Twenties Girl
Page 65
“So did you.”
“Yes, but…” I feel slightly outraged by this. I’m not sure why.
“That’s good. How’s Mom?” Ed’s voice is unmistakable over the hubbub.
I surreptitiously look around, trying to plan an escape route. But there are massive mirrors everywhere in this shop. He’s bound to spot me. I’ll have to sit it out here until he’s gone.
“Tell her I read the letter from the lawyer. I don’t think they have a case. I’ll send her an email later on tonight.” He listens for a moment. “Pete, it’s no trouble; it’ll take five minutes max…” There’s another, longer silence. “I am having a good time. It’s great. It’s…” He sighs, and when he speaks again he sounds a little weary. “C’mon. It is what it is. You know that. I had a weird evening.”
My hand tightens around my smoothie in anticipation. Is he going to talk about me?
“I just wasted too much of my life with the most obnoxious woman in the world.”
I can’t help feeling a pang of hurt. I wasn’t obnoxious! OK, so I’m dressed a bit differently-
“You may have met her. Genevieve Bailey? DFT?… No, it wasn’t a date. I was with-” He hesitates. “It was a strange situation.”
I’m so engrossed in trying to blend into the healthy-crisp stand, I’ve stopped watching Ed. But all of a sudden I’m aware that he’s made his purchase and is striding out of Pret, holding a takeaway bag. He’s heading past me. Right past me, feet away… please don’t look…
Shit .
As though he can hear my thoughts, he glances over to the right-and meets my eyes. He registers surprise but no embarrassment.
“Later, buddy,” he says, and slides his phone shut. “Hi there.”
“Oh. Hi!” I try to sound casually nonchalant, as though it was always the plan to be found lurking in Pret, clutching a wrap and a smoothie. “Fancy… um… seeing you here. My dinner plans… fell through.” I clear my throat. “At the last minute. My friends called and canceled, so I thought I’d grab a bite to eat… The wraps are great here…”
Somehow I force myself to stop babbling. Why should I be embarrassed, anyway? Why isn’t he embarrassed? He’s been caught out as much as I have.
“So, I thought you had dinner arrangements,” I say lightly, raising my eyebrows. “What happened to your plan? Was it canceled too? Or is it such a fancy dinner you’re worried you won’t get fed properly?” I glance at his takeaway bag with a little laugh, waiting for him to look discomfited.
He doesn’t even flicker. “This was my plan. Buy some food and get some work done. I have to fly to Amsterdam first thing tomorrow for a conference. I’m giving a paper.”
“Oh,” I say, thrown.
His face is dead straight. I have a feeling he’s telling the truth. Damn.
“Right,” I say. “Well…”
There’s an awkward pause, then Ed nods politely. “Have a good evening.” He strides out of the Pret A Manger, and I watch him go, feeling wrong-footed.
Josh would never wrong-foot me. I knew I didn’t like this guy.
“Big Issue?” A voice interrupts my thoughts.
“Oh.” I focus on the skinny man in front of me. He’s unshaven and wearing a woollen hat and an official Big Issue seller’s badge. Feeling bad for all the times I’ve walked by because it’s too much hassle, I decide to make amends. “I’ll buy five copies,” I say firmly. “Thanks very much.”
“Cheers, love.” The man nods at my vintage outfit. “Nice dress.”
I hand over the money and take five magazines, then pick up my supper items and head to the checkout. I’m still trying to work out exactly the witty, snappy thing I should have said to Ed. I should have given a lighthearted laugh and said, “Next time you make dinner plans, Ed, remind me to-”
No, I should have said, “Really, Ed, when you said dinner- ”
“What’s the Big Issue?” Sadie’s voice breaks me out of my trance. I blink a few times, feeling suddenly annoyed with myself. Why am I wasting brain space on him? Who cares what he thinks?
“It’s a street magazine,” I explain. “The money goes to projects for the homeless. It’s a really good cause.”
I can see Sadie digesting this.
“I remember people living on the streets,” she says, her eyes distant. “After the war. It seemed as though the country would never find its footing again.”
