On the Other Side

by Carrie Hope Fletcher

  Vincent had had flings, random kisses and on one occasion a one-night stand, but he was by no means a Casanova. He also felt that Evie had an odd vibe. He felt intimidated by her, even though she was incredibly warm and friendly, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

  They had folded up the table and the camping stools and left them in Vincent’s busking spot. I’ll sort that out tomorrow, he thought, imagining the angry station staff member who would be waiting for him when he started his busking shift the following day. For now, though, Evie was his sole concern. When they emerged from the station, it was drizzling slightly, but not enough for it to be unpleasant, and it made the river that ran through the town ripple and glisten. Evie ran across the street and leaned over the black-painted railings, looking down into the water. She leaned over as far as she could without her toes leaving the ground so she could see her reflection – but raindrops kept making it wobble. Vincent appeared beside her in the water but he was facing away, leaning his back against the railings.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ Evie replied. Vincent turned to look at the river to try to see what she saw.

  ‘You’re … looking for the Loch Ness monster?’

  ‘Nope. I doubt Nessie would pick such a dirty river.’

  Vincent nodded in agreement. ‘OK. Maybe you’re … you’re trying to see your future and using the river as your crystal ball?’ He waved his hands around mysteriously.

  ‘No,’ Evie said, laughing. ‘I’ve tried that before, though. Never works!’

  ‘You’re … you’re … trying to make me think too hard. I give up. What are you doing?’

  ‘I wasn’t doing anything,’ she teased. ‘I was just looking.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say that in the first place?’ He prodded her arm playfully.

  ‘You wanted there to be an answer and I didn’t have one. I thought you’d have fun creating your own theories.’

  ‘Is that what you do every time you don’t have an answer? You make one up?’ Vincent started to walk along the pavement, hoping she’d follow, but she didn’t.

  ‘Why not? It’s more fun to imagine that I’m searching for my future in the water rather than knowing I was just looking for no real reason, right?’

  ‘I suppose.’ Vincent was a good ten feet away from her now and was having to raise his voice a little for it to reach her. A light went on in a house nearby and he wondered if she was going to close the gap between them, but she was showing no signs of moving.

  ‘There you go! Why should I shatter your wonderful fantasy with my boring reality?’

  What a brilliant thing to say, Vincent thought. Then he thought a little more and …

  ‘What a brilliant thing to say,’ he said.

  ‘It’s true, though, isn’t it?’ Evie was gazing into the river again.

  Vincent had had enough of the distance. He wanted to be closer to her and started to wander back, trying to look casual but knowing he didn’t. There were rules that told him he was supposed to wait three days before he called her again after tonight, and that he was supposed to seem uninterested to make her want him more, but he had never liked playing games that involved manipulating how people felt. Feelings were confusing enough without people toying with them to make them fit their own needs. Even if he had been an advocate of manipulation, something told him that Evie wouldn’t fall prey to it anyway. Her mind worked in ways beyond that kind of silliness.

  ‘Look over there.’ Evie pointed to a woman crossing the bridge over the river. She was wearing a khaki coat with a hood that was pulled all the way over her head, shielding the majority of her face. She was alone and struggling with two plastic bags of shopping. ‘What’s her story, do you suppose? What do you want her story to be?’

  Vincent thought for a moment. The woman looked quite ordinary, if a little bedraggled and melancholy. She was probably just on her way home from her weekly grocery shop.

  ‘She’s on the run,’ he said seriously.

  ‘You think?’ Evie whispered.

  ‘Yeah. She’s just escaped from her house with all her possessions in carrier bags, moments before the police broke in to find her brother murdered.’

  ‘And why did she murder her brother?’

  ‘Because he murdered her husband.’

  ‘And now she has no one,’ Evie said in tragic tones.

  ‘And she’s hiding.’

  ‘In plain sight.’ Evie shook her head, playing along.

  Vincent shot her a mischievous look. ‘We’d better catch her and turn her in.’ And with that he was running.

