The Gin O'Clock Club

by Rosie Blake

  She finally arrived, dressed in a trouser suit, her hair scraped back in a bun, pale, although she was always pale now, too thin, her eyes scanning the room. The muscles in her neck were tense and her arms rigid as she hugged me, barely touching me. I could feel the nervous energy, smell the day’s dirt of London on her.

  Luke had approached, still looking dashing in his suit, holding out a hand for her. She hadn’t realised the importance of the moment, of course. Practically the whole room had paused to watch him, the band readying to play the song they had rehearsed, Arjun tapping his crutch on the stage as their prompt. But then, oh, Cora, Lottie shook her head. ‘I really need a drink, Luke, OK?’ But Arjun had given the band their cue and they had begun and I watched Luke’s eyes widen as he recognised the opening bars of the music, his hand still hovering in the space between him and Lottie.

  She stayed for a drink and then she made her excuses, kissing me on the cheek, Luke looking forlornly at me as he muttered something about an early start, a lot of work. Oh, Cora, I could have wept for him.

  Teddy x

  Chapter 21

  Love is . . . overrated

  EVA, 76

  Luke was very quiet but not in a normal way – lots of heavy sighing and wistful looks out of the car window. I didn’t really understand his problem. He’d been moaning about going to the ballroom dancing evening for a couple of days now and I had released him early. A bit of me thought he’d be more grateful. Another sigh. I found myself gritting my teeth. I couldn’t be bothered to ask him why he was sulking. I just wanted to get home, have a quick shower and get into clean pyjamas and our bed.

  ‘Why didn’t you call?’ he asked, twisting in his seat to look at me.

  I kept my eyes on the road ahead. ‘I was rushing and then I had no signal.’

  ‘And we didn’t need to leave so early,’ he said in a rush. ‘Your grandad will think we were rude. The band were brought in especially.’

  Why was Luke suddenly Mr Concerned when it came to my grandad? ‘He seemed fine with it,’ I said, realising I hadn’t really seen Grandad, too intent on dragging Luke away. ‘And the band are always on there. They all love it.’

  The room had been filled with couples dressed up and enjoying being spun around the floor. I had seen Margaret in a fetching pink number being steered across the dance floor by Geoffrey, and Howard and Paula, her scarlet talons bright red against his jacket as she clutched him. ‘We didn’t need to stay, they had enough people.’

  He sighed again. I wanted to open the passenger door and tip him out. Sometimes I just need Luke to say whatever is on his mind. It was infuriating trying to work out whether he was cross or just struggling with his sinuses.

  ‘Are you going to be like this all the way home?’ I asked, an edge creeping into my voice.

  A beat.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘All this.’ I did an impression of heavy sighing, tipping my head from side to side as I did so.

  ‘I’m not being like that.’

  ‘You are. You’re steaming up the windows with it.’

  I could see him clutching something in his hand, a single rose head, shredding the petals into his lap one by one. ‘I just wanted a pleasant evening with my girlfriend. Is that so hard for you to understand?’

  ‘Why didn’t you say? I could have stayed a bit longer,’ I said, conveniently forgetting my mood upon arrival. I had practically downed the warm single vodka and Coke Luke had ordered for me, before complaining the music was giving me a headache and everyone was ancient and could we please just go home it had been a really long day. I hadn’t really waited for much of a response from him.

  ‘You didn’t give me a chance,’ he protested, the rose now petal-less in his hand. ‘You never do.’

  We had pulled up outside our flat and I switched the engine off.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I asked, turning to face him, a streetlamp opposite making an orange halo behind him, his face largely in shadow.

  ‘You didn’t even think what I wanted tonight, did you? You’d just made up your mind.’

  ‘That’s hardly fair and you weren’t exactly being Fred Astaire.’

  ‘I was waiting to dance with you,’ he exploded.

  Luke rarely raised his voice and for a second I was dumbfounded into silence. Still, the barrister in me, the woman who had raced around all day worrying about trials and friends and making silk, soon lost her cool.

