Twenties Girl

TEN

If anyone I know sees me, I will die. I will die.

As I get out of the taxi, I look quickly up and down the street. No one in sight, thank God. I have never looked so ludicrous in my life. This is what happens when you let a dead great-aunt take control of your looks.

I’m wearing the flapper dress from the shop, which I only just managed to zip up. Clearly they didn’t go in for boobs in the twenties. My feet are squished into the dancing slippers. Six long bead necklaces are jangling around my neck. Circling my head is a black headband, beaded with jet, and sticking out of that is a feather.

A feather.

My hair has been tortured into a series of old-fashioned-looking waves and curls, which took about two hours to do with the marcel irons. When it was done, Sadie insisted I smother it in some weird pomade stuff that she also found in the vintage shop, and now it feels rock solid to the touch.

And as for my makeup: Did they honestly think this was a good look in the 1920s? My face is covered in pale powder, with a spot of rouge on each cheek. My eyes are heavily outlined in black kohl. My lids are smeared with a lurid green paste, which came out of the old Bakelite case. I still don’t know exactly what’s on my eyelashes: some weird lump of black goo which Sadie called “Cosmetique.” She made me boil it up in a frying pan and then smear it all over my lashes.

I mean, hello, I have a new Lancôme mascara. It’s waterproof, with flexible fibers and everything. But Sadie wasn’t interested. She was too overexcited by all this stupid ancient makeup and telling me how she and Bunty used to get ready for parties together and pluck each other’s eyebrows and take little swigs from their hip flasks.

“Let me see.” Sadie appears beside me on the pavement and scans me. She’s in a gold dress, with gloves up to her elbows. “You need to touch up your lipstick.”

There’s no point suggesting a nice subtle MAC lip gloss instead. With a sigh, I reach in my bag for the pot of red gunk and pat yet more color onto my exaggerated Cupid’s bow.

Two girls pass by, nudging each other and giving me curious smiles. They obviously think I’m off to a costume party and am going for Most Over the Top outfit.

“You look divine!” Sadie hugs herself with excitement. “You just need a gasper.” She starts looking up and down the street. “Where’s a tobacconist? Oh, we should have bought you a darling little cigarette holder-”

“I don’t smoke,” I cut her off. “And you can’t smoke in public places, anyway. It’s the law.”

“What a ridiculous law.” She looks aggrieved. “How does one hold a cigarette party?”

“We don’t hold cigarette parties! Smoking gives you cancer! It’s dangerous!”

Sadie makes an impatient tchuh noise. “Come on, then!”

I begin to follow her up the street toward the Crowe Bar sign, barely able to walk in my vintage shoes. As I reach the door, I realize she’s disappeared. Where’s she gone?

“Sadie?” I turn around and scan the street. If she’s left me in the lurch I will absolutely murder her-

“He’s in there already!” She suddenly appears, looking even more hyper than before. “He’s absolutely swoonsome.”

My heart sinks. I was hoping he might have stood me up.

“How do I look?” Sadie’s smoothing her hair down, and I feel a sudden pang of compassion for her. It can’t be much fun, going on a date and being invisible.

“You look great,” I say reassuringly. “If he could see you, he’d think you were really hot.”

“Hot?” She looks confused.

“Sexy. Pretty. You’re a hottie. It’s what we say.”

“Oh, good!” Her eyes travel nervously to the door and back. “Now, before we go in, remember this is my date.”

“I know it’s your date,” I say patiently. “You’ve drummed it into me enough times-”

“What I mean is-be me.” She fixes me with an urgent look. “Say whatever I tell you to say. Do whatever I tell you to do. Then I’ll feel as though it’s really me talking to him. Do you understand?”

“Don’t worry! I get it. You feed me the lines and I’ll say them. I promise.”

“Go on, then!” She gestures at the entrance.

I push through the heavy frosted glass doors and find myself in a chic lobby with suede-paneled walls and low-level lighting. There’s another set of double doors ahead, beyond which I can see the bar. As I pass through, I catch a glimpse of myself in a tinted mirror and feel a clench of dismay.

