This London Love (6 page)

“And that’s the welcome I get? I hope you’re nicer to your other customers.”

“They’re normally buying something, so of course I’m nice to them.”

While Meg and Olivia were tall and blonde, Jamie was tall and ginger — just as their maternal grandfather had been. Meg had always loved Jamie’s hair, a rich, deep copper colour. Jamie ran his own property developing business and, bucking perceived gay stereotypes, was also the handiest man Meg knew. In a DIY emergency, Jamie was her first port of call.

“So, by process of elimination — you’re here to see me?” Meg flexed her neck as she asked.

Jamie nodded. “I was in the area sizing up a property for a client, so wondered if you fancied a drink, or can I tempt you for dinner? My treat, because if this property comes off, I’m going to be a happy and rich man. For at least two months.”

Meg put her hand on her hip and smiled at her brother. “When you put it like that, how can a girl resist?”

***

Half an hour later they were sitting in the Chinese restaurant down the road, crunching on prawn crackers and sipping bottles of Tsingtao.

“So tell me again. A woman comes in wanting flowers for her dead uncle’s funeral and you want to jump her bones?” Jamie grinned broadly.

“You make me sound awful — ‘jumping her bones’ isn’t exactly how I’d describe it.” Meg took a sip of her beer.

Jamie smirked. “No? Then how would you describe it?”

Meg thought about it for a moment. “I’d like to get to know her better, she seemed really lovely.”

“And then jump her bones?”

Meg grinned. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“And she’s gay?”

Meg nodded. “I’d bet my house on it.”

“And she’s coming back in again?”

Meg nodded again.

“So what’s the problem? Ask her out.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “That might be the protocol in gayman world, but in lesbo-land we have to feel out the terrain, make sure there are no obstacles.”

Jamie ran his hand over his stubble. “Like an assault course?” He didn’t sound convinced.

“Obstacles as in girlfriends. And in my experience, where this sort of woman is concerned, there normally is.”

“This sort of woman?”

“Stylish, good-looking, funny, smart. Probably also married with a baby.” Meg paused. “It’s still weird that we can get legally married now, isn’t it? Weird in a good way.”

“A very good way,” Jamie said. “But back to the matter in hand — here’s another thought. Possibly, just possibly, she might
not
be married. Have you thought about that?”

Meg sighed. “I know — but if that’s true it’s also too scary to contemplate. Because then I’d have to
do something
.” Meg cupped her chin in her hand, elbows on the table. “So I’m sticking with my story and taking the path of least embarrassment.”

Jamie laughed as the food arrived and was set down in front of them. “That’s exactly the spirit that will get you laid after your year-long slump.”

“Year and a half.” Meg scooped some chicken and black bean sauce onto her plate, sat alongside her rice. “Remember, me and Tanya didn’t have any sex for the final six months. We just slept on the outskirts of the bed and avoided each other as much as we could.”

“Glad to see your life’s moved on so dramatically, then.” Jamie munched on a mouthful of noodles as he raised his eyebrows at Meg.

“Now you put it like that.”

They were silent for a few seconds, both pouncing on the food after a hard day at work.

“How’s Mum, anyway?”

“Fine. Loads better. Check-ups all came back okay and she’s easing back into work.” Meg paused. “That is to say, she’s doing far too much still, but less than I anticipated she might, so that’s good.”

“Make sure she doesn’t do too much.”

“I’m trying.” Meg shrugged. “But you know what she’s like.”

“I do.” Jamie pursed his lips. “The type to run around till she’s blue in the face and then have a minor heart attack.” He shook his head. “Is she any closer to getting help with the deliveries?”

Jamie had been helping out at the florist with deliveries since their mum’s heart attack, and was still doing so at the weekends. He’d been a massive help and Meg didn’t know what they’d have done without him.

“I think she had a friend whose son was interested, but I’ll follow up with her, promise.”

“Cool. Only if this deal takes off, I might need my weekends back to work on that.”

“I get it,” Meg said. “I’ll speak to her. You still okay for this month?”

“Course — me and Greg.” Jamie paused. “I have something else to tell you.” He winced as he spoke.

“Sounds ominous.”

“Dad’s been in touch.”

Meg stopped chewing and put down her cutlery. “He’s being persistent, isn’t he? That’s twice in a few months.” She sighed. “What should we do?”

Jamie shrugged. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to tell him to piss off. But then part of me wants to meet him, to see what he has to say. But with Mum how she is, I don’t want to upset her.”

Meg shook her head. “Mum has to be our priority. It’s too soon after everything for unnecessary stress for her. So just tell him now’s not a good time. Can you do that?”

Jamie nodded slowly. “It seems a bit mean, though. He really does want to be in our lives for good this time. He sounds like he’s changed.”

Meg furrowed her brow. “You always were the softer one. He’s been out of our lives for this long, he can wait a bit longer. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Jamie pushed some food around his plate. “It’s just, none of us are getting any younger, are we? Mum’s heart attack put that into clear perspective.”

“I know. But he can wait — he’s made us wait a lifetime.” Meg’s tone held steely finality. “Anyway, let’s change the subject — how are Greg and Jupiter?”

Greg was Jamie’s boyfriend and they’d been living together for two years. Jupiter was their cat, and every time Meg went round there, she swore she wanted to come back as Jupiter. A more spoilt and loved animal she had yet to meet.

A slow smile spread across Jamie’s face as Meg knew it would. It always did when he spoke about Greg — and that was exactly what Meg wanted. Someone who made her light up just like Jamie was doing right now.

9

The next morning, Kate knew she could postpone it no longer. Once she’d made it to work and sorted through her morning emails, she snuck off into one of the smaller meeting rooms in the office and closed the door quietly. She plugged her laptop into the network, called up the Fabulous Flowers website, took a deep breath and dialled their number. Her knee jigged up and down under the table and her blood began to tumble around her body, as if competing in some amateur gymnastic event.

