He had, in fact, a whole speech planned out in his head, and he was nervous and excited and determined to deliver it. He’d got back from his mum’s house late last night. Holding her as she cried was hard – holding her as she held him, because they both cried, was hard – and the late night and worry showed on his face. But he had showered and put on a crisp, clean shirt, shaved and used mouthwash and moisturizer, and as the train passed through King’s Cross he took a breath, knowing her stop was next.
Please, please, please, please, please, please, he willed silently. Please be here.
As the train pulled up he eagerly looked out of the window, and there she stood, right in her usual place. Radiant and perfect and Daniel’s tummy leapt and he clenched his fists in victory. She was here! The train lined up so that the doors he stood beside were the ones that would open for her.
Okay pal, he coached himself. This is it. This is your moment. Do yourself proud.
The doors opened, one or two people stepped off the train, and space was made for her to get on. Daniel straightened himself up and arranged his features into an encouraging smile, ready to say her name.
‘Nadia?’
The tall ginger man who stood slightly behind her beat him to it. He was wearing a leather jacket and had stubble and cocked his head towards the left, saying, ‘This way, babe.’
The train was unusually quiet, and the pair got seats together right at the end of the carriage, the guy reaching an arm proprietorially over her shoulder and pulling her in towards him. Daniel adjusted himself to get a better look. Nadia had her legs crossed and the man had his other hand on her knee. Daniel edged closer to where they were, straining to hear what the man was saying. It was something about plans for the weekend – did she want to go to Columbia Road Flower Market? They could start at the end with the cafés and get coffee and pastries, and then walk up and look in the shops and end up at the pub at the other end, maybe think about lunch. He had a whole weekend itinerary for them, spilling out from the tip of his tongue and Daniel knew, right in the space between his belly button and his gut, just from that small snippet he’d heard, that they had a life together. He didn’t know how he’d missed the signs – although, admittedly, this was the first time he’d seen them together. Maybe all those other days, the ones when she wasn’t on the 7.30, she was actually commuting in from his house, from somewhere else in London. He looked like the kind of guy who lived south of the river. Peckham, maybe, in one of the new developments that everyone had said wouldn’t sell and now went at half a million for a one-bed. That would make sense: that’s why he didn’t see her every day.
He followed that trail of thought. If Nadia had a boyfriend, it occurred to him, then surely it couldn’t have been her who had been writing back to the adverts. He’d presumed without question that it was, but now he felt stupid: it could have been anybody wanting a bit of excitement responding to those notes. Maybe it was like horoscopes: all the details applied, if only you searched hard enough.
Somebody else had obviously misunderstood, and he was inadvertently impressed by what somebody else had written. There must be a woman out there, somewhere, convinced Daniel was courting her and maybe that was the woman he would have met last night, because Nadia would have been none the wiser. He felt really bloody stupid. He looked up and around the carriage to see if there was a blonde woman holding a coffee in the vicinity – a woman who had convinced herself Daniel had meant her. There was a sixty-something woman with strawberry-blonde hair and a briefcase not far away, peering at her phone screen over her glasses. And a twenty-something blonde with her hair in a French braid that reached her waist, sat in jogging bottoms and trainers and with a sports bag at her feet, listening to music and seemingly checking out the woman opposite her. Was it either of them?
Daniel looked at Nadia and her boyfriend again. He briefly wondered if, and half hoped, they were polyamorous. That was increasingly common in London now, he’d heard. He’d seen it on some of the apps too. ‘Ethically non-monogamous’, some of the bios said. But from the way her boyfriend sat close to her, breathing her air, whispering in her ear – no way. Daniel couldn’t see it. He didn’t put judgement on anyone with enough love for more than one person, but no. Nadia’s boyfriend wasn’t one of those people. Daniel just didn’t get that vibe.
She didn’t look the least bit upset or put out, Nadia. There was no air to her that suggested she’d waited for a stranger last night, and been stood up. Not one bit.
