There was a moment of peace when he caught up to me, both of us out of breath and words. He tried to splutter a few thoughts out while I wondered if my heart rate was still safe and, somewhere in the middle, we threw each other a dismissive wave and kept climbing. After ducking through low gaps and palming the cool walls, the Stone Gallery, which circled the outside of the dome was phenomenal. We stopped only long enough to recover our breath, shake out our jelly legs, and keep going.
‘Come, stand on this step so I don’t have to look down at you when I’m talking.’ William held a hand out and pulled me up to meet him. It was a tight fit, the stairwell being so narrow, but we squashed up together.
We were only twenty steps short of the Golden Gallery, and the queue to join the tiny space was long and getting longer. Where we had only a few before us, people snaked around the old steel staircases as far as I could see, and I wasn’t a fan of glancing down for too long.
‘This place is incredible,’ I said. ‘I just love that each wall has been touched by thousands, millions even, over the course of history. It blows my mind to think of who came before us.’
‘And now the tourists—’ he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear ‘—in their silly hats.’
As his fingers grazed my ear, I reached out and brushed my thumb across a nick close to his bottom lip. ‘You cut yourself shaving?’
‘I did.’
‘I didn’t think you’d shaved this morning?’ Thinking back to how he looked this morning, I’d have been surprised if he’d even showered. ‘You looked a fright when you got in.’
‘I shaved in the bathroom at work once you’d left.’
‘Did it hurt?’
‘Hurt? Emmy, it stung like hellfire and vinegar.’ He touched it. ‘And you know what’s worse, is that I can’t stop licking it. It’s just there, and annoying. You know what I mean?’
‘I can’t say I do, no. It’s been a while since I’ve shaved my beard.’
‘The more you know.’ William grinned. ‘Hey, you know what would go great with that hat?’
‘What’s that?’
‘One of those old disposable cameras. You know the ones where you have to take the whole unit to the chemist to get developed?’
I laughed. ‘You know I still have that photo of us at Heathrow?’
‘I should hope so. It’s an important historical document.’
We listened for the shuffle of feet on the metal grates as, finally, the queue started to move further towards the rooftop.
‘How do you get your sideburns so straight?’ I placed a finger at the base of each of them, almost perfectly aligned with each other.
‘A template,’ he said. ‘I wrap it around my face and go for broke.’
I snorted so hard I coughed. ‘You do not.’
Twenty steps became ten, five, two and, then, with a helping hand, I stepped out into the late afternoon sun and wraparound views of the city. My hair flickered about in my eyes and my mouth, caught up by the high-up winds. When I finally got it under control, I stopped still. William peered over the edge, a serene smile on his face, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Buses looked like Matchbox cars, pedestrians were mere specks of life, and buildings looked like Lego miniatures. It was beautiful and peaceful and, as if I didn’t believe it myself, it solidified the view that maybe moving to London was the best thing I’d ever done.
Even if that came at a cost.
Chapter 16
Before I had time to think about it too much, I’d been in London one month, then two, and the weeks were only rolling on quicker. Life was busy. Between full days at work, nights were spent on the couch or dining out in new and exciting restaurants. My gym sessions were jogging along behind me, exhausted, and only hoping I could undo those extra bottles of pinot noir.
Saturdays had become unofficial sightseeing days. Whether William joined me or not, I explored London and her surrounds, zipped around the tube, poked around some of the many museums, joined the British Library, bought poorly made souvenirs, and ate cheap street food.
Eventually, I got William through the doors of Madame Tussaud’s, even if he did spend the entire time muttering about ‘dirty little cadavers’ under his breath. Originally, I’d asked Craig. I’d desperately wanted to spend more time with him, but he had baulked at the idea and told me I’d finally lost the plot. I’m still not sure how serious he was about that.