“Hello, Fabulous Flowers.”

It was her. Kate gulped. “Hi Meg — it’s Kate, we met earlier in the week. You’re doing the flowers for my uncle’s funeral.”

Meg cleared her throat before replying. “Of course — how are the arrangements going?”

The arrangements.
Not asking how Kate was, but how the arrangements were going.

“It’s set for Monday, if that’s good for you?”

“Fine for us. Did you get a chance to look at the options I sent over?”

“I did — I like option two. The wreath for the coffin, some posies and other bits too.”

“Excellent choice.” Meg paused. “You can pay now if you like — or if you have time, you can come in and sort the tribute and the payment on Saturday?”

Kate stalled. Did she want to go in again? Of course she did, even though she knew it was probably pointless.

“Saturday’s fine. I’m over at my mum’s anyway, so I could pop in then.”

Meg cleared her throat again. “Best time would be around midday, when all the wedding flowers have gone out.”

“Right — busy day for you?”

“Yep, but at least it’s September, the wedding season’s nearly over.” Meg let out a low chuckle. “Come at midday and we can have a coffee and a chat.”

“Great — it’s a date,” Kate said. And then smacked her forehead with her free hand.
A date? What a moron.

“A date.” Meg let out a nervous laugh. “And don’t forget to think about what you might want to write on the tribute.”

“Tribute, got it.”

“I’ll look forward to it — see you Saturday.” And with that, Meg hung up, leaving Kate staring at her phone.

Kate’s face was glowing red — she couldn’t believe what had just come out of her mouth. On the plus side, though, Meg was looking forward to it, so it wasn’t the worst idea in the world for her.

For Kate, this funeral-flower appointment sounded just about perfect.

***

A few hours later, Kate was laying out the readers’ letters page and staring at a stock photo of a runner. Was the runner attractive? Kate couldn’t quite decide. Her phone ringing interrupted her thoughts. It was Jess.

“Hello, dearest.” Kate settled the phone to rest at an awkward angle between her neck and ear — the sort of position that keeps physios in business.

“Hello yourself,” Jess said. “I’m calling with a question.”

Kate smiled. “Shoot.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how lovely am I?”

Kate’s smile got wider. “Depends on the day.”

“Let me tell you, today I’m a ten.”

“Really?” Kate moved an image box on screen while she spoke.

“Really,” Jess replied. “Because today, as well as being your lovely flatmate, I also come bearing a hot lady for you.”

Kate sighed. This was a road they’d been down a few times since Kate’s last relationship, which ended badly. Since then, Kate had been wary about dipping her toe back in the dating pool. Actually, scrap wary, she’d been actively avoiding it, declaring women toxic. In fact, the only woman Kate had laid eyes on and immediately felt something for was Meg. Her straight florist.

So on second thoughts, perhaps Kate
should
listen to Jess.

“How hot?” Kate asked.

“Sizzling. George Foreman-grill hot. Smokin’.”

“That is a weird way to describe a woman,” Kate said. “George Foreman-grill hot? My George Foreman grill had faulty wiring and I had to send it back. Not a good analogy.”

Jess laughed. “You get the idea.”

“So where did you pick up said smokin’, presumably char-grilled lady?”

“Friend of Lucy. Well, not strictly a friend of Lucy…”

Kate sighed. “I’m going to stop you there. Does this have anything to do with Julia?” Julia was Jess’s oldest friend from school who delighted in matchmaking all around her — and now that Jess was happily coupled, she’d turned her attention to Kate.

“Negative — nothing to do with Julia.”

“Okay, continue.”

“She’s a friend of a friend of Lucy’s.”

Kate surveyed her nails. “The link sounds tenuous. I think I preferred her as a George Foreman grill.”

“Anyway, I’ve got to get back to work.” Jess cleared her throat. “We’re going out on Friday, you’re coming and so is she. I’m staying at Lucy’s tonight so I won’t see you till tomorrow, so this is your early warning.”

“I can’t do tomorrow.”

Kate was lying and Jess knew it.

“There’s a difference between can’t and won’t. I’ll see you at home after work tomorrow,” Jess said. “It’s going to be great.”

The line went dead as Jess hung up and Kate was left staring at her phone. She wasn’t sure ‘great’ covered it, but she had little choice. When you arrived in your mid-30s, it seemed the whole world was coupled up and you’re the odd one out.

Plus, her uncle’s death had made Kate think. If she died at his age, she might only have another 30 years on the clock. If she died at her dad’s age, she only had another 21 years left. Now that was a sobering thought. Preferably, she would like some of those years to be with someone she loved, in a meaningful relationship. Not too much to ask, was it?

So perhaps Friday should be the date Kate concentrated on. Not Saturday, with the hot-but-straight florist. Yes, the hot-George-Foreman-like lesbian should be her focus. Which didn’t really conjure up a great image, if Kate was honest.

10

Friday duly followed Thursday, and after work, Kate found herself being nudged by Jess in their kitchen, a grin playing on her features.

“It’s like the tables have turned, isn’t it?” Jess looked terribly pleased with herself.

“How so?”

“Not so long ago, you were in a relationship, I was single and you were pushing me into the dating game. Now I’m doing the same for you.”

“You are so giving,” Kate said.

“I know.”

Kate took two beers from the fridge and Jess walked ahead of her through to the lounge. Kate moved a couple of cushions from the sofa onto the floor. She knew she had too many, but cushions were her weakness. Particularly fluffy ones. The brown leather couch creaked as Kate sat down, and she breathed in the smell of freshly polished leather.