Queenie(25)

“So, how do you like the building?” I could feel myself doing the doe-eyed thing.

“Yeah, I like it. There are a lot of secret rooms too. Have you explored?” he asked me, his little finger brushing mine.

“Huh?” I asked, heat rushing through my body. “What?”

“I said, the building, have you explored?” Ted repeated, his voice dropping to a sultry rumble.

Tom flashed into my head and I drew my hand back. “No, I haven’t! How’s your commute, though?” I tried to derail the conversation from the track it definitely shouldn’t have been on.

“Right, yeah, good commute,” Ted said, visibly confused. “When I do nights, I’ve got to get the bus from Hackney. But I’m hard, so I can handle it.”

“Oh, am I meant to laugh at that?” I smirked, feeling my face cool down. He truly wasn’t very funny but:

1. Apart from Kyazike, who is ten times as funny as me, I don’t find anyone as funny as me, even in this, the darkest period of my life.

2. Actually, no man is as funny as me or any woman I’ve ever met.

3. Does funny matter when over the course of the evening I’d been able to stop thinking about Tom for more than three minutes?

3a. AND been reminded what it was like for a very attractive man to speak to me like I was more than an orifice or someone hugely inferior?

“Oh, I’m sure you’re very hard, Ted,” I purred. What was I doing? I thought of another boring and practical question to ask. “And who do you live with, Ted?”

“I live with—hold on a sec, you’ve got something in your hair,” he said, moving toward me, his hand reaching toward my hair, getting so close that there was about a millimeter of space between us.

I looked up at him and my mouth parted as he leaned down.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Oh, come on!” He laughed.

“Seriously, what time is it?” I repeated, panic taking over.

“Five past six,” he said, showing me his watch.

“I have to go, sorry, late, fireworks!” I ran out of the pub and continued running until I made the Overground train to Crystal Palace. I didn’t catch my breath until I met Cassandra, who was shivering outside the station.

“Ready for the hill?” she asked, blowing warm air into her bony hands. Cassandra was the first Jewish person I’d ever met. This was probably because I grew up in South London and only ever ventured north to see our other side of the family. I’d put my stuff next to Cassandra in an English language seminar at uni, and as soon as I sat down, she leaned over to me and said that as the two minorities in the course, we should stick together.

The first thing I’d noticed about Cassandra, after her pushiness, was her hair. It was long, dark brown, but shone gold when it caught even a glimpse of light. Like her hair, her eyes were brown but specked with shards of gold. Other classmates avoided her, I’m guessing because her leading personality trait is “spiky,” but I didn’t mind it, I still liked her. Not in spite of the spikiness, either. After introducing herself in that seminar, she told me that I should let her cook me dinner that evening, and has told me how to live my life at every given opportunity since.

“Is anybody ever ready for this hill?” I said, looking up the almost vertical incline. “We need to wait for Darcy, though. She got held up in the office.” I checked my phone. “And we’re meeting Kyazike at the park gates.”

“Oh, before I forget—” Cassandra said, pulling an envelope out of her pocket. “A hundred fifty pounds, right?” She seemed to dangle the envelope in front of me.

“Yes, thanks. Sorry, I know it’s annoying, but I can’t really borrow any money from Tom anymore . . .” I apologized.

“It’s not annoying, but I don’t understand it,” Cassandra said. “When you run out of money, why don’t you just use your other money?”

“What?” I laughed. “What other money?”

“You know, savings, a retirement account, that sort of thing?” I looked back at her blankly. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll start a tab.” She handed the envelope to me.

We continued to stand in the cold waiting for Darcy, Cassandra telling me that every man she met fell in love with her, but it had been so long since she’d met a man she could actually have a “connection” with. “. . . and Derek was such a bore, Queenie. He didn’t ask me any questions about myself in the four months we were dating. I had to drive all conversation. I decided, one evening when we went for dinner, that I wouldn’t ask him anything about himself. Guess what? We didn’t exchange a word after the hellos.”



* * *



By the time Darcy got to the station, we were frozen solid. My nose had almost fallen off, and Cassandra’s teeth were chattering comically.

“Sorry I’m late! Sorry! Hello again, Queenie! How was the drink?”

“A lot. Too much,” I said as she hugged me quickly.

“Well, I did tell you,” she said, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Nice to see you again, Darcy. Should we all get moving?” Cassandra said flatly, wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck. We all began to walk up the steepest hill in South London, my knees practically hitting my chest with each step. The girls strode up, chatting. I was too out of breath to get involved, instead listening along and either nodding in agreement or shaking my head.