Up on the Roof

by A. L. Brooks

  “So, Lena.” Rosie’s voice broke into her consternation. “Where are you from?”

  Lena looked around, determined to meet Rosie’s eye even though this conversation could take her into uncomfortable waters. “Bolton. Up north,” she said, with a half-smile.

  “I thought I could hear a bit of an accent.”

  Lena shrugged. “Yes, I never really had it that strong, so it’s softened a bit since I moved to London.”

  “How long have you been down here?” Daniel asked, staring at her as intently as he had done all afternoon.

  Lena totted it up in her head. “Nearly four years.”

  “You came down for work?” This was Rosie again.

  “Er, yes.” Why not? It was as good a reason as any. Not the truth, at all, but that wasn’t going to be shared with the Palmer family today. If ever. She fidgeted slightly in her seat next to Megan on the sofa.

  Megan caught her eye and lifted one eyebrow.

  Lena smiled in a way she hoped would convey that all was good, even as her stomach clenched at the thought of more personal questions.

  “Lena’s an accountant. Works near Euston.” That was Daniel again, and she cringed as she realised he was trying to show off the knowledge he had acquired before the rest of the family. Only she heard the faint snort that Megan emitted at that moment.

  “Pays well, I bet,” Sean said, and looked flummoxed when Rosie slapped his arm. “What?”

  “Dad, I think that’s a bit personal, don’t you?” Megan said, standing up. “Hey, who wants some of that cake Lena bought?”

  Lena could have hugged Megan at that moment—if ever she’d needed rescuing, it was then.

  A chorus of “me” had them all laughing, and the strawberry gateau from Patisserie Valerie occupied everyone’s attention for the next twenty minutes or so.

  “Great cake,” Sean said after practically licking his plate clean. “You can come again.”

  Lena smiled. “My pleasure,” she said, and it truly was.

  Rosie stood up then and headed for the kitchen. “I do wish you’d get a bloody dishwasher,” she said to Megan as she rolled up her sleeves.

  “Wait!” Lena leaped up from the sofa. Now was her chance. “Let me do that. You brought all the food, after all.”

  Rosie smiled at her. “Yes, but you’ve been working all day.”

  Lena reached her by the sink. “No, please. Rosie, let me. Honestly, it would make me very happy to do it.”

  “Let her, Mum. Trust me, she means what she says.”

  Lena turned to face her. The words had been warmly spoken, but she needed to check Megan’s eyes, make sure nothing malicious had been meant by what she just said. Megan gazed back at her, with only a gentle understanding and warmth in her expression. The wave of happiness that washed over Lena in that moment seemed ridiculously out of proportion to what was happening, but she revelled in it.

  Megan got it. And that felt very, very good.

  Chapter 13

  “Young man!”

  Dorothy’s cry stopped Megan in her tracks as she walked out of her flat with her rubbish bag in her hand. She grinned. Someone else was on the end of Dorothy’s wrath for a change.

  “Huh?” a male voice said.

  “This wall is part of my property. You will therefore take care when placing items against it. Is that clear?” Dorothy sounded royally pissed off, and Megan was again so very grateful she wasn’t the one in the firing line.

  Inching forward, she peeked over the bannister to see who today’s unfortunate victim was. Ah, Sanjit. General labourer and dogsbody for the Patel brothers, whose firm had been—finally—granted the contract to fix Lena’s flat. Poor Sanjit, who didn’t seem like the brightest button in the box, had been running around like a headless chicken since the firm arrived two days ago, ferrying various supplies into the house and up the stairs. It looked like, in an attempt to save some time, especially time out of the persistently drizzling rain, he’d been using the walls in the hallway on the ground floor to stack things against and had presumably not been quiet about it.

  And right now Sanjit was caught in the laser glare of the formidable Dorothy in full flow and looked about ready to take flight. Megan sighed and walked down the stairs.

