London from My Windows

by Mary Carter

  “Queenie will take the sofa.”

  “No. He won’t. There is no Queenie. You’re just messing with me.”

  “Let’s start over,” Jasper said.

  “Too late,” Ava said.

  “Welcome to London.” Jasper bowed. He straightened up. “I promise, everything will get sorted. You mustn’t worry.”

  “I mustn’t worry,” Ava repeated. The words sounded so funny, so foreign, even though they were both technically speaking English. This was so absurd. He was putting her on. And she was eating it up. She was jet-lagged. And starving. She started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Jasper was keen to delve into anything that made her laugh. Perhaps he was studying to be a comedian.

  “I’ve never used the word ‘mustn’t’ in my life,” Ava mused.

  “Oh, you should try it. It feels good. Mustn’t.” Jasper walked toward her. She was still leaning against the kitchen counter. Before she knew it, he was right in front of her. “Mustn’t,” he repeated, lifting up his chin.

  “You’re insane.”

  “Say it.”

  “Mustn’t.”

  “Mustn’t.” He imitated an American accent. “I mustn’t go to Mickey D’s.” She laughed. He was a bit funny and his eyes lit up when she laughed. “I mustn’t, like, hang ten.” He tried to sound like an American surfer.

  “You’re an idiot,” she said, still laughing. “Is that what you think of us? We eat hamburgers and we surf? Is that all?”

  “I mustn’t watch So You Think You Can Dance.” He broke out in a frenetic imitation of a dance.

  Ava laughed harder than she had in a long time. It felt good. And strangely, it hurt too. “Mustn’t,” she said.

  “Just tilt your chin up a bit.” He reached over and touched her chin to tilt it up. Ava felt a shock run through her. Here she was a stranger in a strange kitchen with a strange man, touching her. And it didn’t feel strange at all. Strange.

  “There you are. Now say it. ‘Mustn’t.’ ”

  “Mustn’t.”

  “Brilliant.”

  “I mustn’t drink tea, eat biscuits with jam, and watch telly.” What was she doing? Flirting? Was this an unwelcome side effect of the Xanax?

  “By George, I think you’ve got it.” He was still touching her chin. She didn’t realize it until right that moment. And then he realized that she realized it, and their eyes locked as electricity passed between them. His touch seemed to reach all the way inside her. She knew it sounded completely insane, but it was as if he was looking into her soul, and she into his. He dropped his hand.

  Mustn’t, she said to herself. Mustn’t believe him when he says I have a flatmate. Mustn’t, mustn’t, mustn’t. Ava walked over to the counter, picked up a takeaway menu, and pretended to read.

  “See anything you like?” Jasper said.

  Ava couldn’t focus on the words. Did she need glasses? Was it in a foreign language? “Not yet,” she said.

  “It might help if you turned it right side up.”

  Ava glanced up at him. He was smiling and there was literally a twinkle in his eye. She glanced at the menu. Oh, God. He was right. It was upside down. Xanax hangover. She was definitely having a Xanax hangover. Maybe she needed more. She also needed to be alone. She was getting flustered and it was all his fault. “I knew it was you. In the taxi.” She was going to start an argument. Anything to avoid these feelings she was having for a total stranger. She’d obviously been locked inside too long. What other explanation was there for the fact that she was wondering what would happen if she walked up to Jasper, grabbed him by the tie, and led him into the bedroom? She’d never desired a total stranger before; she’d never had a one-night stand; her lifestyle hadn’t permitted any of this. Her first day in London and here she was very, very close to propositioning a man she had just met for sex. She didn’t want Cliff to be the last man she’d had sex with. But Jasper wasn’t just any man. Not some taxi driver she’d never have to see again. He was her aunt’s friend. He was a barrister. Ava was seriously losing it.

  “Come on now. You didn’t know.”

  “I knew your beard was fake.”

