‘Nobody needs to know this ever happened,’ she’d said.
‘Not a soul,’ I’d agreed. ‘Becky would murder us, for one thing.’
‘Nice though,’ she’d said, and given a wicked little smile that had made me want to pull her back into bed.
Bloody hell.
And then last night it happened again.
I wipe the mirror in the bathroom and look at myself through the condensation. Still look like the same old me – bit knackered, perhaps, because I’ve been up shagging half the night – but no, definitely still the same old Alex. I raise my eyebrows at Mirror Me and suppress a snort of laughter. It’s the most out-of-character thing I’ve ever done. I try and imagine the faces of Jack and Lucy when I tell them. Jack and Lucy are my two best friends back home in Canterbury (who conveniently got off with each other a couple of years back, meaning that now they live together and I can see both of them in one go when I go back to visit). They’re always telling me to get on dating apps and have a rebound shag to get over Alice. Well, I guess I’ve done it. Didn’t even have to download Tinder.
I wrap the towel round my waist and head back to my bedroom, opening the window even though it’s freezing cold outside. It’s ridiculously early in the morning and the house is almost completely silent, but I can hear noises, I think. Sounds like someone’s moving boxes in the room next door. Jess? I check the calendar hanging on the wall. God, yes, it’s the third. She must’ve arrived overnight – I put a hand over my mouth – God, I hope she didn’t arrive when we were …
No. We’d have heard the door, wouldn’t we? She must’ve arrived when I was in the shower.
I pull on jeans and a clean T-shirt, running my hand back through my hair to shove it into place. Even if Jess had heard, she wasn’t likely to say anything. It didn’t have to be a big deal. Even if I have to have a conversation with Becky about the whole no-couples thing … well, it’s not like we’re actually a couple.
This is all completely new ground for me, though, and it’s weird. Jack and Lucy always took the piss out of me for being an old romantic, but the thing is, what happened with Alice really took the wind out of my sails. I loved her, and I thought we were going to do the whole married, house, kids, dogs thing – especially the dogs, I’ve always wanted a golden retriever – but it floored me completely when she told me it was over. I was a complete mess for ages, but I’ve got a grip now. I’m just not putting myself in that place again for a long time. Relationships are not for me.
I’m glad Jess is back. Now the house is full, it feels sort of … complete, somehow. I’m sure she said she’s not starting work until the second week of January. Maybe I’ll see if she fancies coming for a walk tomorrow, to find her feet a bit. It’ll be nice to have a friend who’s a girl, and not a girlfriend. I miss Lucy’s point of view on things – since she and Jack got together they basically come as a package.
I lace up my boots and I think about Jess chopping limes and chatting to me in the kitchen. Grudgingly, I have to admit to myself that in another life, Jess would be completely my type. She’s funny and she’s interesting, and I love the fact that she’s doing the same as me: taking the plunge to try something new and start life over again. It’d be good to have a partner in crime. It makes it seem less terrifying, somehow.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jess
10th January
‘What’s with you and the whole Instagram thing?’ Alex asks.
He’s walking behind me on a narrow pavement in Covent Garden when I stop dead. He almost crashes into the back of me. I turn around, before he’s stepped back, and we’re so close we’re almost touching. I stumble backwards, knocking into the wooden shutter of the cheese shop.
‘Sorry,’ I say, but he’s laughing.
‘It’s fine. I just … What’re you even taking a photo of?’
I motion to the alleyway to our left. ‘I love stuff like that. Little hidden doorways and things.’
‘Right.’
‘Let me just …’ I fiddle with the phone then hit share. ‘Sorry. Done now.’
‘Shall we stop for lunch?’ he asks.
‘Yeah.’ I point to the sign that beckons us through the little alleyway. ‘There’s a café upstairs there, in Neal’s Yard.’
We climb the stairs, which are rainbowed with a million postcards and posters, advertising everything from toddler gymnastics to Chakra Rebalancing.
‘D’you get your chakras rebalanced often?’ Alex grins.
‘Never. That’s probably why I’m so clumsy.’
‘Maybe they should start offering it on the NHS.’
The café’s cramped and the staff seem slightly frazzled, which feels at odds with the whole hippy Zen vibe it’s giving off from the signs outside. We find an empty table. The uneven walls are painted with thick white paint, and woven hangings are displayed on a rail with price tags underneath. I lean forward, thinking I must have read it wrong, but no.
‘They want £120 for that?’ I nudge Alex and his eyes widen in surprise. He passes me a menu. We both look at it in silence for a moment.
‘Hi, people,’ says a tall woman with her braids tied back in a thick ponytail. ‘Do you need time to have a think, or are you ready to order?’
I catch Alex’s eye and I can tell he’s trying not to laugh, because the menu is – well, it’s not Starbucks, that’s for sure.
‘Can we have a couple of moments?’
‘Sure. I’ll leave you some of this for now. It’s rose-quartz-infused water.’
She puts a carafe down on the table. There’s a pink crystal sitting at the bottom of it. We both contemplate it for a moment before Alex drops his head in his hands.
‘If we weren’t so bloody British, we’d get up and leave,’ he says.
‘I know.’
‘Instead, we’re going to have to have a rice milk latte and a—’ he looks down at the menu and frowns ‘—spiralised courgette and carrot hummus open sandwich on pressed raw grain bread?’
‘I dunno, I quite fancy the radish and sprout salad,’ I say.
‘I want a cinnamon and raisin bagel, and a large bucket of coffee.’
I groan at the thought of it. ‘I wouldn’t say no to a bacon roll.’
‘Maybe we could get one on the way back.’
‘Ready to order?’ The woman has returned, and – being too polite to leave – we request our food, then sit back and look at the clientele. There’s a woman with two scruffy-haired children who’ve been freed from their pushchair. They’re climbing over the cushions on the bench to draw pictures with thick crayons.
‘Cute.’ Alex looks over at them.
‘I bet they’re called Hephzibah and Moon Unit, or something.’ I take a look at them, trying not to catch their eye in case they come over and start making conversation. I find small children slightly alarming.
‘No way.’ Alex shakes his head. ‘Myrtle and Theodore, and they go to a Steiner school and her husband earns shitloads working as an investment banker.’