  “Hey, Sanjit,” she said cheerfully. “Morning, Dorothy.”

  Dorothy huffed but muttered a “good morning” in return.

  Sanjit looked mightily relieved at Megan’s interruption. “All right?” he said, shuffling out of her way as she made it to the front door.

  She smiled at him. “I’ve got a question about something outside. Do you mind?”

  “No, course not.” His entire face showed his gratitude at the rescue.

  Behind them Dorothy tutted, and moments later her front door shut with a click.

  “Shit,” Sanjit muttered, running his hands over his cheeks. His hard hat sat crookedly on his head, and he looked almost like a kid playing dress up in the over-sized safety jacket and trousers. He turned quickly to Megan. “Sorry, what did you want to ask?”

  Megan smiled at him. “Nothing, mate. I was just getting you out of danger.”

  He stared at her, then barked out a laugh. “Legend,” he said.

  “But seriously, Sanjit, do whatever you can not to piss her off, okay? No noise, no dirt, no swearing. Three simple rules.”

  He nodded vigorously. “Noise, dirt, swearing. Got it.” He beamed at her, his crooked teeth seeming too big for his mouth. “Thanks.”

  “No worries.” She smiled, deposited the rubbish in one of the wheelie bins, then went back into the house.

  She carefully made her way back upstairs, making sure her feet didn’t get caught in the copious dust sheets that had been laid all over the communal areas. It would be just like her to trip and fall flat on her face.

  The Patels had brought a team of six men with them for the job, and she could hear many voices up in Lena’s flat as she walked past the open doorway. They’d estimated it would take them six weeks to get the place habitable again, but that was weather-dependent. It was the middle of November now, over two weeks since the storm, and yet more rain had fallen in that time, making things worse on what was left of the roof. And with a cold December forecast, plus the Christmas holidays, the older Patel brother had been careful to warn Lena that the work could overrun the schedule.

  Megan closed her front door behind her and walked back to the kitchen area to drink the rest of her tea. She was on a late shift today, with her first client at noon but her last one at nine that night, so she’d had a fairly lazy morning at home. She’d spent some time sorting out her desk and computer now all of that was moved into the living area.

  As soon as the Patels had got on site, they’d agreed to move Lena’s wardrobe and chest of drawers down to her room, and a big reshuffle had been required. It made Megan’s living area less spacious than she’d planned, but it was only temporary so she couldn’t grumble too much. And it made Lena’s life far more comfortable in the spare room, and that helped her mood considerably, so Megan definitely couldn’t grumble about that either.

  Now that the spare room was clearly defined as Lena’s space, she’d relaxed even more into her life in the shared flat. However, it still meant she spent more time in there alone than she did in the living area, and Megan was trying hard not to be offended by it. She had always had a fairly simple outlook on life, and as a consequence had struggled when dealing with people as complicated and complex as Lena.

  It was the main reason things with Julie had gone tits up. Trying to understand all of Julie’s moods and their swings had overwhelmed Megan in the end. Not that she thought Lena was as needy or moody as Julie. But she was certainly complex in her own way, and Megan would need a lot more time around her to see if she could understand her.

  She cleaned her mug and left it to
drain beside the sink. While she understood Lena was introverted, she didn’t seem to want to spend any time with Megan. Did she not like Megan? Megan didn’t think so. When they met, however briefly, as their days crossed, they chatted reasonably comfortably about what they were doing, the weather, the meals they might share. When they did share those meals, they seemed comfortable, if not overly chatty. Megan never got the impression Lena didn’t want to be conversing, or sharing food, and yet, as soon as the meal or conversation was over, there Lena would be, practically sprinting back to her room and closing the door softly behind her.

  Megan supposed she shouldn’t complain—a lot of people who shared flats hated their flatmates getting in the way, leaving a mess, being obnoxious. Lena was none of those and yet Megan still couldn’t help being disappointed at the complete oppositeness.