  ‘What? VINCENT!’ Evie chased after him, not knowing whether to laugh at his silliness or be terrified of his potential seriousness. She caught up with him, grabbed his arm with both her hands and started to pull him back the other way. ‘Stop it!’ Now that she could see he was stifling laughter, she was also giggling.

  ‘No, Evie! We’ve got to stop this criminal mastermind!’ By now he was laughing so hard he could barely get the words out. The woman was walking straight towards them. ‘Excuse me!’ he called, hushed enough for her not to hear what he had said but loud enough for Evie to clamp her hand over his mouth.

  ‘SHUSH!’ Evie’s giggles had sapped her strength and Vincent turned his head away to free his mouth. By now the woman was much too far down the street to hear their conversation, presumably because she quickened her pace when she saw Evie and Vincent wrestling in the middle of the road, but the pair hadn’t noticed and nor did it matter.

  ‘Excuse me, ma’am, we have reason to believe you’re on the run …’

  She tried to put her hand over his mouth again, but he held her wrist at a distance.

  ‘… from the police!’

  ‘VINCENT!’ Evie tried to put her other hand over his mouth, but he stopped that one too, holding both her wrists out to the sides away from his face, only gently but her giggles meant she had no strength to fight back. Her little hands flapped about, all the while she was laughing near the point of bursting.

  ‘… FOR KILLING YOUR BROTHER!’ Vincent yelled.

  Evie quickly yanked her wrists behind her so that he was pulled in towards her, his arms around her waist, fingers still circling her wrists. He looked at her, trying to read her face, as they’d both become very quiet and serious all of a sudden, like a blanket of snow had fallen over the world around them. He felt big and oafish in comparison to her. She wasn’t small, she was of average height and seemed healthily put together with broad shoulders, and even though her skirt was cinched in at the waist, she had large hips and thighs from her love of bread and cheese. He was merely too tall and too big and he felt that just by having his arms around her, he engulfed her entirely. Evie however felt like she fitted there perfectly. She’d always been broader than other girls, never graceful and elegant, and Vincent made her feel delicate and dainty, for once. Vincent wanted, more than anything, to close the gap between them, but his uncertainty about how she felt made him falter.

  ‘Evie,’ he said, his mouth dry and his voice husky.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered back, a slight smell of gherkins on her breath.

  ‘One more question.’ He wasn’t able to look anywhere other than at her eyes. Her make-up had smudged slightly, softening the black lines around her eyes, but the chocolate centres still swam with tears of laughter.

  ‘Make it a good one,’ she warned, edging a little closer. Vincent didn’t move a muscle.

  ‘Feel free to say no …’

  ‘OK …’

  Evie’s heels had left the ground. Vincent seemed to have turned to marble, his words only escaping the tiny gap between his lips, his arms rigid around her. He let his hands soften, and her wrists slipped easily out of his grip; then, as if it was entirely natural, she brought them up and rested her palms on his chest. For the second time that night, he didn’t know what to do with his hands so he linked his own fingers and rested them on t
he small of her back. Evie saw the uncertainty in his eyes and that little nervous flicker of his eyebrows was back. She wished she didn’t make him so nervous and yet she was a little glad that she did because her own pet butterflies were back. The ends of their noses bumped, and Vincent breathed out the words, ‘Can I kiss you?’

  Before he knew it, she had closed the distance. Evie’s mind raced a mile a minute while Vincent’s turned to sponge. There was so much uncertainty in the way he kissed her and yet none of her kisses had ever been so sure. She held onto the lapels of his coat as if the speed of her life had just gone nought to sixty. The whole world vanished and it was just Evie and Vincent floating into nothingness, maybe never to return, but that was OK because they had each other.

  They parted, only slightly.

  ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t do that,’ Vincent whispered.

  ‘Why would you make such a promise?’ Evie pulled away, searching for an answer in his expression.

  ‘I don’t want you to think I do this all the time and that I’m confident with this kind of thing, because I’m really, really not,’ he confessed.

  ‘I know you’re not. Your eyebrows keep twitching.’ She smiled up at him, which just made them twitch more.

