by Ella Harper
They were in a coffee shop and it was a cute, cosy one rather than a chain. All wicker furniture and pastel crockery, it had some unusual coffees on offer and a fair amount of home-baked pies and cakes boasting three sponges and colourful icing under glass domes on the counter. What was more useful was that it was just down the road from where Layla lived.
She checked her watch discreetly. Connie was sitting with her mum for an hour or so so she could come on this date, but Layla still felt really edgy. Connie hadn’t called yet though, so she assumed everything was fine. Layla had worried that Connie wasn’t in the right state of mind, agreeing to babysit a woman who was most likely suffering from some form of dementia, but Connie had insisted that she was fine and that she would welcome being out of the house to do Layla a favour.
Remembering that she was on a date and very lucky to be on one at all, Layla quickly brought herself back to reality.
‘We should go for one,’ Alfie was saying. ‘A bevvie, that is. Of the alcoholic variety. I mean, if you want to, of course.’
Layla felt uplifted. Alfie wanted to see her again. Well, so he said, anyway. Layla knew she needed to view this situation with a degree of cynicism. Too many friends had told her of dates they had been on that had seemed really positive, only to never hear from that person again or to be unceremoniously deleted. It was a veritable minefield, online dating.
‘Or the cinema,’ Alfie said. ‘I love watching movies.’
Layla studied Alfie over the rim of her coffee cup. They were almost the same age (his birthday was in January, hers in September). He was a project manager with a building firm, which meant, he said, that he no longer arrived home covered in dust and mess, but had the misfortune of rocking a hard hat on a daily basis. He had some big contract in a month or so ‘ooop North’, as he put it, but under normal circumstances, his office and home were only around twenty to thirty minutes’ drive away in East London.
What else? He was attractive, Layla decided. Athletic build, nice blue eyes, tousled brown hair. Not gorgeous, but better than average on the looks front. A good smile that made his eyes go crinkly at the edges. His clothes were fine – a pristine white polo shirt and jeans. Layla discreetly checked under the table. Smart, expensive-looking trainers. Connie was always telling her to check out men’s shoes. Were smart trainers acceptable? Layla had no idea. Connie had a thing about men who wore shoes without socks… as in, she liked it, but Layla had other friends who thought that made a man a total nobhead. So it was all relative.
Layla sighed. A veritable minefield. She suddenly realised that Alfie was doing all the talking and all the asking. That was dating suicide, right?
‘So. What do you like doing?’ she asked. God, how lame, mirroring his question.
Alfie gave her one of his good smiles. ‘Well. As I say, I like movies and I like bevvies. I read, but mostly crime stuff. And those books people talk about, just to see if they’re any good. And Pilates. I love a bit of Pilates.’
Layla laughed. ‘Oh, aren’t you funny,’ she said. She toyed with her coffee cup, two things springing to mind. One, that she hadn’t been to Pilates in ages and she really missed it and two, that Alfie was making her heart sing a bit. And three (not that she had realised there was a third thought straight away), she thought she might quite like Alfie.
‘OK, so I lied about the Pilates,’ Alfie said, leaning closer. His eyes were crinkly at the edges and he looked relaxed and – yes – he looked happy. ‘You won’t catch me with my leg over my head any time soon. But truthfully, I like going to the gym. Weights and stuff.’
‘Do you?’ Layla held up a hand at Alfie’s look of mock outrage. ‘No, I mean, you look as though you go to the gym. It’s not that. My friend JJ is a personal trainer at the big gym on River Street. I wondered if you knew him as that’s not far from where you live.’
‘River Street?’ Alfie shook his head. ‘No. I go to a small one round the corner from where I work as I usually go from there or before work in the mornings. I’d quite like a personal trainer though. I’ve heard that’s the best way to get in shape.’
‘You don’t need to get in shape at all, but I’ll pass his number on to you. He’s very good by all accounts.’ Layla realised she’d finished her coffee. What would happen now? Was the date over?
‘Shall we have another?’ Alfie offered, getting to his feet. ‘And maybe a slice of that multi-coloured cake up there? To share, unless you’d like your own one. I could eat my own one for sure…’
‘The rainbow cake? Yes, I’d love to share some with you.’
