‘Last weekend he took me on a romantic mini-break to a luxury hotel! And we had “the chat”! He said would I mind if we made it exclusive…’
‘OMG!’ said Simon.
‘This is too exciting!’ said Lucy, thrilled for her friend. Lettie was, quite clearly, over the moon. She looked like one of those cartoon characters who, struck by cupid, had heart-shaped pupils in their eyes.
Amidst the verbal diarrhoea, Simon and Lucy grilled their friend to check whether Luke had been conducting himself in a gentlemanly fashion, to siphon out any arsehole-type behaviour, but he genuinely seemed irreprehensible. They were thrilled for her and decided to go to the local pizzeria after work for dinner and a couple of glasses of wine to celebrate.
That’s it, then, thought Lucy.First Simon and now Lettie, all coupled up! I really am the last one on the shelf!Her mind darted towards Rory and she wondered at the possibility that things might develop with him.
Following an unsurprisingly dull few days at work to end the week, she found the weekend soon upon her. Lucy was undecided about whether to meet Rory again in Holland Park. She had promised herself she wouldn’t waste her time pursuing men any more but there was just something about him she couldn’t stop thinking about. She wasn’t entirely sure whether he would even turn up. He had no obligation towards her and they hadn’t even swapped numbers to confirm the time or place. Imagine if she showed up and waited there for an hour or so and then had to go home again, cold and disappointed. Not to mention looking foolish and desperate to boot. Yes, perhaps it was more sensible to just stay at home. She decided to Google him to see if she could find out more about him. She remembered his name, Rory McCullan, and was able to find him pretty quickly thanks to his website, Rory McCullan Ltd, which not only had a biography and a photograph but also lots of examples of his work as an architect and links to various articles he had written. It seemed like he did very well for himself. She couldn’t help but doubt whether he could truly be interested in her.
She was still in two minds come Saturday morning. She had a bath, relaxing into the scented water and scrutinizing the soft flesh of her belly, trying to work out whether there was a tiny baby growing inside her, or not. She still felt remarkably calm about this round of treatment; she had a real sense of acceptance about her future, she felt sure that everything would happen at exactly the right time and in just the right way. She placed the palm of her hand on the centre of her tummy and sent lots of positive thoughts through it to any baby that might be in the earliest stages of development within. It was a very curious state of mind to be trying for a baby. Lucy found it a strange contrast; she had spent the whole of her twenties obsessively hoping that she wasn’t pregnant, that some accident had not happened during a moment of passion that would have everlasting consequences. Each month, when she was due to get her period, she would pray for it to come and only when it did would she relax, grateful in the knowledge that she wouldn’t have a baby to contend with in nine months’ time. Now, however, not only did she spend all her time hoping and praying that shewashaving a baby, she was even going to extraordinary measures to do so!
In the end, she decided to flip a coin; heads she would go to Holland Park, tails she would stay at home and get on with her weekend admin. Wrapped in her fluffy dressing gown, she went into the sitting room and found her handbag, extracted a coin from her wallet and tossed it in the air. She caught it as it fell and placed it in the palm of her left hand. She took her hand away and saw tails. Tails. She would stay at home. Her heart fell. Within an instant she had flipped the coin back over to heads. Of course she would go. The best-looking man she had practically ever laid eyes on had asked to see her again; she was hardly going to turn it down. She had so enjoyed talking to him the week before, she couldn’t wait to spend more time with him. And if he didn’t turn up she would have lost nothing, she could just go and buy herself a coffee and all she would be doing was sticking to her usual Saturday routine.
Taking a deep breath, she undid her dressing gown and began to get ready. The cold air outside had left her skin feeling particularly dry so she reached for her moisturiser and rubbed it all over her body, luxuriating in the feeling of silky soft skin. She dried her hair and straightened the ends and her fringe, before going through the ritual of applying her make-up, step by step. At the last minute she decided to shave her legs, just in case.
