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And as I look out of the window I catch a glimpse of Nick throwing his rucksack over his shoulder and melting into a crowd of people.
18
I whip back the curtains and the sun splashes through the window, illuminating my bedroom, its enthusiasm and vitality seeping into the pores of my skin. I love the autumn sunshine. It reminds me of rare family visits to Highgate Woods when I was little; of me and George playing hide and seek, of my parents chasing us around the green then tickling us until we cried out for mercy.
Opening the window, I fill my lungs with the cool, crisp air. Isn’t life great? Tina got the all clear yesterday, not a peep out of Nick, and I have a fabulous new man in my life. I close my eyes, savouring the moment as the phone trills in the background. I glance at my alarm clock quickly - five seconds past ten. Daniel said he’d call me at ten o’clock. I bound into the lounge and grab the phone before the answering machine kicks in.
“Great news about Tina,” Daniel says a little breathlessly after we get the preambles out of the way. I was so excited about Tina’s good news that I texted him yesterday afternoon. “We are still on for today, aren’t we?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Yesterday in the pub, Tina persuaded me to keep my date with Daniel but suggest a cosy night in instead of lunch with his daughter. I could invite him round once Vicky picks up Florian, and that way I’ll avoid meeting Connie today but still see him. Good thinking. I pad into the kitchen and grab the semi-skimmed milk from the fridge. “You okay? You sound out of breath,” I laugh, closing the fridge door with my elbow.
“Yeah, sorry, just got back from my run.” Run? I knew he was fit but didn’t have him down for pounding the streets of north-west London.
“Really? I thought you were more of a gym man,” I say a little loudly over the rumble of the kettle.
“Nah, nothing like running in the fresh air.” I can almost hear him smiling down the phone. “You should join me next time?”
“Yeah, might just do that.” I could do with losing a bit of weight. “A jog around the park sounds like fun.” He laughs and tells me that he ran ten miles today. “What?” I exclaim, “Without stopping?” I’m gobsmacked and slightly in awe. I get breathless running for the 134 bus. “Well, in that case, you’ll need the paramedics on speed dial if I come along.”
We share a moment of laughter as I shuffle into the lounge with my coffee and bowl of Weetabix, phone jammed between my shoulder and jaw. He sounds excited, happy, the endorphins must be tearing through his body. I’m glad I’ve got him in a good mood, it’ll make telling him about my change of plans much easier. I’m sure he’ll be fine about it all, especially when I suggest a quiet night in with a bottle of wine, a takeaway and a soppy movie on Netflix. He’s a reasonable man. He’ll understand.
“So, what time do you want to meet up?” he asks brightly. “We said about lunchtime, didn’t we? I could pick you up or –”
But I don’t let him finish. “Well, I was going to say could we do Connie another day, actually.” I pause for a response but am met with a cold silence. Shit. I hope he hasn’t taken this the wrong way. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to meet her or anything, but I promised Vicky I’d have Florian today, a last minute thing and…”
“But she’s been looking forward to it all week,” he cuts in crisply. I’m slightly taken aback by his sharp tone.
“Well, I’ll have Florian until about fiveish.” I push the cereal bowl away from me, my appetite suddenly depleted.
“Bring him along,” he says cheerfully. I can hear him shuffling around, banging cupboard doors, then the hiss of a can being opened, “The more the merrier. Connie won’t mind.”
“Yes, I know…but the thing is…” I rack my brains for a reasonable excuse. Oh, God, why can’t I just be honest? Why can’t I just say “I’d like to get to know you a little bit better before we do the family stuff. What’s the rush?”
“Oh, come on, Audrey, please.” He breathes heavily down the phone. “I can’t cancel on her now. She’s so excited. Is two o’clock okay with you?” It doesn’t look like he’s going to take no for an answer. I spoon the gloopy Weetabix around in the bowl in front of me. I suppose it can’t hurt to meet his little girl, and I don’t want to be a spoilsport, especially if she’s been looking forward to it all week.
