31 Dream Street (19 page)

‘Right,’ said the woman on the other end of the line, ‘I’ve got her file. Let’s have a look. Aah, yes, well, she graduated in 1993.’

‘What about marital status, family? Any information like that?’

‘No, but her emergency contact is given as a man called Nicholas Sturgess.’

‘Oh, great, do you have a telephone number for him?’

‘Well, yes, but bear in mind this is out-of-date information. The number still has the old code.’

‘Can I have it?’

‘I don’t see why not. Have you got a pen?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘OK – the number is 081 334 9090.’

‘Great, thank you. Anything else?’

‘Not really,’ said the woman. ‘There’s no record of any work after graduation. But that could be because she didn’t stay in touch. A lot of students just disappear. But, ahm, she does seem to have given us some information about, well, I hope this doesn’t have a negative impact on your casting decisions, but according to my records she got her first acting qualification at, er, Holloway.’

‘Holloway?’

‘Yes, HM’s Prison.’

‘She was in prison?!’

‘Well, yes, it would appear so. She took a foundation course there, in acting. I assume that that must have been while she was, er, incarcerated.’

‘God, does it say what she was in for?’

‘No. That’s all it says. Gosh, how fascinating.’

‘Yes,’ said Leah, ‘that really, really is. Thank you so much. You’ve been incredibly helpful.’

36

Damian Ridgeley was a medium-sized man, about thirty years old, with hair the colour of Lucozade and a grey French Connection T-shirt on. He had an accent of some description, a lazy Hicksville twang, could have been West Country, could have been East Anglian, flattened out, either way, by a few years in London. He wore a ring on his wedding finger and a chain round his neck. On his forearm there was a tattoo of a mermaid. He was standing on Toby’s doorstep, but Toby had no idea why.

‘Leah sent me,’ he said.

‘Leah?’

‘Yes, you know, Leah. From over the road. She said you had a job for me.’

‘She did?’

‘Yes. Didn’t she tell you?’

‘Well, no. But then I haven’t seen her for a few days.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘do you? Have a job?’

‘Well, that depends, really. What sort of job are you qualified to do?’

‘I’m a project manager. I renovate old houses.’

‘And you’re a friend of Leah’s?’

‘I’m her second cousin. Or her half cousin. Or something like that.’

‘Oh, I see. Right, well, then, why don’t you come in?’

Damian perched himself on the edge of the Conran sofa and sipped a cup of peppermint tea (Toby liked that he’d asked for peppermint tea).

‘So,’ he said. ‘What do you think? Is it the sort of job you’d want to take on?’

Damian nodded, slowly. Damian did everything slowly. There was something a bit Zen about him, Toby thought. It wouldn’t have surprised him to find that he meditated in his spare time, did a spot of Tai Chi in the mornings. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Sure. There’s no restructuring, no building work. I mean, essentially you’re just looking for a facelift, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Cool.’ He pulled a notebook and an expensive-looking pen from the inside pocket of his denim jacket and made some notes. ‘I’ve just had a cancellation, a pretty big job, so I’ve got some guys at a loose end. I could get some people in next week. When are the bathrooms and kitchen coming?’

‘Well, I haven’t actually bought them yet.’

‘Cool. No worries. We can crack on with the plumbing, the roof. Get on with the kitchen and stuff once you’ve chosen them. I can get you what you want at trade if you’d like.’

‘You can?’

‘Sure. You go shopping, tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah, of course. I can get you all your white goods, too. Whatever it is you need, just let me know. I’ll charge you for my time, but it’ll still work out much cheaper.’

‘God, that would be great. I seem to have got into a bit of a habit of overspending on things for the house, so it would be great to save a bit of money.’

‘Make up for the extra you’ll be spending on me, then.’ Damian smiled and Toby breathed a sigh of relief. Damian was clearly from a different school of tradesmanship. Damian was clearly a professional.

‘Will you require a deposit? Something up front before you start?’

‘I’ll put a quote together, put it through your door later on today. If you approve, I’ll let you have a schedule of works. Once the boys are in and we’re all happy, I’ll ask for 20 per cent of the invoice. Total payable at the end of the project. Simple. Easy. No room for complications. Just how I like it.’

