‘This looks incredible.’ Josh leaned in to sniff his dinner. ‘Thank you for cooking, Em.’
Craig squeezed my thigh. ‘It really does.’
‘Can I have a humble brag before we start?’ Josh looked at each of us.
‘Please,’ I said.
‘Right, so.’ He wriggled in his seat, hands splayed across the table. ‘I had lunch with the team at Piccadilly Circus today, because one of my ads made it up to the screens. I mean, it was in a tiny corner, and it was gone in a flash, but it was there. My work, in glorious technicolour. Me! Of course, we had beers to celebrate before heading back to the office, but it was so exciting.’
Josh pulled his phone from his pocket, fingers gliding across the screen before he passed it around. I watched on excitedly at the small reel of photos he’d taken during his moment of triumph. Heather beamed at him, prouder than I’d ever seen her, and Craig offered his congratulations in the form of a quick handshake.
‘Well.’ I raised my glass. ‘Cheers to you!’
With drinks held high, Josh gave Heather a quick nod, almost unnoticeable if you weren’t looking.
‘I’m so glad we organised to have dinner together tonight,’ Heather began. ‘Because I have something, we have something we need to say.’
I gasped loudly and rapped my hands on the table.
‘The other night while you were both busy being workers, Josh and I were having a boozy dinner at The Ivy and, over a far too expensive glass of champagne, he asked me to marry him. Naturally, I said yes.’
‘Oh my God!’ I leapt to my feet. ‘Are you serious?’
‘We’ve spent all week making sneaky phone calls back home to let family know.’ Josh nodded, downing the last of his glass.
‘I am so thrilled.’ I wiped my eyes. ‘This was always going to happen, but … oh, my heart.’ I raced around the table and hugged them tightly.
I was so proud of my friends, for the life they’d made, and the choices that had brought them, and me by extension, here. Excitement rained at the prospect of their wedding, which was not a pairing off of two friends, but a solidifying of the last twenty years we’d spent together. And then, when I watched Craig flinch momentarily, I felt a pang of uncertainty; both for and about him.
‘So, big plans for tomorrow then?’ I looked around the table as the excitement ebbed, albeit minutely, and we returned to the food in front of us.
‘We’re going to get away early.’ Heather rubbed at Josh’s arm. ‘Take the train to Southampton. There’s this huge new resort open by the bay. We’ll spend a few nights there celebrating.’
‘That sounds lovely.’ I clutched at my chest. ‘Craig, have you got much planned for the weekend?’
‘I’m, ah, working again tomorrow.’ He offered me a quick glance. ‘You?’
‘I’m working in the morning.’ I took another sip of wine. ‘After that, I’m going to look at St Paul’s Cathedral.’
Craig relaxed back into his chair. ‘Right.’
‘Is that okay?’ Even as I said it, I felt a wave of confusion wash over me. I wasn’t sure if that was because I heard myself asking for permission, or because of something deeper I didn’t want to touch on.
He placed his glass down. ‘I was hoping we might have lunch together tomorrow. There’s a nice little café in our building, but if you’ve already made plans…’
‘No, Craig. I can change my plans, it’s completely okay.’ I grabbed at his leg and forced a smile. ‘I can do the other stuff later. I’d love to have lunch with you.’
After the last of the bubbly had bubbled, and the final dumpling disappeared into a grateful stomach, Craig and I retreated to the bedroom. Later that night, he made love to me like he had something to prove. And it wasn’t just once, he came back for seconds, then thirds, and I was sure he’d bend me around like a pretzel given half the chance. While it made for a nice change, something still felt a little off-kilter. Finally done, he offered a smile and a chaste kiss, before he rolled away and collapsed into his pillow.
As for me, I lay awake all night watching the clock tick over.
Chapter 15
Nine o’clock, and the waiting room was already full. A baby cried in a corner, an elderly woman was tutting and checking her watch, and I had no doctor to speak for. For every second the clock bounced forward, I was sure it slid three paces backwards. My phone was running off the hook with people desperate to see William on a Saturday, even more so than the people already waiting.
