Chapter 4
Chapter Four
ELENA
The smell of roasting coffee filled the morning air as Elena headed down Portobello Road, making it impossible for her to walk past the barista van without succumbing to temptation.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t earned it, she’d already been for a run this morning, and a caffeine hit was reward for her efforts.
Shifting her phone to the other ear, she leaned against the side of Portobello’s Gold jewellery shop as she waited for the queue to disperse. She didn’t want her fellow Notting Hill residents to overhear her conversation with Luisa and learn about her sister’s latest health issues.
‘Did you get any sleep last night?’ she asked, knowing how much Luisa loathed being in hospital.
‘It’s impossible to sleep with so much noise. Machines beeping, patients groaning, and incessant coughing. If I don’t get parole soon I’ll go insane.’
Elena felt for her sister, she wanted her home too. Hospital stays were scary for the whole family, not just Luisa. There was always the underlying fear that one day her sister wouldn’t make it home. ‘Have your oxygen levels improved?’
‘Not really. The doctor said my SATS are still too low for him to discharge me. My fingernails are an attractive shade of blue, and that’s without gels.’
Elena rubbed her forehead. Things were not improving as quickly as she’d like.
Sometimes Luisa responded to treatment and was out of hospital within a couple of days.
Other times it seemed like her body was resistant to the drugs—or, more likely, her body wasn’t up to fighting off the infection, a more worrying scenario. ‘Is your breathing better?’
‘Until I move about, and then it’s like I’m a hundred years old. There’s only so much lying in bed watching Netflix I can take.’ She made a raspberry sound. ‘Anyway, I’m bored talking about my health. Entertain me. What are you doing?’
A group of women had been served and were now moving away from the van, shortening the queue. Good. Elena was running late. ‘I’m on my way to work. I have a new client booked this morning, post-op ACL repair.’
‘Please tell me he’s a six-foot rugby player with thighs the size of tree trunks.’
Elena laughed. ‘Sorry to disappoint. Sixty year old woman who fell over on a bus when it braked sharply.’
‘Dull.’
‘I’m sure she’d agree, three weeks on crutches is no fun.’
‘Have you no hot new patients to tell me about? Not even a mildly attractive banker with a sprained ankle?’
‘Not as yet, but the day is young, who knows what accidents might occur.’ The queue moved again and Elena caught sight of a man who seemed to be taking in his surroundings. ‘Although there’s a nice-looking man queuing for coffee at the van.’
‘Excellent. Details, please. I currently have no love life stuck in here, so I need to live vicariously through you. Age? Height? Actor resemblance? Give me the lowdown.’
Elena never judged men by looks alone, but her sister needed distracting, so she played along to ease Luisa’s suffering. ‘He’s tall, medium-build, late thirties, and reminds me of …’ she squinted, assessing his dirty blond hair, prominent cheek bones and square jaw. ‘Ryan Reynolds.’
‘Ooooh, maybe it’s actually him?’ Luisa sounded excited. ‘He might be filming in the area.’
‘Nah, he just looks a bit like him. He has the same mischievous eyes.’
Luisa laughed, which was a great sound … until she started coughing and Elena had to hold the phone away until the fit subsided.
‘Is he alone?’ Luisa eventually asked, still wheezing.
Elena checked the queue. ‘He appears to be.’
‘What’s he wearing?’
‘A dark grey three-piece suit.’
‘Oh, god, not another suit.’
Elena winced, as she always did at the mention of ‘the suit’—or rather, her boyfriend of five years, Felix.
It was difficult to get her head around everything that had happened over the last four months.
Up until January, everything had been fine.
Or at least, she thought it had been fine, but then Felix announced he’d accepted a new job in Manchester and was relocating.
He didn’t want them to split up, and hoped she’d move with him, but when she pointed out she couldn’t leave Luisa, they’d argued over where her loyalties lay.
He’d accused her of pandering to her family, and she’d accused him of putting work before family.
They were mid-argument when her phone rang with the news that her mother was being blue-lighted to the nearest emergency department.
Felix didn’t come with her to the hospital that night. He did attend her mother’s funeral two weeks later, but left the next day for Manchester as planned, unwilling to delay the start of his new job. Was it any wonder she was bitter?
‘Not all men who wear suits are like Felix.’
Luisa scoffed. ‘I’ve yet to be convinced. Does he look judgemental?’
Elena watched the man smile at a small child and pick up the kid’s toy for him, which had fallen from his buggy. Elena couldn’t blame the mother when she offered him a flirtatious smile—she was feeling a little warm herself.
