He’s never been to a Wahaca before; never eaten Mexican aside from Tex-Mex tacos in some food court, somewhere.
‘Don’t worry,’ I say, leading him inside and taking a seat at one of the colourful tables. ‘I’ll order for you.’ And perhaps I get carried away – perhaps, as my dad would say, my eyes are bigger than my ginormous belly, because I order way too much food.
‘Are you sure about all this?’ Simon asks as I name dish after dish. ‘I hope there are some empanadas there. I’ve always wanted to try one.’ And so I add those, too, and then, when the busyness of ordering’s subsided, I start talking to disguise the uneasiness that’s crept up on me. This is not a date, but suddenly it feels like one. I wonder if the baby can feel my nerves; can somehow sense that mamma’s with a man who’s not his papa.
‘Stop,’ Simon says, putting his hand on top of mine on the table and taking an exaggerated deep breath, closing his eyes and lifting his face with the inhale, then looking at me as he exhales slowly. ‘Just take a moment to breathe in and breathe out, and just “be” in the moment.’
‘What?’ My hand is stiff under his.
‘You’re talking a mile a minute. I can barely keep up. You’re like a bee, buzzing from one thing to another. Worse than a bee. A bee on a sugar high.’
I look at him and feel a blush rising. I pull my hand away. ‘Sorry.’
The guacamole arrives and Simon pauses before taking some. ‘Do you want to Instagram it?’
‘No, it’s okay. That’s more Anna. I swear she can’t eat anything without Instagramming it first.’
‘I’ve noticed.’ Simon dips a chip and puts the whole thing in his mouth, leaving a smear of guacamole on the corner of his mouth. I watch as he licks it off, his tongue sliding around his lips.
‘Mmm,’ he says. ‘I don’t usually like avocados. Horrible slimy things, like the bogeys of giants…’
‘Bleurgh!’ I pretend to gag. ‘Thanks for that delightful image. I can’t un-see that now!’
‘But this is delicious, absolutely delicious. The chilli and the whatever else it is in there completely changes it.’ He dips in another tortilla chip and takes a big scoop. ‘I see why you like this place.’
We take our time eating, as if waiting a little will allow our bodies to create more space in which to cram the extra food. But even I have to concede defeat. I ask the waitress if she can pack the remains for us to take away.
‘It’s such a waste,’ I say to Simon, worried he might think me cheap. ‘My parents always had this thing about not wasting food. Does your dad like Mexican food? It might be a treat for him.’
Simon looks down. ‘Father’s on a very bland diet these days. It’d probably make him sick.’ He sighs. ‘Anyway…’ He sticks his abdomen out, puts his hands on either side of it and gives it a rub. ‘I see how you must feel. It’s like I have a baby in there myself. But that was decidedly the best food I’ve ever eaten. Thank you for introducing me.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Without discussing it, we find ourselves meandering down towards the river, and then ambling along, watching the boats plying up and down: brightly lit dinner cruises, RIBs, water buses and glass-covered catamarans. On the opposite bank, blue lights are strung along like bunting; in the distance, the dome of St Paul’s is lit up white: the sight of that and the old-fashioned black lampposts under which we’re walking makes me feel as if we’re in a movie. I rub my hands together and flex my fingers, then blow into my cupped hands.
‘Here,’ says Simon, and he takes my left hand in both of his, gives it a rub, then places it inside his jacket pocket along with his own. All the while he does this, he continues to walk, as if it’s no big deal for him to be holding my hand inside his jacket pocket and, because he acts like it’s no big deal, I feel I can’t pull away without making an issue of it. Simon’s hips bump my side until we fall into step and I walk along, my left arm stiff, wrestling with myself: I know he likes me, so am I encouraging him? Or am I being a prude for reading more into this than he probably means?
‘Have you ever been on one of those?’ Simon nods his head to a RIB, cleaving through the water. ‘Water taxis. Fastest way to get around London, but cost a fortune. Four hundred quid I think, per hour.’
‘And people pay that?’
‘Stressed-out bankers maybe. Or tourists. I guess you get the whole boat for that price. If you clubbed together…’
We come to a halt and turn to face the river.
