Changed and ready, Laurie walked to Oxford Circus. There was no doubt that the Tube was the best way for her to get to Euston, but as she’d made her plans earlier in the day, she hadn’t really thought about what it would involve. The familiar sight of crowds descending underground brought back an unbidden image of the man falling, but now he was Mum, pleading, with her hand stretched towards her. Laurie’s palms started prickling; she could feel the blood thudding in her ears. She realised she was trembling; passers-by were looking at her with concern. It was all she could do stagger to the railings around the entrance and lean on them, breathing in great sobs of air.
Still grasping the railings, Laurie turned around. She had to pull herself together. She tried to concentrate on the familiar sights of Oxford Street: the mannequin wearing underwear whose scarlet hue clashed unapologetically with the pink Sale sign on the window in front of it; the pair of girls talking excitedly into their mobiles; a backpacker oblivious to the traffic jam of pedestrians behind him. Her breathing returned to normal, but her earlier confidence had gone. How long would it be before she could stomach the idea of going underground again? It was little more than a day since she had witnessed the accident. What else should she expect?
Laurie considered her options. She didn’t fancy the idea of walking the best part of a mile in new shoes; footsore and sweaty was no way to begin a date. There were buses passing regularly, but the traffic on Oxford Street made them a lottery: a ten-minute journey could take half an hour. It went against the grain, but the thought of taking an Uber suddenly seemed awfully attractive.
‘Hassan’ was apparently three minutes away; the map on her phone showed him coming down Harley Street. Now he was waiting at the pick-up point she had suggested in Great Castle Street. She started walking towards it. Within a minute, however, Hassan had become mysteriously unavailable. Never mind, another driver could be there in five minutes, although the price had gone up by 20 per cent.
Laurie pursed her lips, and looked up to a see a solitary orange taxi light approaching from the west. Yes! She started towards it, already imagining the comfort of its wide leather seats, only for the cab to be snaffled by a trio of middle-aged women, laden with shopping. Behind it, however, was a 73 bus. In that moment, Laurie accepted her fate. She would go to Euston on the bus, and she would be late.
By the time Laurie arrived at Euston she had digested all that Twitter and Facebook had to say, before moving on to read every page of the free newspaper she found on her seat. She’d been grateful for the distraction as the bus inched along first Oxford Street and then Tottenham Court Road. Even so, she must have looked at the clock on her phone a hundred times in the course of the journey, cursing herself for her failure to get Paul’s number. What were the chances he’d still be waiting, half an hour beyond the time she said she’d be there?
Running to the bike racks as fast as her dress and heels would allow, Laurie scanned every figure she saw for a sign of familiarity. He wasn’t there. She stopped, the hope draining out of her. Now all the emotions she’d been keeping in check on the bus came to the fore. It was shame that she felt most deeply: shame that she hadn’t been able to take the Tube; shame that she’d spent so much money on clothes for nothing; shame that she’d have to confess it all to Jess; shame at what she imagined she saw in the eyes of the passing commuters who saw her standing there, all dolled up with nowhere to go.
‘You certainly know how to keep a man waiting.’
Laurie turned round. There was Paul, still dressed in the same blue suit: no lunchtime shopping sprees for him. How could she have missed him? She could feel the grin spreading over her face. It was all she could do not to hug him.
‘Paul, I am so, so sorry. I will explain, but first give me your phone number. I’d like to make sure it never happens again.’
‘Tell you what. Give me yours and I’ll send you a text.’ Paul got out his phone and keyed in the number she gave him. ‘Right, shall we get something to eat? Have you ever eaten south Indian food? There are some great restaurants just round the corner from here.’
Ordinarily, Laurie would have objected to the way Paul took control, but today she was grateful for the chance to let someone else make the decisions. Within a few minutes he had led her to a place that he clearly knew well, though not to the extent that the waiters showed him any more than the usual deference. They squeezed into a corner table, elbows on Formica, knees touching. Around them uninhibited larger groups, including a couple of families, were shouting cheerfully at the waiters. The smell of curry hung in the air, but it was almost floral, nothing like the takeaways near Tufnell Park. Paul ordered them both beers and something else that Laurie didn’t catch.