Somehow I feel a million times more ludicrous here than I did in my flat. My necklaces are jangling with every step. My feather is bobbing around in my headdress. I look like a twenties-o-gram. And I’m standing in a minimalist bar full of cool people in understated Helmut Lang.

As I’m edging forward, all prickly with self-consciousness, I suddenly spot Ed. He’s sitting about ten yards away, in a conventional trousers-and-jacket combo, drinking what looks like a conventional gin and tonic. He looks up, glances my way, then does a double take.

“You see?” says Sadie triumphantly. “He’s transfixed by the sight of you!”

He’s transfixed, all right. His jaw has fallen and his face has turned a pale green color.

Very slowly, as though forcing himself through noxious mud, he gets to his feet and approaches me. I can see the bar staff nudging one another as I walk through the bar, and from a nearby table comes a sudden gasp of hilarity.

“Smile at him!” Sadie is insisting loudly in my ear. “Walk toward him with a shimmy and say, ‘Hello, Daddy-O!’”

Daddy-O?

It’s not my date, I remind myself feverishly. It’s Sadie’s. I’m only acting a part.

“Hello, Daddy-O!” I say brightly as he draws near.

“Hi,” he says faintly. “You look…” He moves his hands helplessly.

All around, the buzz of conversation has died to a halt. The whole bar is watching us. Great.

“Say some more!” Sadie is hopping around in excitement, clearly oblivious to the awkwardness. “Say, ‘You look pretty dapper yourself, you old thing.’ And twirl your necklace.”

“You look pretty dapper yourself, you old thing!” I fix him with a rictus smile, swinging my beads around so hard that one of the necklaces catches me in the eye.

Ow. That hurt.

“OK.” Ed seems barely able to talk for embarrassment. “Well. Can I… get you a drink? A glass of champagne?”

“Ask for a swizzle stick!” instructs Sadie. “And smile! You haven’t laughed once!”

“Could I have a swizzle stick?” I give a high-pitched giggle. “I simply adore swizzle sticks!”

“A swizzle stick?” Ed frowns. “Why?”

Fuck knows why. I dart a helpless look at Sadie.

“Say, ‘To stir the bubbles out, darling!’” she hisses.

“To stir the bubbles out, darling!” I giggle brightly again, and twirl my necklaces for good measure.

Ed looks like he wants to sink into the floor. I don’t blame him.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” he says in a strained voice. “I’ll bring over the drinks.”

I head over to the table where he was sitting and pull up a suede upholstered chair.

“Sit like this,” commands Sadie, adopting an affected pose with her hands on her knee, and I copy as best I can. “Open your eyes wider!” She looks restlessly around at all the clusters of people sitting in groups and standing at the bar. The hum of chatter has resumed, and there’s a low throbbing of lounge-style music. “When does the band arrive? When will the dancing start?”

“There isn’t any band,” I mutter. “There isn’t any dancing. It’s not that kind of place.”

“No dancing?” she says fretfully. “But there has to be dancing! Dancing is the whole point! Don’t they have any snappier music? Don’t they have anything with a bit of life?”

“I don’t know,” I say sarcastically. “Ask him.” I jerk my head toward the barman, just as Ed appears before me with a glass of champagne and what looks like another gin and tonic. I should think it’s a treble. He sits down opposite, puts down the drinks, then lifts his glass.

“Cheers.”

“Chin chin!” I say with a dazzling smile, give my champagne a brisk stir with a plastic swizzle stick, and take a glug. I look up for Sadie’s approval-but she’s disappeared. I surreptitiously look around and spot her behind the bar, yelling something in the barman’s ear.

Oh God. What havoc is she causing now?

“So… did you have far to come?”

My attention is wrenched away. Ed’s talking to me. And there’s no Sadie to feed me any lines. Great. I’m actually going to have to make conversation.

“Er… not too far. Kilburn.”

“Ah. Kilburn.” He nods as though I’ve said something really profound.

While I’m trying to think of something to say, I run my eyes over him. Nice charcoal jacket, I have to admit. He’s taller than I remember, with a broader, firmer frame, in an expensive-looking shirt. A hint of five o’clock shadow; the same V of frown lines that he had in the office. For God’s sake. It’s the weekend, he’s on a date, yet he looks as if he’s at some really serious board meeting where everyone’s about to be fired and lose all their bonuses.

