The Gin O'Clock Club

by Rosie Blake

  I have laughed over this summer more than I thought possible: it’s a joy to see them brought closer with each date. Arjun seems a little more himself at the moment so perhaps I was wrong to assume he might be battling some bug or have something on his mind. He claims he does all these extra-curricular things to supplement his pension but we all know it’s to fund the golf trips and the bottles of vitamins. Oh, and Howard benefitted from the Life Art evening as Cindy saw his completed penguins picture and wants to commission him (she says penguins are ‘majestic creatures’ and collects lots of porcelain ones, so many that Howard described sitting in her front room as ‘rather intimidating: eyes everywhere’).

  Despite all of these things I have had a few low days recently. I try not to be too melancholy but there are times when I just want to be stubborn, stay in my pyjamas and mourn you. Geoffrey has been very understanding, quietly coming over to sit with me. He brings crosswords and makes tea and doesn’t say a great deal. I’m grateful to him for noticing. He knows grief, of course. It makes me a little ashamed I haven’t asked more about his wife in the past, always assuming it would be too painful or awkward – what a coward I am. He obviously loved her in the same way. We have been so lucky, although you both leave these hideous holes behind.

  Still, today I woke and dressed and was able to forget. As you know, I have had to dip my toes into the world of modern dating in a vain attempt to show Lottie I am making an effort to ‘get out there’. She says I am way behind on my side of the bargain and I suppose she is right. I imagine she thinks all my loneliness can be fixed over dinners with a good woman but of course I am not lonely for company, just lonely for you, my darling.

  All the same, you’ll be irritated to learn that I have been swapping messages with a woman on Tinder and I actually think you’d rather like her (don’t scoff). She plays golf, although was coy about her handicap, regularly attends the theatre (Twelfth Night is her favourite Shakespeare and I am sure you enjoyed that one too, with the man in the yellow socks, or was that The Tempest?) and she told me that she used to play the clarinet in an orchestra and you always did like woodwind. After a string of back and forward we arranged to meet and today was the big day! My first Tinder date!

  I booked a table in a nearby Nando’s establishment because I was informed by the internet that it is a popular venue for the young and I wanted to do this right: date like the youth. Although I did take her a copy of Twelfth Night, which I’m not entirely sure is the done thing nowadays – but it would be wrong to turn up emptyhanded, surely? I have to admit to feeling rather nervous as I sat nursing a half pint of beer, staring at the door. I had forgotten all the dreadful angst in those early days of not knowing someone. It’s appalling. And even though I knew it wasn’t a real date, all those memories of waiting in establishments wondering if they’ll appear came flooding back as if it were fifty years ago and I was still that tongue-tied young man. Thank goodness you saved me from a lifetime of that, my love.

  The time ticked by and the waiters started to loiter a little and – there is no other way to tell you this, Cora – she simply didn’t show up. And when I messaged her she didn’t reply, she just left my message in the ether. Lottie had shown me when the blue ticks appear someone has read the message, so she just didn’t think it worth an answer. I didn’t really know what to do so I read a chapter of Twelfth Night to buy a little more time and left a tip for the two half pints of beer.

  Howard says I’ve been ghosted. I had to look up the term online as our edition of the Oxford English Dictionary is from 1991. It means that this woman ended our personal relationship suddenly, and without explanation, withdrawing all communication. ‘It happens,’ Howard told me, but then he laughed. He said he does it to women but has never been ghosted himself. What am I meant to think, Cora? That she turned up at the Nando’s, took one look at me and left? I had made a real effort. I was wearing the checked shirt that you always said made me look very like Robert Redford and the jacket that you once told me seemed perfectly tailored to my shape. It rather stings.

  The boiler is leaking again tonight and I’ve put that disgusting blue glass bowl underneath it and I laugh because you always hoped it would break. That bloody bowl has outlived you. Now it’s the most precious thing, letting me recall your laughing voice as you complained about its ugly pattern.

  I am going to bed now, and how I wish you were here about to lie down next to me.

