Miss Wrong and Mr Right (26 page)

I told her to send the teddy bears to Great Ormond Street Hospital, and that we would sort out an official statement about Ryan.

I went upstairs and filled Nicky in on what was happening. I noticed Xander was fiddling about with YouTube. I asked him what he was doing.

‘We’ve been in touch with Dave. We thought we could further cripple them over the road by streaming the most boring videos on their screen,’ he said.

‘We’ve got a two-hour women’s semi-professional curling match, and a three-hour North Korean victory parade,’ explained Nicky gleefully.
 

At four-thirty, the gloom of our office with the blocked-up windows was getting to me, there was nothing more to report about Ryan, and I kept checking my phone every few minutes to see if the hospital had called about Gran.

‘Honey, why don’t you finish for today, go for a walk or something. I can hold the fort here,’ said Nicky. ‘Your Gran is gonna be great, and she’s gonna love her new Sophia Loren toe!’

I gave her and Xander a hug and then left for the day.
 

When I came out of the theatre, the rain had stopped and Soho was buzzing with people. The sun was now blazing, and the puddles on the pavement rapidly shrinking. On the big screen the women’s curling was reaching its climax, and a line of sturdy short-haired women were scrubbing at the ice madly with brooms. A group of lesbians were watching rapt from the terraced seating outside the bar next door.

When I got back to the flat I changed out of my work clothes into shorts and a t-shirt. I grabbed my iPod, made sure my phone was fully charged, and slung my rollerblades over my shoulder.
 

I walked through the crowds pouring out of work, all the way down to Charing Cross. As I crossed the Hungerford Bridge, warm air rushed at my face, and the sun sparkled on the Thames in front of the London Eye. I looked out at Big Ben and saw it was five-thirty. Surely by now Gran should have come round from the operation?

When I reached the slope on the other side of the bridge, I stopped by a guy busking on an old tinny-sounding guitar, and changed into my rollerblades. I stashed my trainers in my rucksack and set off, skating past the concrete block of Festival Hall, picking up speed along the Embankment.
 

I love this side of the river, as there is much more space to really get some speed up. I had my head down and was zooming towards the National Theatre, when a figure in black came gliding out ahead of me from one of the side roads. It was male and had on a black tracksuit and baseball cap. I clocked how good he looked from the back, but he was moving much faster and sped away in front.
 

I carried on at my own pace, enjoying the light breeze in my hair. The tide was low on the Thames, and a dog walker was picking her way along the exposed shingle with an elderly plodding Labrador. Up ahead, I saw the glint of the Italian coffee bike which always has great coffee. I slowed down to see the guy in black had also stopped. It was too late when I came to a stop by the gleaming handle bars of the bike, and realised it was Jamie.
 

I tried to turn and move off, but the bleary-eyed young lad asked me what I wanted. Jamie turned, and without missing a beat turned back.

‘She drinks americano.’

He reached inside his shiny tracksuit bottoms and pulled out a twenty pound note.

‘No. I’ll have a hot chocolate with whipped cream,’ I said. ‘And I’ll pay.’ The lad running the coffee bike was confused.

‘Are you ordering together?’ he said.

‘I’m ordering two drinks. We are not together,’ I said.

‘We used to be, but she left me at the altar,’ said Jamie.

‘I left him at the altar, because of his obsession with having things shoved up his bottom,’ I said. Jamie went bright red.

The coffee lad smiled nervously and started to make our coffees.

‘Stooping really low now, aren’t we, Natalie?’ hissed Jamie.

‘I can’t believe you would stoop as low as to ply an alcoholic with drink! He’s in hospital!’ I hissed back.

‘You’ve virtually destroyed my ticket sales!’ said Jamie. ‘Whatever you did, I want that video screen put back like it was. Then maybe Ryan will stay sober.’

‘Is that a threat?’

‘I don’t make threats,’ said Jamie.

‘You had me followed!’

‘No, Ryan was followed, you were just tagging along, like some sad middle-aged groupie.’

‘I’m not a groupie, nor am I middle-aged. Even if I were, why am I sad and middle-aged? There’s the same age difference between you and Tuppence, and it’s okay for you to date her?’
 

‘We’re engaged, actually,’ he said.

‘Yeah, well next time she leaves the house in a fur coat, check what she’s wearing underneath,’ I muttered.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing. This conversation is over. I don’t want to be around you,’ I said.

The coffee guy was finishing up with our drinks, and trying not to make it obvious he was enthralled by our conversation.