There was a marked difference in how the two sides of my life were unfolding; a friend who couldn’t wait to get out and about on weekends, versus a boyfriend who had little interest in anything unless it suited him. At home, a late day at work meant a six o’clock finish. Here, it was lucky if it was before eight o’clock. Weekends we used to spend together were replaced with text message check-ins just to see if we would be spending any time together. Business meetings had overrun the relationship goals Craig had spent so long sprouting about. A feeling of uncertainty was settling in and making itself comfortable, perhaps unpacking our old picnic basket and rug, the one the was now relegated to the back of someone’s cupboard. Sometimes, it made me think that maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. Other times, he’d surprise me.
I knew that my London List specifically listed an IMAX experience, complete with wonky 3D glasses and overstuffed popcorn, but I was just as thrilled when Craig came home with some rooftop cinema tickets from work. His boss had suggested he needed to go home on time and not worry about the business tonight. Whatever reasoning, and whichever cinema, it was going to mean a new experience and spending a Friday night together.
‘Which one?’ I held two dresses in front of me. One green, one blue, neither of them worn before. I’d picked them up a week earlier when Heather and I decided Westfield was a great way to fill the afternoon. I’d picked them up for the bargain basement price of £10 each, a steal in any currency.
Craig gave a perfunctory glance before returning to his phone, where he was engrossed in banging out messages of great import. I was a little miffed. Maybe it was too much to ask him to give me five minutes of his time?
‘Craig?’ I tried again. ‘What one do you like?’
‘Honestly, Em, I don’t care. Wear whatever you’re comfortable in.’
‘You don’t have a preference?’
‘Can you just put one on?’ he asked. ‘Our tickets are for the seven-thirty session. We need to go.’
Unless the alarm clock was lying, we still had ninety minutes to get there. Surely that gave me at least thirty seconds to ponder my clothing choice. Or, at least, ask my boyfriend for advice. I huffed my annoyance, did the eenie-meenie-miney-mo in my head, and opted for the navy blue with white bird print. I found a pair of matching heels and a light cardigan, and we were out the door before Craig had a chance to finish moaning about his email.
* * *
We barely spoke the entire train trip into the city (more emails to answer), but it was just nice to be with him. A narrow, slippery set of stairs took us to the top of the six-storey building. It was industrial but cosy, a brass-fitted bar was joined by a candy-striped popcorn stand. Blue and white deck chairs looked like something from the set of an Elvis movie, and rope lights only added to the tropical feeling. I did a quick scan to see which seats were available, and happened upon a shock of red hair and a bright laugh that emanated from one of the first few rows. I skipped off in that direction.
‘I thought you said you didn’t do cinemas.’ I peered into the row and was delighted to find that I was right and I wasn’t talking to a stranger.
William’s face lit up with the excitement of a winning scratch card. He leapt to his feet and greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘No, I said I don’t do cinemas with you, because you’ll keep trying to touch me up.’
His companions laughed, and I turned to find Craig still dawdling down the aisle. People were walking around him, throwing off angry looks as if being held at a green light. Still, his fingers dashed about his phone screen. I
wondered if I could just make that phone disappear. Five minutes of regular conversation, that was all I craved.
‘You look very tropical tonight.’ I tugged at the hem of William’s Hawaiian themed shirt. Its pineapple motif had been coupled with boardshorts and a pair of flip-flops. Havaianas. ‘Very relaxed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without long pants on.’
‘Yeah, well.’ His head dipped though he kept his eyes on me. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your dress on.’
I tried so hard not to laugh, but the shocked faces of friends and the innocent grin on his face were too much. ‘You’re not supposed to say that.’
‘It’s not a lie.’ He pressed a hand to his chest. ‘I have not said an untruth.’
I tapped at his arm. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’
‘Like what?’ he pipped.
‘Like that!’
A deep laugh sprang up. ‘Why? Am I putting you off?’
With a hand on the small of my back, Craig reminded me he was still here. I reached around to him, slightly distracted and little self-conscious that it might have been me who’d left him behind in my rush to get to these seats. As it was, introductions were stilted. As usual, William was loose and happy, while Craig wore a look of distraction that told me he’d rather be someplace else. Next, I hobbled along the aisle to say hello to each of William’s friends, all as fine and funny as their ringleader, while Craig skipped that part in favour of a comfortable chair. When I asked him if he’d like to get drinks, he simply replied that he would like a beer, and returned to his phone.
