London Calling (28 page)

Today as I walked home across Hoxton Square in the milky light there were all manner of people and colours strewn across the grass readying themselves for the weekend. I guaranteed they didn’t have as busy a one as mine.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Saturday June 5th and my first thought on waking was ‘cake’. I’d arrived at Julia’s the night before expecting a stressed scene but was greeted at the door by a serene-looking bride-to-be. Tom had vacated to a nearby hotel to be with his best man and friends, under strict instructions not to get drunk. Julia seemed to be taking her own advice too, a bottle of grape juice open on the kitchen table.

Three of the hens turned up and we ate Chinese food and drank white wine spritzers, although Julia limited herself to two as she didn’t want to be hungover in the wedding photos. French manicures and eyebrow teasing featured after a while, nestled in among talk of photographers, flowers and wedding cars as well as Julia intermittently screaming “I’m getting married tomorrow!” and hugging the nearest person a little too hard.

I’d ducked out around 9pm, went home and chatted to Adam about his new squeeze who was apparently proving a good fit, mainly because he was enthusing about Adam’s cooking skills no end. After I hung up the phone to my gushing gay man, I had another call but I was in the kitchen with the kettle on and it rang off just as I got there. When I checked the number it was one I didn’t recognise. I scrolled through and realised it was the same number from the other night. It looked like I had a new Australian stalker. Terrific.

***

But this morning, there was no time to worry. I threw on some jeans and a T-shirt, peering out of my curtains to check it was still sunny – it was. Julia and Tom’s wedding day was going to be glorious and it was also going to have the best cake in town. So long as we didn’t drop it.

I postponed my shower, downing a cup of tea and some toast then pulling on my trainers and walking over to the café where Matt was standing behind the counter with a coffee and a copy of The Sun, confusing customers because the cafe was very much shut. When I banged on the door he looked up, shaking his head from side to side until he realised who it was. Then he broke into a grin and raced round to open the door.

“People keep wanting to come in, maybe we should open up on a Saturday,” he said, closing the door and locking it behind him. He was dressed in his uniform of jeans and a polo shirt, although he had a certain twinkle in his eye this morning.

“Or maybe you should drink your coffee out the back.”

“It’s not sunny round the back,” he said. “What do you think of opening on Saturdays?” He looked like a little kid who’d just had a brilliant idea and I frowned at him.

“I think it would probably be a waste of time and you might sell ten coffees and a couple of buns. But we could try it if it makes you happy so long as I don’t have to work every week.”

“I could employ Saturday staff,” he said.

“Let’s see if it works first, shall we?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Do I get a coffee then?”

“Course,” he said, putting his mug down on top of Dear Deirdre.

“So you look very perky today. Did you get laid last night?”

He grinned. “Might have. And this morning.”

It was my turn to grin at him.

“Am I the only one?” he asked.

“Having coffee?”

“Who got lucky,” he said, bumping my hip with his.

“Unfortunately today, yes. Lucy was out last night so I woke up alone this morning.”

“Shame.”

 “I didn’t know you were a fan of Dear Deirdre either,” I said, changing the subject. “I’m learning a lot about you today.”

Matt smiled as he ground the beans, a noise I hated so he didn’t leave the machine on too long.

“Who isn’t a fan of Deirdre?” he shouted over the din. “You can trust women called Deirdre. They’re not going to steer you wrong, are they?”

“No?”

“No, Deirdres are solid,” he said.

“I only know two – this one and the one on Coronation Street.”

“I rest my case.”

“I’m not sure about the photo-stories though,” I said. I tilted my head to one side where a half-naked woman was sitting astride a man, telling him she was worried about her blow job technique. “Are picture instructions the way to go with sex problems?”

Matt laughed. “Stop being so bourgeois. You don’t get shit like that in The Guardian, do you?”

“I have to admit you don’t.”

He added milk to my Americano and brought it over as another customer knocked on the window. Matt made a motion like he was slitting his throat.

“Are you telling him we’re shut or we’re about to kill him?”

“We should go through to the back, shouldn’t we?” he said.

“Probably,” I said, picking up the paper as we walked.

