Eleven Lines to Somewhere Page 11

  She was speechless but to ask about Hana felt immature in the face of his older-man certainty.

  ‘Cool,’ she said. ‘I’ll walk you to the lobby.’

  He kissed her on the cheek and as he said goodbye he held her gaze for a second longer than could be considered platonic. Their eyes were dead level.

  As she returned to her desk, she glanced at her phone. His text read:

  Dinner this Friday, I’ll book for 8 p.m.

  She was startled, firstly, because his texting technique was incredibly speedy for someone not in their twenties, and secondly, because there was no question mark. He had included a comma, so he had not simply abandoned punctuation or forgotten the question mark. His confidence was appealing. It was, she admitted to herself, sexy. They were meeting on Friday and that was that.

  Chapter 14

  Both Naomi and Ryan decided to have a quiet night in on Thursday. Both decided to eat simply and without booze.

  ‘I’ve bought some soups,’ Naomi said. ‘Do you want to choose one? I like all of them.’

  She even heated them up on the hob for them and buttered some ciabatta rolls. As she did so she became vaguely aware that she could not recall ever being so domestic in a kitchen as she was with Ryan. She shuddered as an image popped into her head of her wearing a stiff wipe-clean apron while she kneaded some dough. But she kept on buttering and stirring. She was starting to feel very guilty at interrupting Ryan’s family by dating someone his sister so obviously liked. Ryan did not notice.

  ‘I’m meeting Millie, now Sylvie, for a drink after work tomorrow,’ he blurted out.

  ‘You’ll have to call her MNS for short,’ Naomi said, ‘or – radical idea – just call her Sylvie. Actually, ask her if her name is really Sylvia. One vowel change and it goes from the name of a spinster to the name of a pretty pixie.’

  Ryan shrugged. Her name was the least of his worries. He wondered what would happen if he suggested they leave Waterloo station, walk out into the winter air, cross the bridge and head to the West End. As he thought about their second Waterloo lunch, and he was certain he could recall every word they had exchanged; he remembered he had told her about Ed and Hana.

  ‘Oh, I’ve just remembered,’ he said, ‘I saw Ed, Hana’s boyfriend, at the uni this week, which was weird.’

  Naomi felt betrayed. What was the point of the buttering and stirring if Ryan was just going to put her on the spot like this? She inhaled sharply, then pretended to have butter on her nose and hoped her voice would sound nonchalant as she wiped it away.

  ‘Yes, I forgot to mention it. He was passing and came in to see us but you were out so I gave him the tour.’

  Ryan exhaled.

  ‘Oh, good, I was worried he’d come to see you.’

  ‘Nah,’ Naomi said. ‘I don’t think so, I was a bit surprised he remembered we worked at the same place, to be honest, it was a while ago now that I met him at your mum’s but, er, are he and Hana still loved up?’

  ‘Not sure really, she seems less happy, maybe it’s wobbling. He didn’t come over at Christmas and she was a bit upset, I think.’

  They slurped at their soup as Naomi processed what Ryan had said. Hana had glared at her, back in the summer, and at the time Naomi had thought it was because she was tipsy and garrulous and unimpressed by the romance of her and Ed’s meeting, but now she realized it was really because she was wearing a pink vest, she was as tall as Ed and she was a scientist.

  The bar was packed but Ryan found a low table with room for two and waited. This time it was Sylvie who was five minutes late. Her hair was pinned back, loosely, so that a few curly candyfloss strands framed her face.

  She peeled off her dove-grey trench coat and sat down at right angles to him in the cramped space. She was wearing a soft wool short-sleeve jumper. She was both wholesomely cuddly and sexy at the same time.

  ‘I don’t know what you like so I haven’t ordered anything yet,’ he said, ‘but the cocktails look fun. And don’t laugh but I think I’m going to have an Appletini because I watch Scrubs a lot and… have you seen it?’

  She nodded. ‘Good show and yes, JD, he likes Appletinis, I remember that now.’

  They took their first sips at the same time, both of them expecting something excruciatingly cloying.

