Crash. Bang. Holy crap.
I’m not one for romantic words or any of that kind of nonsense, but I’m fairly sure that was a fair account of the stuff that was going on in my head the first time I saw her.
Dan had dragged me out for a pint, to – as he said – stop me being the kind of prick who got pissed on a Friday night and ended up shagging the girl I’d just broken up with. Or the wife I’d been married to for six years.
I appreciated his point, but I had no worries on that score. Jess and I had finalized our divorce a month before and I had no intention of going back there. None at all.
In fact, if there was a stray band of celibate monks roaming the streets of London that night there was a fair chance I’d be up for joining, as long as they had beer on tap, a pool table and a subscription to Sky Sports.
Still, Dan was the guy on the sales team who was always up for a laugh, always the life and soul of the party, and right now I could do with a bit of nonsense. I was divorced, not dead.
I’d envisaged a night in the city centre; maybe hit a couple of clubs. Did people even say ‘hit’ a club anymore? My grasp of trendy vernacular was slim, since I’d settled for married life in a Victorian terrace in the not-as-posh end of Notting Hill. Jesus, just past mid-twenties and I was already out of touch. Probably just best settle for a few pints and keep my mouth shut if anyone under twenty-five was in hearing distance.
Anyway, seemed that Dan had a different idea of a night on the town, dragging me way out to Richmond, because his latest girlfriend was out there. Brilliant. First night out in years and I was going to play third wheel to a work colleague and a woman he described as ‘100% babe’. Again, Jesus. I’d already decided that if she was twenty-two and took the piss out of my dated chat, I was bailing and heading home.
My mind changed the minute I saw Shauna. I don’t go for all of that ‘love at first sight’ rubbish, but there was just something about the combination of the messy blonde hair, the cute freckles and the completely contagious smile that made me want to just stand there, staring like a lemon. It was a special person that could open a discussion with cystitis and still come over as adorable.
There was some kind of row between Dan and his girlfriend, Lulu, but to be honest, it didn’t matter to us. Shauna and I started talking and ended up being the last two people still standing, huddled together so tightly that we didn’t care that the temperatures had dipped to bollock-shrinking cold. No uncomfortable silences. No awkward comments that betrayed the fact this was the first time I’d chatted up a girl in years. I don’t even remember anyone else leaving.
When the bar staff got fed up of sweeping around us, we finally left, and I walked her home, over Richmond Bridge, to her flat a few streets away on the Twickenham side. She invited me in, making shushing gestures so that we wouldn’t wake her flatmate, and then, with cups of coffee in our hands, we headed to the tiny concrete balcony off her kitchen.
This was all new. The girl, being in someone’s flat, and sure, I was pretty much out of my depth, but I figured if I could just keep her talking there was less of a chance she’d toss me out or – worse – fall asleep in my scintillating company.
‘So you’ve never been married? Engaged?’ I asked her, really hoping the answer was no – and not just because I wanted to check that some bloke wasn’t going to storm in and lamp me at any moment. I’d never been much of a fighter.
She shook her head, making even more wavy blonde curls collapse out of her hair. ‘I was engaged,’ she admitted, almost sheepishly. ‘We broke up a year ago.’
‘Am I allowed to ask why, or is that too forward?’
Her laugh was low and raspy after a night of shouting to each other to be heard over the riot of sound in the pub. ‘You’re sitting on my balcony in the middle of the night. I think we can take “too forward” off the table.’ She took another sip of her coffee. ‘It just didn’t work out. Realized I’m a bit of a commitment-phobe. The thought of the whole “one person forever” thing makes me uneasy. I change my mind about the wallpaper in the hall every six months. Clearly I have long-term commitment issues.’
She was smiling but even at my non-perceptive best, I could see there was a chink of sadness in her smile.
‘What about you?’ she asked.
Ouch. I’d led the way straight into that one. Twenty-seven and already one failed marriage under my belt. Wasn’t the best reference, was it?
