London from My Windows

by Mary Carter

  “It wasn’t mine,” the driver said.

  “You share the taxi? How are you going to get home?”

  “I don’t suppose you noticed that the car didn’t look like a normal taxi?”

  “How am I to know what a normal London taxi looks like?”

  “You might if you—”

  “Say it.”

  “My apologies. I didn’t mean to carry this on as long as I have—”

  “If I what?” Ava was feeling buoyed by the pills and the fear. She was right in front of the building; at least he’d done that much right. Her anger was actually helping her. “Didn’t have a bag over my head? Is that what you were going to say?”

  “Shall we go inside?”

  “ ‘We’? Who are you?”

  He picked up her suitcases. Then put one down. Ava snatched it up. She didn’t want it touching the ground. With his free hand he pulled off his cap. Then his ZZ Top beard. Wait, those blue eyes. Wavy hair like sand. He’s tall.

  “Oh my God,” Ava said. “You jerk.”

  “I’m Jasper Keyes,” he said. “It’s nice to officially make your acquaintance.” He smiled and stuck out his hand.

  “You’re Jasper Keyes.” She sounded like an idiot, repeating what he just said, but she was so furious she couldn’t formulate any other words.

  “Madam.” He bowed and tipped his missing hat.

  “The barrister.”

  “If you must.”

  “You think this is funny?”

  “I was trying to have a spot of fun. If you must know—”

  “Must I?”

  “I’m in training to become a stand-up comedian. My mate lent me his car, and I found this cap at a—”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “I got us here safely, haven’t I? Like I said, I’m in training to be a comedian—”

  “You’re not a comedian; you’re a liar.”

  Jasper straightened as if slapped. Then his face flushed with color. “Oh, you’ve never lied, have you? What about—‘Oh, and my mum isn’t allowed to live with me’?”

  “That is a lie that will save lives. Definitely mine and quite possibly hers.”

  “You assumed I was a driver.”

  “You were wearing a driver’s cap and holding a sign with my name on it.”

  “I just explained all that. A spot of fun, research—”

  “Fun at my expense. When I thought you were somebody else.” Somebody she’d never see again.

  “If this is about the rubbish bag, or the wheelchair, I won’t say a word to anyone. I’ll keep my gob shut and Bob’s your uncle.”

  “Who’s Bob?”

  “Sorry. Lost in translation. I only meant—I won’t say a word to anyone.”

  “I don’t care about anyone. But if you never say another word to me it will suit me just fine,” Ava said.

  CHAPTER 8

  It was a stately five-story redbrick apartment building adorned with black trim around the doors and windows. The massive front door had brass lion door knockers. It looked like a place Sherlock Holmes would live. The recent lashing of rain made everything smell fresh and tart. Just like the new me, Ava joked with herself. Because this was a new Ava. She actually had her feet on the ground in London, England. The thought almost lifted her like a balloon. Steady. You might start to panic. Do not have a panic attack. Do not think about having a panic attack. Think about something else, anything else—

  This was Aunt Beverly’s home. Ava would give anything if she were here to see that Ava had made it. The rest of the street was probably just as quaint, but Ava couldn’t bear to look anywhere but straight ahead as if she were a horse with blinders on. Jasper had recovered from their row and was rattling on about a food market across the street. And the wine store and dry cleaner and some famous pub within walking distance. He had done his job, he had driven her safely to her location; shouldn’t he just be off now?

  There were people everywhere. Like roaches. Her stomach churned. She could be hungry, but she’d never be able to keep anything down if she ate. Fire, fire, fire. She was breathing too shallowly to add the word “extinguisher.” “Top floor,” Jasper said as he opened the door and waited for her to pass. He reached for her suitcase. “I’ll get that.”

  “Are you the bellboy now?” Ava would carry her own suitcase. She didn’t care what he did with Diana’s. She didn’t want to haul it up four flights, but she didn’t want to owe him any favors.

