“Yikes, this flat is equally impressive.” India stepped into the double-height living room, then stopped and stared.
Gina followed her in, checking the front door was locked before replying. “Good to see the cleaners have done their job. The tenants moved out last week.”
“It’s definitely shiny. Plus, it smells like lemon zest.” India took a deep breath. “I’ve often wondered what these flats in the new area of London Bridge look like, and here we are.” She swept a hand over the kitchen island, marvelling at the copper fixtures and fittings, along with the granite worktops. “Whoever’s done this knows what they’re doing.”
“They certainly do.” Gina pointed a finger. “Those tiles on the wall were shipped from Italy.” She stamped her foot. “The marble on the floor, too.” She walked to the bifold doors and unlocked those, before sliding them back.
India stepped out onto the terrace and breathed in the city. Below them, the River Thames sparkled under the early evening dusk. Car horns blasted intermittently, and commuters crawled across London Bridge on their way home, coats wrapped tight. But up here, they were cocooned. Like they had a box seat at a grand West End production. It was why she loved rooftops.
Could she afford this flat? Possibly, but it was a bit showy. Having a river view always added to the price tag, too. Plus, it didn’t pull on her heart strings the way the last one had.
Gina grabbed a stripey tea towel from the kitchen and dusted off the metal loungers, then produced two glasses as India opened the bottle of Pinot.
“Will you have a glass, or do you want to stick to water?” India didn’t want to be a wine pusher.
But Gina’s face softened. “Pour me a small one. I want to like red wine. It’s my aim this year to drink more. Plus, it’s warming, right?”
“I like your style,” India said. “Most Londoners are trying to give up.”
Gina shivered, glancing at the freestanding patio heater. “I’m not most Londoners.”
India was getting that. “The only thing that would have made this better was if I’d have brought biscuits.”
“It would. Do better next time.” Gina dragged the heater in between the two loungers, then fiddled with the switch, frowning as she did so.
India put the drinks on the wooden side table, then went to stand beside Gina. She smelled divine, like citrus and basil. “Having trouble?”
Gina glanced up, nodding. “Apparently I am. I’m flipping the switch but nothing’s happening.”
India reached out to help, and their fingers touched.
A zap of electricity travelled up India’s arm, catching her by surprise. It landed in her chest and made her gulp. She steadied her breathing, then lifted her gaze to Gina’s. The hairs on the back of India’s neck stood up. Time paused for a couple of seconds.
Gina’s tongue skated along her bottom lip.
India dragged her eyes from it. She didn’t know about the heater, but a switch inside her had been flipped.
India shook her head and removed her hand, bending down. “Perhaps there’s something down here that needs to be switched on?” India peered around the base, happy to have something to focus on. She found the switch, pressed it and stood back up.
Gina greeted her with a warm smile. “Well done. A TV star, and practical as well.”
The blood rushed to India’s cheeks. “I do my best.” She settled onto her lounger, trying to regain her equilibrium. She handed Gina her glass of wine, careful not to touch her hand again. Then she refocused on the view, and the fact it was Friday. A time to relax.
India raised her glass. “Here’s to me hopefully securing the Mary Poppins flat.”
Gina inclined her head. “To Mary Poppins and hot tubs.” She sipped the wine. “This tastes like Ribena.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Probably not, as I love Ribena. I could develop a taste for it.” Gina sipped again, then put her glass down. “Can’t drink too much, though, as I’m driving.”
India screwed the cap back on the wine. “I’ll take whatever we don’t drink home.” She paused. “You said you’re not a big drinker. Is that a cultural thing, or just a ‘you’ thing?”
Gina gave her a slow smile. “It’s a ‘me’ thing. Most of my family like to drink. You should see our family weddings. But it’s just never been my thing.”
“But now you’re trying to broaden your booze horizons?”
“I guess I am.”
India nodded. “One other thing I wanted to ask about was your business partner, Bernie. Does she go to business events? I feel like I know her face from somewhere.” India couldn’t quite pinpoint it.
Gina nodded. “She does. We met at one, actually. I went along with a proposal for Hot London Properties, and she was looking to diversify and sink her teeth into a new venture. Bernie has fingers in many pies.”
“I’m sure there’s a lesbian joke there somewhere, but my brain’s too fried after this week to dig it out.”
Gina smiled. “Without her, I’d never have got the business up and running. She put up nearly half the cash to invest in the first place. We share client relationships, but I steer the ship. Although Bernie deals with our accountant and sets out budgets and goals. I used to be an accountant, and I’m a bit allergic to it now.”
A waft of biting air brushed India’s face. “Are you in accountant recovery?”
“Something like that, much to my parents’ chagrin. They were baffled enough when I gave up a sure-fire career to set up my own estate agency.” Gina stretched out on her chair. “But it’s worked out. Plus, it means I get access to some of the best views in London.”
