We’ve agreed to meet under the Waterloo clock again. I’m slightly delayed and sprint across the concourse once I’m free of the heaving escalators emerging from the Tube, because I really don’t want Nadia to think she’s been stood up twice in five days.
I can see her looking in the opposite direction from me and call, ‘Nadia, hi,’ from a few metres away.
She spins round, nearly knocking a man carrying a tiny dog flying, says, ‘Sorry, sorry,’ to him and then, with a huge smile, says to me, ‘Thank yousomuch for doing this for me.’
‘Hey, no, my pleasure.’
We exchange a hug and then Nadia says, ‘That way,’ pointing at the main exit.
‘Sorry I’m a bit late,’ I say as we begin to move in the direction that leads to the South Bank. ‘I was helping out with an after-school swimming club that we do at one of the local pools, because one of the sports teachers is on parental leave this week, and two kids pushed two others in fully clothed, which led to a lot of unforeseen hassle.’ There was one point during our tapas dinner with the others where Carole asked us about our jobs, so I know that Nadia works in accountancy (and doesn’t love it) and I know that she knows what I do.
‘How fully clothed were they?’ asks Nadia, sounding awed.
‘Shoes, bags, the works. They shouldn’t have been next to the pool like that in the first place. But they were. They both had phones on them, which are probably ruined. One of those situations where a kid does something that affords them a few seconds of gratification and causes a lot of adults ahugeamount of admin to sort it out.’
‘It probably caused them more than a few seconds’ gratification,’ Nadia says. ‘Looking on the bright side.’
‘True. Especially when one of the lifeguards lost it and called them effing little shits. Which, if I’m honest, was the high point of my working day too, because clearly I cannot say that to them, but it did sum up the situation perfectly.’
Nadia laughs. ‘Well. In the circumstances I’m amazed that you made it to meet me pretty much on time.’
I resist the temptation to hug her in gratitude that she’s so understanding and remind myself that I shouldnotconflate all women (anywomen, or people, in fact) and that just because my ex-wife used to gomadif I was late back from a school thing (a common occurrence in an expect-the-unexpected job), it doesn’t mean other people will.
Instead, I say, ‘Obviously it’s disappointing that I didn’t have time to don my Tom costume.’
‘Well fortunately,’ Nadia says, ‘I brought you something to wear.’
‘You did?’ I’m notbiginto fancy dress if I’m honest.
‘I went simple. Just to show willing for Michael, who really is quite a mean boss.’ She opens the large bag she has over her shoulder and pulls out two bunny headbands. ‘Bugs Bunny,’ she tells me. ‘Obviously not as niche as Hades fromHercules, but it’s a small effort. Hopefully there’ll be a critical mass of people not joining in. But just in case…’
‘Good thinking. Everyone should carry bunny ear headbands in their bag to cover all eventualities. So, is there anything I should know before we go in? Do we need to have a story that we have to get straight?’
‘Well, basically Sammy has the emotional maturity of a toddler and has spent the entire week sniggering about me getting stood up on Saturday night. I’ve just been smiling and telling him that honestly it was the best thing that could have happened to me. My lovely colleague Marisa, whose maturity level is similar to his but who is an amazing friend, has been taking positive action like putting salt in his coffee and chewing gum on his chair. I’m thinking that sticking to the truth is always the best thing, so we should maybe just say we met at Waterloo station on Saturday during a false bomb alarm and it’sreallyearly days but we’re enjoying each other’s company.’
‘That’s the perfect story,’ I approve. ‘Then if we don’t know stuff about each other, all good.’
‘Exactly.’
I actually cannot understand why Nadia has such bad dating luck. Objectively, she’s very attractive – pretty face, tanned skin, great hair – and she’s also lovely, as demonstrated by the fact that she’s now delicately asking me about Lola and how I’m feeling.
‘Yeah, no, no reply, and I’m trying to ignore the whole thing. I think I’d still like to look for her – see her in person, get closure – but not right now.’
‘Makes sense,’ she tells me. ‘Itwillbe okay.’ And weirdly, I feel like she’s right, and I feel a little better.
* * *
The work do is in a café on the South Bank; Nadia’s boss Michael has rented out the whole of the upstairs.
‘The food will be shit.’ Nadia hands me my Bugs Bunny ears as we traipse up the stairs behind a Minnie Mouse, a Donald Duck and a Cinderella. (Clearly no-one heeded the boss’s request that the characters be niche.) ‘But I hear that the views are great.’
When we enter, we’re almost immediately surrounded by people who Nadia clearly knows well.
Nadia introduces me as Tom, with no explanation, and from the way her eyes are dancing and she looks as though she’s about to giggle I can see that she’s enjoying being mysterious. I’m enjoying it too if I’m honest. I’m saying, ‘Hi, I’m Tom,’ and shaking hands and offering no explanation whatsoever about myself, and it’s genuinely good entertainment watching the who-is-he pantomime unfold.
Nadia manoeuvres us slightly further into the room, and I quickly realise why: my hand is shaken by a tall, thin man, who’s dressed in a very sharp brown, checked suit and pointy shoes, with no concession whatsoever made to the Disney theme (unless he’s a cinematic villain I haven’t heard of), and Nadia introduces us.
‘Tom, this is Sammy.’