I’d made sure his consulting room was set up, not that that was difficult. All he needed was a working pen, an empty waste paper basket, antibacterial lotion and hand wash, and a clean exam bed. I hadn’t been inside his office often but, this time, I chanced a look around. Thank you cards and photos of new babies stood proudly on the shelves above his desk. When they overflowed, there were two noticeboards quickly filling. Holiday trinkets snuck in around the cards, photos of him in shorts and snorkelling gear, and the tiny koala I’d sent him shortly after getting home from my Hogmanay trip.
‘I am so sorry!’ He blustered through the door. ‘The alarm went off, I promise. I might have hit snooze. I might also be a little hungover.’ A messenger bag looked like it was trying to choke him, while his shirt hung out of his trousers. His tie was barely knotted, and the jacket of his powder-blue suit folded in on itself. ‘Emmy, I’m so sorry.’
I handed him his first three files and a lukewarm coffee. ‘Your room is ready. It’s okay, I’ve sorted it out. Welcome to Saturday.’
‘God, I love you.’ He kissed my cheek. ‘Honestly, you’re incredible.’
A microsecond after he spoke, he realised what he’d said. My heart thudded to a stop, and then raced to catch up with the world around me. The phone was ringing again, another patient had walked in, and I needed to work. William looked at me, turned away, then turned back to me again.
‘Well, you know what I mean.’ He offered a nonchalant shrug and called his first patient for the morning.
His admission left me a little skittish, a cat with a rogue laser pointer. Just when I thought I’d brushed his words off as a slip of the tongue, doubt crept in and asked me if I was totally sure, or would I like to phone a friend for another opinion? As patients built up, and the morning dragged on, the sweetest sound I could hope for was the handful of cancellations that came through. When I finally got to switch the phone over to night-mode, there may have been a small celebration.
‘William,’ I called.
‘Emmy,’ he replied.
I did the awkward jeans dance in the staff room, trying to change out of work clothes and into something more Saturday afternoon appropriate. Yes, I needed that gym membership.
‘St Paul’s Cathedral,’ I said.
‘You don’t want to go, do you?’ he asked.
‘What?’ I looked towards the direction of his voice. ‘Yes, yes, absolutely I want to go.’
‘But? I feel like there’s a but coming?’
‘Craig wants me to have lunch with him first. Is it okay if we meet there at, say…’ I checked the time, ‘Three o’clock?’
He was quiet for a moment. ‘Three is good.’
‘You sure?’ I pulled a T-shirt over my head and tossed my shirt into my backpack.
‘Absolutely.’ He appeared in the doorway. ‘I need to look into a few things here anyway. Go and enjoy lunch. I’ll meet you on the steps at three.’
‘Thank you.’ I brushed past him and bolted out the door, aware that I needed to get going if I was going to make it to the café before one o’clock. I wanted to be early.
As it was, after a signal fault at Baker Street, I was twenty minutes late. Constant text updates didn’t help the situation, judging by the responses, and I arrived at the Southwark office to find Craig walking out of the café with lunch to go.
‘All I wanted was lunch with you, Emmy.’ His jaw twitched. ‘Is that too much to ask?’
‘I was … the train … Craig,’ I whined. ‘
I was on my way. I left work in plenty of time. I can’t help the trains.’
‘And I’ve got a meeting to get to now.’ He pushed his sleeve back. ‘Or I’ll be the one who’s late.’
‘Craig, please?’ I said. ‘What is going on with you? I want you to talk to me. Just tell me what the issue is.’
He yanked a chair back, and it scratched loudly against the concrete floor. I scrambled into the seat opposite, irrationally worried that I’d be chastised for doing that wrong, too. He checked his watch again.
‘I said I was sorry,’ I mumbled.
‘How was your morning, Emmy?’ He sank back and shoved his hands in his pockets.
‘It was good, actually. I mean, William was late.’ I scratched at my forehead. ‘But it all worked out in the end.’
‘And William is the tour guide, right?’
