Nell
PRESENT
I wake the next morning after a frugal couple of hours’ sleep, a lonely weekend looming over me like a dense, rain-filled cloud. My low mood is made worse by imagining Alex spending time with his father in his childhood home. It makes me wish I had a family to visit at weekends.
I spend an hour or so on my French lessons but by eleven o’clock I’m pacing the floor, searching for something to do.
There’s a food market on Saturday, a ten-minute walk away from the house and, although I’m not keen on shopping, I love cooking.
On impulse, I message Romy, asking if she and Rob are free to come for dinner.
Are we finally going to meet Alex? Romy asks.
No, he’s in Washington, playing at being a spy, I message back.
Not worth coming then. I wait a beat and another message appears. Joke. Thanks, see you later!
Now that I know Romy and Rob are free, I message Marcus and invite him to join us.
I wouldn’t have felt comfortable having him over without Romy and Rob because Romy had never made a secret of her wish that Marcus and I would eventually get together.
I’d been alarmed when Marcus had seemed to take her jokey hints seriously.
When I mentioned that there was a film I wanted to see, and he suggested we go together, I told him that I’d already agreed to go with Sadie.
When he told me about a restaurant he wanted to take me to, I pretended I’d misunderstood that it was meant to be just the two of us and had invited Romy and Rob along.
Fortunately, now that I have Alex in my life, the problem of trying not to hurt Marcus’s feelings has gone away.
Shrugging on my waterproof coat, I make my way to the market, my mood already brighter at the thought of seeing my friends this evening.
As I pass the coffee shop on the corner, the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans reminds me that I haven’t had breakfast. I go in; Aziz is behind the counter, slipping freshly baked croissants into the glass cabinet. The smell is wonderful.
Aziz gives me one of his huge smiles.
“Hey, Nell! I haven’t see you for a while. Have you been on holiday?”
I climb onto a barstool at the counter. “I wish. Just busy.”
“You shouldn’t work so hard. It’s not good for you.”
“You work far harder than I do,” I protest.
He grins. “I just pull cups of coffee.”
“The best coffee in London. Talking of which, could I have a double espresso and one of those lovely croissants?”
Aziz shovels beans into the coffee grinder and presses the button. “How is Alex?” he shouts over the noise.
“He’s good, in the US at the moment.” I pause, checking myself.
Maybe I shouldn’t be telling people in my neighborhood that Alex is away and that I’m home alone.
I have nothing to fear from Aziz but what if someone comes in and starts asking questions?
Aziz would never gossip about me but what if it was subtly done, a US newspaper placed casually on the bar, leading to a conversation about the number of Americans living in London, leading to the mention of an American having more or less moved in nearby but who is away at the moment, which means his partner is by herself.
I mentally scold myself for my massive overthink. “He’ll be back soon,” I say.
Aziz nods at this, and happy that the information has registered, I relax into my coffee and croissant.
When I get to the market, I try to ignore the pervading feeling of eyes on my back.
At one point, when the intensity sharpens, I turn quickly and scan those behind me, hoping to catch whoever it is.
Most people have their heads bent over a stall, looking at produce, or are engaged in conversation with the stallholder and those that aren’t don’t seem interested in me at all.
I haven’t yet resorted to using a shopping caddy, the kind you pull along behind, but as I struggle home with a bag on each shoulder, I begin to wish that I had.
I stop for a moment to adjust the bags and release strands of hair that have become caught in the straps, acknowledging that while fruit might be healthy, it’s also heavy. And I still need to buy wine.
I spend the afternoon in the kitchen, listening to music while I prepare the meal for the evening.
I love my house, I had loved it as soon as I saw it.
Unlike the other houses in the street, the kitchen had been extended into what had been a small garden area by my great-aunt, who, I learned from the solicitor, had loved cooking more than she’d enjoyed gardening.
The kitchen soon became my favorite place.
Longer than it is wide, it has a small island that runs lengthwise down the middle, with two stools tucked underneath to make a breakfast bar.
The sink is to the right of the island, the cooker to the left, and with no windows, the light comes from a glass light well set into its roof.
When my friends arrive, I move around the kitchen, sourcing drinks for everyone, beer for Rob, a gin and tonic for Romy, and a glass of wine for myself.
“Where’s Marcus? I ask, handing Romy her gin and tonic.
“He’s popped upstairs,” Rob says, and I nod. Not having a bathroom downstairs is the one drawback of the house as it means guests have to go upstairs to pee.
“I’m here,” Marcus says, walking into the room.
I give him a smile. “What can I get you to drink? Beer, gin, wine?”
“Damn,” he says. “I meant to bring a bottle of champagne.”
“Since when have you started drinking champagne?” I tease.
“I do, on special occasions. And tonight is a special occasion.”