  With each flight, the thudding in Ava’s heart eased slightly. By the time she reached the fifth floor she was breathing harder but sweating less. She reached for the door. Keys. Right. She didn’t have them. What was taking Jasper so long? His voice rose up the stairwell. He was talking. Either on the phone or to a neighbor. So chatty. And loud. And peppy. She’d been hard on him back there. He was a friend of Aunt Beverly’s. He was a barrister. He was the executor of Aunt Beverly’s will. She would have to be nicer. She wanted to yell down the stairs, Hurry up! Laughter rang out. He was happy. He was standing somewhere between the first and fifth floor, just shooting the breeze, and laughing. It wasn’t fair. Ava wanted to feel like that. She flung herself at the door. The doorknob jammed into her hip. She cried out.

  “Hello?” Jasper yelled up the steps. He heard her. Soon his footsteps came pounding toward her. It wasn’t logical, but she just couldn’t stand there, so she flung herself at the door again. “Are you trying to break into your own flat?” Jasper sounded incredulous.

  “I have to use the restroom,” Ava said. “Loo,” she added.

  “Perhaps we should try these.” Keys dangled from his fingertips. She wanted to tell him to go away, but her tongue felt swollen to three times its usual size. She felt like Alice in Wonderland, shrinking by the second. A huge tongue and a shrinking body. “Are you okay?” She gestured to the door. She waited, holding her breath until he inserted the key in the lock. The door sprung open and Ava stumbled in. She dumped the suitcase by the door, turned, and faced the living room. She could breathe again. It was gorgeous. A generous space with light wood floors, cozy furnishings, and three large dome-shaped windows that overlooked London. Best not gaze out quite yet. Look at the décor instead.

  The walls were covered in theater posters. Cluttered, most might say, but these were Aunt Bev’s things and Ava loved it. The sofa and a matching set of chairs looked Victorian. They were red with gold trim. Beverly lived out loud, that was for sure. An Oriental rug covered the floor, there was a piano against the near wall covered in pictures, and books, and plants, and a coffee table was overflowing with various magazines, books, and other objects. Each one would require careful scrutinizing; each one was a little clue, a connection to Ava’s aunt.

  But Ava could take her time with that later. When she was alone. And calmer. What she really wanted was the bedroom. She was exhausted. The Xanax was supposed to last twelve hours, but for her it was more like twelve seconds. A door just beyond the living room was ajar. She headed for it. Sure enough, there was a queen-sized bed. A thick white quilt was draped over it hiding the frame. Ava dropped to her knees and lifted the quilt. Thank God. She could fit. The bathtub was another option, but she was already here. A normal person would wait until Jasper Keyes was gone, but she’d reached her limit. She told him not to come up with her. She crawled underneath the bed. It was dusty. Aunt Beverly had never swept or mopped under the bed. Ava was going to start sneezing. But she couldn’t move. Darkness. Refuge. She practically hugged the floor and marveled as her heart and breath began to slow. She could fall asleep right here. Jasper’s footsteps headed her way. “Ava?”

  He startled her and she inhaled. Dust went up her nose. She sneezed. Shit. Was he still here? Maybe if she was really quiet, he would just go away. If only she had shut the door. Then she could pretend she was taking a nap on top of the bed. But she’d left it wide-open. From the gap between the quilt and the floor she could see his black shoes standing in the doorway. They weren’t polished like she thought a b
arrister’s shoes would be polished. They were scuffed. He wore them a lot. Or perhaps he only wore them when he was impersonating cabbies. She sneezed again. Darn it. She’d always been a repetitive sneezer.

  “Are you all right?” He sounded alarmed.

  “I’m just looking for my earring,” Ava said.

  “Would you like some help?”

  “No, no, I’m fine.”

  “Would you like me to leave?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He was silent for a moment, then shifted his feet. “I wanted to show you a few odd quirks about the flat.” She was now the oddest quirk in the flat. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing. Not much of a comedian if he wasn’t. Or he was too polite. Comedians had to be brutal. She’d have to tell him not to quit his job as a barrister. “Ava?”

  “Another time. Please.” He had to go. She wanted to be alone. Take a bath. Sketch. Fall asleep. None of those things were possible with him lurking about the place. Her black sheets were in her luggage, along with a miniature hammer and nails. So many windows in the living room. She might have to pull some sheets from the bed.