  ‘Why didn’t you say something then? I’m not a mind reader. I can’t be expected to know what you’re thinking every second of the day.’

  ‘News to me that you ever want to know what I’m thinking—’

  ‘That’s not fai—’

  ‘God forbid it might not be what you want and we always have to do what you want.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Name me one time I get to set the agenda. It’s always “I’m tired”.’ He said the last bit in a high whiny voice that made my eyes narrow.

  ‘I don’t sound like that.’

  He kept going in the whine: ‘I need to go, I need my sleep, I’ve got to work . . . ’

  ‘I do have to work . . . hard.’

  Luke raised both his hands in the air in exasperation. ‘I know you bloody do but other people work hard too. You haven’t got a monopoly on working hard—’

  A man walking his dog paused by our car, clearly bemused as to where the screeching was coming from.

  ‘—and some people’ – Luke was really in his stride now – ‘some people actually work hard and don’t bloody go on and on about it, boring the rest of us with it and ruining our own days.’

  I reached for the car handle, anger surging through me as I opened it and stepped outside, ignoring the still evening calm, the people tucked up in bed behind darkened windows. Slamming the car door I moved across to our flat, reaching for the keys in my bag. Bloody Luke. So I ruin his day, do I, daring to talk about my life? Well, I hope the next time he goes to talk to someone about his work, they pretend to listen but are really just thinking about what they are going to make for dinner.

  I was inside and up to our flat, bleeping the car locked and hoping Luke ‘I breathe through my nostrils too loudly’ had shut the door already. I didn’t even care to check. I didn’t deserve any of this. I was tired, I was dirty, I just wanted to go to sleep.

  Luke didn’t carry on arguments so I was surprised when he appeared in the doorway of our bedroom still looking mad, a sort of angry James Bond in his sharp suit. I noticed then the newly polished shoes, the tie I didn’t recognise. He had made an effort to dress up for the evening. Guilt fuelled my anger.

  ‘Have you finished telling me how shit I am and what a ball ache it is going out with me? Can I have my shower now?’

  ‘You’ll do whatever you like,’ Luke said, some of the anger leaving his voice, now looking a little sad. ‘Go ahead.’

  Somehow this made me crosser. ‘I just don’t get what the big deal is. What have I done to deserve this?’

  Luke didn’t answer, just turned his back and headed into the kitchen.

  I followed him. ‘You can’t just say all this stuff to me and walk away, Luke.’

  I could see his back tense, knuckles gripping the kitchen sink.

  ‘Why do you always get to be the nice guy? Why am I always cast in the role of villainous bitch?’

  He wouldn’t turn around.

  ‘You always make me feel like I’m letting you down but I’m just tired, I’m stressed, I can’t be bloody perfect.’

  When his voice came it was pitifully small, I barely caught the words, ‘I thought things were . . . tonight was . . . ’

  ‘What, Luke?’

  He snapped: ‘It doesn’t matter. Clearly I was wrong.’

  Confusion, tiredness, stress, guilt were all fuelling me now and I felt ugly and red as I hurled more insults his way. ‘It’s not like you’re perfect,’ I said.

  He sighed. ‘I know, Lottie, I’m
not pretending to be, I just miss—’

  ‘Miss what?’

  ‘You.’

  My chest heaved up and down as he moved past me out of the kitchen. ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa and then, well . . . ’ He looked back at me. Did I imagine the watery eyes? My heart was still racing, my body pulsing with adrenalin. ‘Then we can decide what to do.’

  That last line scared me into silence. I stood, only my own breathing loud in my ears, realising I had backed myself into this corner, still feeling every muscle tense. ‘If that’s what you want,’ I said huffily, wondering for the first time if I had gone too far.

  Luke moved through to our bedroom and fetched his pillow and simply said, ‘None of this is what I want, Lottie. None of it.’