I feel a flash of irritation. He could at least try to look like he’s having a good time.

“So! Ed.” I make a heroic effort and smile at him. “From your accent I’m guessing you’re American?”

“That’s right.” He nods but doesn’t volunteer any more.

“How long have you been over?”

“Five months.”

“How do you like London?”

“Haven’t seen much of it.”

“Oh, you must!” I can’t help my natural enthusiasm pouring out. “You should go to the London Eye, and Covent Garden, and then you should take a boat to Greenwich…”

“Maybe.” He gives me a tight smile and takes a slug of his drink. “I’m pretty busy at work.”

That is the lamest thing I ever heard. How can you move to a city and not bother to get to know it? I knew I didn’t like this guy. I glance up to see Sadie by my side, her arms folded sulkily.

“That barman is very stubborn,” she says. “Go and tell him to change the music.”

Is she nuts? Shooting her a discreet glare, I turn back to Ed and smile politely.

“So, Lara, what do you do?” Clearly he feels he’s got to join in this conversation too.

“I’m a headhunter.”

Immediately, Ed looks wary. “You’re not with Sturgis Curtis, are you?”

“No, I have my own company, L &N Executive Recruitment.”

“Good. I wouldn’t have liked to offend you.”

“What’s wrong with Sturgis Curtis?” I can’t resist asking.

“They’re vultures from hell.” He has such a look of horror on his face, I almost want to giggle. “They pester me every day. Do I want this job? Am I interested in that job? They use tricks to get past my secretary… I mean, they’re good.” He shudders. “They even asked me to sit at their table at the Business People dinner.”

“Oh, wow.” I can’t help sounding impressed. I’ve never been to the Business People dinner, but I’ve seen it written up in the magazine. It’s always held at a big hotel in London, and it’s pretty glam. “So… are you going?”

“I’m speaking at it.”

He’s speaking? Oh my God, he must be really important. I had no idea. I look up to raise an eyebrow at Sadie, but she’s disappeared.

“Are you going?” he asks politely.

“Er… not this year.” I try to imply this is just a temporary blip. “My firm wasn’t quite able to make up a table this year.”

Bearing in mind tables hold twelve people and cost five thousand pounds. And L &N Executive Recruitment has precisely two people and about minus five thousand pounds.

“Ah.” He inclines his head.

“I’m sure we’ll be there next year, though,” I say quickly.

“We’ll probably make up two tables. You know, do it properly. We’ll probably have expanded by then…” I trail off. I don’t know why I’m making any effort to impress this guy. He clearly isn’t interested in anything I say.

As I swizzle my drink again, I realize the music has stopped. I turn to look at the barman, and he’s standing by the CD player behind the bar, obviously experiencing a momentous struggle between his own will and the sound of Sadie shrieking something in his ear. What is she up to?

At last, with a visible capitulation, the barman takes a CD from its box and slides it into the machine. The next minute, some scratchy, old-fashioned Cole Porter-type band music fills the air. Sadie sweeps up behind Ed’s chair, a beam of satisfaction on her face.

“At last! I knew that man would have something suitable in his drawer. Now ask Lara to dance!” she instructs Ed, and bends close to his ear. “Ask her to dance!”

Oh God. No way.

Resist her, I silently message Ed. Don’t listen. Be strong. I’m sending him my strongest telepathic signals. But it’s no good. As Sadie bellows in his ear, a pained, confused look is coming over Ed’s face. He looks like someone who really, really doesn’t want to vomit but is having no choice.

“Lara.” He clears his throat and rubs his face. “Would you like to… dance?”

If I refuse him, Sadie will wreak her revenge on me, I know it. This is what she wanted; this is why we’re all here. So she can dance with Ed.

“OK.”

Hardly able to believe what I’m doing, I put down my glass and stand up. I follow Ed to a tiny patch of spare floor next to the bar stools, and he turns to face me. For a moment we both just stare at each other, paralyzed by the enormity of the situation.

