Chapter Eight Who’s That Girl
Chapter Eight: Who’s That Girl
Rahul cursed London’s public transit system.
He was running horrifically late to work and it was all the bloody underground’s fault.
And it was Julian’s fault. Because Julian could be late to work every day of the week, bunk off after lunch, or just fail to show up altogether and Mel would only click her tongue.
But God forbid Rahul be late to work a single day in his life, and she’d blow a bloody gasket.
She’d never even properly told Julian off for the time his girlfriend made a mess of her office.
No, it’d been Rahul who’d gotten scolded for not minding Julian better.
Honestly. He’d thought he could expect some level of nepotism, but this was downright ridiculous.
And now, because the bloody Old Street station had been closed down for maintenance, he had to get off three stops too early and leg it the rest of the way.
By his estimation, he was already a solid forty minutes late.
Mel was going to slice off his bollocks and feed them to him.
As little as she was, she was terrifying when she was angry.
Rahul didn’t usually approach the record shop from this direction and was a fraction disorientated, but the streets told him he wasn’t far off yet.
He was waiting for a light change and taking a break from obsessively checking his watch when he looked up into the window of a cheery flower shop to see none other than Aisling.
He stared longer than was strictly appropriate, trying to determine if it really was her or just someone who looked a great deal like her.
But no, sure enough, it was Julian’s ex-girlfriend.
Though she’d shorn her mass of chestnut-brown curls into an impish pixie cut and her makeup was a bit more flash, it was definitely her.
She wore an apron and handed several customers back their change, smiling warmly at them as they departed.
Rahul wasn’t sure when he’d made his mind up to start moving.
He’d only really noticed it when he found himself standing inside the uncomfortably close and humid little shop, sweating under his heavy winter coat.
He waited behind a stand of fragrant but dull-coloured flowers, watching as she wrapped a bouquet in brown paper and handed it to a middle-aged woman who thanked her in Chinese before paying in exact change.
With the woman gone, the shop was now empty except for Rahul and the pretty girl behind the counter.
Rahul’s heart sped up as he ducked entirely behind the flower display, hoping it would conceal him.
He felt like a shoplifter. He had no idea what he was doing here.
He was already late. What did he think he was going to do?
Say hi? Aisling didn’t want to see him. She hated his guts.
He should just wait for another person to come in and beat a hasty retreat while she was preoccupied. Yes. That’s exactly what he ought to --
“I know it’s you, Rahul. You can come out, you know. I won’t bite.”
His heart leapt in his throat. He looked at the rack he was attempting to hide behind and his cheeks heated. The crown of his head was clearly visible over the top of the display. Damn him and his ungainly height!
He came sheepishly around the rack, hands deep in his coat pockets. “Hiya there, Aisling. Fancy meeting you here. I was just… just… smelling these flowers. You know what they say. ‘Stop and smell the roses’.”
She arched one immaculate eyebrow. “Those aren’t roses.”
“Well, you know what they also say. ‘A rose by any other name.’ All right, be seeing you.”
“Hold on there just a minute, Mr Chaand.”
Rahul froze halfway to the door. He braced himself before turning to face her. But he needn’t have worried, because she was smiling. And he had to admit, she looked much more pleasant than he remembered.
“It’s been ages since I’ve seen you, and you’re off just like that? I don’t think so. What’s it been? Three, four months?”
“Something like that,” he said warily as he approached the counter.
“Come on, don’t be shy. Tell us how you’ve been.”
Rahul’s suspicion deepened. Since when did Aisling care about how he was? She didn’t just look different. She was different. “Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Selling records, fighting crime, blinding unsuspecting passersby with my extraordinary synth-keyboard skills.”
Then Aisling did the most alien thing of all. She laughed. At Rahul’s joke. “I’d forgotten that classic Rahul sense of humour.”
“How have you been, Aisling?” Rahul asked, feeling increasingly more worried. He was beginning to suspect this was some sort of body-swapping situation.
“I’ve been good. Surprisingly. I’ve been really good, actually.” She did look a little surprised about it, in fact. But in a glad sort of way. If Rahul had to put it into one word it would be “delighted.”
“Yeah, you -- ah, you look it. You’ve got a sort of glow… around your facial region.”
Another musical laugh. She was quite pretty when she laughed.
He wondered why she’d never done it much before.
“I’ll take that as your way of saying I look nice.
Well, thank you. You look quite nice, yourself.
You look more…” She tilted her head to the side as she studied him.
“Confident. Taller. You’re standing straighter, I think. ”
Rahul snorted at the irony. He got gayer, yet his posture was straighter.
“How long have you been working here, then? I’d thought you were a receptionist or something.”
“A temp-worker, actually. And not long. Quit my job after I broke up with Julian. Decided to do something I really wanted to do for a change.”
“That’s… yeah. That’s good. Good for you. Empowerment and… the like.”
“Did you want to buy anything or did you just come in to spy on me?”
Rahul gaped but she was wearing a sly smirk, so she clearly wasn’t offended.
He was about to hastily explain how he’d seen her from the street and wanted to stop by and say hi -- and it most definitely was not spying -- when he paused to really give it some thought.
Did he want to buy anything? Flowers were for romantic partners and mums on Mother’s Day.
It wasn’t Mother’s Day, but he had a partner now.
Would Henri like flowers? It seemed rather cheesy to Rahul, but Henri had gone and done the whole candle-lit virginity-losing thing.
He might be into a bit of cheese, a bit of camp.