  “I’m going to leave you some information on the kitchen table. A map of the London Underground, a map of the area, and a note with some basics—food market, pubs, deliveries, that sort of thing.” Deliveries. The word rang in her ears like bells in heaven. Deliveries. She was in a big city. She could have everything delivered. Everything and anything. She sneezed. “Gesundheit.”

  “Thank you for everything. I think I tore my stocking. I’m too embarrassed to come out with you here. You can see yourself out, can’t you?” Ava wondered if he was going to point out that she was wearing pants.

  “Of course, of course.”

  “Thank you for the ride.”

  “I’m leaving my business card as well. As soon as you’re up to it, you’ll need to come to my office so we can discuss the stipulations of your year here.”

  Stipulations? What stipulations? “No problem.” Oh, it was going to be a problem all right. He was going to have to come here.

  “It’s in the financial district; all you have to do is walk two blocks to the Tube—”

  “Get out. Now. Please.”

  “Right then,” Jasper said. “Cheerio.”

  She listened to his footsteps, the opening of the bedroom door, the closing of the bedroom door, footsteps, then finally the opening and closing of the door to her flat. She was alone. She could breathe. She sneezed. Five times. Apparently Aunt Beverly had never felt the need to seek refuge under her bed or there wouldn’t have been so much dust. Ava crawled out, stood, and then ran to the bathroom. There was no bathtub, just a shower. Ava wouldn’t be able to hide out in a bathtub anymore with the shower curtain pulled around her. She was going to have to start cleaning underneath the bed.

  CHAPTER 9

  Approximately twenty minutes after Jasper left, Ava stuck one foot out into the hall, and braced herself in the doorway as if she were in danger of an invisible force shoving her out of the flat. She wouldn’t be able to relax until she knew she was alone. Even if he did have really nice blue eyes, and was tall. She’d learned a lesson from Cliff. No more short men with tall egos. Jasper also had the kind of laugh that made you happy just listening to it. Was he telling the truth about all that stand-up comedian stuff? It still didn’t make things right, but she could hardly fault him for practicing his craft, and trying to have a laugh at the same time. The girl who told a police officer she was in witness protection really shouldn’t judge.

  The suitcases sat by the door. Ava kicked Diana’s, then knelt down and opened it. Folded in neat little piles on top were black turtlenecks. “Unbelievable.” So Diana had meant to come. What happened? Was Diana afraid of flying? The hypocrite. Ava didn’t want to dig around anymore. It wasn’t her suitcase. She zipped it back up and went to pick hers up instead. The second she grabbed the handle, someone called her name. “Ava.” Ava jumped and let out a little shriek.

  “So sorry,” Jasper called out from behind the door. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Why are you lurking outside my door?” Ava asked.

  “I’m not lurking. I had made it halfway down the block when I turned around.”

  One minute Ava was daydreaming about his eyes and height, and the next she was being rude. It wasn’t her fault. She needed space to process this. She wasn’t used to talking to strangers for long periods of time. She wasn’t used to talking to anyone for long periods of time. What was it going to take to get him to leave? “You shouldn’t have turned around.” He didn’t answer. She could hear him breathing. Did he run back up the stairs? Did he forget something? “Why did you turn around?”

  “There are some things you need to know.”

  There were probably a lot of things she needed to know. Like how to get rid of strangers at the door. What did she need to know? She’d been through an ordeal. She needed a bathroom, a bedroom, and water, so she could take her Xanax. She was sorted. She didn’t want anything else today. “You can tell me another time.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if he comes home before I have the chance to tell you about him, you’re liable to stab him in the neck with a fork.”

  He? He who? What home? “Stab who in the neck with a fork?”

  “Your flatmate.” His voice took a forced upbeat tone.

  “My flatmate? I don’t have a flatmate.” If he was trying to scare her, it was working. Why was he trying to scare her?