“You’re not wrong.” India unfurled her scarf as she spoke. “Who rents this place?” She ran a hand through her hair as she settled back into her seat. Was this the first time she’d truly relaxed all week? It felt like it.
“Very rich people.”
“People like me?” India glanced across; she’d love to know what Gina was thinking. Did Gina like her? People often liked the TV version of India, or the business version. The real-life India — the human version — wasn’t to everyone’s taste. As she’d found out with Andi.
But she wasn’t going to think about Andi.
She sipped her wine, swallowing down any negative thoughts.
“I don’t generally drink with them, so not exactly.” Gina paused, as if she was choosing the right words. “We’re the sole agent for this particular flat. I’ve come up here a couple of times alone when I shouldn’t. The owner lives in Dubai, and they come back very occasionally to check on all their properties. This one has only just come back on the market — it was rented out to some brokers for six months. When I came to inspect it, the flat looked like they’d never even been here. I know they work long hours and probably ate out, but that seemed like a crying shame.”
“Criminal.” India tipped her head back, staring at the patchwork sky, myriad shades of grey. “Do you have a rooftop view where you live?”
Gina shook her head. “No, but I have a water view. I live in Canary Wharf. No rooftops, just high-rises. You said you were renting at the moment?”
“Not so much renting, more living at one of my parents’ flats.” India held up a hand. “Before you say it, I know I’m privileged to do so, but I want my own place. Scrap that, I need my own place. My parents have keys, my brother’s got keys, it’s where everyone stays when they come to London overnight. I want somewhere where nobody has keys but me.”
“I have that. I recommend it.” Gina paused, assessing her. “There’s not a Mrs India to be given a second set of keys?”
India pressed her head into her chair, then shook it. “No, there is not.”
“I’m surprised.”
India turned her head. “You are?”
Gina nodded. “You’re India Contelli.” She blushed. “I might have googled you after we saw each other in the office the other day. I do it with all my clients. You’re not the first famous one I’ve had.”
“Semi-famous.”
“You’ve got a Wikipedia page, that means you’re famous.”
India frowned. “I did have a partner for a while. But we split up seven months ago. It was part of the reason I went to New York last year and pursued a filming project I’d been offered. It came at the right time. It was a messy break-up, so leaving the country was perfect. My friends and family told me I was running away, but sometimes you need to do that.”
Gina gave her a knowing smile. “I know I’ve wished I could run away from my love life in the past.”
India raised an eyebrow, her gaze resting on Gina’s heart-shaped face. Something about her made India not want to look away. “Yours was messy, too?”
“It was. My ex and I drifted apart, we didn’t really want the same things. But she took months to move out. We split up when I turned 40, and I’m 41 next month.”
India knew all about messy. “People think it’s different because I’m famous, but it’s not. It’s still just two people trying to get along, trying to fall in love and stay there, which is no easy task. I’m 38 years old, but I haven’t managed it once. I’ve never lived with anyone.”
“I’ve never truly been in love, even though I thought I was at the time.” Gina put a hand to her lips. “I can’t believe that just came out of my mouth.”
India sat up. “Maybe there’s a truth forcefield on this rooftop.” She swung her legs around and sat facing Gina. “Maybe I haven’t either. What a pair we are.” She paused. “Is your ex still in the picture?”
Gina shook her head. “She cleared out our joint account a few months ago, and that was our last link. I shut it down the same day, so there’s no way she can access me anymore. She wasn’t that bothered about doing so, anyway. She’ll miss the money, though.”
India stood up and walked to the other side of the balcony. “Mine was just a straight-up bitch. She messed with my head, told me she loved me, then left without a word.” She paused. “To top it off, I recently found out she’s marrying someone else this summer. She met her three months ago, which tells you everything you need to know about her sincerity and my stupidity.” India still wasn’t okay with that. “But I have to keep going. Pretend it doesn’t sting. Pretend I’m superhuman.”
Gina stood up and walked over to India. “You don’t have to pretend anything up here. You can be who you are. Human.” She reached out and squeezed India’s arm.
Goosebumps broke out along it. India squeezed her toes tight inside her heels. It’d been some time since a woman had touched her who wasn’t Andi.
India held her gaze. Where had this woman come from? A few weeks ago, they were strangers. Now, Gina had some kind of weird hold on India. A hold India very much wanted to lean into.
“Thank you.”
Gina’s gaze burrowed into her, making India look away. She stared out into the chilly gloom, wondering when the sunshine would arrive in the world and in her love life. “Thanks for bringing me here. If you’ve got any other rooftops you need to stake out, I’m your woman. I promise to provide a new wine every time to further your education, and good cheer.”
Gina’s hazelnut stare snagged her once more. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”