All this time Paul was solicitous, as if he could tell how wound up Laurie was, how close to the edge. He asked no questions and confined his own statements to generalities and directions. It was only when they were fully settled, each holding a glass of Cobra, that he allowed the conversation to move on. ‘It’s going to sound corny I know, and I’m sure it’s the kind of thing you must hear all the time, but can I just say you look fabulous? That dress really suits you.’
‘Really?’ Laurie smoothed her hands down her thighs. ‘Thank you. It’s more than I deserve after the way I kept you waiting. I want to tell you why.’
Paul said nothing. Laurie liked that.
‘I was all ready to get here on time. At six o’clock I was at Oxford Circus, and then I found I couldn’t get on the Tube. It wasn’t shut or anything. I just physically couldn’t go underground.’
Paul took a swig from his glass. ‘I could say that’s no loss. I haven’t been on the Tube for the best part of a decade, but I’m guessing that wouldn’t be much comfort to you at the moment. Has it happened to you before?’
‘No. And that’s just it. I know why it happened as well. Yesterday morning I was on the Victoria line platform just here, and I saw a man fall under the train in front of me.’
Paul frowned in sympathy. ‘God. That must have been terrible. Was he killed? Are you sure he fell?’
‘I’m pretty sure he’s dead. The train was still travelling quite fast when it hit him. I left my name as a witness but I haven’t heard anything yet. And yes, he fell; I’m certain of it.’
Paul looked like he wanted to reach over to her. Laurie wasn’t sure how she would have responded if he had. In the end, he confined his reaction to a single wry comment: ‘Well, that certainly puts my day in perspective.’
He turned out to be the manager of a gym. At least, that was his job title. As Paul talked about what he did, however, it became clear that, while he might wear a suit to and from work, he was, as much as anything, a personal trainer, booked for appointments by the gym’s regular clients. So she was right in thinking he looked fit. God, it was good to meet someone whose first question wouldn’t be ‘What university did you go to?’
Their food arrived: dhosas. Paul made Laurie guess what they were made of. She got the main constituents of the spicy potato filling easily enough, but would never have realised that the wraps around them were made from lentils. She had to laugh when Paul described his own efforts to make them once: the gloopy mess of ‘pulsating pulses’ that he left standing for days as it fermented down to a batter, and the end result – scraps of burnt leather with no resemblance to anything edible. What she was eating now, however, was delicious, the crispiness of the pancake contrasting perfectly with the mouth-filling warmth of the potato: comfort food for vegetarians. Laurie felt a tingle of pleasure at the new experience.
Laurie looked across at the man in front of her. He ate neatly and methodically, finishing every mouthful before he spoke, keeping his elbows off the table and by his side. Mum would have liked that. Laurie stopped herself. Surely it was too early to be thinking along those lines? But he was kind as well as handsome; she could tell that already. She wanted to find out more about what lay beneath that suit.
Paul returned her gaze. Could he read her mind? What he said, however, was entirely serious. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said. How can you be certain that man fell? You hear about people jumping under trains all the time.’
‘He was as close to me as you are now. He was about to speak to me when he lost his balance. The train came in at just the wrong time.’
‘But he didn’t actually say anything to you?’
‘No. I think all he was going to do was tell me that I had a smudge on my nose. I can’t help thinking about the whole chain of events that meant I was standing next to him with a dirty face, and that if one of them hadn’t happened, he’d still be alive.’
‘Hey,’ said Paul sharply. ‘Don’t talk like that. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else. You can’t blame yourself for something like that. It would drive you mad.’
Laurie wasn’t sure about Paul’s logic, but she appreciated his attempt to comfort her. Her reply, however, didn’t come out like that. ‘You sound like my dad.’ Then she thought through the implications of what she had just said. ‘Don’t worry. It’s a compliment.’
It was Paul’s response that made Laurie certain that he, too, was thinking this might be the start of something. ‘Hmm. Well, promise me that if you ever want to talk about it some more, you’ll call me. I don’t claim to have any great psychological insight, but this isn’t the sort of thing you keep bottled up inside.’
