This London Love

by Clare Lydon

  Meg pressed the red button and stood smiling at her phone. This week was certainly looking up compared to the last one, the one before that and the one before that. In fact, her last date had been with someone she met online and she’d done coffee with her too. Only then, she’d pressed the eject button after ten minutes — right about the part where the woman told her she had six dogs. One dog, Meg could cope with. But six? No, thanks.

  19

  Wednesday night was a fine one when Kate left her work, a tall glass cruise ship of a building situated near the Thames, affording her views across the city direct from her desk. She was lucky — many of her friends in the media worked in basements and didn’t see daylight for hours on end.

  Kate’s offices, on the other hand, had been built within the last five years and were still so new, they gleamed. Security staff patrolled the building making sure none of the staff scuffed the floor or dropped litter. Every glass door sparkled, the desks remained unscratched, carpets were still buoyant and chairs bouncy. Kate mounted her bike and rode out of the backstreet that the cycling bay backed onto, careful not to get oil on her freshly washed skinny jeans.

  The London traffic was its usual busy self as she swung out onto the main road and raced along beside the cars, senses hyper-aware as she weaved around pedestrians, parked cars and the odd delivery van. Historic buildings rose up on either side of her and she breathed in the familiar scent of sunshine and exhaust fumes. She was glad she had her shades on, because the sun still held a fierce glare and she’d seen plenty of near-misses with cyclists and drivers.

  Kate had been a proper London cyclist for a fair few years now. It was after being stranded on the top deck of a stationary bus one day that she had impulsively jumped off and gone into a bike shop. Before she knew what she was doing, she was having an in-depth chat with the woman behind the counter, and within half an hour she’d left with a serious-looking racer. Within two months it’d been stolen, but she’d caught the bug and bought another.

  Kate’s mum was not a fan of her bike-riding, considering it another risk her daughter simply didn’t need to take. However, Kate loved the independence, speed and agility bike-riding afforded her in London traffic, and over the years she’d seen the ranks of fellow cyclists swell as people looked for other ways of commuting. She could get to most places quicker than by public transport and she could take her bike out to wider spaces at the weekends and really stretch her legs. Kate had never been a fan of running, but cycling suited her perfectly.

  She negotiated the roundabout at the bottom of Waterloo Bridge, swung around the queue of cars and stood up in her pedals as the slight incline kicked in. She wiggled her shoulder to adjust the strap on her rucksack, then rode onto the bridge, up and over the Thames.

  Waterloo Bridge was her favourite in London and now she was working nearby, she had the perfect excuse to cross it daily. She loved it in misty mornings and chilly winter evenings, but most of all, she loved it on days like today, with the sun sinking low in a clear sky and the river high, flowing to both sides.

  On her left, the London Eye rotated slowly, and the South Bank heaved with tourists and artwork; while on the opposite bank stood Big Ben and the Houses Of Parliament, London’s shimmering golden palaces. A glance right and she saw the top of the Oxo Tower, the rounded dome of St Paul’s Cathedral and the city skyline piercing the evening sky. It was a view she never tired of. The vibrant scent of the river coated her nostrils as she passed over it — a mix of diluted ocean, oil and heat.

  Half an hour later and Kate was nearing her destination. Jess had tried to stop her from cycling today, telling her she didn’t really want to arrive for her coffee date sweaty. But Kate had overruled her, saying she’d rather arrive a bit hot and bothered from a bike ride than hot, bothered and irritated from public transport. Anyway, she wasn’t daft; she was going to stop off at her mum’s house first so she could dump her bike and freshen up.

  Kate was executing her plan to the letter as she turned up at her family home around 5.45pm. She knew her mum wouldn’t be home from work yet, so she let herself in with her key, lifted her bike through the hallway and kitchen, then into the utility room out the back. In the kitchen, she was surprised to see mugs on the side, the bread out of its bin and the butter standing on the counter, a knife balanced against it as if someone was about to whip up some toast at any second. Her mum must have been in a hurry to get to work this morning. Out of habit, Kate put the knife in the dishwasher and the butter back in the fridge. She checked her watch — she needed to get going.

