8. Leah
8
Leah
When I wake on Friday morning, I feel a wave of embarrassment hit for the way I behaved. Yes, he pissed me off, but too much alcohol had made me basically have a grown-up tantrum. He was right. I was young. A lot younger than him. But try telling my body that, which craves him on waking.
Hearing a car, I jump out of bed and stand at the front bedroom window out of sight. I see him dash up my path. As he does so he’s looking for me, his eyes searching the house, but I remain in the shadows. I told him to find his balls but instead he’s left something on the path. I’m so fucking frustrated in more ways than one.
After getting dressed, I head downstairs, open the door, and find a tub on the path with a note on top stuck on with some sticky tape.
Sorry! Here’s a peace offering! J.
Lifting the lid on the tub, his spicy sauce’s aroma dances up my nostrils and my stomach rumbles. I bet Amelia had pancakes this morning. The thought comes out of left field. I’ve only known them a couple of days and they’re taking over my brain. I need to focus on myself and the things I need to get done.
I spend the day decorating and making Carl cups of tea. Occasionally, I spy out of the back window to see if Amelia’s out there. I don’t feel as obsessed with looking now I know the woman is Jenson’s sister. I’m becoming pathetic. It’s time to look over my project plans for the house and step it all up a gear so that I can be out of here as soon as possible. I need a fresh start, someplace new.
The last few years I’d been at Uni, living in a shared house with other students while I passed my Early Years degree. I was all lined up to start a new job when the call that changed my life forever came. And I learned just who my friends were by the fact that not a single one of them has called to ask how I am. But in some ways that’s perfect. I can move anywhere, work anywhere, live anywhere.
I’m not without family. I have aunties, uncles, cousins. We’re just not all that close and I’m not comfortable with changing that right now. I know they’re worried about me, having lost my mum and dad, but trying to forge a relationship with me now just seems too little too late.
God, I’m miserable today. Even Carl notices it.
“Oi, short stack. What are you doing tonight?” He asks as I wander in with another cup of tea for him.
“Having a wild night in, decorating.”
“No, you’re not. I’ll pick you up at eight. We’re going out on the town.”
I shake my head but he puts a hand up. “I’m not asking you on a date. There are a few of us go out every Friday night, guys and girls. You need to go out. I’m not prying but I overhear stuff on phone calls, and rumours fly around this area. I know you’ve suffered a great loss, Leah, but it’s time for you to put the paintbrush down and paint the town instead. His hands are folded across his chest.
“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”
“Nope.”
“So where is it we’re going?”
Soho. I’ll come call for you at eight and we’ll catch the Tube there together, otherwise I know you’ll bottle it and be a no show.
He’s not wrong. I’d put my pyjamas on and go to bed.
* * *
So that’s how I find myself drinking in the Brewdog bar on a Friday night. This evening I’m dressed in my own style of black skinny fit capri pants and a red v-neck tight blouse that shows off my cleavage to its best advantage. It’s chilli red and I wonder if somehow my subconscious knew that when I picked it out of the wardrobe earlier.
The bar is a vast space with concrete walls and floors and chain-link across the ceilings. Pendant lights hang from red cord and the furniture is sparse and simple. Not that you can spot much of it on this packed Friday night. “How the hell are we going to get served in here?” I yell at Carl. I’ll have no voice soon above this racket.
“Helps if you know the bar staff,” he says and nods indicating that I should follow him to the bar. He pushes his way to one end and putting his fingers in his mouth lets out an ear-piercing whistle. I watch as a small black-haired woman with smoky black eyes and a bright red lips turns towards him, revealing a nose piercing. She sticks her middle finger up at him and carries on serving.
“That went well.” I yell again.
“She’ll be here in a minute.” Carl says. “She’s my cousin.”
“Ah. Handy to have relatives in a busy bar on a Friday night.” I shout.
He nods and answers, “Suki,” showing he clearly didn’t hear a word I said. I guess that’s the name of the little spitfire behind the bar. She heads over after serving and gives Carl a chin tilt.
“Hey, cous. Usual?”
“Yeah, please, and…” He looks at me and Suki follows suit.
“Jack and coke please.” I ask.
Suki raises an eyebrow. “Well, shit, thought you’d ask for a coke and a straw given you look about fifteen. Thought about ID-ing you.”
I raise my own middle finger at her and she howls with laughing.
“I like this one,” she says to Carl.
“Not a date.” He shouts. “She’s currently my boss.”
Suki goes off to get the drinks.
“My cousin acts all spunky and to a large extent she is, but she does have a soft side; or she did when she was younger anyway. I only see her now when we’re out.”
“Huh, I don’t see mine at all.” I shout again.