He took Damian’s hand at the door a few minutes later and shook it warmly and strongly, and perhaps for a split second too long. He felt like a man who’d just met the girl of his dreams and was already feeling paranoid that she wasn’t really interested and that he’d never see her again. He carried Damian’s mug through to the kitchen, tenderly, trying to prolong the sense of
connection to him. He balanced Damian’s beautifully designed business card against the kettle and stared at it, wistfully. Then he went upstairs and slowly, deliberately and, he hoped, not prematurely ran a line through items 6, 7 and 8 on his to-do list.

37

Toby saw Leah come home a few hours later. He gave her half an hour to make herself at home, get into her pyjamas, do whatever it was she usually did when she got home from work, then he headed downstairs. He stopped in the hallway to check his reflection. He had a bit of cobweb attached to his hair. He didn’t know where it had come from or how it had got there, but he was glad that he’d thought to check before he left the house.

He felt a sudden surge of nerves as he stepped across the road to Leah’s house and stood outside her front door for a full five minutes, trying to work up the courage to ring on her doorbell, but she looked happy to see him when she came to the door. She was wearing faded jeans with an embossed nubuck belt and a black cashmere sweater. Her hair was down and she was wearing glasses.

She took them off as she led him inside and placed them on top of an open paperback. He tried to see what book she was reading, but didn’t recognize the name of the author.

Leah’s flat was very neat, very modern. She had a big grey sofa, a black coffee table and a TV in a cabinet. There were a few Pink Hummingbird–style lamps and
mirrors around the place to soften it up, but essentially it was a masculine flat.

‘I’m so glad you came over,’ she said, hooking a shank of blonde hair behind her ear. ‘I’ve been meaning to come and see you, actually, but then I see you up there, in your window and you always look so…
engrossed
. I hate the thought that I might accidentally disturb you in the middle of writing a poem and ruin the whole thing.’

‘Oh, no, you must never worry about that. I am eminently disturbable, I can assure you. Any excuse to get away from my computer. The two of us spend
far
too much time together as it is.’ He grinned and put his hands in his pockets.

‘Can I get you a coffee? A tea?’

‘Tea would be great. Thank you.’ He watched her move to the kitchen and fill the kettle. ‘I saw Damian today.’

‘You did. Excellent. I’m so glad. How did it go?’

‘I think I’m in love.’

‘He’s brilliant, isn’t he?’

‘He is. And he’s starting work next week.’

‘Fantastic!’

‘Thank you so much, for organizing that for me. I’m incredibly grateful.’

‘Oh, I’m so relieved. I was really worried that you might think I was being a bit meddlesome.’

‘Meddlesome? No, why would I think that?’

‘Well, you said you’d changed your mind about selling the house.’

‘Well, yes, but that was mainly because I couldn’t stomach finding someone to do the work when everyone I came into contact with was a complete cowboy. But now I’ve met the venerable Damian…’

‘You’ve changed your mind?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose I have. Although the problem of extracting my deep-rooted tenants is still no closer to a resolution.’

‘Ah, right. That’s another thing I have to confess to having taken into my own hands.’

‘It is?’

‘Uh-huh. I invited Joanne to a party at the shop last week.’

‘You did?! My God – did she come?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, that’s quite remarkable. You obviously have great powers of persuasion. Did you manage to uncover any interesting facts about her?’

‘I found out that she trained at the Central School of Drama. So I phoned them and asked them loads of questions about her and guess what?’

‘What?’

‘She’s been in prison.’

‘No way! What for?’

Leah shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But it was years ago, when she was young. And guess what else?’

‘What?’

‘I have a phone number for her next of kin. A man called Nicholas.’

‘Wow! And who is he?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve tried calling about fifty times, but there’s never a reply and there’s no answer phone, so I’m just going to keep trying. But he’s obviously someone significant. And that’s not all.’

‘It isn’t?’

‘No. I’ve found a man. For Melinda. A big, handsome Italian with a huge house in Muswell Hill who’s sweet and lonely and loves English blondes. They’re made for each other. We’ll have to set them up on a blind date.’

‘My God, Leah. You’re a marvel.’

‘I know!’ she smiled.