‘Great. Rainbow cake, is it?’ Alfie grinned. ‘Who knew? Anyway, I’m on it.’
Layla tried not to look too pleased as Alfie strolled to the counter and ordered cake and more coffees. This was going well, right? As dates went (and Layla didn’t have that many to judge it by, not since her mum had got ill), it seemed to be going well.
‘God, that’s amazing,’ Alfie said, his mouth full of rainbow cake. ‘And I don’t even like cake.’
‘You don’t like cake? Why did you get it then?’ Layla found herself giggling as Alfie pulled an ecstatic face, his chin covered in brightly-coloured cake crumbs.
Alfie shrugged. ‘I thought women were into cakes. God, sorry. That sounds as though I think you’re all the same.’
Layla put her fork down, eyeing Alfie mischievously. ‘Well. I guess we must all be the same. Because I LOVE cake.’
‘Ha. Well. OK.’ Alfie put his fork down too. ‘Do you enjoy your job, if you don’t mind me asking? It’s just… I think it might get me down, listening to everyone else’s shit. Does that sound harsh?’
‘Nope. Effectively, yes I am listening to other people’s “shit”, I guess. But I genuinely enjoy it. I detach from it so I don’t end up manic depressive at the end of each session, but I like helping people.’
Alfie sat back and regarded her. ‘That’s a really great quality. I like that about you.’
Layla felt oddly warm and fuzzy inside. It had been a long time since someone had paid her a sincere compliment. Well. If it was a sincere compliment. Apparently guys paid lots of compliments on first dates in the hope of getting laid. She’d been told by friends and she’d read about it online as well.
Layla sighed. She hated feeling so cynical about dating, but at the same time, she supposed she should have her wits about her. But she really was beginning to think that Alfie was lovely and even if it wasn’t the done thing on a first date, Layla felt compelled to say something.
‘I know it will sound silly, but I actually think you’re…’
Layla jumped slightly as her phone rang loudly in her pocket. She drew it out immediately. It was Connie.
‘I have to take this,’ Layla said, accidentally cutting Alfie off as he started to say something.
‘Oh, OK. No worries. Go ahead.’ Alfie sipped his coffee, seeming unperturbed.
Layla stood up and turned away as she took the call. ‘What’s wrong? Is everything OK?’ she said in a low voice.
Connie sounded apologetic. ‘I am so sorry – I know you’re on a date. But your mum is really agitated about you not being here. I’ve been reassuring her for the past half hour but she’s getting quite screamy.’
Layla could hear her mum kicking off in the background. ‘God. Sorry, Con. I’ll get right back. Give me five minutes.’ She ended the call and turned back to Alfie.
‘I’m afraid I have to go,’ she started. ‘It’s my…’ She paused. Did she really want to admit at this point that she lived with her mum? A mum who may or may not be going a bit deranged on some level? ‘It’s work,’ she finished, feeling terrible about fobbing Alfie off.
‘Work.’ Alfie nodded. ‘OK.’ He leant forward. ‘Listen, Layla… great name, by the way. Erm… if you’re not having a good time, you really can just say. I kind of thought we were getting on and having some fun, but I won’t take it badly if you just don’t really… dig me. If that’s the expression.’ He frowned and scr
atched his head. ‘That sounded really crap. But I hope you get my drift.’
‘I do. And honestly, it’s nothing like that. I do. Dig you, that is.’
Layla started to gather up her stuff, haphazardly throwing her phone into her bag as she put it over her shoulder. She felt panicked about her mum and awful for leaving this lovely date the way she was. Layla hesitated. Maybe she should just be honest with Alfie? He really seemed like a great guy and she wanted to see him again.
‘It’s really not you,’ she said instead. She just didn’t want to sound like an idiot about her mum. And how off-putting would it be for a guy to know that she was practically a carer and hardly had any time for a relationship?
Shit. Layla felt her mood plummet. What was she even doing here? How on earth was she going to meet Alfie again, even if he wanted to see her? She couldn’t keep asking Connie to babysit all the time. This whole thing was just pointless.
‘Oh man.’ Alfie stood up and thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘That almost sounded like “it’s not you, it’s me”.’