  She grabbed her bag, ducked into the downstairs bathroom and set about sorting her helmet hair and touching up her make-up. She was glad she’d managed a cool nine hours sleep the night before — her skin looked taut and fresh. However, when she emerged from the bathroom, she walked straight into her mum, clad only in her pink dressing gown.

  Kate’s heart nearly burst from her chest, while a small scream escaped her mouth.

  Her mum took her by the shoulders, bundled her into the kitchen and shut the door.

  Maureen looked flushed and a tiny bit cross. “What are you doing here?” Yep, definitely cross.

  Kate, however, was still recovering. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

  “It’s my house.”

  Her mum had a point. “But you’re normally still at work.” Kate put both hands on her thighs as she bent over, her breathing heavy.

  Maureen’s face flushed.

  “And why are you in your dressing gown?” Kate paused. “Are you sick? You should have called if you were sick, I could have brought some stuff round.”

  Her mum shook her head. “No, I’m not sick.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Lawrence is here.” She said it in a stage whisper.

  Kate’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

  Her mum continued, avoiding meeting her gaze. “We went out for dinner last night and he came back.” Maureen trailed off. “And you know, he’s still here.” She looked down at the floor, then at Kate, the hint of a triumphant grin playing at the corners of her mouth.

  Kate began to laugh, shaking her head the whole time. “I think this might be the definition of awkward if you look it up in the dictionary.” She grinned and nudged her mum with her elbow. What was the etiquette in these situations? It was all new to her.

  Maureen smiled at her, but then tensed up. “But whatever you do, can you not tell Vicky just yet?” Maureen winced to back up her point. “You know what she’s like. She’s having a hard enough time with this already, I don’t want to send her into a full-blown tizz by telling her we’re sleeping together. I mean, we weren’t sleeping together, but now it looks like we kind of are.” And despite herself, Maureen smiled again.

  “And while I’d love to stand around and chat about you and Lawrence sleeping together, I have to leave to get to a date of my own. A far more innocent coffee date this time.” Kate squeezed her mum’s forearm. “But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” Kate paused. “But you know she’s going to find out.”

  Maureen pulled her dressing gown tighter around her. “I know that, but I’d like to keep this private for at least a little while. You wouldn’t know if you weren’t here, so just keep it that way. Let Vicky get more used to the idea of us first.”

  Kate nodded. “Okay.” She opened the door to the hallway and walked down it, her mum following close behind. “By the way, I’ll be coming back to get my bike later, that alright?” Kate turned as she spoke.

  Her mum nodded. “Fine.” She pursed her lips. “He has to go home later anyway, so we’ll probably just have some dinner and he’ll head off.”

  Kate smiled, then leaned in to peck her mum on the cheek, taking her hand as she did. “You know, I’m really happy for you. And Vicky will come round — just give her time.”

  Maureen pulled her in for a hug. “I hope you’re right.”

  As Kate stepped back from her mum’s embrace, her mum’s eyes ha
d welled up. Kate checked her watch — 6.05pm — she really had to run. She squeezed her mum’s hand and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Love you,” she told her, before disappearing out of the front door and into the calm world outside.

  Kate laughed as she walked up the drive, shaking her head at the recent turn of events. If she wanted something to take her mind off being too nervous about her date, then here it was. Her mum was sleeping with Lawrence.

  ***

  Kate knocked on Fabulous Flowers’ glass front door at 6.20pm. Meg was sitting at the counter, peering at her phone. She looked up and Kate’s stomach did a flip. Meg was stunning.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Kate flexed her shoulders as Meg opened the door.

  Meg gave a shrug. “S’fine. I was just catching up with the world of Facebook, so you saved me another five minutes of looking at other people’s apparently fabulous lives.” Meg treated Kate to a full-on grin. “Just let me grab my bag and we can go.” Meg ran back into the florist, hit all the lights, grabbed her black tote bag and locked the door behind her. Then she turned to Kate. “And now, I’m all yours.”