‘I’ll pay for these,’ I said. Jamie raised an eyebrow as I pulled out the wallet I keep in my backpack for rollerblading, noting it had Dora the Explorer on the front.

‘Planning on travelling?’ he smirked.

‘It was a present, from Sharon’s daughter,’ I said.

Jamie’s face softened a little. ‘How old is her daughter now?’

‘Amy’s ten,’ I said. I handed him the coffee. He stood for a moment. ‘Well, go on then, don’t let me keep you…’ I added.

We stared at each other for a moment, then Jamie did a spin on his wheels and skated away. I waited until he was a dot far ahead, then skated off sipping my hot chocolate, hating that it wasn’t an americano.
 

I began to skate faster, leaning forward into the breeze with my head down. I zipped between the boxes of books at the discount bookshop, past the National Theatre, and was really picking up speed, when I hit a piece of rough concrete on the Embankment. It happened so quickly, one minute I was speeding along, the next there was a squealing sound from my blades and I went over quite spectacularly, landing on my knee with a thunk, and then rolling, the lid coming off my hot chocolate and spilling all down my legs. I came to a stop by the wall of the Thames and sat there dazed. My leg was burning and throbbing, and blood was beginning to pour from a big gash in my knee, mingling horribly with the hot chocolate and cream. I started to sit up, and a pair of legs came to a squealing halt beside me.

‘Nat? Are you okay?’

I squinted up into the sun at Jamie. He was looking down at me, concerned.

‘What do you think?’ I said. He knelt down and reached round into the back of his trackies, pulling out a little plastic pack of tissues. He shook one open and pressed it to my knee. I sat there fuming silently, as he held it against my leg.

‘Ow!’ I said. ‘Easy.’

‘I’m trying to stop the bleeding,’ he explained. He had beads of sweat across his cheeks and forehead.

‘It’s just a scrape,’ I said. I noticed people were hurrying past, but still staring. He pulled out another tissue and handed it to me, I began to wipe off the cream and hot chocolate.

‘Bet you wish you’d had that americano,’ he joked.

‘Jamie, leave me alone. Go.’

He finished wiping my leg.

‘Let me help you up,’ he said. He grasped my arms and pulled me up to a standing position. I perched on the lip of the concrete wall by the river, groaning at the new pain where I had landed on my backside. My phone began to ring. I tried to get my bag off my back, but it hurt too much.

‘Where is it? Let me,’ said Jamie, reaching round behind me.

‘It’s in the inside pocket, the tiny one at the front,’ I said. Jamie began to fumble around. The phone kept ringing.

‘The
inside
pocket!’ I said.

‘There’s like twelve pockets on this thing!’ snapped Jamie. I batted him away and gingerly took off the backpack. I scrabbled around for the phone but it had stopped ringing by the time I got it out of the pocket.

‘Bollocks,’ I said seeing it was a withheld number.
 

‘What are you planning for me now?’ he asked. ‘You gonna burn down my venue?’

‘I’m waiting to hear from the hospital. Gran’s having an operation today,’ I said, scrolling through my phone to find the number for the hospital. I pressed call and waited nervously whilst it rang. Jamie’s forehead creased with concern. Finally a nurse answered, and after a moment gave me the good news that Gran had come round successfully from the operation, and she would be able to go home in a few hours.

‘Thank God,’ I said to the nurse, ‘Thank you.’

‘You can come and pick her up around eight,’ she said. I came off the phone grinning madly, I felt such relief.

‘What was the operation for?’ asked Jamie.

‘Bunionectomy, caused by years of high heels,’ I said. Jamie smiled.
 

‘Do you remember that year we all went surfing in Bude? She even wore her high heels in the sea!’ he laughed. I laughed too.

‘Didn’t she manage to stand on a surf board in them too?’

‘Yes. And she rode a wave for all of six seconds.’

‘Yeah! She made you time her on your stopwatch…’ I laughed.

‘I’ve got a photo of it somewhere. I’ll have to find it…’ he said.

There was a pause.
 

‘Nan isn’t good right now,’ he added, his face clouding over. I had fond memories of Jamie’s nan. She was much more conservative than Gran, but a lovely, funny woman.

‘I’m so sorry. What’s wrong?’ I asked.

‘Pneumonia.’

‘Please, give her my best won’t you? I hope she gets better…’

‘Yes, I will,’ he said. His phone began to ring, he pulled it out.