‘God, no!’ Layla let out a nervous laugh. ‘It’s not you. It is me. I mean… oh shit.’
‘Hey.’ Alfie put his hand on her shoulder. ‘This whole online thing can be such a nightmare. I had a great time. I’d like to see you again. But just in case, I’ll leave it with you, OK?’
‘OK.’ Layla let out a relieved breath. She had no idea how she would even see Alfie again, but at least she had a chance. And at least she was in charge of when. ‘That’s so sweet of you, thank you.’
‘I’ll see you out,’ Alfie said.
At the door, he leant in and kissed her cheek, paused with his face to hers for a while. Layla felt her stomach flip over. He smelt delicious.
‘What were you about to say before your phone rang, by the way?’
‘What?’
‘Before your phone rang, you were about to say something.’ Alfie shrugged his arms into his jacket. ‘It sounded like it might be a compliment. I’m vain enough to want to hear it if it was. Sad, but true.’
Layla thought back. Remembered. And decided she had nothing to lose. ‘Oh. I was… about to say that you were lovely. That’s all.’
Alfie mock-preened himself. ‘That’s definitely a compliment. And I’m taking it. Thanks. It’s mutual.’
Layla felt herself blush. ‘I really have to go.’ She kissed his cheek, flustered and not remembering that they’d already said goodbye. Dashing off before she could embarrass herself any more, Layla hurried home. Pushing her key into the lock, she could hear her mum kicking off inside the house. Christ.
Inside, she found Connie looking strained in the hallway and her mum standing in the doorway to Layla’s office, looking upset. She had messy hair, a tear-stained face and she kept tugging at her dressing gown cord. Layla sighed, her lovely date all but forgotten as responsibility kicked in again.
‘Hey. Sorry. I got back as quickly as I could.’ She took her coat off.
‘That’s OK,’ Connie said, but Layla could tell that she was shocked. ‘It’s just been a difficult half hour or so. She was about to head out and look for you. I was worried about being able to restrain her.’
‘Welcome to my world,’ Layla murmured. ‘Mum, it’s me. I’m back again.’
Evelyn stared at her vaguely. ‘Oh yes. Layla,’ she said, sounding childlike. ‘You’ve been gone for days, you have.’ She started crying again.
‘Actually only an hour or so,’ Layla corrected her calmly. She ushered her mum through the doorway and closed the door to her office. ‘Although I know it must feel like ages to you. Shall we have a nice cup of tea?’
‘I hate tea,’ Evelyn said in a sulky tone. ‘I only drink coffee. Why don’t you ever remember?’
‘Sorry, Mum. Coffee it is. Come upstairs and I’ll sort everything out.’
Evelyn obediently followed her upstairs and Connie came up as well. Evelyn sat in the lounge once Layla had put the TV on and she joined Connie in the kitchen.
‘Wow.’ Connie sank into a seat. ‘That was a totally unexpected experience.’ She glanced towards the door to make sure they were alone. ‘I had no idea she was that bad, Lay. She wasn’t anything like that the last time I was here.’
‘You just happened to come over on a good day,’ Layla replied flatly. She sat down abruptly. ‘She’s like this a lot of the time, to be honest.’
‘God. It’s too much.’ Connie looked seriously concerned. ‘You can’t do this alone, Layla. You can’t. You have to get her diagnosed. She has some form of dementia, for sure.’
Layla nodded and put her head in her hands. ‘I know. It’s awful. I just need to get her to the doctor’s, I guess.’
‘You do. I’d come with you, but I’m going on this holiday with Jonas and the girls in two days’ time…’
‘That’s OK.’ Layla reached out and touched Connie’s hand. ‘You’ve done enough and you have enough going on, anyway.’
‘Maybe JJ could come with you?’ Connie suggested.
Layla laughed. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m sure he’s far too busy dating and God knows what else.’
A weird look passed over Connie’s face, but it was fleeting. ‘True. I just thought he might help out as he’s going to be around when me and Jonas are away. And he’s actually pretty big-hearted when it comes down to it.’
‘Oh, I know. Maybe I’ll give him a call.’ Layla heard a message arriving on her phone and took it out of her bag. ‘It’s Alfie. He’s messaged to say he had a lovely time on our date.’
