London Calling (20 page)

Predictably, Lucy wasn’t answering her phone and I didn’t even know her friend’s name, never mind where she was staying. So, after 20 minutes desperately trying to locate her, I’d slunk back into the bar with my heart and spirits on the floor. Ange passed me on her way out, although she didn’t see me. I wanted to kill her at that precise moment, but had no doubt if she knew what her actions had done, she wouldn’t be sorry. Karma’s a bitch, as they say.

Instead, I texted Lucy an overly long message, asking her to call me back so I could explain and asking her to meet me tomorrow for breakfast. It was a long shot but I had to get this sorted out – I really liked Lucy and I wasn’t going to let Ange’s mistimed lunge ruin it for me.

***

One thing I knew was that sleeping on the problem hadn’t helped and, if anything, I was feeling worse this morning. I looked at the inbox on my phone again but it was empty, no word from my… No, I couldn’t quite bring myself to say the word. Especially not if it was the most short-lived relationship in the history of the lesbian world. Confirmed Thursday, dumped by Saturday – definitely a personal best.

I swung my legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom slowly and silently, so as not to wake Julia. Once inside, I locked the door and tugged the string of the mirror light. It lit up obediently and I examined my face up close. I’d seen better days. I stuck my tongue out – it was covered in a white film, the taste in my mouth bordering on bitter. I cleaned my teeth to make myself feel better but it didn’t work.

I shut the lid of the toilet, sat down and put my head in my hands. What a royal fucking balls-up. I thought about crying, concentrated hard and squeezed my eyes tight but there was nothing. I was too dehydrated to cry. Besides, I wasn’t really the crying kind, not even in situations like this where crying would have been totally justified. Instead I felt the heavy weight of resignation in the pit of my stomach. If only I could get hold of Lucy I knew I could solve this. At least, I hoped I could. But if she didn’t answer her phone then I didn’t stand a chance.

I stood up and filled one of the glasses on the side with water, skulled it, refilled it and drank the lot in one. I took a couple of the Nurofen that were poking out the top of Julia’s washbag and swigged another glass to wash them down. Then I took hold of the sink and looked at myself in the mirror, like I was in a Hollywood movie trying to convince myself of my greatness. After eyeballing myself for a few intense seconds, I got dressed and heard the door click shut behind me, leaving Julia gently snoring.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

I arrived home from Julia’s hen weekend later that day completely worn out mentally and physically – keeping up appearances takes its toll. I’d alluded to Julia that something had happened but it wasn’t something I wanted to share with the whole group. I’d put on a brave face and worn it all the way back to London. Then I kissed everyone goodbye and exchanged my smile for a frown. It felt better that way.

As I predicted, Lucy hadn’t replied to any of my text messages or calls, so I figured I’d leave it for today and would have to resort to doing my grovelling in person over the next few days. Surely such great sex and connection had to count for something?

***

When I let myself into the flat I knew immediately that something was wrong – call it lesbian sixth sense. I walked up the stairs, dumped my bag in the hallway and walked directly through to the lounge. It was in darkness but held a snivelling Kate on the sofa, curled up in a ball with a bunch of scrunched-up tissues at her feet.

Turns out Lucy wasn’t the only one to catch her girlfriend kissing another woman this weekend – it’d also happened to Kate when she went out for a drink with a mate. There she’d caught the supposedly-at-work Caroline out for drinks with another woman, gazing at each other dreamily over gin and tonics. She’d left the pub but had confronted Caroline this morning with the evidence and she’d come clean, saying she was about to tell Kate. When wasn’t precisely clear, but either way Kate realised she was being dumped.

“She was apologetic about it but wouldn’t answer when I asked her how long it’d been going on,” Kate said. “When I think of all the times she told me she was working and she probably wasn’t, she was probably off shagging this bird.” She started to cry again, so I handed her another tissue and hugged her.

“Tell your bloody mother that nurses aren’t all that.”

“I’ll let her know.” I paused. And then I proceeded to fill her in on my sorry tale of a weekend, culminating in the fact that I was now also, to all intents and purposes, a single woman too. Even the thought of it made my jaw hurt.