  Darling Cora,

  After the disastrous ballroom dancing evening, Arjun and I were drowning our sorrows in his living room. It was there that he confirmed the latest prognosis, and, Cora, it is not good. He has declined their treatment, wanting to tackle things with diet and exercise. He was told even with the treatment he would have a couple of years at most.

  And did I comfort him at this announcement? Did I ask how I could help? I did not. I panicked, of course, and immediately changed the subject. Although I think he was grateful.

  And so we play golf, laugh at Howard’s terrible jokes, tease Geoffrey every time he sends the ball into a hedge, bunker or water hazard (the man literally can’t find green) and Arjun is the same. Perhaps I notice tiny changes: a slower pace on the fairways, steadying himself when he picks the ball out of the hole, a slightly delayed laugh at times as if he was only just returning to the conversation. I wonder if Geoffrey can see it too. I want to ask. It’s so strange carrying around such a big secret. I would have wanted to tell you.

  Arjun finally did confide in me on another matter. It seems he has been meeting Luke on a regular basis, working on a secret project. I’m not allowed to speak about it, Cora, to anyone – not that there is anyone to tell any more. Something about copyright. He sounded very solemn so I promised immediately.

  All the dates and outings we’d been arranging for Lottie, Luke and the other members of Maplelands club had triggered a thought in him. He just didn’t know how to execute it.

  Enter Luke!

  Arjun approached him not long after the fateful night he broke his hip, sidling up to him in the clubhouse and dragging him off to a darkened corner to talk. He then spent much of the rest of the night swapping secret looks and winking at him, so much so that he believed Howard thought he had developed a crush.

  This week Arjun’s boiler needs repairing so they have arranged the latest meeting at our house, a new centre of covert operations. This morning I opened the door to find Luke and a pretty redhead standing on the step swapping a joke. Arjun arrived moments later and they all gathered round the kitchen table with lots of bits of paper and coloured pens. It looked very official. I was chief tea bringer and I think performed my duties rather well. No one was short of tea (or biscuits) at any point. There were a rocky few seconds at the start when the redhead asked for green tea and I didn’t know what that was, but fortunately you came to the rescue as I produced something from a yellow box in our kitchen that you must have bought for just such an occasion as this. You were always very prepared.

  The redhead seemed very animated. She put me in mind a little of a young Paula, and certainly seemed very enthusiastic about both Arjun’s idea and Luke’s plans for it, touching him on the arm with excitement when he came up with a new thought. I hadn’t seen Arjun so cheered in days, and I was so grateful to Luke for doing all this for him. Apparently he has been working on it for a while. He assured me it really was an exciting project and was happily designing potential logos and titles with the different coloured pens as Arjun explained more. The redhead seemed to know a great deal about the technical side and I was soon lost in a sea of complicated tech jargon, so I simply did what I knew best – offered to fetch more tea.

  Luke was quiet again, smiling long after the moment had passed, his eyes often drifting to some other place. I hadn’t found time to talk to him about the disastrous ballroom dancing evening but I could see something had broken a little in him. I think he was glad to have something else to focus on.

  It was all very cloak and dagger and I was reminded in serious tones by Arjun that to speak of it might lead to future problems, a hostile takeover by another company, so I swore once again not to breathe a word.

  They’ve just left and the house is empty once more. I’m still not used to being on my own in this way, knowing that for the rest of the afternoon and evening I might not see another soul or speak to another human being. Perhaps Arjun’s project will change that for others in the same boat. I always took it for granted that you would be there to listen to my ramblings, to humour me, to fill the house with noise. I miss hearing your chatter, I miss being confused about the members of your book club, I miss you getting cross with me because I can’t remember the names of the people in your book club despite the fact that you’ve told me their names a hundred times. I miss your thoughts and your insights. I just miss you.

  Teddy x

  Chapter 22

  Love is in the little things

  MAX, 86

  Work, everyday life, phone calls and meetings were draining. Every moment of the next few days was spent going over and over in my head how our row had escalated so far out of control. I desperately wanted to pick up the phone to Amy and tell her but knew I couldn’t. I was the last person she wanted to hear from. Why was I making such a complete and utter cock-up of everything?