She mistook my hesitation for something else and looked searchingly at my left hand. ‘Oh shit, tell me you’re not married. I should probably have checked that before I asked you back here.’
I shook my head. ‘Nope, not married.’
‘Oh thank God.’
The sensible part of me was demanding that I leave it at that. I could fill in more details later, when we knew each other better. Start slow. Take it easy. Not too much too soon. Unfortunately, the sensible part of me wasn’t having much of an influence on what was actually coming out of my mouth.
‘But I was. I’m divorced. It was all finalized a month ago.’
She was silent for a few seconds and I mentally gave myself a good boot in the defrosted bollocks. Score zero for honesty. She was bound to want shot of me now. Who needed the hassle of being the person who picked up the pieces after a divorce?
I made one last bid for clarification. ‘Look, I know that’s not long ago, but I’m not an emotional disaster. The divorce was definitely for the best.’
That was true.
‘And there are absolutely no regrets, and it wasn’t a messy break-up.’
That wasn’t true, but hey, cut a guy a break.
‘So…’
I braced myself for ‘it’s been nice meeting you and show yourself out’.
‘…Are you sworn off marriage for life?’
Oh God, here we go again. Truth or not? Truth or not?
‘Pretty much,’ I admitted. Truth.
She looked over and her blue eyes met mine as she laughed. ‘Then I think we’ll get on great.’
I wasn’t sure what had just happened but I wasn’t on my way out the door so I was going with it. She disappeared into the kitchen and came back out with a coffee pot and refilled our mugs. Right, no more revelations. Everything else could wait until I’d succeeded in not fucking up, and she’d agree to see me again.
I changed the subject. ‘So what made you start your own business?’
She shrugged. ‘Just wanted to run my own life. It’s a kind of loose ten year plan – slog to build up the business now, so that I can bring in other people to run it if I suddenly wake up one morning and decide to travel, or have a family or maybe join a cult. You know, the usual stuff. I don’t ever want to be dependent on someone else or end up being one of those women who are totally exhausted because they’re juggling high-pressure jobs, long hours and kids.”
Alarm bells rang. This girl was way too smart and sorted for me. I’d never met someone with a life plan. I had to get one of those, but in the meantime, I pulled every amusing story out of my past and hoped I could distract her from my lack of focus and depth with nonsense. It seemed to work. I’ve no idea how much longer it was when she gestured skywards.
‘First plane of the day. I love watching them come in. Like shooting stars coming to land.’
I looked up to see soundless flashing orange lights crossing the sky and realized we were underneath the flight path for Heathrow. Against the backdrop of the sun coming up, and if you ignored the sight of all the bins on the ground below, this felt like the perfect place to be.
After being with the same person for years, I was way out of practice with this stuff, but I was pretty sure this was one of those moments in which I could do what I’d been wanting to do all night.
I bottled out and went for clarification first. ‘So I really want to lean over and kiss you and I’m just checking that would be okay with you?’
‘Did your wife divorce you for lack of romance?’ Shauna asked, eyebrow raised, cheeky smile on her face.
‘Nope, it was because she was intimidated by my stunning good looks,’ I joked back
‘Ah, I can see why that would be a problem.’ Her expression was completely deadpan, which had the opposite effect on me and I creased up laughing, only stopping when I realized that she was on her feet. She took a couple of steps towards me, then twisted and sat on my knee, before leaning down and kissing me. That answered my question, then.
I’d love to say it was the most romantic moment of my life. It absolutely could have been – if the rickety wooden chair beneath us hadn’t chosen that very moment to commit chair suicide, and crumble to the ground taking us with it.
We’d already ascertained that I wasn’t gifted in the areas of romance or suave moves. But as we lay there, laughing while waiting for the pain receptors to deliver the bad news, I couldn’t help thinking that there was no way any of those hundreds of people flying above us had ever had a moment as brilliant as this.