Page 16 of Falling for You

Annie

‘You didn’t even get his name?’

I take the steaming mug off Tanya as she slips into bed beside me. Penny is folded by our feet like a faithful cat, the only one to turn down a morning cup of coffee, which I’m quite glad about. Her face needs to lose its green hue before she eats or drinks anything in my bedroom.

‘He literally answered his phone and ran out of the place. He didn’t even look back at me.’

‘Pig,’ mutters Penny.

‘All he left was this,’ I say, picking up the ring on my bedside table.

It took me a moment to realise he’d left it, otherwise I would have tried harder to follow him.

It’s one thing to chase after a guy because you want his number (desperate, cringe, no thank you) but it’s another to do it to return their prized possession and then happen to get their number at the same time (heroic, coincidental, yes please).

But he was long gone before I noticed it glistening on the bench next to me.

‘That’s a woman’s ring,’ Tanya says, picking it up to examine it.

‘Pig,’ Penny says again. ‘I bet it’s his wife’s.’

‘Maybe that’s who called him,’ Tanya says. ‘Although, why would you wear your wife’s ring?’

‘Maybe she’s dead,’ Penny says, barely audible as her face is pressed against a cushion.

‘So, his wife was ringing him from beyond the grave?’ Tanya asks sceptically.

‘It was Halloween,’ Penny says. ‘And that would explain why he ran out so quickly.’

‘He said it belonged to his mum,’ I say, taking the ring off Tanya and putting it back beside my bed.

‘Maybe she’s dead.’

‘Stop thinking everyone is dead!’

‘I feel like I might be dead.’

Tanya laughs. ‘Well, I did try and stop you from ordering sambuca.’

‘You didn’t try hard enough,’ Penny groans, rolling onto her back. ‘You should have locked me in a toilet or told the barman that I was underage.’

She spots my raised eyebrows and thwacks me with her arm. ‘I was wearing a lot of make-up, I could have got away with being seventeen.’

‘That’s nearly half your age.’

‘Fuck off! I’m thirty-two!’

‘Guys!’ Tanya squeals, as Penny and I start kicking and pushing each other from across the bed. ‘Stop it! I’m going to spill my coffee!’

I put my arms in the air as a surrender and Penny drops back onto the bed.

‘So, he just left?’ Tanya says. ‘You didn’t get his phone number?’

I shake my head, my heart turning over. ‘All I got was that he was an American writer.’

‘Ah,’ Penny says sarcastically. ‘A real one of a kind, then.’

I shrug at Tanya. ‘I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.’

‘Well,’ she says, reorganising my pillows, ‘it was a good night. I think everyone had a good time, there were loads of people dancing by the end.’

I nod. ‘It was fun.’

‘I’m sorry about your runaway guy, though,’ she says, hooking her arm in mine.

‘Ah, it’s fine.’ I lean my head against her shoulder. ‘He was just a guy.’

But even as I say it I feel my heart thud, because I know that I’m not telling the truth.

‘Have you eaten breakfast?’

I put a hand on my hip and look at Pam, who – like always – is hunched over her laptop, her thin lips pressed together in concentration. She is in the exact same position that I left her in on Friday.

‘Huh?’ she grunts at me, not breaking her stare with the screen.

‘Breakfast,’ I repeat, waving my hand in front of her eyes. ‘Let me get you something. Shall I go down to Pret?’

I glance out of the window. Today the sun is high in the sky, but there’s a light chill floating through London.

As I walked to the tube earlier this morning, it had snatched my breath away and I’d nestled my chin into my oversized scarf.

The amber leaves are curling at the end of their branches, moments away from snapping off and leaving the trees spiky and bare.

It’s my absolute favourite weather today.

Not quite cold enough to wear a coat, with the sun still glistening, but cold enough to feel a shock in your lungs every time you take a breath.

God, I love autumn. I mean, someone pass me my pumpkin spice latte and put Strictly on for goodness’ sake!

‘I’m fine.’

‘It’s the most important meal of the day!’ I sing and finally Pam looks up from her laptop.

‘Well, someone is chipper this morning.’

I feel a pang in my chest. I always go into ‘chipper’ mode when I come into work, it’s my role here. It fits into my and Pam’s dynamic. We can’t both be moody and distracted all the time. God, the place would be a nightmare.

‘I’ll make you a coffee,’ I say. ‘And then I’ll go down to Pret.’

Pam gives me a thumbs-up and goes back to the laptop.

I wander into the kitchen and fill up the water in the coffee machine, then lean against the counter as an Instagram post flits onto my screen.

I immediately fill with pride as a young woman pops up, wearing one of my designs.

She wanted a werewolf costume, which I absolutely loved making.

It’s actually quite disgusting. It has a gory snout that attaches to a headpiece, dripping congealed blood down the chin, and a huge, hairy chest bursting out of a floor-length, haunted-ghost-woman-style dress.