‘He’s a peach, Em.’ William slipped a fifty over the counter as he placed an order. ‘A peach that’s fallen to the ground and is riddled with worms.’
‘Oh, come on. He’s busy with work.’ I looked around. Yep, Craig was buried in his phone again.
‘Luckily, I’m a doctor. I know how to treat worms.’
The bartender shot him a look, laughed under his breath, and popped a few more bottles of Samuel Smith.
‘He’s under a lot of stress right now. He’s having trouble settling in at work, at least I think that’s what it is. Tonight is the first time we’ve gone out in weeks. I just wish he’d shut that phone off.’
‘You think that’s what it is?’
I shrugged. ‘It’s hard to get a word out of him.’
‘Could always throw his phone over the side of the building,’ he said. ‘That’ll get the words going.’
‘Sure.’ I followed him back to our seats. ‘That would work well.’
Throwing Craig’s phone off the side of the building was looking more and more like a good idea the further the movie progressed. No amount of popcorn or alcohol, special effects or sex scenes helped draw his attention away from the tiny screen in front of him. Five minutes of solitude would pass, and the tiny distracting light would resume, and he’d be emailing, making notes, again.
I was an agitated mess by the time the closing credits rolled. The left side of me was completely disinterested and had only generic comments to describe the film. And the handful of boys to my right were already busy discussing plot points and action sequences. I desperately wanted to join in the lively chatter, stay back for a few drinks and maybe a meal, but Craig was yawning and ready to head home. I said a reluctant goodbye before joining the crowds in the stairwell.
Craig wanted to forgo a train ride home in favour of a taxi. His reasoning? Perhaps we could stop by a bar on the way through and grab a drink or two. Not bad considering only moments earlier he’d wanted to get to bed. As he stood by the kerb and tried to flag down a passing car, I felt a hand around my forearm drag me away. Far enough to be out of ear shot.
‘Are you getting the train?’ William asked.
‘I think he wants to get a taxi.’ I turned my body towards Craig.
‘Right, okay.’
‘I’ll see you Monday?’ I asked. ‘We’re not working tomorrow, are we?’
‘No, you’re good. I’ll see you Monday.’ William stepped away, before coming back just as quickly. ‘I desperately need to ask you this before we part tonight. I admit it’s mostly my own morbid curiosity but, also, because what the fuck, Emmy?’
I tilted my head just a slight. ‘Sorry?’
‘Do you love this guy? Like, really? You wake up and you think this is the best it’s gonna be?’
I nodded, my mouth drying up like a summer shower. ‘Yes.’
‘Really? You’re honestly telling me you’re happy … with that?’
‘I’m happy.’ I could feel my hackles start to rise. What matter was it to William if I was happy or not?
He blew his cheeks out and gave his head a tiny disapproving shake. ‘Okay. Sure. Whatever. If you’re telling me yes, then it’s a yes.’
‘What?’ I guffawed. ‘Why the questions?’
‘Like I said, morbid curiosity.’ With an indifferent shrug that seemed to say ‘take it or leave it’, he turned and walked away, back to his group of friends, and I turned to find Craig, glued to his phone again. Completely oblivious to the world around him. I snatched his phone and zipped it in away in my pocket.
* * *
My family had taken to sending me boxes of things from home. With two missed deliveries only a week apart, I decided it might be easier to get Mum to send any of her magical care packages to work. My new one, in its tattered brown box, had been whispering at me from its home beside the photocopier all afternoon to open it. It wasn’t until we were all standing around with a cheeky end of week drink that I had my chance to open it.
‘What’s in the box, Ems?’ William wriggled up beside me. ‘Can we open it?’
‘It’s just something from home.’ I sliced at it with a pair of scissors. ‘Mum sends one once a fortnight, I suppose.’