‘Hey babe,’ he said. ‘I’m just on the Embankment rollerblading… no I’m alone… What? It’s now showing a North Korean victory parade? Okay I’ll be there in ten…’ Jamie hung up. He stared coldly, our previous conversation forgotten.

‘You’re going to destroy us,’ he said. Then he turned on his wheels and skated off back towards Charing Cross.
 

I wondered for a moment who he meant by “us”. I supposed the only real “us” was him, Brendan and Tuppence.

I arrived at the hospital at eight-thirty. When I went into the ward, Gran was sat up waiting in a wheelchair. She was back in her clothes with a huge bandage on her foot. On the other foot she had a high heel.

‘Hello,’ I said giving her a gentle hug. ‘How are you?’

‘I feel like I’m flying,’ she grinned loosely. A kind-faced nurse came over with a big paper bag.

‘She’s on quite a lot of powerful pain medication,’ said the nurse. ‘It can affect the elderly in different ways.’

‘Who you bloody calling “the elderly?”’ snapped Gran.

‘Gran!’ I cried.

‘Did that doctor make me a nice toe?’ asked Gran in a loud voice. The nurse ignored her and handed me a paper bag.

‘Here are some painkillers and antibiotics for Anouska. She’ll need to have someone with her for the next twenty-four hours.’

‘Don’t you ignore me vooman! Have they made me a beautiful toe? A toe Sophia Loren vould be proud of?’ cried Gran.

‘Gran was a bit worried about the toe the doctor drew on her with the felt tip pen,’ I explained.

‘Don’t worry, you’ve got a lovely new toe,’ smiled the nurse using that sing-song voice reserved for the elderly.

‘How do I know she’s not lying? I vant to see my new toe before I leave!’ insisted Gran. ‘Once ve leave I von’t be able to bring it back and get a refund!’
 

‘You can’t take the bandage off for a few days, Anouska!’ said the nurse.

‘Pfft, let’s go Natalie. This nurse is an imbecile…’ said Gran.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. The nurse didn’t seem fazed and wished us well. God bless the NHS.
 

It was a bit of a nightmare to get Gran into the car from the wheelchair. She was a dead weight, and with my bad knee it wasn’t great. I knocked her bandaged foot easing it back into the foot well of the passenger seat, but she was so full of painkillers she didn’t notice.

‘Let’s go out Natalie. Let’s go to a club!’

‘We’re going home,’ I said firmly.

‘Spoilsport,’ muttered Gran, then fell asleep as I fastened her seatbelt.

Gran was still asleep when we arrived home. I drove down into the underground garage and then switched off the engine. I realised I had left the wheelchair in the hospital car park. How the hell was I going to get her up the four stairs to the lift, then in the lift, and then into the flat? I came round and opened the passenger door. Gran’s eyes fluttered open.

‘Oh hello Natalie,’ she said. ‘You look lovely, a little tired, but lovely.’

‘Thank you Gran, can you walk or hop?’

I undid her seat belt and she tried to shift forward.

‘I hev had an operation, yes?’ asked Gran.

‘Yes, on your foot,’ I said.

‘Oh, they had better hev done a good job. I vill be most unhappy if I get a man’s toe. Vas there a brochure I flicked through? Which toe did I choose?’

‘You chose the Sophia Loren toe,’ I said humouring her.

‘No, I didn’t, the doctor drew it on. He couldn’t fucking draw!’ she cried.

‘Excuse me? Is everything alright?’ said a voice. I turned to see a huge muscly man, dressed in boots, leather trousers and a leather harness with studs. Beside him was a small skinny pale guy in a similar outfit, only he had the addition of a studded leather cap.

‘Yes, fine,’ I trilled, being all British.

‘I hev had a foot operation. I spent my life in high heels, making my legs beautiful for the vorld and this is how God repays me!’ cried Gran.

‘Bunionectomy, was it love?’ asked the huge muscly guy. I nodded.

‘Lots of my friends do drag,’ he said. ‘It’s a breeding ground for bunions… Can I help you?’

‘Ok,’ I said, unsure.

‘Here Steve hold this,’ he said handing a big brown paper bag to the smaller guy. He leant inside the car. ‘Hello, I’m Kieron. If it’s okay with you, may I carry you up?’

‘Handsome men!’ cried Gran, her eyes lighting up.

‘Gawd, you must be on some strong pills love,’ he laughed looking down at the leather harness and his nipples on display. I didn’t know what to say.