  “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how does it work, you being at the health club? Are you a full-time employee?”

  Lena’s question startled Megan. It was one of the longest and most personal questions she’d ever asked. They were sharing a rare evening meal together, and Lena had cooked up a delicious butternut squash and carrot soup that Megan couldn’t get enough of. They’d been doing their usual, chatting about inconsequential things, when Lena’s question had suddenly materialised.

  Megan swallowed her mouthful of soup and put her spoon down.

  “No, I’m a private contractor, self-employed. I basically pay a kind of rent to the club to be able to conduct my business on their premises. I could do shifts directly for them too, as a form of rent payment, but I choose not to. Kimberley, a friend of mine at the club, does it that way, spending half her week doing classes directly for them and half private clients. I brought some clients with me when I moved to that club and then got lots more from being there, so I can happily live off doing that.”

  “That sounds good, very independent.”

  Megan shrugged. “Yeah, it has positives and negatives. Obviously, I need to keep a good list of clients, otherwise suddenly I’m not making any money.”

  “But if you are good at what you do then presumably it’s easier to keep that good list.” Lena popped a small chunk of bread into her mouth, and Megan tried not to be mesmerised by the keen gaze Lena aimed her way as she chewed.

  “Yeah, and I am. I mean,” Megan hurried on when she saw Lena’s eyebrows rise, “I’m not bragging or anything, but I am good at this. I’ve been doing it for ten years and I’ve got a good reputation.”

  “Good for you,” Lena said, blushing slightly and turning back to her soup.

  “I assume you’re full-time employed in your job?”

  Lena nodded, but kept her gaze averted. “Yes,” she said, after swallowing her mouthful of bread. “I did contracting back in Bolton when I first qualified as an accountant, just to get some experience. Then I got a full-time job with a local council and after a few months realised I’d made a mistake. It was so depressing working there—we wasted so much time doing things twice because their processes and systems were so old-fashioned. And everything, from the computers to the kitchen equipment, was so second-rate. Which probably makes me sound like a snob.” She laughed half-heartedly and finally turned to look at Megan.

  Megan shook her head. “I don’t think so. Working conditions are important. And if the work wasn’t exciting you either, I can see why things like a chipped mug would annoy you.” Megan hesitated a moment before adding, “Especially you.”

  She was thrilled when Lena laughed, loudly, her shoulders shaking. “Yes, especially me.”

  “So is that why you came to London? To get a better job? You said something like that when you met my family.”

  Suddenly Lena’s face shut down, and her smile withered and disappeared. She let out a slow breath and pushed the tray containing her soup bowl and the remains of her bread roll off her lap and onto the coffee table.

  “Sorry, did I say something wrong?” Megan asked, her own soup forgotten.

  Lena shook her head and let out another breath. “No, it’s…it’s just very personal. And hard to talk about.”

  Megan held up her hands. “Then leave it, it’s fine,” she said, her tone gentle.

  “I-I would like to tell you, actually.”

  Megan waited; Lena was obviously composing herself, and Megan dreaded what she was about to hear.

  “As I’m sure you figured out already from my book collection—” Lena looked up at her and smiled thinly “—I’m gay. It took me a long time to be okay with that and do something about it. Being Indian, well, let’s just say it’s not the most welcoming community for someone who comes out. And my parents were—” her voice cracked slightly “—distinctly unwelcoming.” She looked up at Megan then. “Hostile, nasty, those are other words that spring to mind.”

  “Did they kick you out?” Megan’s question was whispered. The contrast between her own coming out and Lena’s couldn’t have been greater, and she was having trouble understanding how parents could do that to their child.

  “Not directly. But they did give me an ultimatum: forget this horrid gay nonsense, settle down with a nice Indian boy of their choice, preferably, or else.”

  “And what was the ‘or else’?”

