Chapter 10
Sunday 8 October
The block of flats looked recently built, yet already growing shabby. Dan gave his name on the intercom, and was quickly buzzed in. The stairwell smelled of mould and there were stains on the carpet. Her flat was on the third and uppermost floor, and she stood there in the doorway, waiting for him with her pouty smile and a twinkle in her eye.
As they greeted each other, she held eye contact for a second or two longer than expected, and he wondered if she was expecting a kiss on the cheek. Dan didn’t even give his best friends a kiss on the cheek – it felt way too personal. He was strictly a handshake or hug kind of guy, regardless of gender, and he didn’t think either was appropriate for this occasion, so he simply nodded.
“Do come in,” she said, “and please excuse the mess.” He followed her into a tiny living room. An opened can of Sainsbury’s Pina Colada sat on the coffee table along with several rolls of camera film, a printout of a recipe for chocolate brownies, and a DVD of Groundhog Day .
He barely noticed any of this though. Elaine looked even prettier than she had at her driving lesson. She was dressed for a warmer season in a brief black halter-neck top and a light, watermelon-coloured skirt with leopard-like speckles.
In the dolls’ house-size room, Dan, in his smart new shirt and jeans, felt like a clumsy, overgrown bear, scared to move in case he knocked something over.
“Welcome to my extremely small and humble abode,” she said. “Are those, by any chance, for me?”
“What? Oh…” He noticed the flowers and chocolates he was holding. “Yes of course. Here you are.” He’d bought them on the way here in a mild panic, not wanting to show up empty-handed but having no idea what to bring. The chocolates, in their heart-shaped box, were way too romantic for the occasion, the flowers even more so, but there had been nothing else at the petrol station.
“Thank you, you’re so kind,” she said. “They’re lovely. I shall just go and put the flowers in a vase.” There was something quite wooden about her manner, yet also weirdly playful, as though she were acting in a poorly written rom com, and having fun with it.
She was on her way to the kitchen when she paused to look back at him, her hand on her mouth to stop herself laughing. “I’m so sorry, Dan. I get the giggles when I’m nervous. This is so weird, isn’t it?”
Dan didn’t have to force his grin. He had to agree – there was something not quite right but also funny about the situation. It was because they were virtual strangers, he supposed, and the flowers-and-chocolates thing, and he still wasn’t quite sure why he was here.
“Yeah, completely and utterly weird,” he said. “But hopefully in a good way.”
“Oh yes! In a very good way. By the way, is that paint or white spirit I can smell?”
“Oh hell,” he said, embarrassed. “I thought I’d got that smell off in the shower. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. It’s not strong at all. I quite like it. It makes me think of fresh starts.”
“I’ve been decorating my new flat all week, so I suppose that makes sense.”
“How exciting!” she said from the kitchen.
“I moved in yesterday. In terms of décor, I’ve gone for a sort of cardboard box theme, but I will at some point have to go out and buy myself some furniture.” Dan had to shout to make himself heard above the sound of water filling a vase. He looked around. “This is a nice place.”
“Don’t,” she said. “It really isn’t, but I can’t afford anything better.”
“I never discovered what you do… for a living I mean?”
“I’m an actor. Mostly an out of work one, sadly.” She came back into the living room holding the vase containing the flowers. “Ta-daa! How’s that then?”
“Better than they deserve, I’d say.”
She shoved aside some rolls of film and placed the flowers on the coffee table.
“Acting sounds pretty glam,” said Dan. “Have you been in any famous shows?”
“Oh, well I appear regularly at a venue not far from here, as it happens.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s that then?”
“Behind the bar at the Rose a lift in a public building with its doors open; a recently resurfaced slip road with a solitary steamroller parked on it; an empty path leading to a hospital entrance with a single weed pushing up through a crack in the tarmac.
These are good , he thought. She’d taken some quite unpromising subjects – familiar yet obscure details of the urban landscape – and made them seem fresh and new. His favourite was of a staircase leading out of a subway. Light poured down from the street, sharply delineating each step but not quite penetrating the shadows of the tunnel. A young woman, facing away from the camera, was trudging up the stairs. She looked tired as if carrying an emotional burden, but the daylight pouring down from above looked like the light of heaven shining on her. It could be a religious metaphor, he thought.
“I love them!” he said, his voice rough with genuine feeling. “I walk or drive past places like this every day but I’ve never properly noticed them before. You’ve brought them to life. You’re really good, Elaine.”
“Thank you,” she said, sounding as if she’d been holding her breath.
He became aware of her physical closeness, the gentle pressure of her thigh on his. He was conscious of the fact that he smelled of white spirit and edged away slightly, but there wasn’t much space on the sofa. Perhaps she noticed his awkwardness because she abruptly got to her feet. “Can I get you a drink, Dan? I have Ribena, orange squash, chocolate milkshake, cocktails?”
He laughed. “Sounds like a children’s party – except maybe for the last one.”
“Oh, yes I suppose it does. I have tea and coffee too. And wine.”
“A cup of tea would be nice, thanks... And then maybe we’d better get started on the baking.”
She seemed confused for a moment. “What? Oh yes. The baking, that’s right.” She went into the kitchen and started filling the kettle.
Dan had been reluctant to mention the bakery lesson, as it pricked the bubble of unreality they’d both been inhabiting since he arrived here. He’d quite enjoyed the state of not quite knowing what was going on and where it was leading. Letting things evolve rather than following an agenda appealed to him, like driving along an open road with no signposts, compared to say riding on railway tracks with a timetable and destination. He didn’t actually give a damn about the bakery lesson and would have been quite happy if it didn’t happen, but he’d gone and blurted it out anyway. That was his inner driving instructor, wanting to impose order and set out a plan. He silently cursed his inner driving instructor.
The tea she served him was weak and flavourless. She hadn’t made herself a drink and simply watched him as he drank his. He managed three sips, then put it down.
“I’m not a tea drinker,” she said, “and I can’t drink coffee in the afternoon or I won’t sleep, so I never know what to drink between lunchtime and evenings.”
“Funny, I was thinking something similar the other day –in the Rose & Crown actually. I was thinking I need a nice, non-alcoholic pub drink.”
“Is there such a thing?” she asked, and he laughed. Then she picked up the printout of the chocolate brownies recipe and said, “I have prepped for this, just so you know. I went shopping this morning. Shall we get started?”