  That sounded just about perfect.

  They walked for five minutes down the High Street, sharing stories of their day, Kate leaving out the details of her most recent family transaction — that could wait, she reasoned. She’d asked Meg where they were headed and she’d been told it was one of Meg’s favourite places, a little café down a side street. And when they walked in the door, Kate could see why Meg loved it — mismatched furniture, industrial lighting and low-slung couches mingled with delicious-looking cakes and bakes. Immediately, Kate felt at home.

  “You see what I mean?” Meg asked as she sat on a cracked leather sofa pushed against the back wall. “I love it because it feels so unlike a chain. And the coffee is to die for.” She wriggled around till she got comfortable, then smiled at Kate. “But they do beer or wine too if you’d prefer. It’s my market day tomorrow, so I have to be up at 4am — hence the early coffee date rather than the normal food-and-wine date.”

  Kate narrowed her eyes. “Like in My Fair Lady? You’re going down the flower market?”

  Meg nodded. “My skirts are a little less flared, though. And I don’t wear a bonnet anymore — too tight under the chin.”

  “So where is this flower market at 4am?” Kate sat forward, interest piqued. She couldn’t imagine having to get up that early for a job — hitting her 9.30am start was hard enough.

  “New Covent Garden.” Meg rubbed her cheek. “We try to only do it about once a week now, for all the key produce, sometimes twice. You might think it sounds glamorous, but try getting up tomorrow that early and tell me the same thing.”

  “But you love it?”

  Meg beamed. “I do — I’ve never done anything else. I started working with Mum straight from school — she didn’t want me to, but I wouldn’t take no for an answer. School and me didn’t really mix.” Meg shrugged. “So I learned on the job — best way. Then she sent me to evening classes to learn about floristry — but that was okay, that was the kind of school I could handle.”

  Kate smiled. “So you get all your flowers from the market?”

  Meg shook her head. “Just the run of the mill stuff. We have a specialist supplier who gets us all the particular things we need for weddings — that stuff has to be exact. If you go to the market, you can only have what’s there at the time.”

  Kate nodded. “It’s impressive, running your own business. I guess I’ve never really thought about where flowers come from — they just appear in the shops and then magically in my vase at home.”

  “And I bet you buy them from the supermarket, too.” Meg sounded peeved, her brow furrowed.

  Guilt coated Kate’s features. “No, never! I always buy them from my cute local florist.”

  “Liar,” Meg replied. “But our margins are way tighter these days, what with everyone now selling flowers. When I started, people came to us to buy their weekly flowers. Now, we survive far more on occasions — weddings, funerals, anniversaries and birthdays.”

  Kate held up one hand, palm out, and twisted to face Meg. “I promise, on my life, I will never buy flowers from a supermarket ever again.”

  Meg laughed, flashing Kate her glorious smile once again. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Don’t worry, even my brother does it sometimes. It’s inevitable.” Meg paused, looking Kate directly in the eye. “But you used us for your funeral, and I’m more pleased you walked through the door than any other customer this year.”

  And just as quickly as Meg laid down a killer line, she put her hand on Kate’s thigh and pushed herself upwards, wallet in hand. “Enough shop talk. What can I get you?”

  Kate looked up at Meg and the first answer that arrived in her brain wasn’t appropriate — so she went with answer number two. “Whatever you’re having.”

  “Coffee — but you have yours white, correct?”

  Kate nodded.

  “Two secs,” Meg said, before scooting to the counter.

  Kate watched her go and couldn’t stop a smile forming on her lips. Smart, sexy and accomplished in business — plus, she dressed well too. Today, Meg was wearing skinny denim jeans with a light blue top and navy jacket. She had a yellow scarf around her neck, but it was still small enough for Kate to see the gentle ebb of her collar bone and the smooth, tanned skin above.