  Lena shrugged, and her mouth twisted slightly. “I don’t know. I didn’t hang around long enough to find out. I spent the next day updating my CV and contacting employment agencies down here. I knew if there was anywhere I could be comfortable, and have a good chance of a job, it was London. Plus, it was far enough away that my parents couldn’t come knocking on the door to drag me home. I mean, Manchester was nearer, obviously, but distance away from them seemed like a good idea.”

  “Shit,” Megan breathed. “I guess I thought, well, you know, in this day and age, that sort of stuff didn’t happen anymore.”

  Lena laughed, but it was humourless. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Her voice had a bitter edge to it that tugged at Megan’s guts. “Well, anyway,” Lena continued, her tone a little softer, “I was lucky, I got a job pretty quickly. I had to do a lot of lying to both my work and my parents to get down to London for interviews, but I managed it. Quit the job at the council, and one Sunday when my parents were out visiting some relatives, my sister helped me pack up my stuff and drove me to the station.”

  “So I guess she’s not like your parents then?”

  Lena’s smile was warm. “No, Madhu’s great. She doesn’t quite get the whole lesbian thing, but she loves me no matter what. Unlike my parents…”

  “God, Lena, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

  Lena shrugged. “As Madhu said, I should have realised they wouldn’t be happy. I simply never factored in exactly how unhappy they would be.”

  “And have you been in contact with them since? You said you’d been here for four years, so…?”

  Again Lena laughed that humourless laugh. “I tried to contact them, once. I phoned home a week later, to let them know I was safe, settled, and all that. You wouldn’t believe the filth that came out of my mother’s mouth.”

  “Shit,” Megan breathed.

  “For about a year after that there was nothing, but then about once a year since then, my mother has had some strange need to call me and try to talk some sense into me. Her words, not mine,” Lena said, smiling bitterly. “Those are usually very short conversations—she simply cannot understand me, and feels that if I just went home I could be fixed.”

  “I can’t get over the contrast between your story and mine. My mother’s only concern when I told her I was gay was that I was going to cut all my hair off.”

  Lena’s chuckle started softly, but soon progressed into a deep, throaty laugh, and rapidly transformed into a guffaw that had her holding her sides and her eyes shining.

  “Oh, that’s brilliant,” she panted in between huge, heaving breaths, “I love it!”

 
Megan joined in the laughter but her heart was heavy. Poor Lena. No wonder she was as brittle as she was. How the hell did you ever cope with something like that?

  Lena sunk into the hot water of the bath and sighed happily. The bubbles tickled her skin in a not unpleasant way, and the scent of them filled her nose. This was exactly what she needed after the evening’s revelations. Those moments on the sofa over soup had taken her entirely out of her comfort zone and some time alone in the soothing embrace of a hot bath was the perfect way to reset.

  Two weeks ago, she wouldn’t have imagined ever telling Megan, someone she barely knew, her story. But actually, although the re-telling had been upsetting, it had felt okay to share it with her. And getting confirmation of Megan’s own sexuality had felt good. More than good, she had to admit. This baffled her. Even though she’d had moments where she could acknowledge how attractive Megan was, and how all round nice she was, it was beyond ludicrous to think anything could ever happen between them. Megan was so…full of life, and Lena wasn’t, not really.

  Memories of that phone call with Madhu filtered into her brain, and Madhu’s exhortations that Lena shake off the anger she was carrying around so that she could be a happier person. It wasn’t easy, but she had at least made a start. Maybe, just maybe, if she kept it going, then someone like Megan would be interested. It wouldn’t be Megan, obviously, as there was no way a woman like her would stay single for long and therefore still be available if and when Lena ever got into a position to even think about dating again.

  Lena’s eyes popped wide open. She had just made a massive assumption. Why did she automatically think Megan was single? Just because she hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend, or had someone over to the flat who could possibly be a girlfriend, didn’t mean she wasn’t involved in some way with someone, somewhere. Lena had also made a second massive assumption: that Megan would even be interested in someone like Lena in the first place.