  “I’ll give you that. I thought you were going to tug on it and the jig would be up.” He smiled at her, and once again a jolt of electricity surged through her. They didn’t call it chemistry for nothing. But Ava wasn’t casual sex material. She wasn’t exactly girlfriend material either. Oh, God. What material was she? Was there part of her that had suspected Cliff was involved with somebody else but didn’t want to face it? No. No. She had no idea. None. But she also didn’t question the limitations of their relationship. Because she had wanted him there. It was too much to think about right now.

  “So, you’re all right?” Jasper asked.

  No, I’m not all right. I want to invite you into my dead aunt’s bed. Does that sound all right to you? “Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be all right?” Was she flushed? Could he tell she was turned on? Why was he asking her that?

  “I’m sure it’s quite a shock to find out you have a flatmate.”

  “Cut it out. You’re not getting me again.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I know I don’t have a flatmate. The jig is up.” Right? He had to be putting her on. Right? Why wasn’t he just admitting it?

  “I swear, this isn’t a joke,” Jasper said.

  Oh, God. He sounded very, very serious. Ava lost her appetite. “I can’t possibly share a one-bedroom flat with a stranger.” Who was she kidding? She couldn’t share it with a stranger if it were a mansion.

  “He won’t be a stranger for long.” Jasper was trying to sound upbeat, but his voice cracked at the end. “Trust me. He’s a decent bloke.”

  “I don’t care if he’s the actual Queen. It’s not going to happen.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t have any control over that.”

  Ava put her hands on her hips. They needed to do something other than wrap around Jasper’s neck and strangle him. “Where is this flatmate?”

  “He agreed to give you a few days to settle in.”

  Ava looked around. “Am I missing something? Is there another wing to this flat?”

  Jasper threw open his arms. “Thai? Italian? Chinese?”

  “Am I to guess my flatmate’s ethnicity now?”

  Jasper laughed. “Maybe you’re the one who should do stand-up comedy. No. I was referring to the takeaway.”

  “Well, take away this. I refuse to have a flatmate.”

  Jasper strode into the living room. Ava followed. “Do you like to watch telly?” He pointed to the television as if she might not quite know what one looked like.

  “Are you really a barrister?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  “You avoid conflict like the plague.”

  “That explains why I settle out of court a lot.” He waited for her to laugh. She didn’t. He gazed out the windows, his face rapturous. “Isn’t this a stunning view?”

  “Yes,” Ava said. She’d have to take his word for it. She couldn’t look. She would hang her black sheets as soon as he left.

  Jasper scanned the walls of pictures and theater posters. He lifted a small framed photograph off the wall. It was a picture of Beverly, Jasper, and another man standing in a field. A small airplane was in the background. Jasper pointed to the man. “This is Queenie. They were best friends.”

  Ava studied the portly bald man with gray sideburns. He was grinning for the camera and had his arm around Beverly. He looked like a nice best friend. But a terrible flatmate. “And he lived here with Aunt Beverly?”

  “No. But he’s going to live here with you.”

  “Wait. He didn’t live here with Aunt Beverly?”

  “No.”

  “Then why in the world would he move in with me?”

  “Because.” Jasper stopped. Ava could actually see beads of sweat form on his forehead. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at them.

&nbs
p; “Jasper?”

  “The flat isn’t quite officially yours yet.”

  Why not? He just meant she had to sign some papers first, right? Then why was he sweating? “What do you mean?”

  Jasper swallowed. He looked at the view again as he spoke. “You and Queenie are competing for the apartment.”

  “Come again?” Ava suddenly understood the urge to shoot the messenger.

  “There is a list.” Jasper removed a piece of paper from the breast pocket of his suit and held it up. “Right here.”

  “A list?” Ava said.

  “Stipulations.”

  “You had better start speaking the Queen’s English.”

  “Right. So. I explained to you on the video chat that one of the stipulations of ownership was that you must live in this flat for an entire year.”

  Ava opened her hands. “And here I am.”

  “What I didn’t get a chance to tell you was that in addition . . . there is this list.” Once again Jasper held up the piece of paper. “You have ninety days from now to complete the items on the list. If you do not, then I’m afraid that Queenie will inherit the flat.”

