This London Love

by Clare Lydon

  She looked up and blinked. “I’m fine,” she lied.

  Mr Davis pursed his lips. “You don’t seem it. Perhaps you need some flowers. Has anyone sent you any recently?” He put a hand on the counter and studied Meg.

  Meg stopped, finger poised over the till, then she shook her head. “People are scared to send flowers to florists — they think it’s a waste of time.” She took Mr Davis’s offered cash and rang up the sale.

  “And what do you think?”

  Meg eyed him, before handing over his change and giving him his flowers.

  “I think that flowers are never a waste of time.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He beamed at her. “See you Saturday — I’ll have a new film star for you by then.”

  Meg watched Mr Davis leave and looked around her shop. Flowers. It was true nobody ever sent Meg flowers, but she was used to that. But it was also true that all women liked flowers — she’d never met one yet who didn’t melt a little on receipt.

  It had to be worth a try in her own life, didn’t it?

  30

  Vicky was sat on Kate’s leather sofa, moving one way, then the other. She frowned. “I think you might need a new one.”

  “Life? Relationship? Or sofa?”

  Vicky shot her a look. “God, you can be dramatic. I hardly think a woman chasing you and sending you flowers seven days in a row is something to be downhearted about. It’s not even like she cheated on you. She was just economical with the truth. Give her a break.” Vicky paused. “And I meant your sofa — bit saggy now, isn’t it?”

  “That’s why I’ve got all the cushions.” Kate picked up one from her armchair opposite and chucked it as her sister’s head.

  “Hey! Don’t throw missiles at the messenger.” Vicky studied her fingernails, then looked back up at Kate. “So have you decided to forgive Meg?”

  Kate rolled her neck. “Some days yes, other days no.”

  “One bunch of flowers would do me.”

  “Yes, but you’re not dating a florist.”

  “True.” Vicky shifted again. “But it wasn’t the crime of the century and you do like her — surely that’s worth considering. Are you miserable without her?”

  Kate nodded slowly.

  “Do you miss her?”

  Another nod.

  Vicky sighed. “Then stop being such a wombat and go round there.”

  “That’s what Jess said.”

  “And it’s not often I say to take Jess’s advice, but in this case, I’ll agree with her.”

  That made Kate chuckle. “Maybe tomorrow when I cycle over to see Mum.”

  Vicky cleared her throat and sat forward. “And in the spirit of forgiveness and moving forward, I’m having a birthday party next week and you’re invited — with Meg of course, I have faith in love even if you don’t.” Vicky paused and lowered her voice like she was telling Kate some MI6-style secrets. “And I’ve also invited Mum and Lawrence.”

  Kate’s eyes widened and she clicked her tongue twice. “Mum and Lawrence too? Why are you whispering?”

  “I’m not whispering.” Vicky crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

  “Not now. Now you’re sulking,” Kate said. “So he’s not the pariah you first thought?”

  Vicky exhaled. “Laugh all you like, but I was just looking out for Mum’s safety. But yes, maybe I was a bit harsh on him. This is me holding out an olive branch to Mum, so they better be able to make it.”

  “I’m sure Lawrence could think of nowhere else he’d rather be.”

  31

  Friday night and Meg was so over this week. Her mum hadn’t been feeling well again, so Meg had been stretched to her limit, although Jamie and Anya had been brilliant. On top of that, she’d had no word from Kate even though she’d now sent her a bunch of flowers for seven days straight. If the shoe was on the other foot, seven bunches of flowers would make Meg react. But clearly, Kate took a different shoe size.

  Still, at least Meg had a Friday night dinner planned with Jamie and Greg — she could be waited on hand and foot, with gay men at her beck and call. Jamie lived in Crouch End, which was now a well-heeled area of north London. It had also undergone a significant amount of gentrification, judging by the cool bars and restaurants Meg spotted on every corner. And inside every single one, Meg looked for Kate. Kate sitting in the window, Kate standing at a bar, Kate browsing in a boutique. She just needed to see her and explain. Perhaps she should go round to her house — she knew where she lived after all.

  But then again, Kate had ignored the flowers, so perhaps that was a sign. A sign to stay away.