Then there was the whole business of Rahul feeling slightly guilty for having flirted just that little bit with Julian during their double date… He’d just been a bit caught up, was all. Julian had looked so handsome, and Henri and Michael were virtually ignoring them, and Julian had been so keen…
Henri never seemed to have noticed anything and was content to snuggle up with him in bed that night, and every other night since then. But that didn’t detract from Rahul’s heavy conscience. So giving Henri a romantic little surprise seemed like just the thing to ease his mind.
But then the question was… what sort of flowers could he possibly get him? The only thing Rahul knew less about was women. But here was someone who was not only a woman but had chosen flowers as their occupation.
“Er, yeah. Actually. I was thinking of getting some flowers for my boyfriend but I haven’t a clue where to start. Could you recommend something?” He felt quite bold and proud of himself for using the word “boyfriend” out loud without stumbling over it nervously.
“Oooh, romantic,” she cooed. “So you and Julian finally official, then?”
Rahul nearly choked on his own tongue. “E-excuse me?
A little crease appeared between her eyebrows. “You and Julian. I figured what with Julian dating men now you’d have finally gotten together. I mean, since you’re clearly in love with him.”
Rahul did a bit of indignant sputtering before he was able to formulate words.
“I -- wha --? No, I’m not -- And he isn’t -- It’s not like that --” He took a deep, grounding breath to chase away the sudden dizziness.
“Julian’s with Michael now, and I’m, ah, I’m with someone else.
Nice bloke. Henri. French. He’s very nice.
I’m not in love with Julian. At all. Maybe I was, before, a little bit.
But definitely not anymore. We’re just friends. Because I’m with Henri. And he’s nice.”
“Yeah. You said.” Her expression was dubious.
Rahul deflated a little under her gaze. She seemed able to see straight through him to the truth at his core. He couldn’t quite meet her eye as he asked, “How did you know I was, er, that I had feelings for…”
“It took me a little while to work out, but once I put it together it was pretty obvious.” Her tone was kindly, like that of a sympathetic schoolteacher. “You do try to chase off anyone that gets too close to him like you’re some kind of possessive bulldog.”
All the bulldogs Rahul had ever met had been lazy, content creatures. If anything, he was like his mother’s dogs. A Pomeranian. Territorial and skittish. He couldn’t help but laugh at that, remembering how Julian had reminded him of a Pomeranian once, the very first time they’d met.
“Yeah,” he said fondly.
“I am happy for you, though,” Aisling said as she busied herself picking assorted flowers from their baskets.
“That you’ve found someone else. Honestly, leaving Julian might possibly be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
I can’t ever remember feeling this… free.
I had entirely forgotten what it was like to be single and only having to care about me.
Not having to worry about some spoiled man-baby who needs to constantly have his ego stroked like he’s the Evil Queen asking the mirror on the wall if he’s the prettiest one of all --”
She broke off when she saw Rahul’s pained expression.
“Sorry. Forgot that he’s still your mate,” she continued, face and voice serene, as she arranged the flowers she’d chosen onto a large square of parcel paper.
“It’s just nice to do things I want to do without having to check with someone else first. Sometimes being in a relationship -- regardless of who you’re with -- can feel a bit like being a prisoner.
I feel like I’ve got my life back. Do you know what I mean? ”
“No, I can see, ah, how well you’re doing.
I’m glad. I’m happy for you, Aisling.” And he found that he meant it.
If this was the person she’d always been, then he was sorry she’d been hidden away under layers of resentment and insecurity.
He wondered if he was at least partly responsible for that, as he’d kept her relationship on the rocks for years with his needling.
That thought filled him with a sudden guilt so intense he felt his throat constrict and palms go sweaty.
While Aisling was wrapping up the bouquet, Rahul wiped his hands on his trousers and began, bumbling but earnest, “Aisling, I never… If I ever did anything to… What I mean to say is, I’m sorry.
For everything. I acted like a right berk half the time, and I never thought how that might make you, er… Well. So there it is.”
Despite his inarticulate rambling, Aisling seemed to understand. She offered him a charitable smile that, just a few months ago, he would have mistaken for vain superiority, but which today, in the tropical warmth of the flower shop, seemed to Rahul so compassionate he could have cried.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I was rather unkind to you. Mostly because I never understood how you really felt until it was too late. Putting myself in your shoes, I wouldn’t have liked me very much either. So let’s say we’re even and leave it at that, eh? Forgive and forget.”
She held out a hand for Rahul’s. He tentatively put his hand in hers.
It was cool and damp and soft. She squeezed his hand with earnest affection that Rahul felt he didn’t deserve.
When she let him go, he almost felt worse than he had before her forgiveness.
He’d had her pegged wrong all these years.
Why did it take something awful like Julian stepping out on her and her dumping him for Rahul to finally realise that they could have been friends all along? He really was a human pile of refuse.
Aisling put the finishing touches on the bouquet, wrapping the parcel in a shiny white ribbon that matched the fresh, dew-speckled white flowers nestled in the paper.
She held it out to Rahul gingerly, the way one might hand over a baby, and smiled a brilliant smile around her vivid pink lipstick. “Here. On the house.”
Rahul hadn’t thought it was possible to feel worse, and then she had to go and do something like that. “No, I couldn’t possibly. How much is it? Really, I don’t mind.”
“No, no. They’re on me. Just tell your nice new boyfriend where you got them. In case he’d like to repay the favour. And tell him I said ‘hi.’ Maybe we can all grab a pint sometime and you can introduce me.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” Rahul said with a forced smile.
They stood there awkwardly for a moment before Aisling said, “Well. You know where to find me. Don’t be a stranger.” She said this with a measure of sadness in her sparkling green eyes, as if she knew she would never see him again but wished it didn’t have to be this way.
Rahul forced another tight smile, turned tail and left before he could achieve another, wholly unpleasant level of gut-churning guilt.