She looks incredible, but not just because of the costume.

She’s growling in the photo, her hands in tight claws and a glint in her eye.

She looks like she’s having fun, and that’s what Halloween is supposed to be about. It’s my aim with every costume I make.

Well, apart from mine. Apparently that aim was to stab a stranger in the chest and rip his shirt open.

I slip my phone back into my pocket and put Pam’s mug under the spout of the coffee machine, clicking the cappuccino option, even though I know what she really wants is a double espresso.

Let’s face facts: I’ve lived in London for ten years, I’m on and off Tinder like a cat on a hot tin roof.

I’ve chatted to guys in bars before, and many of them have left the conversation halfway through (rude).

I usually wake up the next morning barely able to remember what they looked like, let alone feeling any type of way about them.

So, why is this different? Why does it feel a bit like I’ve been dumped and left with the melodramatic feeling that life is unfair? Why do I suddenly have the urge to look out of a rainy window and sing every song Adele has ever written?

I take Pam’s mug out and put mine in its place, selecting the latte option.

It must be because it was Halloween and he said he liked my costume.

I mean, at the heart of it I am, of course, self-obsessed.

He complimented my most prized work – of course I want to see him again.

Perhaps I am just so egotistical that I want to see him again simply so I can soak up his compliments like a deranged, narcissistic sponge.

But … it wasn’t that, was it? I felt something before he complimented me. I don’t really know what, I just felt something.

And then he ran off into the night like bloody Cinderella.

I sigh, trying to squash my confused feelings down my body as I walk back into the office, handing Pam her coffee. She has the grace to look up at me as I come over. I perch on the desk next to her, holding my mug in my hands, making it clear that I’m here for a chat, whether she likes it or not.

‘Go on, then,’ she says, taking her mug and closing her laptop screen. ‘Tell me all about your favourite night of the year. How was your party? How many costumes did you make?’

I smile, turning my phone towards her and showing her some of the photos my customers have sent over. ‘Around fifteen this month.’

Pam raises her eyebrows in a ‘get you’ way.

‘Look at these,’ she says, pulling a cigarette out of her shirt pocket and propping it in her mouth. ‘You really made all of them?’

‘I did. My mum usually makes a few too, but this time it was mainly me.’

‘And what about you? What did you wear?’

I take the phone back and find the photo of my costume.

Tanya did a full-on photoshoot for me before we left.

Mainly so I could send pictures to Mum and Dad and use it for our business Instagram to show off our latest costumes.

But also because it’s quite a fun part about living with your best friends.

I could feel like a severed toenail and all it would take is Tanya and Penny ramping me up and telling me how to pose and I’d be feeling more like a severed toenail with glittery nail varnish on.

Pam lets out a slow whistle when she sees the picture. ‘Blimey.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

‘What happened when you opened the wings, then?’ she asks, pinching her fingers so she can zoom in. ‘I bet everyone was in bits.’

‘Well,’ I sigh, taking the phone off her. ‘Yes and no.’

‘Oh?’

‘I stabbed a guy when they opened.’

Pam snorts.

‘And ripped his shirt open.’

‘Crikey.’

‘And then got stuck to him for a good ninety seconds.’ Hmmm. Now I look at it like that, it’s no wonder he made a break for it.

Pam laughs a deep, gravelly laugh. ‘That’s one way to get them.’

‘Well,’ I say, feeling myself redden as I pick up my coffee. ‘He actually left not so long after that and we didn’t exchange numbers or anything, so …’

Pam looks at me expectantly. ‘But it doesn’t matter,’ I babble. ‘One of those things.’

‘Your costume looks great, though,’ she says and I smile.

‘Thanks. How was your Halloween? Did you get any trick or treaters?’

She frowns, taking a swig of her coffee. ‘Of course not. I closed the curtains and turned off all the lights.’

‘Pam!’ I laugh. ‘What about Rodney?’

Where Pam is round and hunched, Rodney is tall and lean and I don’t think I’ve heard him say more than eight words in the entire ten years I’ve worked here. But they always hold hands, and I occasionally catch them looking at each other in a way I’ve never seen Pam look at anyone else.

‘Oh, he doesn’t care,’ she waves a hand at me.

‘Now, how’s your diary looking today?’ She pulls her laptop lid back open.

‘Can you get over to Richmond this afternoon to look at a house? We have a family of five moving in eight weeks, the dad is coming next week to look at properties. Can I put you on it?’

I feel a little thrill. I’m always the first one that Pam asks for new clients, not that either of us would ever admit that.

‘Sure,’ I say. ‘Of course.’

‘Super.’

‘But Pam,’ I add sternly, as she begins to hunch back over her keyboard. ‘First, breakfast. I’m going to get you a bagel. And a chocolate muffin.’