  Alan, my head of chambers, had approached me about applying for silk in a year’s time. I watched his mouth opening and closing but my brain could barely process the words. What had seemed my ultimate goal a few months ago, my ultimate route to being happy, successful and sorted, suddenly seemed trivial, and that thought frightened me.

  Luke had stayed at Adam’s house the night before, a brief text told me, no kisses on the end. I didn’t really deserve kisses. I thought fleetingly of returning the message with a whole string of them, some heart emojis and an amusing yet moving gif that would soften him up, but knew I needed to see him to fix this one. I cringed as I ran through some of the things I’d said, my voice cold as I’d levelled horrible comments at him. He had been brilliant these last few months, patient and caring, and I had been taking advantage of his good nature. That was going to change.

  After meeting with a new client to go over their defence (in a nutshell: yes the CCTV is correct – he did break his nose but only because the other guy was definitely going to punch him) I set off for Pimlico, glad of a cloudy but still afternoon and hoping to be able to persuade Luke to walk with me somewhere. That morning I had worn my red polka dot shirt and pencil skirt combo that I knew he loved, with high heels that had made my feet ache all day. Applying red lipstick on a juddering Tube using a compact hand mirror had almost undone me but finally I was there, feeling positive, feeling ready to fix what I’d broken.

  Heading out of Pimlico station I wound my way down a side street, a shortcut to Luke’s office. Stomach leaping, almost there, I passed by a chain coffee shop on the other side of the road. What I saw in the window caused me to dive for cover next to a large black bin in a graffitied doorway. Barely noticing the smell, I trained my attention on the two people sitting on stools in the large picture window. There was no doubting it. Luke was in earnest conversation with a petite, glossy redhead: Storm.

  I scanned the scene for more of his colleagues. Perhaps it was a work meeting? Perhaps they were on some team-building exercise where they had to drink lattes and stack caramel shortbreads? Perhaps . . . At that moment Storm flung her head back, her smooth creamy neck (enticingly small, definitely small enough for two hands to close around it) on show as she laughed at something Luke said. He in turn looked delighted with the reaction, gesturing passionately with two hands as he always did when he was excited about something. />
  I felt my stomach disappear. I wanted to slump against the wall behind me. Unable to drag my eyes away I watched them for a while. They seemed positively buzzing with energy. A little piece of my heart broke away and I tasted bile in my mouth. Oh God, the smell of the dustbin was suddenly filling my nostrils and the whole scene was swimming before me. I had to get out of there. I lurched away on stupid, painful heels. The humiliation would be enormous. I couldn’t let Luke see me spying on them. A small voice inside me was protesting that this wasn’t something Luke would do, but I couldn’t shake the image of them. Even from this distance I could read his body language, leaning forward, the urgency as he spoke, the light in his eyes. It was familiar because it was how he used to talk to me.

  My throat thickened as I retraced my steps to the Tube, clutching a set of iron railings for a moment, wanting to wish away what I had seen. It should have been fine, everyone had colleagues who were the opposite sex, I reminded myself. I trusted Luke: Luke who had held me close when I had found out Grandma had died, who’d bought me a silver keyring in the shape of a house when we’d signed our rental agreement together. Oh God, the flat, our entwined lives: it was all suddenly in jeopardy. My cosy world that I had been so sure of seemed to be dissolving around me as I stood next to the railings worrying about splitting assets, the soft grey suede sofa we had chosen together, the oak table and chairs – would we take two each? He had never liked the overhead yellow lamp but had let me buy it because I had loved it: would he fight for it now? Would I stay in the flat?

  I knew I was racing on, knew I was getting out of control. I shook my head as if to fling off the madness. This was Luke, I reminded myself. I had to believe that this was a misunderstanding. This had to be innocent. I pulled out my mobile. I needed to find out. I could still turn around.