‘Oh, thank God for that.’
He put his hand on his chest. ‘I’m deeply offended, Andrew.’
‘Well, you know.’
He gave me a lopsided grin. ‘You’ve done very well. I know you may not feel it, but you’re very lucky. Extremely lucky.’
As I left his office, I pumped his hand vigorously. He looked taken aback, as if no one had ever done this before. But I felt so grateful and relieved. I wanted to rush to the gift shop and buy him a present.
I left the hospital with newfound strength. One of the darkest periods of my life was over. I forgot all about the red-haired girl in the corridor. All that mattered was that I was well again.
It’s hard now, after everything that’s happened, not to wonder about what, statistically speaking, should have been. If I hadn’t dropped that coin, if my consultation had ended five minutes later, if I’d popped into Starbucks when I left the hospital instead of going directly to the station.
In this parallel version of my life, everything would be different. I would have gone on a series of internet dates. I would have met a nice girl. It would have all been very pleasant and I wouldn’t be lonely anymore.
In this alternative future, I wouldn’t be sitting here among the smoking wreckage of my life, wondering about what might have been.
Nobody would have got hurt.
Nobody would have died.
Two
I walked down City Road to Old Street Tube station. Silicon Roundabout – many of my clients were based here, a mixture of web start-ups and small publishers. The design agency that I did most of my work for is based a short distance away on Clerkenwell Green. I’m a web designer and although it sometimes feels like there are more of us in London than there are rats, I’m able to make a living from it. I even had a little money saved, although three months without being able to work had drained my bank account. I must call Victor, I thought, as I descended the steps of the Tube station.
It was late-December, just after five in the afternoon, and the station was packed with Christmas shoppers and office workers on their way home. I would send Victor a Christmas message when I got home, remind him of my existence. Fortunately, he’d been very understanding of my situation and had told me there should always be work for me. ‘At least until the next fucking recession comes along,’ he’d said on the phone, unable to resist the urge to say something gloomy.
I was so deep in thought about work, money and the Eeyore-like tendencies of my main employer that I didn’t notice her at first. The platform was crowded and devoid of festive spirit and I was tempted to turn back, go and sit in the pub until rush hour was over.
The train came and sucked hundreds of passengers inside, leaving those of us who weren’t desperate to get home standing on the platform. I looked towards the departures board to see how long I had to wait – and there she was.
The woman from the hospital.
I froze. This was it: my second chance. But I hesitated. A woman that gorgeous would definitely have a boyfriend. Several, probably. She was out of my league. I was hopeless at this sort of thing. Half a dozen excuses why I should leave it ran through my head.
If I hadn’t been in such an ebullient mood, I probably would have done nothing, regretted it for a day then forgotten all about her. Instead, I shouldered my way through the crowd until I reached her, trying to persuade myself that I was confident and that rejection would be better than not trying at all.
‘You were right, you know,’ I said.
She looked up with surprise.
‘About the coffee in the hospital. It did taste like piss. Though I think it was more like horse’s piss than cow’s.’
Perhaps it wasn’t the best way to start a relationship, with a little white lie. I hadn’t tried the coffee. But it was the best opening line I could come up with. For a horrible moment I thought she didn’t recognise me, that she thought I was a random nutcase.
But she hitched her bag onto her shoulder and said, ‘No. Definitely cow.’
She was still wearing her ID round her neck and with my pupils returned to normal I could read it. Charlotte Summers. Her surname made me smile. Charlotte Summers and Andrew Sumner. It was a sign.
‘Charlotte,’ I said, sticking out my hand. This was so out of character for me but, like I said, I was on a high after getting the news from Mr Makkawi. ‘I’m Andrew.’
She returned my handshake with a firm grip, her hand dry and warm. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t run off yet. She actually seemed pleased to be talking to me. ‘I’m Charlie when I’m not at work. Are you an Andy?’
‘You can call me Andy if you like.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Nah, I prefer Andrew. Sounds more grown up.’
The train clattered into the station and Charlie and I were propelled onto it by the surge of the crowd. We found ourselves pressed together beside the door, other bodies clustered around us.
‘Where are you going?’ I asked.
‘London Bridge.’
‘Me too. Then an overground train to Tulse Hill.’
‘Is that where you live?’
I nodded. ‘How about you? Are you one of those north-of-the-river types?’
‘Oh no. I live in Camberwell. Proper London.’
‘You don’t have the accent,’ I said. ‘I’d guess you’re from somewhere up north.’
She laughed. ‘Yes. That great wilderness beyond the M25.’ She stage whispered. ‘I come from a tribe in a primitive little village called Leeds.’
‘Oh yes, I’ve heard tale of it. You escaped though.’
‘Yes. Though my seventeen brothers are hunting me even as we speak. With specially trained hunter pigeons.’
We talked. Were we flirting? It definitely felt like flirting, though maybe she thought I was an idiot and was awaiting her first opportunity to get away. I couldn’t take my eyes off her face. She was even more stunning than I’d originally thought. She had a little chip out of one of her front teeth, and the heat of the Tube train had made the skin around her collarbone flush pink. I badly wanted to kiss her.
I told her I was from Eastbourne and she told me she’d been to Brighton, which is what people always say, and then we passed Bank and I became aware that we were about to get off the train and would probably get separated. Forever.
‘I just had some excellent news,’ I said. I told her about being discharged.
‘That’s fantastic.’
We pulled into London Bridge. I was going to have to get off. I would never see her again. She appeared to be deep in thought.