Colour filled Daniel’s cheeks and the back of his neck. He suddenly felt nauseous and hot and light-headed and ridiculous. He’d spent all this time planning and imagining and it turned out he’d been having an imaginary relationship with a woman who had no idea he even existed. He seriously considered the fact that he might be going mad. This was mortifying. How would he explain it all to Romeo, or Lorenzo? Even himself? He wanted the ground to open a Daniel-shaped hole that he could step into, so that he’d never have to ride this train and be reminded of his delusions of amour ever, ever again. What a sad, pathetic fool he’d been.
Of course he hadn’t been writing to Nadia!
Of course she wasn’t interested in him!
None of this was real!
He’d been a damned fool, and played himself. As the train pulled into the station he lingered as Nadia and her boyfriend walked ahead, and he watched them go.
You need help, he told himself. You batshit crazy bastard. You’ve imagined this whole thing!
Daniel walked slowly to work, his brain doing the mental arithmetic of just how bonkers he was. He felt like he wanted to get hold of old copies of the papers, the ones where he thought he’d read her response. Was he so deluded that he’d made it up, in his head? It suddenly felt entirely possible. His shirt collar felt tighter at the thought, his neck clammy. He hated her boyfriend. Hated him. There were no specifics to this hate, but it was there. Daniel couldn’t get what he thought was a smug and self-serving demeanour out of his mind. Who did he think he was, making romantic plans and checking in to make sure it was cool with her? Who the hell was he to let her walk ahead, and kiss her cheek in affection, and generally exist as a gentleman?
Fuck you, Daniel thought.
‘My brother, my man! How did it go!’ Romeo said, watching Daniel approach through the lobby. ‘You okay?’ he said, sensing his mood immediately. ‘You don’t look great.’
Daniel felt like he was struggling to focus.
‘I’m a fucking idiot,’ he said, his voice hardly above a whisper. ‘I made it all up. All of it.’ He laughed, hysterically. ‘I don’t even know if you’re real!’ he said, reaching out to pat Romeo’s arms, his face. ‘Are you real?’
Romeo took his friend’s hands and put them at the side of his own body.
‘Last night either went super amazing, or super terrible,’ he said, wide-eyed. ‘And I’ve got my suspicions on which one.’
‘I was so stupid,’ Daniel was saying. ‘So stupid!’
‘Ah,’ said Romeo. ‘And therein lies the answer. Super terrible?’
‘You won’t believe this,’ Daniel said, his eyes unable to focus. ‘I had to go. My mother called, it was an emergency, and now this morning I just saw her with her boyfriend! She has a boyfriend! And if she has a boyfriend, no way was she there last night, because women with boyfriends don’t show up at bars to meet people who are not their boyfriends but who they met through an anonymous column in the paper, so!’ Daniel’s words were all crashing into each other, like he couldn’t get them out of his mouth as fast as they entered his head. ‘AND SO. Either I have been writing to a totally different woman, or – and this is what scares me, really fucking scares me – maybe I just imagined the whole thing. Maybe I am ACTUALLY INSANE. I’m so stupid!’
Romeo shook his head. ‘No, man. I don’t believe that. You’ve got to be confused or something. I saw those adverts. She’s real, all right.’
‘I really don’t even think she showed up last night. She coul
dn’t have done! She was out with her boyfriend! Fuck. I would have sat there all night waiting for her. I don’t know what’s worse: that a totally different woman could have shown up, or this was all some joke to her – or somebody – and I would have waited for ever for nobody.’
Romeo was his typical, level-headed self, listening to Daniel rant and rave and still saying good morning to anybody else who passed through the lobby.
‘Okay. You. Me. Pub after work, okay?’
Daniel’s eyes found his. ‘Pub after work,’ he repeated, like he was in a trance.
‘Okay? Meet me down here at 6 p.m.?’
‘Okay,’ Daniel said.
Romeo was talking slowly, making sure Daniel got calmer right in front of him. ‘Go upstairs and get a coffee and read your emails and … Well, to be honest I’m not entirely sure what your job actually is, but go upstairs and do it. At lunchtime go for a walk and eat a sandwich, and just … keep your head down today, okay? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were on drugs.’