“Yes, but…” I feel slightly outraged by this. I’m not sure why.
“That’s good. How’s Mom?” Ed’s voice is unmistakable over the hubbub.
I surreptitiously look around, trying to plan an escape route. But there are massive mirrors everywhere in this shop. He’s bound to spot me. I’ll have to sit it out here until he’s gone.
“Tell her I read the letter from the lawyer. I don’t think they have a case. I’ll send her an email later on tonight.” He listens for a moment. “Pete, it’s no trouble; it’ll take five minutes max…” There’s another, longer silence. “I am having a good time. It’s great. It’s…” He sighs, and when he speaks again he sounds a little weary. “C’mon. It is what it is. You know that. I had a weird evening.”
My hand tightens around my smoothie in anticipation. Is he going to talk about me?
“I just wasted too much of my life with the most obnoxious woman in the world.”
I can’t help feeling a pang of hurt. I wasn’t obnoxious! OK, so I’m dressed a bit differently-
“You may have met her. Genevieve Bailey? DFT?… No, it wasn’t a date. I was with-” He hesitates. “It was a strange situation.”
I’m so engrossed in trying to blend into the healthy-crisp stand, I’ve stopped watching Ed. But all of a sudden I’m aware that he’s made his purchase and is striding out of Pret, holding a takeaway bag. He’s heading past me. Right past me, feet away… please don’t look…
Shit .
As though he can hear my thoughts, he glances over to the right-and meets my eyes. He registers surprise but no embarrassment.
“Later, buddy,” he says, and slides his phone shut. “Hi there.”
“Oh. Hi!” I try to sound casually nonchalant, as though it was always the plan to be found lurking in Pret, clutching a wrap and a smoothie. “Fancy… um… seeing you here. My dinner plans… fell through.” I clear my throat. “At the last minute. My friends called and canceled, so I thought I’d grab a bite to eat… The wraps are great here…”
Somehow I force myself to stop babbling. Why should I be embarrassed, anyway? Why isn’t he embarrassed? He’s been caught out as much as I have.
“So, I thought you had dinner arrangements,” I say lightly, raising my eyebrows. “What happened to your plan? Was it canceled too? Or is it such a fancy dinner you’re worried you won’t get fed properly?” I glance at his takeaway bag with a little laugh, waiting for him to look discomfited.
He doesn’t even flicker. “This was my plan. Buy some food and get some work done. I have to fly to Amsterdam first thing tomorrow for a conference. I’m giving a paper.”
“Oh,” I say, thrown.
His face is dead straight. I have a feeling he’s telling the truth. Damn.
“Right,” I say. “Well…”
There’s an awkward pause, then Ed nods politely. “Have a good evening.” He strides out of the Pret A Manger, and I watch him go, feeling wrong-footed.
Josh would never wrong-foot me. I knew I didn’t like this guy.
“Big Issue?” A voice interrupts my thoughts.
“Oh.” I focus on the skinny man in front of me. He’s unshaven and wearing a woollen hat and an official Big Issue seller’s badge. Feeling bad for all the times I’ve walked by because it’s too much hassle, I decide to make amends. “I’ll buy five copies,” I say firmly. “Thanks very much.”
“Cheers, love.” The man nods at my vintage outfit. “Nice dress.”
I hand over the money and take five magazines, then pick up my supper items and head to the checkout. I’m still trying to work out exactly the witty, snappy thing I should have said to Ed. I should have given a lighthearted laugh and said, “Next time you make dinner plans, Ed, remind me to-”
No, I should have said, “Really, Ed, when you said dinner- ”
“What’s the Big Issue?” Sadie’s voice breaks me out of my trance. I blink a few times, feeling suddenly annoyed with myself. Why am I wasting brain space on him? Who cares what he thinks?
“It’s a street magazine,” I explain. “The money goes to projects for the homeless. It’s a really good cause.”
I can see Sadie digesting this.
“I remember people living on the streets,” she says, her eyes distant. “After the war. It seemed as though the country would never find its footing again.”