  Meg walked on up the main road towards her brother’s flat, passing two craft beer pubs and an artisan bakery. A few minutes later, Meg pressed Jamie’s bell. She was greeted by his boyfriend, Greg.

  “You’ve shaved your beard off.” Meg stepped through the door and reached up to Greg’s chin. Greg had a thick head of wiry, tightly sprung hair and his physique was so buff, it would instantly pass an army inspection. His skin was fake-tanned to the colour of mahogany and he looked at least five years younger without his beard.

  “I always said you were observant.” Greg gave her a hug and ushered her into their immaculate pad — clean lines and muted shades of blue, green and grey, with just the right amount of harsh corners and soft furnishings.

  “Jamie in the kitchen?” Meg followed Greg down the hallway of their converted Victorian flat and into the kitchen at the back, which overlooked the garden. Their cat Jupiter sat on the work surface beside Jamie, supervising his chopping and slicing. Jupiter was jet black, save for a white ear and chin. His long whiskers were very still as he watched Jamie, purring by his side.

  “Hey sis,” Jamie said, turning his head to Meg.

  She kissed her brother’s cheek, shrugged off her coat and sat down at their kitchen table. That was one thing she could match Jamie on — she had space for a kitchen table too. Well, she did at the moment. But he beat her in everything else — love, ambition, sanity. Okay, maybe she wasn’t quite mad yet, but her current situation was starting to edge her there.

  “Wine?” Greg was already opening the fridge and reaching for a bottle.

  “Please,” Meg said. “Have you heard from Mum today?”

  Jamie nodded, without turning his head. He was chopping onions, garlic and bacon. “Yeah — I called at lunchtime and she sounded really good. I think her mate Janet was coming over tonight for dinner.”

  Meg’s shoulders slumped. “Good — at least that’s one less thing to worry about.” Meg smiled as Greg placed a large glass of white on the table in front of her. “You’re an angel sent from Planet Gay,” she told him. “So what’s happened to the beard?”

  Greg stroked his chin. “Just fancied a change. Plus, I read in The Guardian that beards were going out of fashion, so I thought I should do the decent thing and get rid.”

  Meg made an O with her mouth. “Have you told him?” she mock-whispered, inclining her head towards her brother.

  “He’s ignoring it,” Greg whispered back. “He’s an individual who has his own style. At least, that’s what he told me.”

  Jamie didn’t even bother turning around. “I don’t have a beard, I have sleekly designed stubble. There’s a world of difference.”

  ***

  “So she hasn’t responded at all to the flowers?” Jamie sipped his white wine and sat back. They’d just finished his spaghetti carbonara — “the lighter version with a lot less fat” — and were now digesting before dessert.

  Meg shook her head.

  Jamie’s phone was plugged into his speakers which were currently pushing out a chilled playlist, which complemented the ambience perfectly. This evening had calmed Meg down - either that, or she’d drunk more wine than she should have.

  “And how many have you sent?”

  “Seven bouquets.”

  Greg whistled loudly. “Seven. That’s damning. That’s damning in the extreme. She must really
hate you.”

  Meg shot Greg a look. “Not really helping.”

  Jamie kicked him under the table and took over. “Maybe she just needs time. Or maybe she’s not for you, like I said. Some things work out, some things don’t.” He paused. “Maybe it’s time for you to stop sending flowers and find someone else.”

  Meg sighed. “But I don’t want anybody else. She’s what I’ve been waiting for. Kate could have been the one.”

  Jamie raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “The one? Have you been reading fairytales again?”

  Meg reached over and slapped him. “Stop being so cynical,” she laughed. “I’ve seen the way you glaze over when you talk about Greg.”

  “You sure that’s not Jupiter?” Greg intervened.

  “I think it might be,” Jamie concurred, before leaning over and planting a kiss on his boyfriend’s lips.

  “Whatever. I don’t want to give this up — I want her back. We had amazing sex. I can’t believe she’s just going to walk away from that.”

  Now it was Jamie’s turn to lean over to Meg — he stroked her arm. “Well the sad fact is, beautiful, you just might have to. Seven bouquets of flowers and no contact says something. I hope they weren’t all the expensive stuff.”