“Okaaaay,” I say sulkily. “Vicky should be dropping Florian off at twelve, so two should be fine. We’ll come to you. There’s more to do in Hampstead. Florian and I can just jump on the tube, he loves travelling on the underground. Where do you fancy eating?” I take a sip of much-needed coffee. He tells me it’s up to me. “How about McDonalds, then? It’s Florian’s favourite treat.” Vicky always lets me spoil him when I’m child-minding.
“Oh, McDonalds.” He sounds disappointed with my choice of venue but agrees to meet us outside the restaurant at 2 p.m., if that’s what I want. Well, where are you supposed to take kids for lunch, for Christ’s sake, The Shard?
At twelve-thirty, Florian and I catch the 134 to Highgate then jump onto the Northern Line heading for Hampstead, I with a copy of Marie Claire under my arm and he with his mini iPad, which I bought him for his last birthday. And as the train thunders into the dark tunnel whisking me towards my latest challenge, I start wondering what on earth I’ve let myself in for. What am I doing messing around with a man with a family? A man whose business partner is his ex-wife? A gorgeous, young ex-wife who enjoys family holidays with him in Cyprus. And what will happen if Connie hates me? Will that be the end of our short relationship? And why, oh why, did I let him manipulate me into meeting his daughter today when clearly I’m not ready for it?
I berate myself for being such a big wimp, elbow on armrest, chin in hand. I’ll never learn. A young woman opposite with blonde shoulder length hair looks up at me from her kindle and smiles, and I realise I’ve been giving her the-thousand-mile-stare for the last five minutes. Sitting up straight, I smile back quickly before averting my eyes to the middle-aged man next to her. He’s fast asleep, arms folded, head lolling near his chest, and momentarily I’m transported to the time I fell asleep on the train after an office party and missed my stop.
I spent the entire journey with my head against a nun’s shoulder, snoring. I don’t think she had the heart to disturb me but when we arrived at her stop, she gently shook me awake and said, “I’m getting off here, love.” I looked up at her, bleary-eyed, mouth ajar. A huge crucifix swayed close to my face, and for a brief moment, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. “And you really shouldn’t drink so much in the future, dear. It makes you snore and it’s given you smelly breath. God bless.”
I press my lips together, kerbing in a laugh that’s bursting to escape. I’ve got to get the image of the nun out of my head. I gaze around the carriage, desperate for distraction. A little girl, about Connie’s age, is sitting three seats away with her mother, swinging a teddy bear in the air as if it were a flag. When she catches me watching she clings to her mum, then shyly makes the bear give me a little wave. It’s new, it still has the price tag hanging off its foot, must’ve been a treat from mum. And as I wriggle my fingers at her and mouth “hello” a feeling of dread tears through me like a Japanese bullet train. Shit. I haven’t bought Connie a present.
I cover my mouth and gasp. Kindle-lady glances up at me, nutter alert etched on her face. My face feels like it’s on fire. I can’t turn up empty handed on our first meeting. Daniel will think I’m a cheapskate. Connie will be disappointed. She’ll hate me from the word go. I pinch the skin of my neck nervously, frowning at my double reflection in the window. I suppose I could buy her something once I get there, some sweets or a cuddly toy. Surely, there’s a newsagent in Hampstead. Satisfied by this brainwave, I relax and cross one leg over the other, smiling down at Florian who’s looking at me sideways, lips slightly parted, as if I’m deranged.
“Almost there,” I say excitedly, leafing through the pages of my magazine absentmindedly. And he rolls his eyes and goes back to his game.
Outside Hampstead Station, Florian and I walk hand in hand down the slope towards the High Street, I with a flutter of anxiety in my stomach and he with his mini iPad. We’re fifteen minutes early – result. It’ll give me time to buy Connie a gift.
“Remember what I said, Florian, be nice to the little girl or no iTunes top-up, okay?”
“Yes, Auntie,” he drones, gazing at the screen of his iPad.
“And no playing games in McDonalds either, give me that.” I snatch his iPad and stuff it into my bag. “You can play with it on the journey home.” And after a little protest, he grumpily agrees.