  Teddy x

  Chapter 12

  Love is finding a woman who makes you want to switch off the sport on the television and engage

  GORDON, 83

  I had finished for the day, leaving chambers early. For once the brief I was working on seemed manageable and I had time the next day to work on it as I wasn’t due in court. The sky was blue, the sun disappearing briefly behind another high-rise building as I moved down the streets, a light breeze lifting my hair. The pavements were barely populated and I found myself browsing in bookshops, picking up titles and feeling a sliver of hope that I might have time to read them, remembering weekends in the past curled up on a rug in the park, head resting on Luke’s stomach as we both got lost in a book. The weekend away with him had reminded me that there were other things in my life besides work, and that I had forgotten that in the last year or so.

  Thinking about him made me smile and I glanced at my watch. I could head to his office in Pimlico and see if he was free to leave. We could head to the South Bank, sit watching the boats idle along the Thames, listen to the buskers and street entertainers, stay out and eat as the sun set over the water. We had spent so many evenings like that in the past and I felt the urge to relive one. He had arranged our weekend away – this could be a small way to do something spontaneous too. It wasn’t old-fashioned but gin would be involved.

  Stepping into the subway I headed for the Tube. Normally the stifling air, the bodies pressed near me, the squeal of the wheels on the tracks would set my teeth on edge, sweat breaking out on my hairline as I cursed someone nearby and waited for the ordeal to be over. Today, though, I simply stood near the doors, opened the book I had just bought and lost myself in the words.

  Pimlico was looking as lovely as ever, soaring Regency homes glowing creamy pink in the late afternoon sunshine, dog walkers milling through the lush green squares as I ambled towards Luke’s office building.

  Mike, Luke’s boss, was just leaving as I arrived. ‘Lottie, so good to see you, you look well. Here to see Luke?’

  ‘Yes, if that’s OK?’

  He waved a hand. ‘Of course it is. He could do with taking a break; he works too hard. Going to celebrate his new role?’

  I plastered a smile on my face and nodded, feeling a stinging shame start somewhere in my stomach. What new role? Was it a promotion? What was going on? ‘Yes, it’s great,’ I said, hoping I wouldn’t have to keep up the charade for too long.

  I bit my lip as I stepped inside the building. Why hadn’t Luke told me? I barely noticed the security guard who signed me in, my hand wavering over the visitors’ book, not sure now whether I should head up to see Luke or not. Would he want to see me? What else was going on in his life that he didn’t share? Did he think I wouldn’t care? Scrawling my name and the time of arrival in a daze I drifted towards the lift.

  As it pinged open I stood for a second, still unsure, wishing now I had just headed home, my earlier idea of a stroll along the South Bank fading. Then something urged me inside and I automatically pressed the button for Luke’s floor. In no time the lift door slid back and I saw the open-plan office in front of me, people busy at desks or computers, large whiteboards plastered with drawings and sheets of paper along many of the walls, the odd framed picture or poster. I recognised one of the ad campaigns Luke had worked on – he’d been nominated for an award for it. He’d been so proud.

  What new role?

  Glancing across at his desk I noticed two heads bent over a large A3 sheet. Luke was talking animatedly, tapping a pen at various po
ints on the page. I could make out a storyboard, his face lit with passion as he described his vision. The other was nodding quickly, her red hair smooth, the overhead lights reflecting off it every time her head bobbed up and down. Storm. A light laugh filled the air and I froze near the desk as she reached out a hand and placed it on his upper arm.

  I hoped next time Storm went for a manicure the nail varnish on one of her thumbs chipped within thirty seconds.

  Luke hadn’t noticed me there. I could turn and leave. It was just as I had that thought that he looked up.

  ‘Lottie,’ he said, his face breaking into an easy smile as he stood up. Then the expression changed, his forehead creasing. ‘Is everything OK? Is Teddy all right?’