‘That’s nice.’ Connie smiled. ‘Did it go well?’
‘It did. I really like him.’ Layla sighed. ‘But I doubt anything will come of it. How on earth can I leave Mum when she’s in this state?’
‘You need help with her, that’s all. You can’t do this on your own… You shouldn’t be doing this on your own. And I’m sure if this guy is as nice as you say he is, he’ll understand.’ Connie got up and gave Layla a hug. ‘You’re amazing. I don’t know how you deal with this every day. And hold a job down as well.’
Layla suddenly felt tearful at all the compassion in Connie’s voice. ‘It’s becoming harder and harder with her. Every day it’s worse and my job is being compromised and I’m being compromised and I just can’t see a way out.’
‘Of course there’s a way out, hun.’ Connie stroked Layla’s hair. ‘Don’t give up hope. Get her to the doctor’s, find out what’s wrong and we’ll go from there. OK? I’m here for you.’
Layla nodded, but she didn’t feel comfortable involving Connie too much. Connie had so much to deal with in her own life. The whole issue with Jonas needed Connie’s attention, because her marriage was under threat. Layla made a conscious decision then and there not to involve Connie in the problems with her mum if she could help it. JJ maybe… but not Connie.
She glanced down at her phone. And as for Alfie… he was lovely, but Layla had no idea how to tell him about her mum. Or how she could go on more dates like normal people did when her mum often kicked off if she went to the toilet or something.
Layla closed her hands over her phone despairingly. What had happened to her life?
JJ
JJ felt incredibly nervous. He had promised an old friend he would meet him for a drink, but he was beginning to wish he hadn’t. The friend – Dylan – still lived in his old neighbourhood, Hackney. And JJ had vowed that he wouldn’t go back there. Too many bad memories. And now here he was. Because Dylan had just lost a leg in the armed forces and JJ felt bad making him come to the other side of London to visit him. But he still didn’t want to go.
JJ stared out of the window. Connie and Jonas had gone on holiday with their children today. He wasn’t sure why this was making any difference to his life, but that chat he had had with Connie in the garden that time… it kept playing on his mind. The way she had looked at him. There was something there, he was sure of it. He wasn’t prone to imagining anything much. They had held that gaze for a good few minut
es. It had meant something. And it had changed everything.
JJ’s stomach lurched as the train pulled into the station. He’d give pretty much anything to not be here. Anything. It was more or less the last place he wanted to be. But he hadn’t realised he would feel this bad being back here. JJ paused on the platform. He felt like he was drowning. Suffocating. It was like getting that phone call the other week. All those feelings of helplessness and terror rising up, threatening to overwhelm him.
JJ made himself leave the train station and took a deep breath. God. What was he doing here? This was the equivalent of hell for him. The worst place on earth. JJ faltered. He could leave. Why didn’t he leave? He could make some excuse and tell Dylan he couldn’t make it. Dylan was a big boy; he was hardly going to cry into his beer and hold it against JJ. He wouldn’t know the reason why JJ hated being here – no one knew that – he would just assume JJ had got held up somewhere. Or had got a better offer, maybe. Not that Dylan knew about JJ’s (previous) reputation, obviously. They hadn’t seen each other in years.
JJ got a hold of himself. He was here for a couple of drinks and that was it. He was doing a friend a favour. Then he would get the hell out of here and put the past out of his mind again. He started walking. He recognised some of the older pubs, but there were loads of trendy new bars as well. It was one of these he was headed towards, and thank God for that. Any of the old haunts might have triggered hideous memories. JJ pushed those to one side and went into a brightly-lit bar with huge, Moroccan-style lights and an impressive chiller cabinet full of Prosecco.
‘Hey. You made it.’ Dylan waved from the bar. He started to awkwardly move towards JJ, but JJ upped his speed to avoid any further clumsy or painful movement.
‘Good to see you, mate. Sorry about the leg.’
JJ shook Dylan’s hand. He was surprised at how rough Dylan looked, but he hoped it didn’t show on his face. Dylan had always been one of his gym buddies back in the day and he had sported a six pack to be proud of. He looked a good three stone heavier now and it showed, mostly around the jowls and stomach. But so what? He’d lost a leg and probably couldn’t work out at the moment.