This is a one hundred percent nondancing scenario. We’re not on a dance floor. This isn’t a club, it’s a bar. No one else is dancing. The jazz band is still playing its scratchy music through the speakers, and some bloke is singing about his fancy shoes. There’s no beat, there’s no nothing. There’s no way we can dance.

“Dance!” Sadie is flitting between us like quicksilver, a whirlwind of impatience. “Dance together! Dance!”

With a look of desperation in his eyes, Ed starts moving awkwardly from side to side, trying as best he can to follow the music. He looks so miserable, I start copying him, just to make him feel better. I’ve never seen less convincing dancing in my life.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see everyone turning to watch us. My dress is swishing backward and forward, and my necklaces are jangling. Ed’s eyes are focused far ahead, as though he’s having an out-of-body experience.

“Excuse me.” A member of the bar staff, carrying a plate of dim sum, ducks between us.

Not only are we not on a dance floor, we’re in the way of everyone. This is the most excruciating experience of my life.

“Dance properly!” I turn my head to see Sadie regarding me in horror. “That’s not dancing!”

What does she expect us to do, the waltz?

“You look as though you’re trudging through mud! This is how to dance.”

She starts some twenties Charleston-type dance, all flying legs and elbows and knees. Her face is beatific, and I can hear her humming along to the music. At least someone’s having fun.

As I watch, she shimmies right up to Ed and places a slender hand on each of his shoulders. Now she’s running a hand adoringly down his cheek.

“Isn’t he blissful?” She runs both her hands down his chest, circling his waist and skimming down his back.

“Can you feel him?” I murmur incredulously, and Sadie flinches, as though I’ve caught her out.

“That’s… not the point,” she says defensively. “And it’s none of your business.”

OK, so she can’t. Well, whatever rocks her boat, I suppose. But do I have to watch?

“Sadie!” I hiss as her hands travel even further down his body. “Get a room!”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” With an obvious effort, Ed focuses on me. He’s still dancing from side to side, totally oblivious to the fact that he has a twenty-three-year-old flapper running her hands voraciously all over his body.

“I said… let’s stop.” I avert my eyes from Sadie, who’s trying to nibble his ear.

“No!” protests Sadie furiously. “More!”

“Great idea,” says Ed at once, and starts back toward our chairs.

“Ed? Ed Harrison?” A blond woman interrupts his path. She’s wearing beige trousers and a white shirt and an expression of incredulous glee. At the table behind her, I can see several other well-groomed business types watching avidly. “I thought that was you! Were you just… dancing?”

As Ed surveys all the faces at the table, it’s obvious his nightmare has just got about fifty times worse. I almost feel sorry for him.

“That’s… that’s right,” he says at last, as though he can’t quite believe it himself. “We were dancing.” He seems to come to. “Lara, do you know Genevieve Bailey from DFT? Genevieve, Lara. Hello, Bill, Mike, Sarah…” He’s nodding at all the people sitting round the table.

“Your dress is adorable.” Genevieve flicks a condescending glance over my outfit. “Going for the twenties look, obviously.”

“It’s original.” I nod.

“I have no doubt!”

I smile as best I can, but she’s touched a nerve. I don’t want to be dressed up like something out of a Daily Mail vintage-dolls collection series. Especially not in front of what’s clearly a collection of high-profile businesspeople.

“I’ll just touch up my makeup.” I force another smile. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

In the ladies’ room, I get out a tissue, wet it, and frantically scrub at my face. But nothing seems to be coming off.

“What are you doing?” Sadie appears behind me. “You’ll ruin your face!”

“Just trying to tone down the color,” I say between jerky rubs.

“Oh, that rouge won’t come off,” says Sadie airily. “It’s indelible. Lasts for days. The lipstick too.”

Indelible?

“Where did you learn to dance?” Sadie inserts herself between me and the mirror.

“I didn’t. You don’t learn to dance. You just pick it up.”

“Well, it shows. You’re terrible.”

“Well, you’re totally over the top,” I retort, stung. “You looked like you wanted to jump his bones right there!”

“‘Jump his bones.’” Sadie frowns. “What do you mean?”