‘How’s your other hand?’ Simon asks and he simultaneously takes it in his and places both our hands in his other pocket and, in that moment before I realize a line’s been crossed, he lurches his head towards me and presses his mouth onto mine. I wrench away but not before I’ve felt the softness of his lips; the teeniest bit of wetness from his saliva. I step back, my hand over my mouth. Simon stares at me, aghast, both hands raised in apology.
‘I’m so sorry! I… I shouldn’t have… I just…’ He shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry. No excuse.’
We stare at each other.
‘It’s fine,’ I say finally. ‘Forgotten already. But don’t try it again or I’ll chop your balls off.’
We sit in silence on the train.
Twenty-one
‘So how are you feeling?’ Anna asks as she eases her car into a gap on the main road the next day. She’s taking me for a day at a spa as a thank-you for the help I gave her with her house. It’s still early and the traffic’s all stop-go. Anna’s car is warm and snug after the chill of the air outside, but it’s so stuffy I can barely breath. I wonder if she’ll be able to tell by looking at me that something happened with Simon. I feel strangely guilty. Complicit even, as if it was me who kissed him.
‘Oh… I’m okay, thanks.’ I undo my scarf, then struggle to undo my coat under the seatbelt.
‘Are you too hot?’ Anna puts her hand to the dial. ‘It’s a bit warm, isn’t it? Your built-in heater’s bigger than mine!’ She gives a little laugh and turns the heating down a couple of clicks. It’s still not enough but I don’t think anything bar opening the windows to let in the icy air would cool me enough today.
‘Thanks.’ I sigh. ‘Oh, all right. Tired. I think the “blooming” stage has bloomed and gone.’ I sigh, realizing I sound ungrateful. ‘No, it’s great, it really is. I just didn’t sleep much last night, that’s all.’ I flash her a smile but she’s focusing on the traffic.
‘Me neither,’ she says.
‘What kept you up?’
‘Oh… I’d gone to bed early but the phone rang a couple of times in the night.’
‘Oh?’ I imagine the shrill ring of the phone; Anna jolting awake, alone in the darkness, her heart pounding.
‘Wrong numbers.’
‘Did you speak to them?’
‘One wanted a massage, the other didn’t say anything. But after that I couldn’t get back to sleep.’
‘Someone called you wanting a massage?’
Anna indicates to turn off the main road and sighs. ‘I’ve had a few calls like that lately. I think my number must have been printed in an ad somewhere by accident. It can’t be a coincidence, can it? So many men calling for massage?’
‘Oh no! That’s terrible. How can you find out? Have you asked them who they’re trying to call?’
‘They hang up the moment they realize they got the wrong number. Some don’t speak good English. Others are just embarrassed.’
‘Oh god, that’s awful. I hope it stops soon. The last thing you need is Tom, Dick and Harry calling you up for happy finishes!’
Anna gives a small laugh without much mirth. ‘You and me both. Anyway, how come you couldn’t sleep?’
I take a deep breath. ‘I went out for a bite with Simon,’ I say as casually as I can. ‘And I think the food was a bit rich. Either that or I just ate too much.’
‘I see,’ says Anna. I steal a peep at her to try and read her face, but she’s looking ahead, out of the windscreen. ‘Where?’
&nbs
p; ‘Wahaca?’ I say, inflecting my voice upwards though I’m not sure why.
‘On the South Bank?’ Anna asks, still focusing on the road.
I nod. ‘Easiest, I guess.’
Anna’s silent for a moment.
‘Well, I hope he behaved himself,’ she says, and there’s something off in her tone. ‘Honestly, Taylor. You’re so trusting. You barely know the guy. You should have told me what you were doing, just in case.’
‘You’re right. I should have done,’ I say, and I mean it. It’s been ages since I’ve had a friend who cared enough to watch out for me. ‘Anyway, how are you aside from tired? Feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.’
‘I’m great.’ Anna smiles. ‘Desperately looking forward to a massage.’
‘That makes two of us.’