  ‘And I don’t want to rush … this. Whatever this is.’

  ‘Neither do I, but maybe this isn’t rushing. Do you feel rushed?’

  ‘No.’ He pecked her lips with his.

  ‘Do you feel uncomfortable, or like this shouldn’t have happened?’

  ‘I don’t.’ He kissed her again.

  ‘Then it’s not rushing. It’s right.’ And again they were lost to the world, or rather, the world was lost to them.

  There were only two train stops between where Vincent busked and where Evie lived, so they strolled the twenty-minute walk to her block, making it last for forty. Even though they’d already kissed, Vincent didn’t hold her hand until halfway home, when their fingers brushed accidentally and he instinctively held on. They paused as they both acknowledged their entwined fingers, and Evie took the chance to reach up on tiptoes for what she expected to be just a peck, but he moved his other hand to her face and held her there a little longer. She noted how much she enjoyed how shy he looked after each kiss they shared.

  They arrived outside Evie’s apartment building and came to a reluctant stop.

  ‘This is me.’ She gestured upwards. ‘Mine is that one, just there.’ She pointed out a flat with a bare balcony, a light on inside and a small window flung wide open.

  ‘I see.’ Vincent shoved his spare hand into his pocket and scrunched up his shoulders.

  ‘Do you want to …’ She gestured again, not knowing how to invite him in without it sounding like an invitation for more than just coffee.

  ‘Erm …’ Even though it was dark, with only the street lights to illuminate them, Evie could see that red tinge sweeping over his face.

  ‘Just coffee, I mean. Nothing else.’ Oh Evie, she thought.

  ‘Right. Of course.’ He couldn’t meet her eyes. Vincent, you’re twenty-eight, stop blushing, he scolded himself.

  ‘It’s only the first date. I’m not quite so easily conquered.’ She was trying to be nonchalant, picturing Audrey Hepburn or Marilyn Monroe, but she doubted Audrey or Marilyn had had to deal with racing hearts and dizzy minds as they recited their lines.

  ‘You make it sound like you’re a country.’

  ‘One whose terrain no one explores on a first date!’ OK, that was a pretty good line.

  ‘So this was a date?’ A smile crept across his lips.

  ‘Well … we had dinner, got to know each other better and kissed towards the end. If that’s not a date, then I need to re-evaluate my romantic knowledge.’

  ‘When you put it like that, I suppose it was.’ Vincent’s eyes filled with warmth.

  ‘Only a first date, mind you,’ she said, very tentatively, hoping he’d catch on.

  ‘The first of many.’ He took her right hand in his and kissed it. ‘I shall leave you to the rest of your night, Evie. When can I see you again?’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ She jumped in too quickly, but Vincent shot back immediately with ‘Yes, tomorrow. Midday?’

  ‘Midday,’ she confirmed, and with one final lingering kiss, they parted, already eager to see each other again.

  Evie climbed the stone steps, let herself in through the main entrance of the building and looked back through the glass doors to see Vincent watching her from the bottom of the steps, still not quite wanting the evening to end. She gave him a little wave, and as he eventually turned away, she felt something inside her chest tugging her back in his direction. Reluctantly, he started to walk back towards his own home in the dodgy part of town.

  ‘And who is that, may I ask?’ Evie hadn’t noticed that Lieffe had crept up behind her and she realised that seeing him must have been why Vincent had decided to leave.

  ‘Lieffe, you made me jump!’ She swatted his arm, and the little man laughed.

  ‘I wouldn’t have done if you weren’t up to mischief! Go on. Who’s the dish?’

  ‘Dish!’ Evie tutted. ‘He’s called Vincent Winters and he’s a very respectable man. He’s a classical musician,’ she said pointedly, her nose in the air.

  ‘Wonderful! Well don’t leave it too long before you invite him in. I want to meet him.’

  ‘I did invite him in, but it was only our first date, and like I said, he’s a respectable man.’

  ‘What does that say about you if you invited him up to your flat on the first date?’ Lieffe raised his eyebrows playfully as Evie struggled for words. In the end, she just swatted him again, laughing, and then retreated to her apartment to spend the night dreaming of the evening she’d just had.