“It means… You know.” I stop awkwardly. I’m not sure bone-jumping is something I want to be discussing with my great-aunt.

“What?” Sadie says impatiently. “What does it mean?”

“You do it with someone else.” I choose my words carefully. “It’s like a pajama party. Except you take off your pajamas.”

“Oh, that.” Her face clicks with recognition. “You call it ‘jumping his bones’?”

“Sometimes.” I shrug.

“What an odd phrase. We used to call it sex.”

“Oh,” I say, discomfited. “Well. We do too-”

“Or barney-mugging,” she adds.

Barney-mugging? And she has the nerve to call jump his bones an odd phrase?

“Well, whatever you call it.” I take off one of my shoes and rub my sore toes. “You looked like you wanted to do it with him right there in the bar.”

Sadie smirks and adjusts her headband, looking in the mirror. “You must admit he’s handsome.”

“On the outside, maybe,” I say grudgingly. “But he doesn’t have any personality.”

“Yes, he does!” says Sadie, looking offended.

How would she know? It was me who had to make all the bloody conversation with him!

“No, he doesn’t! He’s lived in London for months, but he hasn’t bothered to see anything!” I wince as I put my shoe back on. “What kind of narrow-minded person does that? What kind of person isn’t interested in one of the greatest cities in the world?” My voice is rising with indignation. “He doesn’t deserve to live here.”

As a Londoner, I’m taking this quite personally. I look up to see what Sadie thinks, but her eyes are closed and she’s humming. She’s not even bloody listening to me.

“Do you think he’d like me?” She opens her eyes. “If he could see me. If he could dance with me.”

Her face is so hopeful and glowing, all my outrage dies away. I’m being stupid. What does it matter what this guy is like? He’s got nothing to do with me. This is Sadie’s evening.

“Yes,” I say as convincingly as I can. “I think he’d love you.”

“I think so too.” She looks satisfied. “Your headdress is crooked, did you realize?”

I tug at it and survey my reflection grumpily.

“I look so ridiculous.”

“You look divine. You’re the prettiest girl in the place. Apart from me,” she adds airily.

“Do you know how stupid I feel?” I rub at my cheeks again. “No, of course not. All you care about is your date.”

“I’ll tell you something,” says Sadie, watching me critically in the mirror. “You’ve got a film star’s mouth. In my day, all the girls died to have a mouth like that. You could have been in the pictures.”

“Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes.

“Look at yourself, you ninny. You look like a film heroine!”

Reluctantly, I face the mirror again, trying to imagine myself in flickery black and white, tied to a railway line while a piano bashes out some menacing tune. Actually… she’s right. I do quite look the part.

“Oh, sir, please spare me!” I adopt a pose in front of the mirror, batting my eyelashes.

“Exactly! You’d have been a darling of the silver screen.” Sadie meets my eyes, and I can’t help grinning back. This has been the weirdest, stupidest date of my life, but somehow her mood is infectious.

As we head back out to the bar, I see that Ed is still chatting to Genevieve. She’s leaning elegantly against a chair in a “casual” pose, which I instantly realize is designed to show off her tall, slim figure to Ed. I also instantly realize that he hasn’t even noticed, which slightly endears him to me.

Sadie’s noticed, though. She keeps crossly trying to elbow Genevieve out of the way, and yelling “Move!” in her ear-but Genevieve’s ignoring her completely. She must be made of strong stuff.

“Lara!” Genevieve greets me with a fake smile. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to disrupt your evening á deux with Ed!”

“No worries.” I give her an equally fake smile.

“Have you known each other long?” She gestures between Ed and me with an elegant, silk-cuffed wrist.

“Not long, no.”

“So how did you two meet?”

I can’t help a surreptitious glance at Ed. He looks so uneasy at the question that I want to giggle.

“It was in the office, wasn’t it?” I say, to help him out.

“In the office. Yes.” Ed nods in relief.

“Well!” Genevieve laughs-the kind of bright, trilling laugh you give when you’re really quite annoyed about something. “Ed, you are secretive! I had no idea you had a girlfriend!”

