Page 40 of Unapologetic Love Story

All she’d ever wanted was to be just like other girls. But he didn’t deserve to know that.

‘So, how does someone like you end up in a house in Barnes? Family home?’

‘I rent it. Pretty standard.’

‘So how does a poor girl become friends with someone like Pepper?’

‘I’m not poor, per se. Family are pretty middle class. I met Pepper through work.’

‘It’s sort of refreshing to hear someone say they’re middle class,’ he said.

‘How so?’

‘In the circles I move in, you meet a lot of people our age who say they’re working class. They go on and on about how they’re self-made, self-sufficient, the embodiment of entrepreneurial spirit. How they’ve clawed their way to the upper echelons by working harder and being better.’

Raina smirked, knowing what was coming but still saying, ‘And then?’

‘And then you find out that their American Express bill is paid off by their parents. That they live in a nine-bedroom in Crouch End or a penthouse in Vauxhall. That their 2:2 was scraped up to a 2:1 by a sly phone call from their father, who got them into said university through a favour. No student loans. Just a six-figure loan from their mother or grandfather to invest in whatever tedious start-up they’ve got, which is based on an idea they’ve stolen from a classmate.’

Raina let out a low whistle. ‘You’re a very judgemental man, Tom Branimir. Fuck.’

Silently she agreed with him, though. She’d cleaned a few of those people’s houses.

‘I like nuance, I like seeing the best of the human condition,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘But sometimes it’s just not there, Raina.’

The words hung in the air as the waiter returned with a jug of water and two tumbler glasses. Raina smiled warmly and thanked the server for pouring her a generous amount, before he dropped a customary splash into Tom’s.

‘People seem to quite like you here,’ Tom observed, dryly inspecting the small thimble of water he’d been given. ‘Why did you leave Poplar?’

‘Fancied a change of scenery.’

‘A breakup?’

Damn his perceptiveness. ‘Perhaps.’

‘It’s not the waiter, is it? Is that why he hates me?’

Raina laughed at that, proudly holding up her full glass of water. ‘No, but judging by this, I think I’m in with a chance.’

He grinned, but Raina’s own smile faded a little. She cast a glance out of the window at the familiar road, winding up and away to the towering skyscrapers of Canary Wharf. A sometimes-soulless scrap of the city, where photographs would have you believe you weren’t in East London. However, Raina liked to remember a piano that sat in one of the long underground corridors of Canary Wharf. A piano that young bankers came to play during their lunch hour, their soft hands covering the keys and making beautiful music which echoed up and down the long tunnel.

She fondly recalled sitting in a coffee shop, where three young lawyers in royal-blue suits met with a local schoolgirl and her teacher, giving her heaps of advice and enthusiastic encouragement. Promising to help her find a work-experience placement that would look good on her university application. The girl’s quiet voice admitting that she would be the first in her family to go.

Raina saw humanity everywhere. Painted into the cracks of the city. Lined on people’s faces.

‘Have you got everything you need from me now, Tom?’ she asked quietly. ‘Are we done?’

His features morphed from cheerful enjoyment to confusion. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’m not here because we’re friends, Tom,’ she said bluntly, but not harshly. ‘I came here to show you what I love about the London marathon and answer your questions. Are we finished?’

Tom was startled. He couldn’t figure this woman out. Every time her guard dropped a little, he liked more and more of what he saw. But each time he thought he knew what made Raina Lewis who she was, everything was shaken up like a snow globe.

When the snow settled, she would be gone again.

‘Off the record,’ he heard himself say, a little desperately. ‘This won’t be for the piece.’

That earned him a quizzical gaze. ‘Then why else would I stay here?’