  The Second Date

  Vincent awoke the next morning to find Sonny’s feet in his face. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa, only for Sonny to come home roaring drunk at 3 a.m. and cuddle up beside him. It was just another thing to add to the list Vincent was racking up to prove that the previous night had indeed been a dream. But it hadn’t been.

  At midday, Evie emerged from her apartment building wearing a burgundy dress, brown boots and her green coat. A loaf of bread, still in its plastic packaging, was dangling from her hand. Vincent, in his skinny black jeans, almost-not-purple T-shirt and black coat with almost-not-purple piping, felt underdressed.

  ‘You look gorgeous.’ He felt silly as he said it.

  ‘You look the same as yesterday!’ Evie laughed. ‘Which is wonderful, by the way,’ she added with a kiss hello on the cheek.

  ‘Where to?’ Vincent asked, indicating the bread.

  ‘I was thinking the park?’ She shrugged.

  ‘To feed the ducks?’ He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘Perfect.’ He took the bread from her and offered her his arm, which she happily took, and off they went.

  ‘Vincent, I am so sorry!’ Evie flung the door of her flat open and ran straight to the bathroom to fetch a towel as Vincent stood dripping on the doormat.

  ‘It’s fine!’ he laughed, taking the yellow towel from her and mopping his face and sopping hair as best he could.

  ‘Come in, come in! Don’t worry about getting anything wet!’

  Vincent slipped off his squelching shoes and left them outside the door. He slipped off his wet socks too, tucked them into his shoes and closed the door behind him.

  They had been having a lovely day by the pond in a nearby park, which was filled with birds and old people, when Evie had started talking about her love of ducks.

  ‘They’re your favourite animal? Really?’

  ‘Mm-hmm,’ Evie had answered, watching as a duck nipped breadcrumbs from her cupped hands.

  ‘Not something majestic or fearsome, like a lion, or a—’

  ‘Dragon?’ she’d said, quite serious, and Vincent had smiled. ‘Ducks are silly. I like silly,’ she had argued.

  ‘Like you?’ Vincent had said, teasi
ngly. He’d stepped closer to the edge of the pond, his hands in his pockets as usual. Evie had taken a whole slice of bread out of the bag and thrown it like a Frisbee, aiming for his face. He’d batted it out of the way with ease and it had landed in the pond, but as he had taken a step backwards to dodge the slice, he hadn’t bargained on a goose being right behind him. The back of his knees had hit the bird, which had squawked and nipped his left leg, causing him to lose his balance and fall backwards straight into the pond. Luckily it hadn’t been very deep, and Evie had laughed rather hard, though her laughter quickly turned to guilt as she watched Vincent turn crimson with embarrassment.

  Now, although Vincent was soaked to the skin, it was an excuse for him to see where Evie lived, and for that he was grateful.

  ‘The bathroom’s through there. I’ll … er … I’ll leave you to get undressed and have a shower if you like.’ Evie reached over and pulled a piece of green pond slime from his hair. ‘There’s a dressing gown in there. It’s not … short or anything. It’ll cover everything … I’ll er … put the kettle on.’ Flustered, she handed him yet another yellow towel and pointed the way, not quite meeting his eye.

  Vincent emerged fifteen minutes later wearing the dressing gown, which did, indeed, cover everything. Evie took his clothes from him and put them in the washing machine.

  ‘It’ll probably take an hour or two to wash and dry everything.’ She bit her lip apologetically, but his eyes lit up.

  ‘That sounds great.’

  She grinned and handed him a cup of tea. ‘I don’t have a sofa, I’m afraid. Just a chair and a mattress.’

  ‘So I see. You just have an empty bedroom, then?’ He moved one of the pieces of her bed frame away from the wall and looked at it, befuddled.

  ‘I’ve just not had the time to put it together yet, and to be honest, I quite like the mattress in the living room. The windows are much nicer in here.’ Evie went to move her coat from the green armchair so that Vincent could sit down, but he touched her arm.