‘He is.’ I reached for my phone. ‘Also, I’ve been talking to Heather this morning. She’s so excited, talking about wedding plans.’ I swallowed down a hard lump. ‘You know, I was thinking, wondering, is that something you could see us doing?’
‘Doing what?’
‘Getting married.’ I knew the answer as soon as the words came out. Something flickered across his eyes, and I’m not sure if it was defiance or anger.
‘Not right now, no,’ he said, his answer so quick, I doubt he even gave himself time to think. ‘I might consider it in ten years or so but, no, it’s not something I necessarily want to be doing. Like the kids thing. No plans. And is this really what you want to be talking about today?’
‘It was just a question,’ I said. ‘I … I’m confused right now, I don’t know what to ask you.’
‘How’s your day been? What have you done today? What account are you working on?’ He raised his brows. ‘You know, usual stuff.’
‘Oh.’ I peered up as he stood and straightened his jacket. With a few curt words, my boyfriend had turned into a complete stranger.
‘Anyway, I need to get to a meeting.’ He leaned down and kissed my forehead. ‘Enjoy your afternoon.’
The last I saw of him through my blurred vision as he melted into a crowd of people, was jacket lapels flapping under force of movement. Wiping my eyes, I walked away from the café and into the heart of Borough Market.
As a consolation prize, I was happy to find my own lunch among the narrow passageways and rustic eateries. My stomach had been growling long before I got on the train. Now, it was just an unhappy symphony of neglect and anger. As I walked across Blackfriars Bridge and picked at a roasted vegetable roll and sipped an orange juice, I tried to dissect what was going on with Craig.
I couldn’t come up with anything. At least not something positive. Or maybe I just didn’t want to admit anything to myself.
He was constantly working late, most evenings not getting home until nine o’clock, sometimes later. When I questioned him, nothing more than a gentle enquiry, he couldn’t come up with anything but a shrug of the shoulders and a, ‘that’s business, Emmy’. Thinking about him lately, I felt like I was being squeezed. The ‘we’ was becoming a source of constant agitation. It wasn’t the lovely fluttering tummy and sense of togetherness that I once got when we could sit for hours churning out essays and arguing about where to get the cheapest student dinner.
Sitting on the steps of the cathedral, I watched as a bridal party stepped out into the sunshine. The bride and groom were bombarded with well-wishers and mobile phone photography, and had the most beautiful smiles on their faces. In the middle of a crowd of people, they saw only each other. It was perfect. It was exactly what I wanted in life. I clapped along with everyone else lucky enough to be watching, though went back to playing with my phone when they disappeared.
I had a quick catch up with Frankie, who was feeling every minute of her morning sickness, especially at night. She was also indulging in copious amounts of macarons and the chocolate I’d posted her when I first arrived. I scrolled through Facebook and tried doing the obligatory check-in selfie. As I lined the camera up and smiled, a plastic shark on a stick appeared in frame. I put the phone down, and it disappeared. Hold the phone up, and it reappeared. I tried for the quick over the shoulder glance, just to see what was happening, and William was there, biting a knuckle to try and stem his laughing fit.
‘What the hell is that thing?’ I laughed, getting to my feet.
‘This?’ The mouth of the shark snapped each time he squeezed the stick’s handle. ‘This is Steve.’
‘Steve Rogers, or Steve Trevor?’
William dragged his bottom lip through his teeth. ‘Rogers?’
‘Correct answer.’
‘Steve used to accompany me on my tour walks.’ He nipped at me again. ‘I remember you telling me you had to follow a kangaroo on a stick. I used Steve.’
‘You remember that? That was Edinburgh we talked about that.’
‘I remember.’ A lanyard appeared next. ‘Now, this is an old London Pass that someone gave me one night. It was their last day of use, or something, and I always kept it. Apparently, because I would need it today. So, you can look like a real tourist with that around your neck.’
I checked the expiry date as he hung it around my neck. Yep, well and truly dead. ‘Did you get this from one of your other tourist girlfriends?’
‘I can assure you, I was too busy studying anatomy to actually experience it.’ He looked me in the eyes. ‘Unless, of course, we’re referring to my own.’