  ‘Maybe in America it’s less sophisticated,’ she said, ‘because it’s quite nice really, not too sweet and not as girlie as the show would lead us to believe.’

  They discussed Scrubs for a while and then other box sets they had in common but to Ryan it seemed they were in a play, avoiding the topics normal people would discuss.

  ‘How’s the job hunting going?’ he said.

  ‘Not amazingly well,’ she said.

  He smiled encouragement but she did not expand.

  ‘Are you getting interviews?’ he said, wondering now if she had been wandering around the Underground after getting cold feet or a bad attack of nerves.

  ‘I have had a few but I’m just not…’ Here she placed her glass carefully on the napkin on the table. ‘I have to finish something first.’

  ‘Something?’

  ‘Yeah, something hard to explain. But it’s coming to an end, I think. I hope so anyway.’

  ‘Maybe I can help,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, you are helping already. I don’t normally let strange men buy me lunch, you know, but I feel I know you or ought to know you for some reason.’

  She shook her head as if keen to release more curls. ‘Anyway, that’s all for another time. Tell me, did your sister like her book? No. Tell me: did you find out about her boyfriend and whether she needs to worry?’

  ‘No, no it’s all fine, he was at the uni to see me and my flatmate. Together. A sort of package. I just didn’t give him a chance to speak because I was rushing to meet you.’

  ‘You’ve seen him since, then?’

  ‘Oh, no, but my housemate, Naomi, she explained what happened.’

  Sylvie squinted at him. ‘OK,’ she said in the tone people use when something is far from OK.

  ‘What? What have I said?’

  ‘Think about what you were initially worried about. If he was after Naomi or already seeing her, would she just tell you? Just like that?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ he said uncertainly. ‘Am I being a bit dim?’

  She touched his elbow. ‘Of course not, I’m just saying it might not be so simple after all. But I hope it is, for your sister’s sake.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Would you like to walk across the river, find something to eat in Covent Garden?’

  Sylvie looked startled, as if it had not even occurred to her that the river was crossable.

  ‘I can’t think of a good reason to say no,’ she said.

  The wind bit into them as soon as they saw the water and her hair became scattered and wild. He thought she might just be the most beautiful woman he had ever met and just as he was feeling triumphant that they were outside the remit of Transport for London – that they were just like any other couple on a first date; nervous, keen, hormonal, happy – he felt Ellen’s hand on the nape of his neck, her breath close to his ear, reminding him that she was the most beautiful girl in the world and he realized why he had been so patient in tracking Sylvie. While she had been a puzzle she had been another ghost, not something to rival Ellen, to test his vow, made all those winters ago, that he would never want anyone else.

  Naomi had been alone in Cotton Street most of the day. Staring at her laptop, then at her wardrobe, then at the laptop again. She had done about as much research as it was possible to do on a restaurant. She had peered closely at the six photos on its website and noted that it had lots of internal foliage and fairy lights but that this had been concocted in a classy, urban sort of way. The prices were neither steep nor reasonable, the reviews were mostly extremely positive. The place was large enough not to be labelled intimate but not so huge that it would swallow whole a couple trying to talk quietly.

  The m
ain problem was that Naomi was not quite convinced she was on a date and, when she decided for a few minutes that she must be, she realized Ed could not be all that nice a bloke. When she thought about just how nice he was she had to conclude that they could not, therefore, be going on a date.

  She wore a knee-length dress and suede boots with a two-inch heel because she knew the only times she had stood next to him she had worn two-inch heels and she had liked how level that made them. This was not an evening during which she wanted to be shorter or taller than Ed.

  He was stood outside, leaning against the window frame.

  ‘Hello, you,’ he said as if they were old friends, old lovers.

  ‘Hello, Ed,’ she said as he kissed her on the cheek as smoothly as if they had been married for months or colleagues for years.

  He held the door open for her and they were guided to a table where one of them would have their back to the wall and one would be facing it but it was also next to the window so neither of them would be without a view.

  ‘Which side would you like to sit?’ he said.