  “Oh my God.” For a second Ava was tempted to snatch the list out of his hands. She changed her mind. Whatever the stipulations were, this was not good. This was bait and switch. This was some kind of a game. What stipulations? Was her mother right? Was Beverly a master manipulator? This certainly didn’t seem right. Or kind. What was on that list? Jasper wasn’t saying, and there was no way Ava was going to validate it by asking. She ran to her suitcase and pulled out her black sheets. This was what she could count on in this world. Her black satin sheets. She didn’t even care that he was watching as she held them up to her nose and inhaled. They smelled like Febreze dryer sheets. List. List, list, list. Ninety days or Queenie inherits the flat. What kind of cosmic joke was this?

  Heart hammering, she strode toward the dome-shaped windows. All she had to do was raise her head and there was the heart of London sprawled out before her, in all its glory. She quickly draped the sheets over the windows. She would need to get out her hammer and nails to cover them completely, but this was a start. When she had used up all three sheets she turned back to Jasper. Just being that close to the windows had elevated her heart rate and made her perspire. She knew she looked like she had just jogged a few miles. She couldn’t worry about that right now. She waited until Jasper made eye contact with her. One by one the sheets fell to the floor in a heap. She wouldn’t look. She would have to nail them in the minute she got the chance. She didn’t want to do it with him here. What kind of person packs a hammer and nails in her luggage? “What exactly is on the list?” He held it out to her. She shook her head. “No. I want you to tell me.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to order your dinner?”

  “I’ve lost my appetite.” This was her flat. Wasn’t it? She hadn’t given up her entire life in America, risked death to fly here, just to end up living with some flatmate she never agreed to, competing for the flat. Stipulations? Why hadn’t Jasper mentioned any of these things before she’d upended her life? Thank God she found this out now. Her stupid lust, her stupid crush. God, Ava, you are so naïve. She stormed back into the kitchen, yanked open the fridge, and removed the platter of turkey. Jasper entered the kitchen and stared at her. His eyes dropped to the platter of turkey. He looked terrified. She would have laughed except she was too angry with him. She left the fridge door wide-open, almost daring Jasper to reprimand her. This was her flat. Aunt Beverly’s flat. Aunt Beverly wanted Ava to have it. She didn’t care who these friends were. They weren’t her family. Queenie’s turkey was taking up her fridge. Well, not anymore. She ripped away the cellophane, grabbed a turkey leg, and pulled until it came off. Globs of fat dripped to the floor. Jasper looked positively rooted to the spot. She smiled. She was going to stand at this counter and eat whatever she wanted out of her fridge, flatmate be damned. She wasn’t even hungry. But she would not be bullied. She would lick every single thing in this fridge, providing it didn’t look like it had been licked already.

  “That’s really not the best way—”

  Ava stuck out her tongue and slowly licked the turkey leg from top to bottom. She couldn’t tell if Jasper was turned on, or horrified. Either way, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She stuck the turkey leg in her mouth and sucked on it. Take that, Queenie. She popped it out of her mouth long enough to speak. “Delish.” She held it out to Jasper. “Want some?”

  Jasper shook his head. “Quite all right.”

  “I want to be alone now,” Ava said.

  “We’ve come this far. If you wish, I’ll read you the list.”

  “Oh, goodie,” Ava said. “I’ll just suck on turkey while you talk.” Jasper sighed, made his way to the little kitchen table, and plopped down on one of the chairs. Ava needed a sheet for that window too. She’d take care of it the second he was gone. “Beverly left the flat to Queenie first,” Jasper said.

  “Oh,” Ava said. Aunt Beverly didn’t really want Ava to have the flat. And why should she? Ava wasn’t really family, was she? Not in the way that Ava wanted a family. Not in the way they would have been a family if her father had lived. She didn’t just lose her father that day; she lost everyone. Even her mother to an extent. Gretchen had been a happier person with Ava’s father. “I see.” She didn’t see. She didn’t want to cry in front of Jasper.

  “Please, Ava,” Jasper said. “Will you sit down?” He pulled out the other chair. Ava brought the turkey to the table and sat. “After Beverly jumped from the aeroplane she had an epiphany.”