“I guess this means it’s Sunday lunch with just the two of us again,” I said.

Kate nodded, blowing her nose into a tissue and throwing it on the floor.

“God, I bloody hate women and I hate feeling like this.”

She looked so small on the couch, her peroxide blond hair a shaggy mess, her eyes puffy and red. She asked for details of my tale of woe, so I filled her in on the minutiae of my weekend which took her mind off of her own troubles for at least five minutes.

“And you kissed her back why?” was all she kept repeating. I told her that Ange had caught me unawares, to which Kate raised her eyebrows.

“I would say you have some serious work to do to resurrect that one,” she said. I hoped this was just her mood talking and that by tomorrow, Lucy would see that it was just a silly mistake and we could carry on from where we left off.

However, Kate pointed out the crucial fact that Lucy didn’t know who Ange was and had no idea of the events surrounding that kiss. To her, she’d just walked into a bar to say hi to her new lover and found her snogging somebody else.

With that realisation crashing down on my cheery take on the situation, I got up, punched the wall and kicked the skirting board a few times until Kate told me to stop or she’d put my rent up. Instead, I made us both a coffee even though I wanted something stronger but Kate talked me out of it. Then I cut us both a slice of chocolate cake and together we sat and bemoaned women.

For both of us, it looked like it was back to the drawing board, but while that decision was out of Kate’s control, mine was within my own grasp. I just had to make Lucy believe that what she’d seen wasn’t really what she’d seen. Either that or I had to invent some way of turning back time and ironing out the whole sorry mess.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The next day at work Matt was full of the joys of spring, having sealed the deal with Natalie over the weekend at his place and now all he saw on the horizon was a life full of sex. To say he was chirpy was an understatement. Beth too was crackling with lust after pulling some bloke at a party. It seemed that while mine and Lucy’s relationship was going down the toilet, my colleagues had been busy shagging themselves senseless, which did nothing for my mood.

The night before, Kate’s troubles had gone some way to relieving my own. However, this morning, surrounded as I was by a cloud full of optimism, the weekend’s events seemed more ominous than ever. They were an ash cloud following me around and waiting to burst. I knew I had to work fast to shore up the damage but I was also too scared to act. I concentrated on making the best ham and mushroom paninis I could possibly muster and sunk my mind into my work. Denial turned out to be a comforting companion.

***

Tuesday followed Monday with stunning predictability and my mood descended further. I was short with Matt, flung my phone across the room when it flashed up as my mum’s number and not Lucy’s, and spent the evenings lying flat on my bed, staring at the ceiling and chastising myself for my lack of action. If Kate had not been so concerned with her own situation perhaps she would have talked me out of my slump but this wasn’t a high point in our cohabiting partnership.

However, by Wednesday Matt had seen enough. As soon as the lunchtime rush had dispersed, he sat me down with a coffee and demanded to know what was wrong.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” I kept my eyes on my coffee cup and fiddled with the teaspoon. Matt gave me a look.

I hadn’t wanted to voice my story because the café was riding along on a wave of love. Eventually, though, I told him the whole sorry affair and sat with a settled frown, my shoulders slumped along with my spirits.

“You’re a daft git, you know that?” he said.

“Am I?”

“Yes, you bloody are.”

“Thanks,” I replied. He got up and gave me a hug which I reluctantly accepted, before sitting down again opposite me at the table.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

I shrugged.

“Jess…”

“What?”

“This situation isn’t going to change unless you do something. You’re waiting for Lucy to walk through the door but she’s not going to is she? You have to walk through her door and make things happen.”

I sighed. “Easier said than done.”

Matt laughed. “True. But if you really want this to work, don’t you think you owe it to yourself to at least try? And don’t you think Lucy deserves more, too? Nobody said it was easy.”

“Thank you, Mr Coldplay.”

Matt touched me on the arm and I looked up.

“Why don’t you take the bull by the horns? Leave now, go home, get changed and go to her work. At least then you’ll know one way or the other and can move on. For my money, I bet Lucy is watching the door just as much as you and every day that passes she’s a bit sadder.”

