‘Do you have any idea how many newsstands there are in London?’ demanded Claudia when Jake arrived on Saturday morning at the house. She was dressed and ready to go but it didn’t mean she was happy about the idea. In her opinion, it sounded like the flimsiest of long shots. It was also a dismal way to spend a Saturday. She normally stayed in bed until lunchtime at least.
‘That’s why we’re going to concentrate on Notting Hill,’ said Jake. ‘Here, I’ve got a map. We’ll start at the center and spiral out. With two of us, one can sit in the car and the other can zip into each shop. It’ll save having to find parking spaces. Come on,’ he added persuasively—heavens, thought Claudia, Jake’s being persuasive—‘it’ll be fun.’
‘Sounds like The Getaway.’ Having always longed to look like Ali McGraw, she began to weaken.
‘Only with fewer bullets.’
‘I hope you don’t drive like Steve McQueen.’
‘No, but I don’t get chased by so many police cars either.’
Claudia began to forgive him for bullying her out of bed on a Saturday.
‘You hope,’ she said.
By one o’clock they had visited twenty-three newsstands, some smart, some unbelievably seedy. The cards Jake had had printed—on an eye-catching purple background—were pinned up alongside Megan-the-magnificent-masseuse type ads, rooms to let, sofas for sale, guitar lessons for aspiring rock stars, and enough lost pets to fill a zoo.
Jake took Claudia to a wine bar for lunch. Okay from the outside but with an air of shabbiness inside, it served meals-in-a-basket at wonky tables. On each table stood a vase of plastic flowers. Claudia tried to control her upper lip, which wanted to curl in disdain. Jake, who had been doing so well all morning, spotted the lip. His confidence promptly ebbed away.
The bar manager had already handed them the menu (Today’s Special, Spahgetti Bollonaise with mushroom’s and chip’s). Should he hand it back, say sorry they’d changed their minds and leave? If he did that, he would have to find somewhere else to eat, and knowing his luck it would be somewhere even worse. He wanted to appear assertive but he didn’t know the area. Staring blindly at the menu, wondering what to do for the best, Jake reached nervously for the bowl of free peanuts on the bar. The moment the first one was in his mouth his panic intensified. Oh God, he’d eaten a free peanut. They couldn’t leave now, they were trapped.
‘Um, I’ll have the lasagna,’ he mumbled. Hopefully, the chef cooked better than he spelled.
By the time their food arrived, fresh from the microwave and cardboardy at the edges, the wine bar had begun to fill up. Jake, who was starving, chewed manfully and tried to pretend it was fine.
The spaghetti was the consistency of shoe laces and there was a dried lump of something hideous welded to the underside of Claudia’s spoon.
‘This is awful.’ She laid down her fork. ‘I can’t eat it.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Jake looked miserable. ‘We shouldn’t have stayed.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
But it did, and tact had never been Claudia’s strong point. Petulantly, she moved the fake freesias away.
‘I’m just surprised you come to places like this, when you could afford to eat anywhere.’
Lunch at the Ritz was hardly Jake’s style, but he realized she was miffed.
‘I didn’t know it was going to be like this.’ Falteringly, he tried to explain.
‘You mean you saw a few plastic hanging baskets outside and thought, Oh well, this’ll do, it’s good enough for Claudia. Thanks.’ She pushed her plate to one side. ‘Excuse me if I’m not flattered.’
Jake could feel his neck reddening.
‘Look, it’s not as if we’re out on a… a date. If we were, of course I’d take you somewhere nice. But we aren’t.’ The awful flush was creeping up to his face. He ran his fingers distractedly around the collar of his shirt. ‘This was only supposed to be a quick working lunch. If I’d been on my own, I’d have had a packet of crisps in the car. Okay, I wish we hadn’t come here and yes, it’s awful, but I… I really didn’t think it mattered.’
As Jake spoke, a middle-aged man in a holey grey sweater was approaching their table. The next moment, Claudia almost jumped out of her chair as he tapped her on the shoulder.
‘It is you,’ said the man, evidently delighted. ‘I thought it was but I couldn’t be sure. As the saying goes, I hardly recognized you with your clothes on!’
Claudia gazed at him, dumbfounded. It was her turn to blush. Unlike Jake’s stealthy creeping redness, her face turned crimson in a flash.
‘Mike Cousins, from the life class at St Clare’s,’ the intruder prompted jovially when she didn’t react. As if she needed prompting after a remark like that.
‘Of course,’ murmured Claudia, not jovially at all. She was seized with the urge to strangle Poppy and Caspar all over again. The only way she had been able to endure those nightmarish classes was by telling herself she would never set eyes on any of its pupils again as long as she lived.
‘Well, well, what a coincidence.’ The beastly man, who had never uttered so much as two words to her before, was now beaming mightily across at Jake. ‘This is some girl you’ve got there, if you don’t mind me saying so. Splendid body. Rubensesque. You’re a lucky chap.’
Jake, traitorously, was biting his lip and trying not to laugh. Claudia stood up, chair legs scraping noisily against the black and white tiled floor.
‘Actually, we were just about to leave—’
‘Bit of luck, too, bumping into you like this! Only last week I finished that oil I was working on… you know, the one with you lying on your side reading a book?’ He mimed the pose, propping one hand dreamily beneath his chin. ‘That one, remember? Bit of a success, if I say so myself. Thing is, I wondered if you’d like it. As a kind of memento—’
‘No thank you,’ gasped Claudia, snatching up her jacket and making for the door. ‘Jake, we must go.’
‘To remind you of your happy time with us at St Clare’s,’ Mike Cousins persisted, bemused by her reaction to his well-meant offer.
‘Jake,’ she almost shrieked, ‘come on. NOW.’
Back in the car, Jake wisely made no reference to the incident. For the next three hours, he and Claudia drove around Notting Hill placing another twenty-eight cards in newsstands’ windows.
He dropped her off at Cornwallis Crescent at five o’clock before Poppy, who had been left running the stall single-handed, could arrive home and demand to know what the pair of them had been getting up to.
‘Sorry about the pervert,’ Claudia muttered as she undid her seat belt.
‘Sorry about lunch.’
Her lips tightened. ‘Pretty disastrous all round.’
Jake took his courage in both hands.
‘Look, I meant what I said earlier. If we went out… you know, properly, on a date date, I would take you somewhere nice.’
She stopped fiddling with her front door key.
‘How nice?’
‘As nice as you want.’ Encouraged by the question, Jake said, ‘Tablecloths, the works.’
Claudia very nearly smiled.
‘Heavens, how posh.’
‘Anywhere. You could choose. Any restaurant you like.’
‘The thing is… is this a hypothetical question or are you actually asking me?’
Jake looked at her. ‘That depends on whether or not you’d say yes.’
‘I’d say yes,’ she murmured, ‘if you took me to Chez Nico.’
‘Sure it’s expensive enough for you?’ Even Jake had heard of Chez Nico.
Claudia had got what she wanted. This time her smile was triumphant.
‘You can afford it.’