The plan was to shift the cake to the venue – Julia was having her reception at The Landmark Hotel, opposite the Marylebone registry office where they were getting hitched. In the kitchen were huge cardboard catering boxes for transporting all the cupcakes, which we began to fill, shifting the cakes from the fridges to the boxes.

When the cupcakes were done, we carefully lifted the layers of chocolate cake with white icing into their Tupperware containers and then set about transporting the whole lot to the car. The whole operation wasn’t as painful as I’d anticipated and we were back before 11am, with the wedding at 2pm.

Matt dropped me back at the flat and I threw myself into the shower and began panicking about my wedding outfit – dressing posh always had this effect on me and had done from a young age. My mum loved to regale anyone who’d listen about my childhood tantrums whenever she tried to get me in a dress or put my hair up in a bun. What can I tell you? Clearly, like Lady Gaga says, I was born this way.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

I put the radio on loud in my bedroom and did my hair, praying for it to dry obediently today. Miraculously, it obeyed. Then I dressed in my white trousers and shirt, blue chequered tie and blue and white jacket. I had meant to buy some white shoes to go with the ensemble but ran out of time so my blue ones would have to do. It took away some of the ‘Richard Gere in
An Officer And A Gentleman
’ look but I didn’t mind my reflection in the mirror. Lucy was due in five minutes and I hoped she thought the same.

I was fiddling with my hair and adding extra lip gloss when I heard the door and I grinned at my reflection before racing to the door. I opened it with a broad smile, expecting to greet Lucy. The smile soon evaporated as I saw Karen standing there with a packet of TimTams. She knew I loved TimTams.

“Wow, you look very smart,” she said, giving me the once over and whistling her appreciation. “Actually, scrap smart – more like stunning,” she said, her Aussie accent giving the sentence that expected twang. Unlike me, she was dressed casually in jeans and a red T-shirt with black flip-flops on her feet. Her toe nails were painted silver and her hair was artfully styled, even though she was trying to appear casual.

I sighed. “You never cease to amaze me. Are you stalking me now?”

“Nah, I just followed you home the other night and went to give you these today in the café but it was closed. So I thought I’d drop them off here.” She offered me the packet of TimTams and I took them. They were double-chocolate, my favourite.

“You know I could have you arrested.”

“For giving you TimTams?”

“For following me home.”

She laughed nervously and shrugged.

“Well, thanks,” I said, turning to put her gift on the bottom of the stairs. “But if that’s it, I have a wedding to go to.” I didn’t want to get into histrionics right now, I just wanted Karen to bugger off before Lucy arrived.

“That’s why you’re so smart,” she said. “Julia’s wedding, right?”

Julia had told me she was planning to get married while I was still with Karen and I was surprised she’d even listened. I’d been upset when I thought I probably wouldn’t be able to go but Karen had stepped in and solved that one, so I did have something to thank her for.

“Yeah and I’m expecting my girlfriend, so it’d be good if you’d go. Like,
now
.”

“Girlfriend?” She sounded surprised.

“I told you I was seeing someone.”

“There’s seeing someone and then there’s girlfriend,” she said, putting her hand in her jeans pocket and leaning against the doorframe. Then she put on her serious face.

“Look Jess, I know you weren’t thrilled to see me the other day but I thought you’d have had time to think about it by now. We were good together, you know that. You’ve only just started seeing this other girl, so what is she to you? Give me a chance to make it up to you,” she said, reaching out her hand and brushing my shoulder. I instinctively slapped it away.

“Karen, listen for once in your life for fuck’s sake. I’ve moved on and you should too. Now stop phoning me, don’t come round here again and don’t come to the café, goddit? We’ve been over for a very long time.”

At that moment a black cab steered into the street and pulled up. Lucy stepped out, wearing a deep purple dress with a grey jacket and heels, looking drop dead gorgeous. I took a deep breath – this was not the scenario I had in my head this morning with Karen on my doorstep. I looked at Karen and I think she read my mind – ex-lovers have their benefits. Suddenly, she seemed to get it and stood down, stepping away from the door and turning to smile at Lucy. When she reached the door Karen held out her hand in greeting as I held my breath. My life couldn’t get much weirder than this moment.