  Looking at it now, Kate wanted to get up, put her hands on Meg’s slim hips and place gentle kisses all the way up her neck. But she thought that might be considered inappropriate, especially as this was a coffee date and Meg had to get up tomorrow. Maybe next time.

  After a few minutes, Meg returned with two coffees. She placed them on the low wooden table in front of the sofa, then returned to the counter and came back with two chocolate tiffins.

  “These are delicious.” Meg took a bite and licked her lips.

  Kate was transfixed.

  “Honestly — Daisy who makes them should really branch out — she’d make a fortune. Whenever I work with Mum, she insists on buying two of these every time to see us through the afternoon coffee break.”

  “Sounds like the best kind of work environment.”

  “Until you realise it’s with your mum.” Meg rolled her eyes and sat forward to drink her coffee. She turned to say something to Kate, stopped, then sipped her drink again.

  Kate took the lead. “So tell me a bit about your family.”

  Meg stuck her lip out before proceeding. “Not much to tell. You’ve met my mum — who approves by the way.”

  “Really?” Kate grinned.

  “Really. And there’s my brother Jamie who is, wait for it, also gay.”

  “The famous Jamie is gay too? Your mum must have the gayest genes ever.”

  “She does,” Meg said, laughing. “I think for a while she was a bit perplexed by that, but now she’s fine with it.” Meg shrugged. “Just wants us to be happy, like all mums.”

  Kate smiled. “What about your dad?”

  Sadness fell briefly on Meg’s face, before she replaced it with a sigh. “My dad is a moot point. He left when we were little because he didn’t like family life.” Meg put the last bit of her sentence in air quotes. “Bit late to figure that out after having two kids, but hey. We were an army family till then, but then Mum came back to the UK and set up the florist with the money Dad gave her. I see him very occasionally; he’s back here now too.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I’m trying to forgive him and be Zen about it, and he seems to want a relationship with us now. But it’s hard.”

  “I never understand how people can do that — up and leave their families. I look at my nephews now who are three and four and I’d hate to miss out on their lives — and I’m only their aunty, not their parent.”

  Meg nodded. “Plenty of people do, but I agree with you. I have friends with kids and it baffles me. Not the kids bit, but the leaving them bit.”

  “But you get on well with your mum?”


  “As well as we can, working together. So actually, by that barometer, we get on amazingly.” Meg laughed and flopped back on the sofa. “She’s great — she had a lot to do, left on her own with me and Jamie, but she just got on with it — own business, bringing up two kids. Until she had a heart attack this year.”

  “A heart attack?”

  Meg nodded. “Yup — out of the blue. I mean, she didn’t drop down or anything, but she just felt really short of breath and she got pains in her jaw and her right arm. It was at the shop. We called an ambulance and they diagnosed a mild heart defect and gave her pills. But it was a shock to everyone.”

  “I bet — she doesn’t look like a heart attack victim.”

  “That’s what everyone says. But she’s fine now, touch wood.” Meg leaned forward and tapped the table. “Back to normal - well, as normal as she can be.”

  Kate shifted in her seat. “A relief for you.” She paused. “And your mum never met anyone else after your dad left?”

  Meg shook her head. “No, never. I think she was wary when we were kids and now, she’s just used to being on her own. It’d be nice if she did, though.”

  “Be careful what you wish for.”

  There was a pause.

  “So I was just thinking.” Meg tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “About when we could go out on a proper date. With drinks, food, waiters, that sort of thing.” She paused. “Actually, one of my best friends is having a party on Friday night if you’re free and fancy that? It’s his thirty-three-and-a-third birthday — don’t ask.” She sipped her coffee again and raised her eyes to Kate.

  “Thirty three and a third?” Kate grinned. “That sounds like something to celebrate.”

  “I know it’s not very romantic, but my friends are all lovely and I know you’ll get on with them.” Meg paused, chewing the inside of her cheek. “That is, if you’re free.”

  Was Kate free? She was now. Even though she actually wasn’t. But she only had work drinks lined up and frankly, none of her workmates had the same effect on her as Meg — so Meg won, hands down.