‘Really?’ Pam cooed. ‘Gosh that’s sweet. The most I can get out of my mother is a shitty Facebook post complaining that I don’t have kids yet. Or some pseudo political junk that’s been researched by a three-year-old with a spinning top.’
‘Oh, I get them, too.’ I unfolded the lid of the box. ‘For now, I’ll stick to food babies.’
Everybody reached in and grabbed at things before I had a chance. Two packets each of both mine and Craig’s favourite biscuits, a bag of ground coffee from my favourite café, an envelope of photos from Frankie, an old stuffed toy that had been dug up from somewhere and was missing an eye, and a magnet of the giant koala in Dadswells Bridge – a souvenir from my eagle-eyed parents.
‘What is that?’ Brian grabbed at the magnet. ‘Is it really that big? It’s kind of frightening.’
‘It’s huge, and great. Like the giant lobster, giant sheep, giant pineapple, giant strawberry, and anything else we can supersize and call a tourist attraction.’ I unfolded a little letter from Frankie but, when I read the first line, stuffed it back in the envelope before it made me cry.
William flicked through the photos and pointed to one of Josh, Heather, and me at Josh’s tenth birthday. ‘Is this you? And Heather?’
‘Who’s Heather?’ Pam asked.
‘My housemate.’ I filled the empty air as quickly as I could, not wanting to be drawn into a conversation about who knew who and how. ‘It was a barbecue for Josh’s birthday.’
‘Speaking of barbecues,’ William started. ‘If you’re all free tomorrow, I’m having a get together at home, just because.’
‘Sounds great, count me in,’ Brian said.
‘That bloody wife of yours won’t be there, will she?’ Trevor asked.
What?
For a split second, I thought I might’ve been hearing things. There were a lot of words that rhymed with wife … strife … knife … life. That was, until I saw the look on William’s face, as white as a sheet and breaking out in a fine sweat. His eyes said everything his face couldn’t in a room full of our colleagues. He handed my photos back and shot Trevor a look. I packed everything up and pretended I hadn’t just found out I’d been played for a fool.
My heart scrambled to work when my brain couldn’t, kicking about in my chest like a child with a soccer ball. It was sporadic and annoying and, worst, of all, I couldn’t work out exactly what it was about his being married that bothered me. We were only friends, after all. Chatter around me had muted itself somewhere under the sound of blood rushing through my ears and, when I couldn’t think of anything else to do, I drained the last of my drink and called it a night.
I raced ahead at the sound of footsteps shuffling up behind me.
‘Emmy, wait!’ He pulled me to a stop. I jerked my arm away from him.
‘What do you want, Red?’
‘Oh.’ His eyes widened. ‘So, I’m Red now?’
‘Well, we’re just colleagues, right? People who work together, not friends, because friends don’t lie to each other.’
‘I never lied to you, I just didn’t tell you.’
‘Oh, because lying by omission makes it better.’ I shifted my parcel from my right arm to my left and looked over his shoulder to find everyone standing outside the clinic, waiting for my meltdown. ‘I’ve been here almost three months now – June, July, August, and you couldn’t tell me once?’
‘It’s a bit more complicated than that.’
‘I’m not sure how telling the truth is complicated.’
‘We’re separated. We have been for months.’ He sighed. ‘I would really like you to come tomorrow so that we can sit down and talk about this.’
‘In front of everyone? Some fun that would be.’ I said. ‘“Oh, Emmy, just so you know, I’ve had a wife at home while we’ve been gallivanting around town, whiling away the hours without a care in the world.” I suppose you were with her while we were in Edinburgh, too, were you?’
‘Don’t do that.’ He shook his head. ‘And no, I was single when we met.’
‘Don’t do what?’ I asked. ‘Do you have a problem with the truth?’
‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘You obviously do.’
‘What?’
‘You have lied to me twice since you’ve been here, and I can tell because your left eye twitches when you do.’ A long finger bobbed about around my eyelid. I swatted him away.
An Impossible Thing Called Love Page 13