“I’m intrigued,” I say. “But I’m afraid I only have wine.”
He moves to the door. “I’ll go and get a bottle. I won’t be long.”
“Are you sure wine won’t do?” I call after him. But he’s already gone.
I look questioningly at Romy. “Champagne?”
“I think he has some news he wants to share.”
“Good news, obviously.”
“For him, yes.”
“That sounds ominous. He’s not leaving the agency, is he?”
“No, nothing like that. More on a personal level.”
“He has a girlfriend?”
Romy looks uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait. It’s not my news to tell.”
While we wait for Marcus to come back, we carry plates and cutlery through to the sitting room.
Apart from the lack of a bathroom downstairs, the other thing I regret is that there isn’t enough room for more than two people to eat in the kitchen.
I could have installed a dining table at the far end of the sitting room but decided it would be a waste of space when nobody seems to mind eating at the low but suitably large square table I invested in.
The four footstools tucked underneath it act as impromptu chairs.
“Thanks for these,” I say, looking at the bowls of olives, sun-dried tomatoes, and nuts that Romy and Rob brought. I pop an olive stuffed with anchovy into my mouth. “These are my favorites.”
Marcus comes back and I manage to locate four champagne glasses, give them a wipe, and carry them through to the sitting room.
“So,” Marcus says, untwisting the wire from around the cork.
“We’re having champagne because it was Rob’s birthday last Saturday and you weren’t able to celebrate it with us because you were at your work event.
” He puts the bottle down on the table and eases the cork out with a pop.
Bubbles spill over the rim and I quickly push a glass in front of him, trying to hide my confusion at having missed Rob’s birthday and guilt at Marcus’s mention of my fictive work function.
“I’m so sorry, Rob,” I say, my hand on my heart. “Romy didn’t tell me it was your birthday.”
Rob laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Marcus is only teasing.”
“You couldn’t have come anyway, because of your work event,” Romy says.
I frown, uncomfortable that Romy and Marcus have both emphasized the excuse I’d used so I could spend the evening with Alex.
“What?” I ask, catching the two of them exchanging an amused glance.
“It’s just that we decided to go to L’Escargot instead of having dinner at Romy and Rob’s,” Marcus says.
“And?”
He pushes his navy-framed glasses, which enhances the deep blue of his eyes, further up his nose.
“Well, as L’Escargot isn’t far from here, I decided to make a quick detour to your house in case your work event had been canceled.
I saw a light on downstairs, so I was going to ring on the bell and see if you could join us for dinner after all.
But then I saw someone walk into your sitting room—and it wasn’t you. ”
The three of them shake with laughter and I raise my hands in a “you’ve caught me” gesture. “Sorry,” I say, contrite. “I should have told you the truth, that Alex was here. But I didn’t want you to put pressure on me to bring him along—and before you start denying it, you know you would have!”
“We might have, just a bit,” Romy agrees.
“If I promise to introduce you to him next time he’s here, will you forgive me for not being truthful?
” I ask, wondering if it will ever happen, now that are so many lies between me and Alex.
Memories of last night and our near-argument when I asked about Ariane—because that was how it had felt—crowd my mind.
“Done!”
Romy grins across at me. “So, it’s serious, you and Alex?”
“I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“In what way?”
“For a start, he spends half his time in the US.”
“But he’ll be back soon?”
“Yes, next weekend.” Romy opens her mouth but I get there first. “And yes, you’ll meet him, I promise.”
As she whoops in response, I wonder what she’d say if I told her about his murdered girlfriend.
“Wait a moment,” Romy says, holding her hand up. “That’s not all we’re celebrating, is it? Rob’s birthday?” She gives Marcus a meaningful look. “Don’t you have something you want to share with us?”
Marcus shrugs. “It’s just that I’ve found a house I’m thinking of buying.”
“Really? That’s great,” I say. “I didn’t know you wanted to move.”
“I’ve been thinking of it for a while now.” He shoots Romy a look. “Sorry, I don’t want to say much about it for the moment as it’s not a done deal or anything. I don’t want to jinx it.”
“Fair enough,” I say, giving him a smile. “But we can still drink to it.” I raise my glass. “To your maybe house.”
“To your maybe house,” Romy and Rob echo.
There’s a strange silence, which even Romy doesn’t seem to know how to fill, and for the rest of the evening, I can’t help but notice Marcus glancing my way on multiple occasions, as if he wants to tell me something but can’t quite bring himself to.
When he follows me through to the kitchen at one point, I immediately leave so that he doesn’t have time to tell me whatever it is he has on his mind.
I can’t understand it; he knows I have Alex in my life, yet he still seems to believe that if he declares his interest in me, I’ll drop Alex in favor of him. And that is never going to happen.