Chapter 24
The heatwave in London was continuing into its third week. The air was as still and torpid as stagnant water, rendering sleep impossible. She wished she’d stayed at Marcus’s hotel, with its cooling air-con and soothing white noise, rather than have to open her windows to the sound of urban foxes screeching, or the restless sense of countless other bodies tossing and turning in the night.
She’d had too much time to think about the previous evening, too much brain space given over to the way she’d felt. When her and Marcus had got together, the whole thing had felt exciting and illicit. The casual stolen moments and hot sex had been more than enough. But the shine was wearing off and an unattractive patina was developing from continued exposure.
It was six in the morning. She cast off the sticky sheet that had wound itself into a wick during her nocturnal thrashings and got up to make coffee. Whilst the rich aroma of Columbia’s finest filled the air, she replied to her emails.
There weren’t nearly enough for her liking. A sum total of seven cc’s (completely ignorable), three requests from her team asking where to find files (quickly actioned), and one note from Tony promising that he hadn’t told Ollie that she wasn’t on holiday. Lying bastard. At least Ollie had two black eyes and an expensive corrective surgery bill to fix a nose that was definitely broken. But things were going more smoothly in her absence than she was comfortable with. Why else did you take holidays from work, if not to prove how indispensable you were at your job?
On the street below, some beefy guy was standing idly by the flats’ garden wall, seemingly waiting for someone. He turned his head and spat, a lumpen oyster of gob landing on the path to the front door. She considered shouting at him, but she’d probably get a stone through the window. Such was the lot of women: putting up with men’s unshakeable sense of entitlement, never fully expressing themselves for fear of the consequences.
She poured herself a coffee and pressed her fingers to the side of the mug until they stung. Okay, she wasn’t so cliched as to think all men were wankers. Forgetting the gambling stuff, Steve had done her a solid by standing up for her. But Ghastly was a horrible specimen of humankind, and Tony also an absolute horror show. Wei was a darling, but he was a friend, so couldn’t be bunched in with the other dick-toting detritus. And Jasper? So he wasn’t the type to spit anywhere at any time, but his faults probably manifested in other ways.
She needed a shower. No, she needed to go for a swim, preferably before everybody else had the same idea.
Twenty minutes later, she plunged into the local lido and allowed herself to sink to the bottom, loose hair waving like anemones in the refreshing water. She held her breath, waiting until the dull ache in her lungs turned to a desperate burn, before breaking the surface of the water again. That was better. She started swimming, trying to put all thoughts of the shelter out of her head, letting the water cleanse her of the faint tug of anxiety the whole thing brought up. When she’d spoken to Marcus yesterday, he’d been typically dismissive. What do you propose you do? he’d said. Start a petition? We both know that’s not who you are. And no, she wasn’t about to become that person. But last week Jasper had made her question her assumptions and, rather annoyingly, herself. He’d made it clear from day one that he considered her to be superficial, which made her oddly determined to defy his expectations. She’d worked hard to educate herself beyond her schooling precisely so she could confound people’s preconceptions about her. And what about Tasha? She was smart – she had something about her – yet she was screwed before she’d even got going. It just seemed so wasteful.
After several lengths, she got out, pulled on a pair of shorts, and meandered into the park to find a spot to dry off. The sun made light work of the job. The day stretched out before her. No work to do. No pressing engagements. No one to hang out with to pass the time. She could go shopping, but the idea didn’t hold the appeal it might ordinarily. It was too hot to be wandering around, too syrupy to be trying on clothes, and besides, what did she really need?
A dog slowly hobbled over the brow of the hill towards her. It had a greying snout and sad rheumy eyes that met with her own. It seemed harmless enough, so she allowed it to lick her hand. Just as she imagined it might be a stray, another ponderous figure ambled into view: a homeless person, lugging a heavy rucksack on his back.
‘Sorry if he’s bothering you, love,’ he said.
The dog continued to lick her with its rough tongue.
‘Come away, Gyp.’
Gyp seemed torn. It was as if the dog sensed her need for company.
The man waited patiently. ‘He likes people.’
She ran her other hand down the dog’s back. It was almost certainly rescued, and probably had better reasons than she did to feel aggrieved at the world, but here it was, offering affection regardless.
‘Come on, mate.’ The man began to walk away. ‘Let’s leave this lady be.’
She was tempted to call him back, perhaps have a conversation with him like Wei had suggested. She wondered what Jasper would do. Whatever it was, she was sure it would come completely naturally to him. But she wasn’t Jasper. Nor was she Gayle. She was Simone Stephens, and in situations like this, she was as comfortable as a lap-dancer’s shoe.
‘I think you need to go.’
She removed her hands from the dog’s fur and it trotted off on arthritic legs.
She lay back down on the grass, closed her eyes and thought about the week ahead. On Tuesday, it was the funeral of the man Jasper had mentioned. It was difficult to imagine what a crematorium full of homeless people might be like. How would a guy like the one she’d just seen go about getting ready for a funeral? Was it possible to properly pay your respects whilst wearing dirty tracksuit bottoms? And then an idea popped into her head. What was it that Wei had said? Everyone just wants to feel normal. Well, she might not be capable of being a different person, but perhaps she could make good use of the one she already was. It turned out she was going shopping after all.