For a split second, Ed and I meet eyes. I can see he’s about as keen on that idea as I am.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he says at once. “I mean, that’s not-”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” I chime in hastily. “We’re just… it’s kind of a one-off-”

“We’re just having a drink,” Ed supplies.

“We’ll probably never see each other again.”

“Probably not,” Ed affirms. “Definitely not.”

We’re both nodding in total agreement. In fact, I think we’ve bonded for the first time.

“I… see.” Genevieve looks totally confused.

“Let me get you another drink, Lara.” Ed gives me the warmest smile he has all evening.

“No, I’ll get them!” I beam back at him. There’s nothing like knowing you only have to spend ten more minutes with someone to make you feel suddenly generous toward them.

“What do you mean?” A voice is shrieking behind me, and as I turn I see Sadie heading toward me. Her glow has disappeared; she’s a whirl of fury. “It’s not a one-off! You made a promise!”

She’s got a nerve. How about “Thank you for dressing up and looking like a fool, Lara”?

“I kept my promise!” I hiss out of the side of my mouth as I approach the bar. “I’ve done my side of the deal.”

“No, you haven’t!” She glares at me in outrage. “You haven’t even danced properly with him! You’ve just shuffled around dismally.”

“Too bad.” I get out my phone and pretend to be speaking into that. “You said you wanted a date, I’ve given you one. The end. A glass of champagne and a G &T please,” I add to the barman, and reach into my bag for some money. Sadie’s silent, which probably means she’s gearing up for a banshee moment… But as I look up, she’s gone. I swivel around and see her back beside Ed.

She’s yelling in his ear. Oh God. What’s she doing?

I pay for the drinks as quickly as I can and hurry back across the bar. Ed is staring into the middle distance, that glazed, transfixed look on his face again. Genevieve is in the middle of an anecdote about Antigua and doesn’t even seem to have noticed Ed’s faraway expression. Or maybe she thinks he’s transfixed by admiration for her.

“And then I saw my bikini top!” She trills with laughter. “In the sea! I never lived that one down.”

“Here you are, Ed,” I say, and hand him his G &T.

“Oh. Thanks.” He seems to come to.

“Do it now!” Sadie suddenly swoops forward and shrieks in his ear. “Ask her NOW!”

Ask me? Ask me what? This had better not be about another date, because it’s not happening, no way, whatever Sadie wants-

“Lara.” Ed focuses on me with what looks like some difficulty, his forehead furrowed more deeply than ever. “Would you like to be my guest at the Business People dinner?”

I do not believe it.

In shock, I swivel my eyes up to Sadie’s-and she’s looking at me with an expression of triumph, her arms folded across her chest.

“Don’t say yes on my account,” she says carelessly. “It’s up to you. Entirely.”

Ooh. She’s good. She’s a lot smarter than I thought. I didn’t even realize she was paying attention to the conversation.

This is impossible. There’s no way I can turn down an invitation to the Business People dinner. It’s such a huge event. It’ll be stuffed full of important business types… I’ll be able to network… make contacts… It’s a massive opportunity. I can’t say no. I just can’t.

Damn her.

“Yes,” I say at last, stiffly. “Thank you, Ed, that’s very kind of you. I’d love to come.”

“Good. That’s great. I’ll send you the details.”

We both sound as though we’re reading lines from cards. Genevieve is looking back and forth between our faces, bewildered.

“So… you are a couple,” she says.

“No!” we reply in unison.

“No way,” I add for emphasis. “Not at all. I mean… never. Not in a million years.” I take a sip and glance over at Ed. Is it my imagination, or does he look just the tiniest bit offended?

I last about another twenty minutes, listening to Genevieve show off about every single holiday she’s ever been on, practically. Then Ed glances at me, and my empty glass, and says, “Don’t let me keep you.”

Don’t let me keep you. It’s a good thing I’m not into this guy. If that isn’t code for I can’t stand a moment more in your company, I don’t know what is.

“I’m sure you have dinner plans,” he adds politely.

“Yes!” I say brightly. “I do, as it happens. Absolutely. Dinner plans.” I do a pantomime sweep of my watch in front of my eyes. “Goodness, is that the time? I must run. My dinner companions will be waiting.” I resist the temptation to add, “At Lyle Place, with champagne.”