  “Right. I’ll start with that, so. You have a flatmate.” By “flatmate” was he trying to tell her that she had a mouse? Or a cat? She didn’t quite get the British sense of humor. She looked right, toward the living room. Across from it was the kitchen. Was there any evidence anywhere that somebody else lived here? Ava hurried into the kitchen. “Ava?” Jasper called. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “I heard!” Ava yelled. “I just don’t understand.”

  It was not a modern kitchen by any means, but it was neat. The cabinets were white, and the floor was made of dark blue tiles. The appliances were older, also white, but as long as they were functioning, Ava could live with them. She even had a combo washer and dryer in the kitchen. That was a bit odd, but hey, maybe she could throw cups and saucers in with her panties and save loads of time. At the far end of the kitchen was a small set of table and chairs situated by more dome-shaped windows. She scanned the floor for cat food or mice droppings. Nada. She opened the fridge. It was packed. The day before Thanksgiving packed. In fact, a large turkey covered in cellophane took up the middle rack. Either someone had stocked the fridge for her arrival or she indeed had a flatmate.

  A flatmate. No. No, no, no, no, no. The kind who walked on two legs? She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it. This was her flat. Hers. She walked over to the front door and pressed her ear against it.

  “Still there?” Ava asked.

  “Still here.”

  “Say that again.”

  “Still here.”

  Jasper laughed. Ava bit her lip. He wasn’t going to make her laugh. Not until he explained himself. “I meant the bit about having a flatmate.”

  “Why don’t you let me in?”

  “I can hear you just fine through the door.”

  “It is absurd to conduct business through a closed door.”

  “How could I have a flatmate?”

  “Let me in and I’ll explain everything.”

  “This is the second time you’ve lied to me. Why should I believe anything you say now?”

  Jasper sighed. “I didn’t mean to lie. Haven’t you ever gotten carried away?” Ava thought of herself hiding underneath the desk at the police station, hiding in a closet in Heathrow, and, of course, her stunt a few minutes ago involving a nonexistent earring and the dusty underside of Aunt Beverly’s bed.

  “Fine.” Ava unlocked the door. Jasper looked guilty. Tortured, actually. Good. He should be. �
��Explain.”

  Jasper stepped in. He filled the room. She never knew a person could give off energy that you could actually feel. Ava felt him. He was way too familiar. Why? Was she just grasping on to anyone who knew and loved Aunt Beverly? Was she delusional? This man was a total stranger. Cliff definitely had a presence, an animal attractiveness. But Jasper’s effect on her wasn’t just sexual. Standing this close to him, she had visions of throwing herself in his arms, and trusting him to take care of her the rest of her life. Whoa. Where did that come from? Ava had never wanted anybody to take care of her. Not even herself. This was a new feeling and she didn’t like it. She certainly didn’t know how to handle it.

  “Living room or kitchen?” Jasper asked.

  “For what?” She didn’t care what he said. She was not going to tolerate a flatmate.

  Jasper met her eyes. Anything. Name it. “For our talk.”

  “Right. I refuse to have a flatmate. How’s that for a talk?” Ava headed for the kitchen. “I’m starving.”

  “Why don’t we get some takeaway? There are menus in the drawer.”

  “But there’s a fridge full of food.”

  “It belongs to Queenie.”

  “Who?”

  “Queenie. Your flatmate.”

  “I don’t have a flatmate. If someone’s been living here, she’ll have to leave.”

  “He.”

  He? Oh, no. No, no, no. This isn’t happening. “I don’t care.”

  “His name is Queenie. He’s an actor. And a drag queen. He was Beverly’s best friend.”

  “I see your mouth moving, but you’re not making sense. You said Beverly left the flat to me.” Jasper looked sheepish. “Hello?”

  Instead of confessing this was all just another joke, Jasper headed into the kitchen and opened a drawer. He lifted out a stack of menus and tossed them on the counter. “Takeaway menus,” he said. “Anything you’d like. I would have cooked for you, but this isn’t my flat and—”

  “It’s a one-bedroom apartment. How can I share a one-bedroom apartment?” Don’t get worked up. Don’t fall for another joke. Of course you don’t have a flatmate. Don’t take the bait. Her nerves were tingling. If he said the word “flatmate” one more time the colored dots were going to appear.