“You think?”

“I do.”

Maybe he had a point.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

So it was that I hung up my apron around 3pm and headed home. Now here I was, climbing the stairs to the top floor of the 243 bus, dodging the chewing gum glued to the penultimate step. I was on my way to Lucy’s opticians and laying my heart on the line.

En route to the bus I’d stopped at the flat to have a quick shower, change into my favourite shirt and jeans and beautify myself so that I looked as irresistible as possible – a must in these situations. Eye liner, mascara, lip gloss and spot cover; I’d also brushed and flossed, tweezed some stray lashes from my brows and practised sucking in my stomach for the big speech. Even though I didn’t have a big speech.

However, right now, watching the afternoon slip by and feeling my heart beginning to pound, I wondered why I hadn’t prepared a PowerPoint presentation or brought some of those enormous flashcards to explain exactly how I felt. It seemed they would have done the job far better than me, who was likely to stumble and blush bright red. I needed something gold-plated and watertight in this situation and the simple truth that she was an old flame who still fancied me wasn’t good enough.

As I stepped off the bus, the afternoon seemed to have increased its heat, but the sun shining down this afternoon wasn’t the sun I’d soaked up of late. Rather, it seemed to me a burning star from a mean-spirited galaxy, intent on making me sweat. Not that I needed any help with that today.

As I turned into the road that housed Lucy’s opticians I took a deep breath and ran my tongue along the front of my top teeth. I was now standing ten metres from the front door but propelling myself forwards was proving tricky, all my regrets, what-ifs and time itself weighing me down. I looked up at the black-and-white signage over the entrance and before I had a chance to change my mind, I pushed the door to her shop. A little bell rang, causing the blonde woman at reception to look up. She wore a name badge that read ‘Nicola’.

“Can I help you?” she said. I noted her green shirt was neatly tapered to her body.

“I’m a friend of Lucy. I wondered if she was in today?”

I hoped I sounded casual and I think I pulled it off as the blond woman smiled warmly, looking me up and down in one eye sweep.

“She is but she might be with a client. Let me just check for you, take a seat,” she said. She pointed at some red velvet chairs to my left. “Sorry, your name?”

“It’s Jess,” I said. My heart was now beating far too fast for my chest and I wondered if it might jump out at any moment or simply stop from over-exertion. It would be a terribly inopportune moment for that to happen. I drummed my fingers on my legs while I waited, and when I got bored with that I twisted my body around to check out the rows of glasses in clear cases lining the walls. Unlike Specsavers, some of these had very fancy price tags and I wondered if I could get a discount for my mum. Yes, even in this situation, that’s what I was thinking. Sometimes I truly disappointed myself.

But not as much as I’d disappointed Lucy, which was etched all over her face when she appeared ten minutes later. She was dressed in what I perceived to be funereal black trousers and grey shirt, with white Converse boots to offset the gloom. Her dark hair was just as I remembered but her smile had vanished, replaced by a stoicism that it pained me to realise was my fault. As she neared me I got up, put my left hand behind my neck and stood in just about the most awkward position I could. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was in this situation. Last week this woman had been in my bed but now she was looking at me with a face that said ‘Say what you’ve come to say and then get out’.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” she replied. Behind her, I saw Nicola glance up and clock the situation. Did she know? Had Lucy told her if I wasn’t out the door within five minutes, she should come over and evict me?

“Thanks for seeing me.” I was aware I sounded like I’d made a last-minute appointment to get my eyes checked. “You’re looking good.” I knew this was a weak line before it came out of my mouth. Why hadn’t I prepared a speech?

Lucy sighed. “Why are you here?”

“I want to talk to you about what happened.”

The silence with which she greeted this was disbelief-flavoured. I ploughed on.

“I just wanted to tell you that it wasn’t what it looked like. I knew that girl…”

She spluttered. “And that’s meant to make me feel better?”

There was no intonation in her voice as she said this, no sarcasm, no rising incredulity. It was flat with no emotion and I knew that wasn’t a good sign. Lucy had probably already made up her mind about me. Player. Idiot. No good.