  ‘Oh, yes, no, everything’s fine,’ I said, feeling like an idiot as I licked my lips, sensing people staring up at me. ‘I got out a little earlier than expected. I was thinking we could head somewhere, if you fancied it, but’ – I found my voice hardening, aware of Storm standing so close to him – ‘you’re obviously busy and I didn’t—’

  I hoped the next time Storm paid with her Boots reward card she was a few pence short for what she needed and had to put one of the items back.

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Luke waved a hand. ‘We should head to the South Bank. Perfect. I was showing Storm the mock-up I’ve just finished. Come and look,’ he said, walking towards me and holding out his hand, pulling me towards his desk.

  Only I noticed Storm’s eyes dart to our hands, her mouth move into a thin line as she wavered at the desk, clearly not wanting to leave just yet. I wondered briefly if Luke had told Storm about the new role.

  Luke watched my face as he talked me through the storyboard, one hand on my lower back, tapping at the paper with his other hand. His voice was infused with energy as he pointed out the details and I found myself forgetting everything else, forgetting even Storm being there as I enjoyed listening to him gush. I’d forgotten how much he really loved his work.

  ‘Isn’t it just awesome?’ Storm said, flicking her hair behind her. ‘Luke is insane on Photoshop. Insane.’

  I nodded, barely glancing at her, taking in the stunning final image, gratified to see Luke standing expectantly, waiting for me to say something.

  ‘So,’ he said, running a hand through his hair, his nerves making me melt a little, ‘what do you think?’

  I loved that he really cared what I thought. Me, with not one creative bone in my body. I loved that Storm was listening to this.

  ‘I think,’ I said, leaning up to kiss him long and hard, ‘it’s going to be brilliant.’

  He pulled me into his side. ‘Thank you.’

  I hoped tonight he might share some of his news with me, I wanted to celebrate his successes at work. I thought back to the casual way in which Mike had mentioned a new role. I must show more interest.

  ‘Well, thanks sooooo much for showing it to me,’ Storm said to Luke, pushing herself off the edge of the desk. ‘I can’t wait to see the final draft. Deffo.’

  ‘Thanks, Storm,’ Luke said, already turning to pack up the things on his desk.

  Storm hesitated a moment, perhaps wondering if there’d be more. I felt a small glimmer of triumph as Luke looked up at me. ‘Right, where do you want to go? Southbank Centre?’ he said, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. ‘Sundowners there while we make a plan, see what’s on?’

  He was still talking to me as we moved past Storm towards the lift, as she called out, ‘Well, bye then.’

  As Luke waved distractedly behind him, asking me about my day, about my case. As I made him laugh.

  The lift doors shut, her face still staring over at us, eyebrows drawn together in a small frown.

  I met her eyes. Haha. Storm: 0. Lottie: 1.

  The river was choppy and steel grey, as we walked hand in hand over Lambeth Bridge, the sun disappearing momentarily in the clouds. I loved the Thames, pleasure boats and working boats moving through the water, the London Eye glinting ahead of us, the intricate architecture of the Houses of Parliament opposite. I always felt that we were at the heart of everything. So many people clustered together, walking, in cars, on phones, street performers, shoppers, sitting outside restaurants, heading to the theatre. Luke clearly felt the same, enjoying the meandering pace of our walk, stopping to run his hands along the vinyl records and books under Hungerford Bridge. After a short while we found ourselves heading up the steps to the Southbank Centre, able to find a table on the terrace looking across the river, the pedestrians moving below.

  ‘Perfect,’ Luke said, taking both our bags and dumping them on the spare seat.

  ‘My treat,’ I said, leaping away so he didn’t have time to argue.

  I returned with two glasses clinking with ice and lime. Luke was sitting at the table looking out over the water, his phone nowhere in sight, just staring and looking relaxed. I needed to take a leaf out of his book. I was always too busy tapping on my phone or flicking through the paper or a brief to really sit still and be in the moment. Luke had always moved at a more languid pace and I could see now that this was one of the things that had drawn me to him.

  ‘Gin?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, passing one to him. ‘It’s got thyme in it!’

  ‘All right then.’