*
And we’re not disappointed. The massage is blissful. Anna’s done her homework and the spa has special massage beds with big holes in them for pregnant bellies, and ridiculous-looking holes for boobs, so we can lie face-down. I hadn’t been expecting that and it’s a wonderful surprise. I take my time getting up afterwards and practically glide down the corridor to the relaxation area where the therapist settles me on a teak lounger and pours me a cup of steaming-hot ginger tea. I lie back and close my eyes. Why don’t I do this more often? I used to do it all the time when I worked. Between flights, I was in and out of spas for massages, facials, manicures – you name it, I had it. But these days… I’d kind of thought the Brits didn’t really have that spa culture, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they do and I just haven’t uncovered it. I feel as if Anna has shown me a luxurious new side to living in the UK.
‘Hey.’ Anna pads into the room in her spa slippers and settles into the lounger next to mine. ‘How was it?’
As she talks, she takes a snap of the teapot, then arranges her slippers by the lounger for another photo.
‘Mmm,’ I say. ‘Awesome.’
‘Good. I’m glad.’ Anna looks up from her phone. ‘I’ve booked us each an application of make-up and a blow-dry later, so we leave looking good.’ She shudders. ‘I hate leaving spas all greasy-faced and covered in oil. Ick.’
‘Me too! Thank you so much. You really didn’t need to do all this. It’s too much.’
Anna gives a self-deprecating laugh. ‘No. Thank you for your help with the house.’
It’s my turn to laugh. ‘Seems like a win-win situation to me: I get to spend your money doing something I love, then you thank me by buying me a massage!’
‘Are you always so positive?’
‘Yep. It’s in my DNA.’
Anna uploads her pictures then we lie side by side on our loungers in silence for a bit, just absorbing the niceness of where we are.
‘We won’t be able to do this much longer,’ Anna says. ‘Once the babies come.’
‘No. Speaking of which, I meant to ask…’ I wince to show I hope I’m not treading on her toes. ‘You said it was a story for another day, and I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how did you and Rob get together? You never did tell me.’
Anna sighs and gives her head a little shake. ‘It’s a long and not very nice story. Although…’ she looks over at me, ‘it could possibly help you understand what’s going on in my head at the moment.’
‘I’m here all day,’ I say.
She takes a deep breath. ‘Okay. Well, if you really want to hear it?’
I nod.
‘Well, don’t blame me if it upsets you. It is upsetting. All right?’
‘Okay.’ I pull my dressing gown closer around myself despite the warmth of the heating.
‘So I had this friend, Louise,’ Anna says and I note the past tense. ‘This is about her, really.’ She looks at me to check I’m still interested and I nod for her to go on. ‘We were really close: flatmates. We’d known each other since school. We got on really well – shared everything. We never fought like some women do when they live together. She was like my sister, actually, only better.’
‘Okaaay,’ I say, imagining Anna coming home and finding Louise in bed with her fiancé. That old chestnut.
‘Well, one night she’d gone out and I’d stayed home. We usually kept tabs on each other; made sure we were safely home, but that night I’d fallen asleep. She was later than usual. It was 2 a.m. when I heard footsteps creeping up the stairs, and I didn’t think anything of it.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘Why would you?’
‘Exactly. I just thought, “Great, Lou’s home,” put my ear plugs in and went back to sleep.’
‘Okay.’
Anna runs her hand through her hair and shuts her eyes. ‘Oh god. To this day, I go over and over the sound of those footsteps on the stairs. They haunt me. How was I to know?’
‘What happened?’ My heart’s suddenly running in my chest; I can feel it pulsing. I put a hand on it and press.
Anna shakes her head, then bites her lip. ‘They think he’d been watching her in the club where she was dancing.’ My eyes go wide. ‘Maybe he took a fancy to her,’ Anna says, ‘or maybe she did something to annoy him, we’ll never know, but, for whatever reason, this man followed Lou home. Somehow he got into the house and went up to her bedroom. Oh god! When I think about it… It was across the landing from mine. My door wasn’t locked.’ Anna’s voice breaks and she puts her hand over her eyes. Seeing how distressed she is, I lean over and touch her arm.