“Hi, I’m Karen,” she said.

“Lucy,” my girlfriend replied, eyeing me, then Karen before shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.” Lucy was so polite.

“You too,” Karen said. “Right, well… I’m off. See you around, Jess.”

Karen nodded at me and walked away down the street without looking back.

“Yeah, see ya.”

I watched her retreating figure for a couple of seconds with a gut feeling that this time it was for real and I felt a momentary tug on my heart. But then Lucy’s lips were on mine and I snapped back into reality.

“You look gorgeous,” she said. She stepped back to assess the full package.

“So do you,” I said. And she really did. The colour brought out her gorgeous eyes and her legs were stunning. I drew in breath and didn’t notice the blocks of reality falling into place in Lucy’s mind.

“Was that Karen –
the
Karen?” she said, flicking her head left. I turned, picked up the biscuits and pulled her inside.

“Yep,” I said, not looking at her and walking up the stairs. Lucy followed but I was scared to look round and see her face. I didn’t need to, I knew she wouldn’t be smiling. The kiss from a minute ago seemed a long way off.

“She’s here? Not in Australia?”

“On holiday. She came to give me some TimTams, would you believe.”

“That old chestnut,” Lucy said. She didn’t sound amused.

At the top of the stairs I pulled her to me and kissed her full on the lips but she wasn’t being put off that easily. Instead, I felt her pull away and eye me suspiciously.

“I promise you, she’s the last person I expected on my doorstep this morning.”

“So long as she wasn’t just leaving?” Lucy said. She raised an eyebrow.

I laughed, shocked, which was probably not the best response when your girlfriend asks you that question, just in case you’re ever asked.

“God no,” I said. “I’ve been out with the cake all morning, only got back an hour ago. The door just went and I thought it was you. Instead, there was Karen.”

I squeezed her hand but she pulled back slightly, eyeing me with caution. To be honest, I couldn’t say I blamed her. I knew this was a lot to take in.

“You’re sure?” she said.

“Positive. She just has terrifically bad timing.”

“You didn’t know she was in the UK?”

“I’d heard she was coming over via some friends but London’s a big place. Then she turned up in the café the other day…”

“She turned up in the café?” Lucy’s eyes widened.

Shit.

“Er, yeah. She turned up in the café,” I said. Shit, shit, shit.

“And you didn’t think to mention it?”

I was scared to look at her but knew I had to. I sighed heavily, took Lucy’s hand and looked her directly in the eyes, which were filling with suspicion. This was not how today was meant to go at all and I didn’t want to be the girlfriend who ruined Lucy’s beautifully applied make-up. I had to make this right.

“No, I didn’t mention it and I’m sorry. She turned up and she wanted to catch up but I told her no. I didn’t say anything because, well, things are still too raw after Brighton. I didn’t want anything rocking the boat and thought I’d dealt with Karen and told her to bugger off. I wasn’t hiding anything from you, honest.”

Now it was her turn to sigh and she dropped my hand.

“That’s not the way it seems to me.”

Her face shone with disappointment again and I felt crushed.

“You have to believe me,” I said.

“I do believe you.” Her shoulders slumped. “But things aren’t really plain sailing with you, are they?”

I had to admit they weren’t.

“First you snog someone else on your best mate’s hen night. Then I turn up to go to said best mate’s wedding and you’ve got your ex on the doorstep, just leaving.”

“She never even came in the door…” I stuttered.

“…Bringing gifts for you too. Despite all the evidence though, I want to believe you because I like you. But this is…”

She breathed out heavily, then motioned with her hand between us.

“You and me, we’re good together I think. It’s just you seem to have a whole line of exes queuing up who still think the same and I’m not prepared to share. It’s not me.”

“It’s not me either,” I said. “You’re who I want. Only you. Ange was a drunken idiot and so was I to let it happen. As for Karen, she’s over here on a two-week holiday and that’s just bad timing but she’ll be gone soon.” I sighed heavily. “So can we start this day again? Please?”

I knew my voice was sounding a bit pleading but I figured it was what the situation needed. I took her hand in mine and squeezed. Lucy wanted to believe me and that was half the battle. She looked at me and smiled weakly.