  She chose the seat facing the restaurant.

  ‘You look really lovely,’ he said.

  ‘Ah, well,’ she said, but before she could continue he placed his hand upon hers briefly.

  ‘I have to say this. I am not the sort of bloke who meets someone when with someone else and thinks, oh she’s nice, I’ll move on. I have never done that. But you blew me away, Naomi. I thought I’d get you out of my system but I couldn’t. Let’s face it, I waited nearly six months since first meeting you. Something happened when we walked through that little kitchen, something weird really, like an electric shock. And I felt it again when I came to see you.’

  He frowned and paused.

  ‘Look, it’s hard to put into words without it sounding like a cheesy song lyric…’ he trailed off. He wanted to say, ‘But I think I could love you,’ but he knew better than that. He knew it would sound needy and off-putting and possibly scary. And maybe untrue. Ed was not sure if he could define love, but he was certainly bewitched.

  Naomi ran her fingers along the edge of the menu. She was simultaneously flattered and annoyed.

  ‘What are you saying? Have you split with Hana? Because we met through Hana’s brother, my friend, and Hana, I’ve heard, is totally into you. That is not cool, Ed.’

  He sighed.

  ‘It’s not cool. I know that but, honestly, I’ve been trying to let her go gently. I know her story, that she’s had a shit time and I’m the first man she’s trusted and heck, that’s a lot of responsibility. I didn’t want that role. I was single, she was nice, and then suddenly I’m in a room with her dotty grandfather who clearly thinks all black men look the same, her over-emotional mother, her protective brother, and trust me that does not bode well for anything remotely romantic – which makes our connection all the more astonishing.’

  ‘Can we order some drinks?’ she said and only when she had gulped down half the house aperitif did she respond.

  ‘I’m here, so you know I like you. Actually, to be honest, I had a crush on this guy which died as soon as I met you so yes, I think we have made a connection but we don’t make any progress while Hana thinks you are together. You have to find a way to end it so she isn’t devastated, and even then it will be tricky because I share a house with her brother.’

  She smiled, cheekily. ‘So you’d have to put me in a little flat of my own.’

  ‘We could share a flat. I’d move closer to town.’

  They both wallowed in the warmth of forbidden flirtation and then roused themselves to order food.

  He walked her to the nearest Tube station and as they stood on the platform he took hold of both her hands.

  ‘We’re going in opposite directions,’ he said, ‘and I won’t see you again until I’ve sorted it with Hana.’

  ‘Be kind,’ Naomi said. She could see that her train would arrive first and as she looked into his eyes their lips touched because their lips were level and she was as close to swooning as she ever had been in her life.

  She looked for a seat but the carriage was full of painted faces and swaying drunks apart from the far corner, where Ryan was sat with a girl with a creamy complexion and nearly red wavy hair. Her first instinct was to get off at the next stop, Piccadilly Circus, but he might see her and become suspicious and she saw no way it would help matters for her to avoid him now. She was about to shuffle over to him but then realized she had the perfect reason for avoiding him: she did not want to spoil their romantic journey home. So, feeling practically virtuous, she pushed against the hordes trying to alight and waited for the next train.

  ‘Is Naomi very tall with a dark bob?’ Sylvie asked Ryan.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, looking around the carriage. ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh, then in that case she was about to come over – she definitely knows you – but thought better of it and got off,’ Sylvie said, having seen Naomi and Ed. They had been an eye-catching couple and Sylvie had an eye for pockets of difference on the Underground. And from what Ryan had told her it could only have been Hana’s Ed that Naomi was almost but not quite kissing and it was the almost part of it that made them stand out. It was rather beautiful. A piece of slow-motion cinema amid the swirling madness of late-night Tube travel.

  Ryan was already unsure what they had eaten that evening, every gesture had felt momentous. He had touched the tips of her fingers, unable to resist but also fearful she would pull away. She had kept her hand there but looked away, shyly. They had played some upbeat Motown in the restaurant and then Marvin Gaye’s ‘Inner City Blues’, which he knew and loved and considered one of the sexiest songs he had ever heard, so when Sylvie had said, ‘Oh, do you like this song, I love it,’ he had almost slid off his chair with happiness.