‘I’m not on drugs,’ said Daniel.
‘I know, mate. But keep a low profile anyway, okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘And Daniel? All is not lost. I promise you that.’
Daniel didn’t believe him.
‘You just can’t argue with a Wetherspoons, you know?’ Romeo was saying, as he and Daniel weaved through the Friday-night throngs of workers on the pavements, all hurriedly walking towards the beginning of their weekends. ‘Those prices, man. It’s not to be sniffed at.’
They settled into a table in the corner, Romeo insisting on getting in the first round, which Daniel objected to strongly but Romeo was adamant about. He tootled off to the bar and Daniel sat and waited. He’d calmed down considerably since this morning. He had done next to no work and had had Percy hold all of his calls. Percy had done exactly as he was told, not even putting through Lorenzo’s attempts to find out what had happened on the date. Percy could tell something was up, but didn’t pry. He simply followed Daniel’s instructions, and also brought him back a cookie at lunch, silently leaving it on his desk, smiling, and returning to his work.
Daniel had had a series of texts from Lorenzo over the course of the day, none of which he had replied to:
Well, it can’t have gone that well because I heard you come home alone last night, the first said.
The second: Although it was about midnight, so you obviously had *something* to say to each other.
He sent a third, not long after: Are you ignoring me because you’re gutted she wasn’t interested?
The fourth: Well, fuck her, mate, you know? I never thought she was a big fucking deal in the first place.
Later, he’d sent another: What time you home tonight, mate?
Waiting for Romeo, Daniel picked up his phone with vague ideas of finally texting Lorenzo back, but he didn’t know where to start. He hoped Lorenzo would be out when he got home, and maybe after a chat with Romeo and a good night’s sleep he could think about what he was going to tell him. He was pretty sure Lorenzo would find the whole thing hilarious and pathetic, and be horribly unsupportive. Daniel didn’t know if he could take being laughed at. Not over this.
When Romeo came over with their drinks – two ciders – Daniel said, ‘I just feel really stupid.’
Romeo took a sip. ‘Well, let me tell you, straight up, that you are not actually stupid. Feel it, sure. But know that you are not actually an idiot.’
‘Aren’t I?’ Daniel said.
‘No.’
The pair worked at their drinks.
‘I’m gonna need you to hear me out on this,’ Romeo said eventually. ‘But I’m pretty convinced you’ve got to talk to her. To Nadia. Directly. I don’t believe for a second you want to walk away from this without knowing exactly what the truth is.’
‘I’m terrified of the truth,’ Daniel said. ‘I feel crazy. I feel like I just need to forget this whole thing. I need to start getting an earlier train, and dating the old-fashioned way – using an app.’
‘Is that really what you want?’
‘No. Yes. No.’
Romeo digested his response. He was an interesting listener, Daniel thought. He actually listened to what Daniel was saying instead of simply being quiet until it was his turn to talk. Lorenzo often spoke over the top of Daniel, dominating the conversation. Romeo was a lot more like his uni mates.
‘Listen,’ he said. ‘Is this the first time you’ve seen this other guy?’
‘Yes.’
‘So really – who knows who he is. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if there’s no ring on her finger and she really is the one who has been writing to you, she’s either with him and not happy, or not with him and you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.’
‘But she might not have been the one writing to me – that’s where I’m at now. I don’t think she is.’
‘Well. The next time you see her, man, you gotta talk to the woman face to face. Pick your moment. Make a little eye contact and see if you get a smile, but fucking talk to her, man.’
‘And say what?’
‘I find hello is a good opener.’
Daniel raised his eyebrows at him.
‘Doesn’t necessarily need a response, could just be you being polite, but if she likes the look of you you’ll know it. She’ll say something back. There’ll be signals, man. Trust me.’
‘Do you think I should send another letter in to the paper?’