‘You know something,’ he said as he took a mug of tea from her outstretched hand, ‘I’m so glad it was you who found Gus on the pavement. I don’t know you very well – in fact, I don’t really know you at all – but it’s obvious that you’re a good person and not just a good person but a truly special person.’

‘Oh, well…’ Leah shrugged, awkwardly.

‘No, really. You’re so confident and uncomplicated. You’re the sort of person who one might look at and think, what would it be like to be someone like that just for a day, to see life in such a clear and intelligent way, to know who you are, to understand other people, what makes them tick, how to make them happy? And frankly, your boyfriend, that nurse chap, I mean, I’m not sure what he was thinking. I can only imagine he must have been threatened by your overall…
greatness
, and that’s why he didn’t want to marry you, but really, by any measure, you are entirely eligible and really very…
desirable
.’

He stopped. A police siren started up in the background. Leah laughed.

‘Oh, God. Did I just say desirable?’

Leah nodded.

‘Oh, dear Lord. Oh, God. I really didn’t mean… that sounds awful. I just meant, in the same way as a piece of antique glass or a certain outcome to a situation might be desirable, not that I desire you, sexually, though you are, sexually desirable, but that’s not what I was trying to say. Oh, God…’

‘Oh, Toby,’ Leah laughed, ‘it’s OK. I’m flattered.’

‘You are?’

‘Well, yes. I’m thirty-five, I’ve just been dumped, I’m not the slim thing I used to be. I feel a hugely long way away from desirable. So thank you. And I’m really glad that I found Gus on the pavement, too, because if I hadn’t I’d have moved out of this flat without ever having had a conversation with you and that would have been very sad. Because you’re great, too. So… there you go…’ She trailed off and Toby noticed that she’d turned rather pink.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘thank you very much.’ He grabbed his mug off the coffee table and took a big gulp, slightly too big it turned out as it hit the back of his throat and started trickling down the wrong way. He tried to redirect the tea down the right side of his throat, but the harder he tried to stop himself choking the more the choke built up until finally with eyes streaming and bulging and his mouth full of tea he could control it no longer. He tried to direct the regurgitated tea into his
mug, but such was the force behind the explosion that he wasn’t able to. Instead the tea sprayed all over Leah’s coffee table, all over her wooden floor and all over himself.

Leah got to her feet. ‘God, Toby are you all right?’

Toby couldn’t reply; he was coughing too hard, the sort of harsh, painful hacking cough that feels as if you might actually die of it.

‘Here, let me get you some water.’ She ran into the kitchen and emerged with a glass of water and a roll of kitchen towel. She pulled off a piece and started patting at Toby’s shirt and jeans while he continued to cough like a horse. She passed him the water and helped him tip it to his lips. But it was too soon. His throat muscles were still in revolt and he sprayed water all over the front of her black sweater.

Toby finally stopped coughing and Leah looked at him with concern.

‘Are you OK?’

He nodded, found his voice. ‘I sprayed your glasses. And your book. I’m really, really sorry.’

‘Well,’ she said, smiling, ‘that’s the last time I give you a compliment.’

He grinned. ‘It’s been so long since anyone said anything nice to me that I actually almost die when someone does!’

Leah laughed and sat down. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘how about we get together again, some time soon, and if you like I’ll say some more nice things to you, just for the practice?’

‘That would be great,’ he said, ‘but go easy on me. I’m a compliment novice.’

‘Oh,’ she smiled, ‘I’ll be gentle, I promise.’

Toby loved going to bed. It was the highlight of his day. He loved, particularly, the moment when he folded down the corner of his book, pulled his second pillow from under his head, dropped it on the floor and switched off his bedside lamp. He loved the sense that the day was done and now he could surrender himself to the vagaries and randomness of his other life – his dream life. Toby loved to dream. In his dreams the sun shone and he travelled the world. In his dreams he made lasting, intimate connections with strangers and with friends. In his dreams he always had on exactly the right clothes and said exactly the right thing. He occasionally had an anxiety dream, a dream, for example, of being ignored by everyone at a party, or having a row with someone he loved, but they were still infinitely preferable to the reality of his existence, which was without parties at which to be ignored or loved ones with whom to row.