  ‘So,’ I said, after a moment, ‘is everything good? At work, I mean . . . ’

  Luke frowned at me. ‘Yes, Lottie.’

  ‘Great,’ I said in a faux bright voice.

  This would surely be the perfect moment for him to tell me about his new role. He must be proud if Mike had promoted him. I picked up my glass, spilling a little liquid down my chin, my eyes wide, expectant: I was ready for the big reveal.

  ‘Any big case coming up?’ Luke asked.

  ‘No, so, youooooo,’ I said, placing the glass back on the table so I could lean forward. ‘Good, good, as in something, anything, different happening, with work?’

  Luke’s eyebrows drew together. He rubbed one hand along his chin. ‘Not especially. Well, the campaign I showed you earlier, that should take up some time, and Mike’s pleased with the progress, he’s wanted to work with them for ages.’

  ‘Really,’ I said in a slightly too-loud voice, ‘so he must be so happy, happy enough to, you know . . . reward you.’

  Luke started to look increasingly confused, ‘Are you all right, Lottie?’

  My shoulders drooped, this wasn’t getting me anywhere. Clearly I was being too cryptic. ‘Yes,’ I muttered. ‘Just thought you might tell me about your new role.’

  ‘What, you mean becoming a senior designer?’

  ‘Are you? That’s fabulous.’ A couple passing both jumped at my exuberance.

  Luke, however, simply continued to look confused. ‘Yes, you remember, I told you last week.’

  ‘You didn’t—’ Then I saw his face. ‘You did. You . . . did! You just didn’t stress the . . . the importance . . . of the new role.’ I was floundering and Luke could sense it.

  ‘You didn’t remember, did you?’

  I wanted to lie. I wanted to say of course I remembered. I wanted to not be that shit girlfriend, but as I looked at his open face, his trusting eyes, I couldn’t do it. Shaking my head miserably from side to side I stared at the water rings on the surface of the table.

  ‘Hey,’ Luke said, ‘that’s OK, Lottie, it’s no big deal, not exactly the Nobel Prize or anything. It’s not like I’ve made art director . . . yet.’

  I shook my head more fervently now, looking back at him. ‘No, it is important and I’m sorry, God, I obviously wasn’t paying any attention when you told me. It is great, and I am proud of you. I know you want to get on in the company and they clearly adore you—’

  Luke raised one hand, his cheeks flushed, a row of teeth sparkling as he smiled at me. ‘Enough, enough, it’s fine, honestly, Lottie, it’s fine.’

  I reached across and took his hand, cold from the glass. ‘It’s not fine. And I really am proud. And I’m sorry I’m only saying this now.’r />
  Luke’s expression was priceless, a sort of happy, embarrassed, self-conscious grimace at me, a swipe through his hair. ‘My round, I think.’

  ‘No, absolutely not, you stay sitting here, I’m getting them,’ I said, standing up.

  Luke laughed at my enthusiasm. ‘You really don’t have to.’

  ‘I have to be a bit less shit, don’t I? Let me at least wait on you hand and foot tonight.’

  Luke shrugged and settled back in his chair, both hands up in surrender as I headed back to the bar, unable to resist turning back to look at him, a grin on my face. He returned my smile and I felt happiness flood through me, suddenly aware that it had been a long time since I had prioritised Luke and grateful that I had noticed now and could fix things.

  Chapter 13

  Love is . . . rather nice

  ERNEST, 91

  Luke had offered to come with me but I’d said no. It was great to feel so close to him again. I hadn’t realised how much I had missed his company recently, just bustling from work to Grandad to home with barely any time to stop and relax. Today, though, I wanted to go alone, to do this just with Grandad.

  I felt nervous as I tied my hair into a loose plait and smoothed at the cream dress I had chosen to wear. Luke moved behind me, circling me in his arms and resting his chin on the top of my head. Our eyes met in the mirror and I swallowed down the lump that was building in my throat.

  ‘I better go,’ I said, leaning back into him for a moment before pulling away.