  “Me,” Ava said.

  “You,” Jasper said.

  Ava threw down the turkey leg, wiped her hands on her jeans, and folded her arms across her chest. “Go on.”

  Jasper set the list on the table and kept his hands over it, as if protecting it. Then he began swirling the piece of paper around the tabletop. “It’s quite simple, really. If you wanted you could probably get them done in a week.” His voice cracked at the end. Ava wondered what his ex-girlfriend was like. She probably didn’t like nice guys. Jasper was definitely “a nice guy.” This time Ava was starting to see how annoying nice guys could be. Ava bet his ex had walked all over him. She had an urge to draw a cartoon of a woman doing just that—literally walking on Jasper Keyes.

  Ava snatched the piece of paper from underneath his hands. She was going to get turkey grease all over it and she didn’t care. She looked at the list.

  See Big Ben

  Walk along the Thames

  Visit Buckingham Palace

  Tour the Tower of London

  Go to an English pub

  Sit on a bench in Hyde Park

  Go to a show in the West End

  Go to a club in the West End

  Navigate the London Underground (Tube/subway)

  Ride the London Eye

  CHAPTER 10

  It was a list of normal, touristy things to see and do in London. Things most people would want to do. And Ava wouldn’t be able to do a single one of them. It wasn’t a fun list; it was a death march. “I have to do all these things if I want to keep the flat?”

  “Yes. Once you’ve completed this list—”

  As if.

  “—ninety days from now—then you simply must continue living in this flat for one year. After that, it’s yours to do with as you wish.”

  Tears instantly filled her eyes. Dammit. She did not want to cry in front of Jasper. Or anyone. A flatmate. A list. This was an ambush. Aunt Beverly knew that Ava was a freak, and she had done this just to prove it. Ease her conscience that she hadn’t lifted a finger for Ava ever since her father died. Maybe Beverly had been cruel to her father too. She remembered him crying over her that one day. She remembered knowing there was some reason Beverly wasn’t visiting, but not knowing exactly what it was. Frankly, Ava always thought it was because Aunt Beverly didn’t approve of her mother. Didn’t approve of Americans. Ava hated this. She hated b
eing angry at her father’s only sibling, but really. How could she? Ava never would have imagined that Beverly could have been so cruel.

  Ava couldn’t do a single thing on this list in ninety days let alone all of them. It was impossible. The flight home felt equally impossible. She never wanted to see the inside of that airport again. Maybe they could knock her out entirely. Or Ava would have to simply lock herself in the flat, refuse to let Queenie inside, and force them to drag her out kicking and screaming. Ava wanted to pick up the turkey leg and throw it at Jasper’s head. It was probably the kind of behavior they expected out of an American nutter anyway.

  “You can go now,” she said. “I’m going to fight this.”

  “Fight this?”

  “Yes. Through the courts.”

  “I see.” Jasper ran his hands through his hair again. “That is always an option. But it would take a lot of time, a lot of money.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “No, of course not. I’m giving you the facts. It’s really quite simple—”

  “For you maybe. And definitely Queenie. Does he have a list?” One look at Jasper and Ava knew he didn’t. “I see. Get out.” Ava stood up. “I’m asking you to leave now.” Jasper nodded and rose from his chair. He looked like he wanted to say a million things to her, but Ava didn’t want to hear them. She headed for the door. Jasper exited once more, but this time he lingered in the hall, and this time Ava waited.

  “About Queenie.” Ava waited some more. “He can be a bit overly dramatic.”

  Join the club. “So can I.” She might have been an agoraphobic, but Ava was no pushover. She was highly functional. Just in a very small area.

  “Look. I know you’re upset. And I’m sorry. But your aunt Beverly wanted to help you.”

  “Help me?”

  “Of course. She wanted you to experience the world. Or at least this little corner of it.” Beverly had no clue what life was really like for Ava. Neither did Jasper. “And as far as Queenie is concerned, having a flatmate could actually be a good thing.”