“Well, I have plans too.” He nods. “So maybe we should…”

He made dinner plans. Of course he did. He probably has a whole other, superior date lined up.

“Yes, let’s. It’s been… fun.”

We both stand up, make general parting gestures at the businesspeople, and head out of the bar onto the pavement.

“So.” Ed hesitates. “Thanks for…” He makes as though to lean in for a peck on the cheek, then clearly decides against it and holds out his hand instead. “That was great. I’ll let you know about the Business People dinner.”

His face is so easy to read it’s almost pitiful. He’s already wondering how the hell he got himself into this one-but, having invited me in front of a crowd, he can hardly back out now.

“So… I’m going this way…” he adds.

“I’m going the other way,” I respond at once. “Thanks again. Bye!” I quickly turn on my heel and start striding down the street. What a fiasco.

“Why are you going home so early?” says Sadie crossly in my ear. “You should have suggested going to a nightclub!”

“I have dinner plans, remember?” I say pointedly. “And so does he.” I stop dead on the pavement. I was in so much of a hurry to be off, I’m heading in totally the wrong direction. I turn around and look up the road, but there’s no sign of Ed. He must have legged it as quickly as I did.

I’m feeling pretty starving, and a bit sorry for myself. I should have made real dinner plans, I think as I head back up the road. I go into a Pret A Manger and start perusing the sandwich bar. I’ll get myself a wrap and a carton of soup, and a chocolate brownie, I decide. Go all out.

I’m just reaching for a smoothie when a familiar voice comes across the gentle buzz of customers.

“Pete. Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”

Sadie and I lock eyes in startled recognition.

Ed?

Instinctively I shrink back, trying to hide behind a rack of healthy crisps. My eyes scan the queues of people and land on an expensive overcoat. There he is. Buying a sandwich and talking on the phone. These are his so-called dinner plans?

“He didn’t have plans at all!” I mutter. “He lied!”

“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.”

“I’m sorry, sir, you can’t sell that in here.” I notice a girl in uniform escorting the Big Issue seller out of the sandwich shop. “We do appreciate the work you do, but it’s company policy…”

I watch the man through the glass door. He seems utterly resigned to being ejected, and after a moment I can see him offering copies to passersby, all of whom ignore him.

“Can I help you?” I realize a cashier is calling out to me, and I hurry forward to the till. My credit card has lodged itself right at the bottom of my bag, so I take a while paying and lose track of where Sadie is.

“What the-”

“Bloody hell! What’s going on?”

Suddenly I become aware that all the cashiers are exclaiming and exchanging looks. Slowly, I turn around to see what they’re looking at. I don’t quite believe my eyes.

There’s an exodus of customers from the shop. They’re all piling out onto the pavement and accosting the Big Issue seller. I can see some holding several copies in their hands, others thrusting money at him.

There’s one last customer remaining in the shop. Sadie is floating next to him, her face intense, her mouth to his ear. A moment later, with a startled look, he puts down the sushi box he’s holding and hurries to join the throng outside, already pulling out his wallet. Sadie just stands back and watches, her arms folded in satisfaction. After a moment she glances at me, and I can’t help giving her a huge beam.

“You rock, Sadie!” I mouth. The next moment she’s right beside me, looking puzzled.

“Did you say I’m a rock?”

“You rock!” I pick up my bag and start walking. “It means… you’re great. You did a really good thing.” I gesture at the customers outside, all milling around the Big Issue seller. Passersby are now joining the crowd to see what’s up, and the seller looks overwhelmed. We watch them for a moment, then turn and start heading down the street together, an easy silence between us.

“You rock too,” says Sadie in a rush, and I look up in surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

“You did a good thing too. I know you didn’t want to wear this dress tonight, but you did. For me.” Her gaze is resolutely ahead. “So thank you.”

“That’s OK.” I shrug and take a bite of chicken wrap. “It wasn’t that bad in the end.”

I’m not going to admit it to Sadie, because then she’d crow over me and be unbearable. But actually, this whole twenties look is kind of growing on me.

Kind of.