Grateful that he had not attempted to draw any parallels with what happened to Mum, Laurie just nodded. She didn’t trust herself to talk. Then Paul continued, ‘there’s something else you should know about me. I’m a dad already: got two kids, Aidan and Mia. Their mum and I are divorced. They live in Oxfordshire now.’
‘Oh.’ Laurie felt she should be asking something in response while she tried to process this information. ‘How often do you see them?’
‘Every other weekend and a bit during the school holidays. So I’m off tomorrow until Sunday night – taking them to my mum’s.’
‘Are they still quite small?’
‘Six and four. We split up two years ago.’
Tiny! Laurie tried to imagine how she would have felt if Dad had moved out when she was two. She could feel her eyes starting to sting in sympathy. ‘Oh Paul, I’m so sorry.’
Paul had gone a bit red. He looked down at his lap as he continued. ‘It was my fault. I got too close to a client. Bethan always said one strike and you’re out. So I was. Wish I could turn back the clock. I can’t make up to the kids for what happened, but I’m trying to be there for them now.’
A series of images jostled for attention in Laurie’s head: of Paul ‘getting too close’ to some gym-bunny, of an angry scene with his faceless wife, of children weeping for their father. She let the silence rest, not trusting herself to speak. Surely she should be feeling sympathy here for the wronged wife, not Paul?
There didn’t seem much more to be said. Paul asked for the bill, and insisted on paying. It was still light outside. They walked back to the station, neither attempting to touch the other, talking of inconsequentialities – when the heatwave would break, whether it was a sign of global warming. Paul waited until the bus was slowing down to make one last admonishment. ‘I meant what I said. Call me if you want to talk about that accident any more.’
The comfort Laurie derived from the idea confirmed what she already knew: she wanted to see him again. She turned to face him, ready to say goodbye. He was standing there. Did she imagine that his smile was slightly sad? That decided her. This time, when she leant towards him, it was for a proper kiss.
After the electricity of the morning, the feel of Paul’s lips was everything Laurie had hoped. She wanted to linger, but pulled away before it developed into anything more. She wasn’t ready for that yet. She had at least some composure as she turned and got on the bus.
Laurie went upstairs and took her favourite seat at the front of the upper deck. Her lips still tingled.. Staring out of the window, she tried to analyse her feelings for a man she’d known for little more than a day. Should she be put off by his confession of unfaithfulness? Somehow that seemed insignificant next to the news that he’d been married and had children. But that should have been no surprise either. He was at least ten years older than her. She could hardly expect that he would have been single all this time.
Jess was watching an ancient repeat of Sex and the City when Laurie came in, but she turned it off to look her up and down, raising her eyebrows as she did so. ‘Nice outfit,’ she said. ‘I won’t even try to guess how much it cost, but I trust it was worth it. You haven’t texted me, by the way, but then you’re hardly late enough for me to start worrying. How did it go?’
‘It’s a bit complicated,’ Laurie had to admit. ‘He’s lovely, but he’s got two kids, and he’s not going to be around for the rest of the week. I’d like to see him again, I think. Fabulous body.’ She flashed Jess a smile.
‘Well if you fancy him that’s one hurdle cleared. Just remember you can always dump him later. Kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince. Send him a text now, to keep him warm. That’s my advice.’
‘Good idea.’ Laurie got out her phone to find Paul’s message so she could reply. There was nothing there: ‘I don’t understand. I saw him texting me.’
‘Well, sometimes they take a while to get through.’
It didn’t seem very likely, but Laurie was grateful for the explanation all the same. Suddenly she was too tired to engage in the usual back and forth. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know I can’t think straight. I’m going to bed.’
It was a still, hot night. Laurie kicked off the duvet and lay on her mattress in her second-hand t-shirt, thinking of Paul in spite of herself. She remembered the feel of his lips and imagined the touch of his fingertips. Wasn’t she getting ahead of herself? The implication of the absent text was pretty clear; most probably they would never meet again.
So when Laurie eventually slept it was to dream, once again, of Mum, of trains and tunnels and outstretched hands.