That was probably an image I didn’t need in my head, especially right on top of such a shitty lunch date. I did my best to push any thought of him like that from my mind.
‘And this, is the pièce de résistance.’ He handed me a black cap with the word ‘TOURIST’ stitched across the front. ‘You are the tourist, you need to wear this. It’ll go great with your I HEART SCOTLAND hoodie.’
‘Oh my God,’ I groaned, remembering my embarrassment at being caught in it at the airport. That jumper had now been relegated to very cold winter nights. ‘This is so awful. I love it.’
‘You look great, Ems, really.’ He gave me two enthusiastic thumbs up. ‘Seriously looking the part right now.’
‘I’m so cute.’ I brushed myself down. ‘But am I Edinburgh cute?’
‘I don’t know, I’ll get someone to punch you in the face and we’ll find out.’ He nipped at my leg with Steve. ‘Let’s go see some church.’
Rapt in ornate ceiling paintings, wall carvings, and the tiled floor, I listened to everything the multimedia guide had to offer, including the slightly ironic videos, showing me exactly what I was already looking at. We moved through the Quire, with its dark wood and gothic features, and onto the High Alter where William removed my headset.
‘What do you think, Emmy? Want to get married in a church?’
The lump in my throat rose again. Of all the questions I wanted today, that wasn’t one of them. I shook my head in quick bursts. ‘Nah.’
‘No?’
‘I’m not religious. There’s no doubt it’s a gorgeous building. Look at it. But I don’t think it’s right to stand up in a church if I don’t believe in what it’s teaching.’ I turned the guide map over in my hand. ‘Having said that, I wouldn’t mind staying for Eucharist.’
‘I would only stay until they got to the biscuit part. I’m hungry.’
‘Biscuits? They’re communion wafers, you idiot.’ I slapped at his arm with the guide and unfolded it again. ‘Except, we’ve missed Eucharist for today. Do you want to move?’
‘Let’s go.’
Stairways twisted, and cold stone walkways narrowed as we embarked on what I thought would be an afternoon stroll up a few flights of stairs. The only problem with that theory were the 530 steps that stood between me, the Golden Gallery, and views of the Greater London skyline. I hunched over, slipped on worn stone, and swore at William more than once before we got to the Whispering Gallery, only halfway up the walk.
‘Here’s the fun part.’ A hand on either shoulder, he press
ed me down into the worn wooden bench that snaked around the wall. ‘Put your ear to the wall and wait for a moment.’
He shuffled off excitedly, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure I did as instructed. A frown and clicking fingers appeared when he thought I’d moved. Almost directly opposite me, on the other side of the gallery, he stopped, kneeled on the seat, and pressed his cheek to the wall.
‘Emmy, can you hear me?’ A whispered voice had wrapped around the walls and come back to me like an old tin can telephone, a friendship boomerang.
I cupped my hands over my mouth and laughed. ‘Yes. Can you hear me?’
‘Yes.’ He shuffled about and got comfortable. ‘Emmy, I have something to tell you. It’s very important that you listen to me, your local friendly GP. Can you do that?’
‘I think I can, yes.’ I waited with baited breath, expecting a lewd joke which, by default, would be shared with anyone else who caught wind of his voice around the wall.
‘I missed you,’ he said. ‘But I’m so glad you’re here now.’
I sank back against the wall and smiled. It was possibly the nicest thing anyone had said to me in weeks, and it made my heart sing and ache all at the same time. I pressed myself back up against the wall. ‘I missed you, too.’
‘Did you really? Because I’m not feeling it. You don’t seem very communicative.’
‘What?’ I turned to see him hunched over, shoulders shuddering with laughter. ‘I’m continuing without you, then.’
There was nothing safe about a quick shuffle to the nearest exit, only two hundred and something steps above ground but, through a giggling fit and watching William trying his best to move an entire family who’d blocked his path, I beat him into the next stairwell. It took him more than his fair share of ‘pardon me’s to reach me a few flights above him.
An Impossible Thing Called Love Page 12