  Ryan travelled past his stop and walked out of Eastcote station with Sylvie.

  ‘I’d like to walk you to your door but that might sound, I don’t know, pushy or corny or something,’ he said, hoping she would insist it was neither and, anyway, he still did not have her number.

  ‘That’s nice of you but I’m fine to walk from here,’ she said. Her breath froze slightly as she spoke and he leaned in but she turned her face to her left so he was forced to kiss her cheek. In the distance a girl laughed and he thought, again, of Ellen.

  ‘Can I give you my number?’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘And I’ll text you.’

  ‘Good, that’s good,’ he said, trying not to sound forlorn, and she turned and started to walk down the uninspiring high street, so he turned back into the station and wondered if the evening had been wondrous or deflating. As he neared North Ealing, humming Marvin Gaye, he concluded it had been both, and he was full of gratitude that Naomi had not interrupted their ride home. Great girl, he thought, she deserves to find a great guy.

  Ed suggested they meet in Regent’s Park for a London walk. No need for hiking boots, he said in his text. Hana had not seen him for three weeks. She was both excited and nervous. It was icy cold and the sky was a weak blue damaged by long slate-grey clouds. Hana had bought a new coat while trying to convince herself she had not been shopping just for this walk. Now she felt stupid. Her coat was so obviously on its first outing and would tell Ed all on its own how desperately she wanted to keep hold of him. On impulse she looked around her as she walked to the Tube station, took it off and dragged it along the pavement. When on the train she rolled it up and sat on it to give it some creases.

  When she found Ed he said: ‘New coat?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Actually, it needs a clean.’

  ‘I sort of like this weather,’ Ed said. ‘It makes London feel sharp and fresh, ready for anything.’

  Hana looked across the park towards the grand houses that were built like wedding cakes.

  ‘I prefer Devon though,’ she said.

  Ed took her hand.

  ‘Devon was great,’ he said and he took a deep breath, a brea
th so deep he hoped it would tell Hana all she needed to know. ‘But I feel we’ve been drifting apart for a few weeks and maybe this isn’t really going anywhere. You must have felt the same thing?’

  He hoped he did not sound impatient or that he was talking to a simpleton. He needed to believe she was prepared for this. He was no good at hurting people but that had never stopped him before. Honesty was preferable to deception. It was preferable to compromise.

  Hana could not help it, she began trembling. She said nothing. They kept walking.

  ‘Look, it’s all my fault,’ he said. ‘I’ve let us carry on because I knew you had been through hell but of course you don’t want a bloke who feels like that.’

  ‘You mean pity?’ she stammered.

  ‘No, of course not, Hana. I mean, I liked you and still do but not quite enough to make us a thing and, well, you deserve more than someone who thinks that way.’

  ‘A thing?’

  ‘Sorry, a relationship. I don’t want a long-term commitment.’

  She knew she should walk away with dignity but she felt protected in his company even though he was breaking up with her.

  ‘It is a new coat,’ she said and he smiled uncomfortably.

  ‘Hana, I didn’t want to do this via email. I’m old school. I want to give you a hug and wish you every happiness.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ she said, ‘I didn’t have any other plans for today anyway.’

  ‘Shall we go for a coffee and warm up?’ he said, the guilt of the conversation seeping into his heart.

  ‘No, you can walk me to the Tube and we’ll leave it at that,’ she said. ‘But, be honest, Ed. Does this mean you have met someone else?’

  Ed paused, torn between a desire to be honest and to avoid specifics.

  The silence wounded Hana. She filled it with panicked thoughts.

  ‘Does this have something to do with Naomi?’

  ‘Do I know a Naomi?’ Ed said.

  Hana felt her chest tighten.

  ‘Ryan says a Naomi gave you a tour of his university.’

  ‘Oh, yes, right, I’d forgotten. Well, we are not splitting up because of a university tour, I can promise you that.’