‘What to wear for a walk in the park, whilst still managing to look attractive?’ she pondered. She walked over to her big, walk-in wardrobe and flung open the doors, peering inside. Riffling through the coat hangers, she found a pair of black jeans, a stripy long-sleeved T-shirt, and a soft jumper the colour of forget-me-nots. Lucy pulled on her brown suede ankle boots and fixed a pair of gold hoops into her ears, checking her appearance in the long mirror.Not bad, she thought,not bad at all!She glanced out of the window to check for the possibility of rain. The clouds looked grey and menacing. She pulled on a coat and set off.
At roughly the same time that she had arrived at the cafe last week, Lucy walked nervously up the pathway leading to the Orangery. There was clearly a wedding going on that afternoon. The Orangery was often hired out for events and caterers were coming in and out of their vans carrying trays of food. She sidestepped a young man carrying a topiary, ornamental bush teetering far above his head, and looked up at the cafe feeling sure that she was about to be disappointed. To her amazement, there was Rory, standing rather awkwardly, with Rufus on a lead at his feet; the lead was in one hand with a takeaway cup balancing on top of it, and in the other hand was another cup. As soon as he saw her, his eyes twinkled; the crow’s feet that were etched around them deepened as a smile spread across his face. Lucy approached him somewhat shyly, partly due to the cast of River Dance that were currently tap-dancing in her stomach. Shivers ran through her chest and down her spine.
‘Lucy!’ he cried, obviously very happy to see her.
‘Hi Rory,’ she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. ‘Nice to see you! Hello Rufus,’ she said as she bent down to pat him on the back. He wagged his tail appreciatively.
‘I got you a coffee. Well, a chai thingy anyway. Was that right?’ he asked.
Touched that he had remembered her drink of choice, she said, ‘How kind of you! Yes, a chai latte… you remembered!’
‘I tried my best!’ he said, smiling. ‘I wasn’t actually sure whether you’d make it. It was a bit foolish of me not to take your number, really.’
‘I was thinking something similar! I’m glad you are here,’ she said, taking the lid off her cup and sipping the comfortingly sweet spiced milk. It was a little cold. She wondered how long the poor man had been waiting with it. The thought of him arriving early enough to buy her a drink made her warm to him even more.
‘Shall we walk?’ asked Rory. ‘I think Rufus is desperate to get off this lead.’
‘Sure,’ said Lucy. ‘Let’s go!’ and they started off down the path, looping away from the Orangery, past the remains of Holland House. ‘It’s sad to see what’s left of it now,’ she said as they passed the grand Elizabethan building.
‘It must have been quite something in its prime. Though I kind of love the contrast of its use today. An open-air opera at the front and a youth hostel round the back!’ said Rory. ‘I’m not really sure how well the two go together!’
‘I know,’ laughed Lucy. ‘Probably not at all what the owner had in mind five hundred years ago! Have you ever been to the opera here?’ Lucy asked.
‘Not for years. I used to go quite often, actually, with my wife,’ he said.
‘You’re married?’ asked Lucy in surprise, her heart jumping into her throat.
‘I’m a widower,’ said Rory, looking at the floor in front of him as he walked.
‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry,’ Lucy muttered, shaking her head. ‘That must have been awful.’
‘It was pretty awful,’ nodded Rory; a mist of sadness shadowing his features at the memory.
Lucy’s heart reached out to him. ‘What did she die of, if you don’t mind me asking?’ she enquired tentatively.
‘Not at all, it was a long time ago. It was breast cancer, she battled it for fifteen months, but sadly she lost…’ he said. ‘Have you been to the opera here?’ he asked, changing the subject.
‘Actually, yes, I went the summer before last with my granny. They have an OAP scheme where you can enter a ballot to win a pair of free tickets right at the front. Someone told me about it at work and I decided to enter for her, then promptly forgot all about it. I got an email a couple of months later telling me that I’d won! My grandmother was thrilled, she’s always one for a bargain. So am I, for that matter!’ Lucy added.
‘What did you see?’ Rory asked.