‘I think you’re past that now, don’t you? This crossed-wires shit is some Greek tragedy shit, man. Messages through other people, all smoke and mirrors. Talk to the woman face to face, like a grown man. Don’t miss your chance like I did, with Juliet. You’ve got this! It’s just a chat! But it’s a chat that will set you straight again, you know? Maybe she has terrible breath or is rude to strangers, in which case your crush will be cured. I know I don’t know you too well, mate, but what I do know is that you need to feel like you’ve done your best. You don’t wanna keep on wondering what happened.’
Daniel swilled the last of his cider around in the bottom of his glass. ‘What if I wrote and just said, sorry – I came, but I had to leave?
‘That’s an option.’
‘Yeah,’ said Daniel.
‘Gimme your phone.’
Daniel handed over his phone. Romeo typed for a few seconds before passing it back to Daniel, who stared at the screen. In the notes app he’d written:
I screwed up, Coffee Spill Girl. I left, and I shouldn’t have, and now I’m worried I blew it. I know you don’t get a second chance at a first impression, but how’s about a first meeting on the second try?
‘That’s good,’ said Daniel, sadly. He stared at his phone. He really did want to apologize to her. ‘I might actually send that, you know. If she’d been alone today I would have said almost exactly that.’
‘Go for it then, if that feels right. But I have a feeling you might see her sooner than you think.’
‘Maybe,’ said Daniel. ‘I might send it just in case. It will make me feel better.’
The pair talked about their weekend plans for a little bit, both agreeing that another pint was too much but they’d go in for a half and then part ways. Daniel was exhausted, his shoulders tight and eyes aching. He could feel his breathing getting deeper for having had a drink, and told himself he’d go for a really long run in the morning to truly shake off his week. He’d download Guardian Soulmates, thinking that maybe he was too old for apps and needed something with a monthly payment plan, so he knew the women on there were serious. He needed to get out there and connect with a woman who was actually real, and genuinely wanted to meet him, before he spooked himself into thinking it would never happen for him. Jesus. Is that what it had come to? Genuinely considering Guardian bloody Soulmates?
‘Hey, you know what you should do?’ Romeo said, when Daniel got back to the table. ‘You should text that woman who was doing the set-up for you. When you went to the
Sky Garden.’
Daniel groaned. ‘Are you kidding me? Technically, I was stood up that night too! I turned up expecting to meet a woman who never bloody came! And the woman supposed to be doing the introductions disappeared as well!’
Romeo laughed. ‘Okay, okay, mea culpa – bad idea. Hinge it is then.’
‘Hey, how’s your love life going? Aren’t you seeing somebody?’
Romeo smiled. ‘Yes boss, I am. Date number four on Sunday.’
‘Date number four,’ Daniel said, raising his glass to him. ‘Imagine that.’
Romeo caught his eye. ‘There’s plenty to go around,’ he said. ‘You’ll get a fourth date with somebody too.’
Daniel sighed deeply. ‘I believe you,’ he said.
‘Want me to see if Erika has got any friends? We could double-date!’
Daniel considered it. ‘I mean, fucking maybe, man. I’ll let you know.’
31
Nadia
Nadia got home that night exhausted, battling a hangover, and to a bundle of HB pencils on her front step. What the hell … she thought, crouching to pick them up, and then admonishing how difficult her headache made even that. All day she’d been fantasizing about getting home, taking off her bra, opening all the windows (but closing all the blinds), and ordering in truffled Mac ’n’ Cheese and New York cheesecake from her favourite restaurant on Newington Green. She was nearly there. Freedom was almost hers.
The pencils really were arranged like a bouquet, and on a more energetic day she’d have whipped out her phone to Instagram them immediately. As it happened, the note caught her eye and any notion of photography was instantly forgotten.
You’ve Got Mail, and it’s a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils, it said. (I look forward to finding out what that means). Last night was lovely. See you soon, I hope, Eddie.
Nadia rubbed her temples. This was a lot to process. Eddie, as in last night Eddie. Eddie, as in had kissed her goodbye in front of her work with an open mouth Eddie. Eddie, as in … must have come back to where she lived during the day or at the very least taken note of her address to get somebody to deliver this gift Eddie.
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