  The music stopped as Jamie’s mobile went off. He jumped up to answer it, seeing the number flash up on the screen.

  “Hi, Mum.” Pause. “Oh hi.” Frown. “What?” Pause.

  More pausing and frowning.

  The hairs on Meg’s neck and arms stood up. She rested her eyes on Jamie, who’d gone stiff.

  “And where is she now?” Pause. “Okay, great. Yeah, let me know for sure, but probably there. Thanks for letting me know.”

  Jamie pressed the red button and placed his phone on the sideboard, turning the speakers off.

  “Fuck.” He wiped his palms up and down his thighs. “Okay, so Janet said there’s no need to panic, but Mum’s had another episode — they’re not sure whether it’s a heart attack or what. But Janet’s called an ambulance — it’d just arrived and now they’re going to hospital.”

  Meg’s stomach dropped and a ball of carbonara worked its way up her windpipe. “But she’s okay?”

  “Well, she might have had a heart attack…”

  Meg pushed her chair out abruptly. “You know what I mean.”

  Jamie looked around for his keys, wiping his mouth. “Yes, I know what you mean.” He paused. “Fuck, we can’t even drive now — we’ll have to get a cab to the hospital.”

  “I’ll call.” Greg already had his phone in his hand.

  32

  Saturday dawned and Kate was on her bike, cycling through the October drizzle. First stop, Fabulous Flowers. Second stop, her mum’s house. By the time she arrived, the sweat was trickling down her back and her hair was sticky as she took her helmet off. No matter. Today wasn’t about looking gorgeous. Today was about seeing if there was a way forward with Meg.

  Kate’s heart was pounding as she approached the florist — she was still nervous. She hit the brakes and stopped outside, putting the ball of her right foot on the pavement, but frowned when she saw the shutters were still down. She glanced at her watch — 10.15am. Meg should be here, it was a Saturday. Kate’s heart jumped into her throat. Surely Meg would get staff in to cover unless something awful had happened? Kate’s stomach lurched as her mind ran through the possible scenarios. She should have replied to the flowers and not played so hard to get. What an idiot.

  Five minutes later, her knock on Meg’s front door was answered by a pyjama-clad Tanya.

  “It’s you.” Tanya yawned, curling up her bare toes.

  Kate was in a hurry. “Is Meg in? I just went to the shop and it’s closed.”

  “Want me to check my bed?” Tanya asked.

  Kate glowered.

  Tanya smiled sleepily. “Just a little joke to lighten the mood,” she said. “She’s at the hospital — her mum was rushed in last night with another suspected heart attack. She left early to see her this morning.”

  The blood drained from Kate’s face. “Shit.” She paused. “But she’s okay?”

  Tanya nodded. “I think so — she’s at the Memorial. You know the way?”

  Images of Kate’s dash to the exact same hospital to be greeted by her dead father flashed through her brain. She knew the way.

  “You should go — she’d love to see you.” Tanya pursed her lips. “She’s been a mess all week.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  ***

  Kate jammed her bike lock into place and walked into the hospital, breathing in the heady mix of germs, grime and bleach skating on the scuffed floors. She’d texted Meg and they’d agreed to meet in the café at 11am. Kate got directions from reception and went straight there, scoring a table in the corner.

  When Meg walked in, Kate’s well-rehearsed talk of future honesty and no more secrets flew out the window. Meg’s face was drawn, her eyes were puffy and she looked broken.

  Kate remembered that exact feeling.

  Meg approached the table cautiously, dragging her feet.

  Kate was having none of it. She got up and went to meet her, wrapping her arms around Meg.

  In return, Meg collapsed into her and wept on her shoulder.

  Kate held her tighter.

  After a while, Meg sniffed, brushing her hand across her nose, leaving a glistening stain on her wrist.

  Kate reached into her bag and offered her a tissue.

  Meg smiled. “Sorry about that,” she began. “It’s been a long 24 hours.”

  “I bet,” Kate said. “How is she?”

