Twenties Girl
Page 98
“What?” She frowns. “What are you talking about?”
Shit.
“You know.” I force myself to hold my smile steady. “You know…”
“No.” She shakes her head stolidly. “I’ve got no idea what you’re on about.”
The audience’s chatter has died away. Faces are turned to us with interest.
“Do I have to spell it out?” My smile is becoming forced. “Those… thoughts? Those particular thoughts you were just having…” I’m nearing the end of my rope here. “Just now…”
Suddenly her face snaps in horror. “Oh God. That. You’re right.”
Somehow I manage not to expire with relief.
“The Great Lara is always right!” I make an elaborate bow. “Farewell, and see you all again.”
I head quickly through the applauding audience toward Ed.
“I got your bag,” he murmurs above the clapping. “One more bow, then we’re out.”
I don’t breathe until we’re safely out on the street. The air is clear and there’s a warmish breeze. The hotel doorman is surrounded by groups of people waiting for taxis, but I don’t want to risk anyone from the dinner catching up with me, so I hastily walk down onto the pavement.
“Well done, Greatie,” says Ed as we fall into step.
“Thanks.”
“Shame about the magic powers.” He’s looking at me inquiringly, but I pretend not to notice.
“Yes, well.” I shrug casually. “They come, they go, that’s the mystery of the East. Now, if we walk this way”-I squint at a street sign-“we should be able to pick up a taxi.”
“I’m in your hands,” says Ed. “I don’t know this area.”
This not-knowing-London is really starting to annoy me.
“Is there any area you do know?”
“I know my route to work.” Ed shrugs. “I know the park opposite my building. I know the way to Whole Foods.”
OK, I’ve had it. How dare he come to this great city and show zero interest in it?
“Don’t you think that’s really narrow-minded and arrogant?” I stop dead. “Don’t you think if you come and live in a city you should respect it enough to get to know it? London is one of the most fascinating, historic, amazing cities in the world! And bloody Whole Foods! That’s an American shop! Couldn’t you try Waitrose?” My voice rises. “I mean, why did you take a job here if you weren’t interested in the place? What were you planning to do?”
“I was planning to explore it with my fiancée,” Ed says calmly.
His answer slightly takes the wind out of my sails.
Fiancée. What fiancée?
“Until she broke up with me, a week before we were supposed to come,” Ed continues conversationally. “She asked her company to transfer her London placement to someone else. So, you see, I had a dilemma. Come to England, stay focused, and do the best I could, or stay in Boston, knowing I’d see her almost every day. She worked in the same building as me.” He pauses a second before adding, “And her lover.”
“Oh.” I stare at him in dismay. “I’m sorry. I… didn’t realize.”
“No problem.”
His face is so impassive, it almost seems like he doesn’t care-but I’m getting to understand his deadpan style. He does care, of course he does. Suddenly his frown is making more sense. And that closed-up expression. And that weary voice he had in the restaurant. God, what a bitch his fiancée must be. I can see her now. Big white American teeth and swingy hair and killer heels. I bet he bought her a massive ring. I bet she’s kept it.
“That must have been horrible,” I say feebly as we start walking again.
“I had the guidebooks.” He’s gazing resolutely ahead. “I had the itineraries. I had a million projects planned. Stratford-upon-Avon… Scotland… Oxford… But they were all planned with Corinne. Kind of takes the fun out of it.”
A vision comes to me of a pile of guidebooks, all scribbled and annotated with their exciting plans. And then shut away. I feel so sorry for him, I think I should probably shut up now and stop giving him a hard time. But some stronger instinct makes me push on.
“So you just go your route to work and back again every day,” I say. “You never look left or right. You go to Whole Foods and the park and back again and that’s it.”
“Works for me.”
“How long have you been over here again?”
“Five months.”
“Five months?” I echo in horror. “No. You can’t exist like that. You can’t lead your life in tunnel vision. You have to open your eyes and look around. You have to move on.”