‘It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me…’
‘It’s fine.’ She swallows and wipes her eyes. ‘I found her in the morning. She was on the floor. I thought she was asleep and then I saw…’
Anna stops talking and I wait but her eyes are closed. Then she opens them and gives herself a shake. ‘Gagged, raped and stabbed.’ Anna speaks so quietly I cock my head towards hers to hear over the thrum of the distant traffic. ‘Left for dead. I hadn’t heard a thing.’
The breath goes out of my lungs. ‘Oh my god. That’s horrific. I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.’
‘I know,’ Anna says dully. ‘She was barely alive but she survived. Went through counselling, but we drifted apart. It was as if I reminded her of what had happened. She moved away, and I never really got over it. It’s why I was so scared when that rattle came through my door. It brought it all back. I felt I was being watched.’
‘And now the phone calls.’ I speak my thoughts before I think them, and regret the words as soon as they come out.
‘Exactly,’ Anna says. ‘I’m the first to admit I’m probably more paranoid than most people, but…’ She shudders. ‘I can’t help putting two and two together sometimes and getting five.’
‘Oh god, I’d be paranoid too, if I’d been through that.’
Anna gives me a small smile. ‘I thought it might explain a few things.’
We lie in silence for a minute or two while images play in my mind of Anna waking up, going downstairs, waiting for her friend to wake up, then calling her, getting no response and finally knocking on the door. Waiting for her friend to invite her in, then tentatively pushing the door open to find – oh god, I just can’t imagine how awful it must have been.
‘It was then that I met Rob,’ Anna says. ‘I used to hang out with a few people – you know just go to the pub or the movies et cetera – and he turned up at the pub with us one night; he knew one of the guys.’ She closes her eyes and laughs to herself. ‘Yeah, I fell for him straightaway. He’s a big man. He made me feel safe. It helped that he swept me off my feet. He took me on really fancy dates and helped me forget. And that’s it, really. The right man at the right time.’
‘Oh my god.’ I really want to give Anna a hug but short of climbing onto her lounger, I can’t. ‘I’m so sorry.’
She breathes in deeply and lets it out slowly. ‘So that’s how I met Rob. The irony is I got together with him because he made me feel safe – and now he lives on the other side of the world. Fat lot of good that turned out to be.’
She fixes a smile on her face. ‘So now I’v
e told you that, tell me something happy. Is Jake excited about the baby?’
I nod. ‘Yeah. Totally.’
‘That’s good. When I told Rob, you’d have thought I’d asked him to climb Everest in flip-flops and a bikini. He went all pale and quiet.’
I laugh. ‘I guess they all take the news differently.’
‘But was getting pregnant his idea or yours?’
‘Well…’ I have to think about this. ‘Yes… we both wanted it. When it happened the first time, we were both over the moon.’ I pause. ‘After that… if I’m honest, when it became hard work, he went off the idea a bit. I think there was a while when he was wondering if it was worth all the effort, but I wanted a baby more than ever. It’s like it was this thing that everyone in the world had but was out of my reach. I used to do those fertility-test kit things and lie in wait for him on fertile days.’
‘Oh my god. That’s crazy. But he’s pleased now?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s great.’ Anna nods to herself. ‘Sometimes I think we’re lucky our husbands aren’t here all the time. Do you ever think that? You hear about so many couples who fall apart during the pregnancy; who start fighting. There’s so much to organize, so many decisions to make, I suppose… and the financial worries, and the hormones… I mean, when it comes to us, I’m the boss of an executive committee of one. I make the decisions on my own and he rubber-stamps the big ones – like the car – when he’s home. There’s no fighting. I don’t have multiple personalities!’
We’re still laughing at that when the spa manager appears with two elegant glasses on a tray.
‘Here we go, ladies.’ She places them carefully on the table between our loungers. ‘Cheers.’
I shake my head. ‘Oh, these aren’t ours. We didn’t order them.’
‘They’re part of the package.’
‘It’s fine,’ Anna says, motioning the manager to leave them. ‘Thank you.’ She turns back to me. ‘A glass of prosecco each was included but I asked them to bring elderflower pressé instead. I hope you don’t mind.’
I Know You Page 12