He looks at me with an expression of sadness and pity and I don’t need it. I’m out in London on a Friday night. I’ve made the effort. I’m dressed up and drinking and I’m going to damn well enjoy myself. It’s time to make some new friends and start as I mean to go on. I pull at his shirt sleeve once we have our drinks. “Come on, let’s get back to the others.”
It’s a great night. The alcohol loosens the restraints I’ve put around myself and I’m pleased that Carl doesn’t try to hit on me. A couple of the guys there talk to me and show interest, mainly in my tits, but it’s nice. And I chat, well, shout, to a few of the girls too. They tell me I’m more than welcome to come again.
I arrive back at my own house alone, merry, and it’s a completely different feeling from the night before’s tears. My tummy rumbles and although it’s half past midnight, I warm up the sauce Jenson left for me. Drunken me can’t be bothered to cook pasta so I dip bread and crisps in it. It’s still delicious. I collapse into bed and dream of kisses at dining tables.
* * *
The next morning, I wake in desperate need of coffee and to a banging noise at my front door.
What the actual fuck?
I walk from my bedroom to the room at the front and look out of the window to find Jenson at the door. What does he want? I open the window and shout down to him.
“Yeah?”
He looks up and I see his eyes widen before I realise that from this position my boobs are threatening to leave my pyjama shirt. Well, I’ve flashed him my arse, and now almost my rack. Why don’t I just walk naked across his lawn? Actually, I sigh, I’d like to do that across his bedroom.
“Erm, sorry to disturb you, but I’ve been called into work on an emergency and I gave my sister the weekend off so I’ve no one for Amelia. I just wondered if you could stay with her, just for an hour? I can take her with me but it’s not an ideal place to be amongst chefs who use the f-word as often as they use the word ‘the’.
“Sure, give me ten to get dressed. Be making me some coffee.” I shout and then I shut the window.
I check out the state of me in the mirror. Mascara streaked eyes and bedhead. Great. Good job his eyes were mainly on my breasts. Men. Says I’m too young for him but it doesn’t stop him checking me out, does it? Anyway, this is about looking after Amelia. So whatever mixed emotions I have right now about her father, I’ll do this for her.
I grab the fastest shower in history, braid my wet hair into a plait, and then I deliberately seek out a short skirt, tights, and a t-shirt. I look like a naughty schoolgirl. Slipping my feet into my trainers I head next door.
“I’m here.” I say as I push through the left ajar door.
“Leah, I’m in the kitchen.” Amelia yells. “I’m having pancakes. Do you want one?”
“I haven’t got time, Amelia.” I hear Jenson say as I reach the kitchen. His mouth drops open when he sees me. Good, that’s just the reaction I wanted.
“Morning, Amelia.” I say brightly. “I can try to cook pancakes.”
“Cool,” she says following it up with her gappy-toothed grin. “So when did you lose the tooth?” I ask.
“Thursday morning. My auntie says it’s all the sugary stuff on my pancakes making my teeth fall out but it’s happening to Rory at school and his family are sugar free vegans so she’s talking crap.”
“Amelia!”
Amelia giggles.
“So,” I turn to Jenson. “I brought around my certificates to show you that I actually have a degree in childcare, so you can rest easy knowing your child is in the hands of an expert.”
He nods but doesn’t ask to see them.
“Look at them.” I shake them at him.
“Fine.” He gives them a cursory glance and hands them back to me.
“Right, well, got to get to work.” He lifts his jacket from the back of the dining chair. “Like I say, I should only be an hour or so.”
I shrug him off. “Take your time. I’m having a day off from decorating.”
“Sick of the smell of paint?”
“That and I woke with a bit of a sore head. I went out last night drinking in Soho with Carl and—”
His eyes narrow. “Oh, you’re not still under the influence, are you?”
“Yes, I’m drunk and in charge of your child. Do you have any more alcohol in the cupboards I can add to my coffee?” I say sarcastically.
“Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. Thank you for looking after Amelia. It means a lot. I’ll repay the favour by helping you in the garden tomorrow. I can see it needs someone a little taller to deal with some of the larger shrubs.”
“Daddy said he liked your bush.” Amelia says.
My eyes widen.
“The Magnolia. It’s thriving in your garden.” Jenson explains.
A smirk dances around my lips and I watch as his own curls at my reaction.
“Kids.” He mutters under his breath and then with a kiss and a hug with his daughter, he tells us he’ll see us later and then it’s just me, Amelia, batter and a pan. What could possibly go wrong?
* * *
“You really can’t do pancakes.” Amelia voices the obvious.
The first one got stuck to the pan.
The second one was far too thick and disgusting.
The third (and last of the batter) was glorious until I tried to throw it, where half stuck to the ceiling and the other half fell to the floor.
“Yup. Think we’d better leave pancake making to your daddy.” I said. “But I tell you what I’m really good at.”
“Yeah?”
“Playing princesses, so let’s go grab our tiaras.”