Shit.
“You know.” I force myself to hold my smile steady. “You know…”
“No.” She shakes her head stolidly. “I’ve got no idea what you’re on about.”
The audience’s chatter has died away. Faces are turned to us with interest.
“Do I have to spell it out?” My smile is becoming forced. “Those… thoughts? Those particular thoughts you were just having…” I’m nearing the end of my rope here. “Just now…”
Suddenly her face snaps in horror. “Oh God. That. You’re right.”
Somehow I manage not to expire with relief.
“The Great Lara is always right!” I make an elaborate bow. “Farewell, and see you all again.”
I head quickly through the applauding audience toward Ed.
“I got your bag,” he murmurs above the clapping. “One more bow, then we’re out.”
I don’t breathe until we’re safely out on the street. The air is clear and there’s a warmish breeze. The hotel doorman is surrounded by groups of people waiting for taxis, but I don’t want to risk anyone from the dinner catching up with me, so I hastily walk down onto the pavement.
“Well done, Greatie,” says Ed as we fall into step.
“Thanks.”
“Shame about the magic powers.” He’s looking at me inquiringly, but I pretend not to notice.
“Yes, well.” I shrug casually. “They come, they go, that’s the mystery of the East. Now, if we walk this way”-I squint at a street sign-“we should be able to pick up a taxi.”
“I’m in your hands,” says Ed. “I don’t know this area.”
This not-knowing-London is really starting to annoy me.
“Is there any area you do know?”
“I know my route to work.” Ed shrugs. “I know the park opposite my building. I know the way to Whole Foods.”
OK, I’ve had it. How dare he come to this great city and show zero interest in it?
“Don’t you think that’s really narrow-minded and arrogant?” I stop dead. “Don’t you think if you come and live in a city you should respect it enough to get to know it? London is one of the most fascinating, historic, amazing cities in the world! And bloody Whole Foods! That’s an American shop! Couldn’t you try Waitrose?” My voice rises. “I mean, why did you take a job here if you weren’t interested in the place? What were you planning to do?”
“I was planning to explore it with my fiancée,” Ed says calmly.
His answer slightly takes the wind out of my sails.
Fiancée. What fiancée?
“Until she broke up with me, a week before we were supposed to come,” Ed continues conversationally. “She asked her company to transfer her London placement to someone else. So, you see, I had a dilemma. Come to England, stay focused, and do the best I could, or stay in Boston, knowing I’d see her almost every day. She worked in the same building as me.” He pauses a second before adding, “And her lover.”
“Oh.” I stare at him in dismay. “I’m sorry. I… didn’t realize.”
“No problem.”
His face is so impassive, it almost seems like he doesn’t care-but I’m getting to understand his deadpan style. He does care, of course he does. Suddenly his frown is making more sense. And that closed-up expression. And that weary voice he had in the restaurant. God, what a bitch his fiancée must be. I can see her now. Big white American teeth and swingy hair and killer heels. I bet he bought her a massive ring. I bet she’s kept it.
“That must have been horrible,” I say feebly as we start walking again.
“I had the guidebooks.” He’s gazing resolutely ahead. “I had the itineraries. I had a million projects planned. Stratford-upon-Avon… Scotland… Oxford… But they were all planned with Corinne. Kind of takes the fun out of it.”
A vision comes to me of a pile of guidebooks, all scribbled and annotated with their exciting plans. And then shut away. I feel so sorry for him, I think I should probably shut up now and stop giving him a hard time. But some stronger instinct makes me push on.
“So you just go your route to work and back again every day,” I say. “You never look left or right. You go to Whole Foods and the park and back again and that’s it.”
“Works for me.”
“How long have you been over here again?”
“Five months.”
“Five months?” I echo in horror. “No. You can’t exist like that. You can’t lead your life in tunnel vision. You have to open your eyes and look around. You have to move on.”
