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I loved the way you could sit at the iron tables and gaze at the views of St Paul’s and Big Ben, plus do some people watching.
Fran was already sitting down, sipping what looked like a gin and tonic, when I arrived. She got up and gave me a massive hug.
‘Oooh, are you okay, Soph?’ she asked, sounding concerned. ‘You look a bit peeky.’
Clearly even shovelling on a load of Touche Éclat couldn’t help me today.
‘Hmm, I’m not feeling great, to be honest, Fran,’ I replied.
‘Oh, luv. Why didn’t you say?’ she said, patting my hand. ‘We could have met another time.’
‘No way!’ I replied. ‘I’ve been wanting to see you for months, and I knew you would have already bought your train ticket and been on your way down to London, so I wouldn’t want you to waste your money and time. I’ll be fine. Maybe I just need to eat something.’
‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ she said calmly. ‘Well, it’s sooooo good to see you! I know we all speak loads on the group chat with Dan, but nothing beats seeing each other face-to-face. So how have you been? Still madly in love with Lorenzo? You lucky cow! He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. In fact, is he still working in London? We should have gone to his restaurant so we could just gaze at him all afternoon!’ she said, giggling. ‘Sorry! Is it wrong for me to say that, seeing as I’m a married woman and you two are together? Well, I’m still human, nothing wrong in looking,’ she said, chuckling again and answering her own question.
‘Ah my lovely Lorenzo…’ I gushed. ‘Yes, I’m still madly in love! We haven’t seen each other since last month, but we spoke this morning and he’s well. Just about recovered from working non-stop over Christmas and New Year and has had a lot of stuff to sort out back home too by the sound of it, but I’ll be seeing him on his day off next week and I cannot wait!’
As we tucked into our smoked salmon, poached eggs (I had a fried egg white instead) and toasted sourdough, I recapped the full story of what had happened these past couple of months, as I’d kept everything quite short and sweet on WhatsApp. But as I neared the end of the tale, I had to stop. Rather than feeling better, my nausea became worse. In fact, I had to go to the looimmediately.
I just about got there in time before I started throwing up. Such beautiful toilets they had here, too. What a shame to sully them…
When I thought it had stopped, another wave of awfulness would return. I was too terrified to go outside in case I needed to be sick again and didn’t make it back to the loo in time. So I sat there on the floor, waiting to see if I felt any better.
The room was spinning. I just wanted to lie down. That was the second time I had been ill after eating salmon. I remembered going to a restaurant with Rich about ten years ago and having salmon. It was delicious. But then the next day, I was violently ill. So ill, in fact, that I had to stay at my parents’ because Rich went on a business trip that day and I felt like I was dying, so I didn’t want to be alone.
From that moment on, I had vowedneverto eat salmon again. Even the smell set me off. Then slowly, a few years later, I started eating it again. But judging by how ill I was feeling now, my body still wasn’t a fan.
‘Soph? Are you in here?’
It was Fran. I must have been here awhile, so she’d come to check on me. I quickly flushed the toilet to get rid of the horrendous smell. Should have done that straight away.
‘I’m down here, Fran,’ I cried out, rubbing my sore stomach. ‘At the end toilet on the right.’
I heard her heels clink down the black-tiled walkway. ‘Are you okay, hon?’ she asked, talking to me through the door.
‘Not really, Fran,’ I replied. ‘I feel awful. I think it might be the salmon.’
‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to call you a cab, sweetheart?’
‘No!’ I protested. ‘We haven’t finished our catch-up. I want to hear about how everything is going with you. I just need a few more minutes, Fran, and I’ll be okay.’
‘Well, maybe we should move to The Den, then,’ she suggested. They’ve got comfy chairs there, which may be more relaxing. I’ll order us a pot of peppermint tea to calm your stomach.’
‘That would be great, Fran,’ I replied, trying to fight another wave of nausea I could feel returning. ‘Sorry to ruin our brunch.’
‘Don’t be silly, hon!’ she said. ‘I’ll go and explain everything to the waiter, and then just come and meet me in The Den when you’re ready. If you’re not out in fifteen minutes, though, I will come and check on you again.’
What a sweetheart.
After throwing up again, I started to feel a little better. I wasn’t sure there was anything left in me to come out. I surveyed the toilet bowl, cleaned it up the best I could and then headed out to the sinks. I stared at myself in the mirror. God, I looked terrible. Tired, washed out, fat and awful. Overindulgence at Christmas and New Year, travelling, grief and eating salmon would do that to you.
After washing my hands, I splashed my face with cold water, rinsed out my mouth and then made my way to The Den.
Sure enough, Fran was seated there with a pot of tea. As she saw me approaching, she poured some out into the pretty china teacup.
I plonked myself down on the cosy green sofa.
‘Here you go, my love,’ she said, pushing the teacup slowly towards me.
