You didn’t ask her if she still loves you like you love her?”
I wafted a hand nonchalantly through the air. “Nope. I was the picture of maturity. Well, as mature as you can be after you’ve burnt toast and managed to evacuate your building.”
Holly glanced my way as she cooked, and I could see she was wondering whether to believe me, and also how far she should probe.
“Well good, if that’s the case,” she said, slotting the tacos in the hot oven. “I’m proud of you.” She turned and looked me in the eye, a hint of something I couldn’t quite place held in her gaze. “Maybe you were listening to me the other day.” She paused. “Although, I can’t see how you managed to contain yourself. Especially if she was in her fire gear — you’re gaga for a woman in uniform at the best of times.”
I rummaged in the cutlery drawer to set the table. “Who isn’t? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be interested if your first love strode out of a fire truck and into your life?”
Holly tilted her head and grinned. “I guess it would have a certain je ne sais quoi.” She paused. “A hot firefighter turning up at my work would have been very welcome today. A little light relief from the stresses of modern life.”
“Who was it who was lecturing me on love the other day? Perhaps you need to start a little fire at your work and see who turns up.”
“If it’s Nicola Sheen, that would be way too complex,” she said, laughing. “Besides,
I heard a rumour she’s engaged.”
I swiped at Holly with a tea towel. “Ha ha — you know what I mean. You need to be ready for love when it comes along and that might be tomorrow. Romance and self-help books make me open to it.” I pointed to my chest. “When love comes knocking, I’m going to have the flat ship-shape, I’ll have flossed and my hair will be perfect. I’m going to be ready.”
Holly turned off the pan, lifted the fish on to a plate and squeezed lime juice over the top. “I’ll be perfectly ready, thanks.” She didn’t look up. “And I won’t be the one searching through my pile of exes for someone to love.” She retrieved the taco shells and carried the tomatoes, lettuce and guacamole to our small dining table, pushed up against the left wall of our lounge.
I grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and followed her to the table.
“But I’m not going to argue with you now — not after I’ve cooked this lovely dinner. In the meantime, while you’re dusting off and updating your Nicola Sheen fantasies, what’s in store for the rest of this week? Any more dates in the pipeline?” Holly bit into her taco and the crunch may well have been heard in Yorkshire.
“I do. Tomorrow I have Jenny, an Australian web designer. And then on Thursday, I have a woman called Spanish_Vixen89. I’m holding out high hopes for her.”
Holly nodded, swallowing her food before replying. “She sounds like she might be a sultry Mediterranean lady. Or she sounds like she might be 89.”
“I’ve seen her picture, so I’m assuming she was born in 1989.”
“And if she turns out to be 89?”
“Then she’s looking really good and it makes a fantastic story to tell. Plus, don’t be so ageist — she might be absolutely lovely.” I crunched into my tacos and savoured the flavours — fish, lime, coriander, avocado and spices — they were delicious. Holly was going to make someone a perfect wife. “So you see, I’m getting on with life and I am not at all focused on Nicola Sheen who is marrying Melanie Taylor. In fact, I couldn’t be happier for them.”