‘Who knows,’ she said with a shrug, admiring his straight spine. He had good posture, the physio in her noticed these things.
She’d always defended Luisa’s accusation that Felix was ‘boring’, he just wasn’t as playful or demonstrative as they were.
His family were accountants and actuaries whose idea of a good night out was watching the opera and attending polo matches.
They’d never appreciated the Romeros’ love of dressing up as Hobbits to attend a Secret Cinema event, or pedal-boating on the Thames in the pouring rain for the hell of it.
It was only after they’d broken up that she’d been able to analyse the relationship properly.
In hindsight, maybe they weren’t as compatible as she’d imagined.
She hadn’t enjoyed being coerced into attending highbrow quizzes, and he’d found her love of pillow fights too ‘silly’.
As for public displays of affection, they were ‘unnecessary’ and ‘inappropriate’.
He wouldn’t even hold her hand in public.
Realising all this didn’t make the breakup any less painful.
It still smarted that he’d chosen his career over her.
Elena sighed, still adjusting to the change in her relationship status. ‘What does judgemental even look like?’
‘Rigid posture, sombre expression, doesn’t laugh when someone trips up the kerb. Someone who looks at everyone with a critical eye, as if expecting them to nick their wallet.’ Luisa didn’t lack imagination, that was for sure.
The man reached the front of the queue and ordered his coffee. ‘This guy seems chilled enough. He’s smiling at the barista, so that’s something.’
‘I need convincing. Follow him and see where he works. If he’s an another actuary, run a mile.’
The queue had disappeared, so Elena headed over to the van and ordered a cappuccino with extra chocolate sprinkles. ‘I’m not following a strange man,’ she hissed into the phone.
‘Why not? Some of my best dates have resulted from a spot of stalking.’
Elena rolled her eyes. ‘I wish you wouldn’t tell me these things. Like I don’t worry about you enough. Your lack of personal safety is alarming.’
‘Think of it as living on the edge. A terminal illness removes any fear of being bumped off via other means.’
Elena stepped away from the van, lowering her voice. ‘Your condition isn’t terminal. It’s life-limiting.’
‘Which is a polite way of saying I’m unlikely to reach forty.’
‘People with CF live longer every year. The latest treatments are amazing.’ Elena needed to believe this as much as Luisa did.
‘Then why am I stuck in hospital on an IV drip? Every infection leaves me weaker, no point denying it. And how did we get onto my health again? Stop depressing me, woman. Tell me about the hot Ryan Reynolds lookalike.’
Elena strained her head to see where he’d gone. ‘Well, he’s now heading down Portobello Road. He’s walking slowly, looking at the stalls and pausing when something catches his eye. I’m guessing he’s not local, he seems a bit overwhelmed by all the chaos.’
‘Good. Maybe he needs a tour guide. Go offer to show him the sights. Or better still, push him in front of a bus. Cause an injury so he needs to see a physio and then offer him your card.’
The barista indicated Elena’s coffee was ready, so she went to fetch it. ‘Your mind is a strange and scary place, Luisa Romero. Only you could come up with such a crazy idea. And besides, there’s nothing romantic about attempted murder.’
‘On the contrary. Men like assertive women. Have I taught you nothing?’
Smiling, Elena headed away from the van. ‘There’s a thin line between being assertive and being a certified nutter.’
‘Semantics. … Have you lost sight of him?’
‘No, he’s turning off the main road, heading towards …’ Elena stopped and watched the man opening the iron gate. He favoured his left side slightly, pausing to rub his right hip before continuing. Interesting. Maybe he did need a physio after all?
‘Elena? … What’s happening? Has he been run over? Mugged? Fallen down a manhole? What?’
‘He’s heading into the building where I work.’
‘You’re kidding me.’
Elena watched as he unlocked the door and disappeared inside. ‘He must be the new tenant.’
‘Bullseye. Time for action. Go introduce yourself. Smile, flirt, suss him out, and then phone me immediately with the lowdown. I want details, including his star sign and his marital status. Okay?’
Elena laughed at her sister’s ludicrous demands. ‘I’m not interrogating the poor man. Especially as I need to get on his good side.’
‘Did you say bedside?’
Elena shook her head, still laughing. ‘I’m hoping he’ll swap offices with me.’
‘So go be charming. Disarm him with your feminine wiles and get what you need. Also, get his phone number.’
‘Speak later.’
‘Can I stay on the line and listen?’
‘No.’ Elena headed for the building.
‘Spoilsport.’