  Meg blew her nose strongly, the noise making the people at the next table look over. “She’s hanging in there. Not critical, but not out of the woods.” Meg shook her head. “I’ve been letting her do too much, but from now on, none of that. She’s resting in front of the TV if I have anything to do with it.” Meg put her head in her hands. “It’s just such a shock.” She spoke through her fingers. “She was fine — she seemed fine.”

  Kate nodded. “I know.”

  Meg reached out and took Kate’s hand. She stared at it, then slowly, she brought it up to her mouth and kissed it. “I’m so glad you’re here. I wanted to call you, but with everything…”

  Kate squeezed Meg’s hand, taking in her watery eyes and red nose. “None of that matters now. It was stupid.” Kate paused. “And you look ridiculously cute with a red nose, by the way.”

  The corners of Meg’s mouth turned upwards. “Don’t — I look a right mess.” She smoothed her top down with her hands.

  Kate shook her head. “You could never look a mess.”

  Meg’s features crumpled, but she pulled it back together at the last minute and took a deep breath. “Stop being so nice to me or I’ll cry.” She blew her nose again. Her eyes settled on the coffee cup in front of her.

  “Is that for me?” Meg turned to Kate, her eyes glistening.

  “Black Americano for the lady. Straight up, just the way you like it.”

  Meg took another deep breath and burst into tears.

  ***

  “The hospital food — honestly. I mean, they gave me a menu this morning and I chose from it, but I thought it was odd that I was only being allowed puréed food.” Olivia tried to sit up further, but couldn’t quite manage it.

  “You want some help?” Meg was up and had a hold of the pillows, getting them to where Olivia wanted them before sitting back down.

  “But now they’re telling me that was a mistake — they gave me the wrong menu! I had puréed breakfast and lunch, so I’m pretty pleased I get to have a solid dinner tonight.”

  “You want us to run out and get you a McDonald’s?” Kate asked.

  Olivia laughed. “I’ve got a dicky heart, not dicky tastebuds.” She had the latest edition of Female Health & Fitness on her bed and picked it up, flicking to the article with Meg’s photo.

  “And I hear you’re responsible for making my daughter famou
s? She looks pretty snazzy, doesn’t she? My gorgeous girl.” Olivia smiled at Meg, then stroked her jaw.

  “She’s certainly that,” Kate said, rubbing Meg’s thigh. “Did you read the article?”

  Olivia nodded. “It’s good. I also like the fitness secrets of Princess Emily. But I have to say, I wouldn’t like to live without my Custard Creams. Sounds like too much of a regimented diet to me.”

  Olivia was doing remarkably well and the doctors were amazed at her progress. Meg insisted it was just because they wanted the bed back, but Olivia was thrilled, whatever the reason. She raised a quizzical eyebrow at Kate and Meg now over her reading glasses, laying the magazine across her knees.

  “So are you two back on? Resolved your differences? Going to live happily ever after?” There was a twinkle in her eye as she asked.

  “Mum!” Meg shook her head. “Sorry — a near-death experience and she thinks she can say what she likes.”

  “Well. You might die tomorrow, so you may as well make today happy.”

  “Very true.” Kate smiled hesitantly at Meg. “And yes, I think we’re back on track, aren’t we?”

  In reply, Meg kissed her cheek and looked back at Olivia. “Very much so.”

  “Good,” Olivia picked up the magazine again, before lowering it slightly to look at Kate. “Because I like you.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Kate blushed.

  “Are we disturbing the coven?”

  All three women looked over towards the doorway, where Jamie and Greg stood with a bunch of flowers and a box of Black Magic, Olivia’s favourites.

  “Did you buy those at the gift shop?” Olivia pursed her lips.

  “We’re not open, so I had no choice.” Jamie put the flowers on the end of Olivia’s bed, along with the chocolates, then walked over and kissed his mum on the cheek. “And glad to see you’re feeling better, you cantankerous old woman.”

  Olivia smiled at him. “Less of the old, thank you.”

  Greg stepped forward to kiss Olivia, then Meg introduced Kate to the boys.

  Jamie’s grin was wide. “It’s a shame it took Mum being rushed into hospital to meet you, but it’s lovely to finally do so.”